#i was going to Get Weird in the tags but i decided nobody needed to see that shit

[batsplat]

also I’ve seen some (well a lot) photos of dani & sete together and like were/are they friends? obviously I know about the honda connection + them both being spanish but not much more then that. kinda hilarious that dani was/is friendly with both of them……

time to bring back the world's funniest photo

this is a genuine work of art. quite possibly one of the greatest photos of all time. I'm in love

yeah dani hired sete in 2017!! that's what gives us that great moment where valentino forgets about jerez 2005 with sete in the room - like that's why sete is even attending pressers in the first place. this is what sete had to say about it start of 2017:

honestly this is one of my fave sete interviews, I've had it in my drafts for a while to discuss but I might as well throw it in here. so yeah, him and dani have known each other since dani was a kid!! which will have been partly due to the honda link - they were also both gresini riders in 2004-05, if in different classes

plus they had the spanish link, back when that was like. something a little more noteworthy. they've regularly trained together for years!! dani had already asked sete to be his coach for two years!! they have a "great relationship"!!

but yeah obviously we do have to address the valentino of it all. "in recent years [dani's] dropped a little, as a result of bad luck. when you try many times and don't succeed, your enthusiasm and motivation are less" uh huh...? like, say, when someone puts a curse on you and however much you try and try and try again, you can no longer win another race? it would be horrible if that curse gave you all manner of ill fortune, yeah? that sure would sap your enthusiasm and motivation, wouldn't it?

note too that the phrasing for what sete's attempting to give back to dani echoes what he says valentino still has: enthusiasm and motivation. the joy and the will. sete believes nobody should attempt to become the 'anti-marquez' - the very phrase implies a single chosen challenger to finally take down the sport's current king. focusing too much on that person can only come to your own detriment. you'll eventually become your own main rival... eventually, you'll defeat yourself, and your enemy won't even have to raise a hand. dani/sete parallels isn't the sort of thing you'd necessarily arrive at yourself, so it's always kind of the involved parties to do your work for you. what valentino and marc never lost was their 'inner spark' - and the two of them can cause the kind of misfortune for others that gradually eats away at their 'enthusiasm and motivation'. if you've been marked out to defeat one of them... well, beware

and. of course. "we've always had a great relationship, given that we've shared so many great moments together" buddy WHAT are you talking about. ALWAYS??? sete has a funny habit of acting as if he's like, worked very hard to repress everything that happened to him between 2003 and 2005 as some kind of weird ass curse-induced trauma response. but it's actually the "I've never done any interviews in which I've talked badly about valentino" that's the most revealing - which is a) kinda debatable, but at the same time b) ... well, yeah, sete has been awfully restrained in what he's said post-2005! which has always been super annoying to me, as someone on a fact-finding mission about that era, but it's also... it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? of course, sete was still committed to managing the image of that rivalry. so determined to be respectful that he's avoided giving his side of the story. and sure, you can take him at his word that he's let bygones be bygones, that he really only remembers the positives of that time, but... it's complete and utter bullshit! he's finally started talking about THIS decade (transcribed for the sete post):

if there's one good thing that came from him going on that bloody three hour australian podcast, it's in him opening up about how obviously extremely not Over It he is:

if you think that valentino has had a lasting negative impact on the sport, that he made it more dangerous, that this is something that can directly be traced back to what he did to YOU... then why are you NOT 'talking badly' about valentino? why didn't you complain about the overtake at the time, publicly rather than feeling frustrated with race direction in private? but that's sete all over, isn't it... casey, for all his sins, has not exactly been quiet about valentino post-retirement - and while I'm also not going to ascribe any especially altruistic motives to that, while he does also obviously sell a very particular version of their story, you at least don't get this kind of blatant disparity between his stated principles and his public output. it's like when commentators were talking during assen 2004 about that magazine cartoon, the one with the gag that valentino just had to put a mirror on the back of his bike to defeat sete. (which is obviously very mean-spirited, yeah, and there's plenty to critique in how sete was portrayed as this vain foppish pretty boy.) sete has always, always cared too much about appearances and it was always going to be what killed him in that rivalry. he truly is the perfect foil: valentino manipulates image to his own ends, while sete is a slave to it. and that's how we've somehow ended in this situation where both parties have been perfectly willing to let the facts of that rivalry dissipate into obscurity over time. valentino erases sete from the narrative of his career as an act of punishment, whereas sete lets himself be erased because he does not wish to be associated with something so very ugly. and thus the story sinks over time towards oblivion

anyway. sorry. uh, back to dani. reportedly that was quite a close partnership he had going with sete:

a rich kid with a fancy bike collection to the last. here's a joan instagram post about said training:

and here's another interview sete gave about dani - unsurprisingly he's once again very complimentary:

"we have noticed that the machine is developing in a certain direction" uh huh? something about riding for honda, who you believe are geared only towards making one of your rivals succeed? must be tough, eh

probably a complete coincidence, but as it happens 2017 was the closest dani and valentino ever really got to a public spat - over valentino's sturdy defending in aragon. "if he's not happy, he has to race alone" indeed. obviously, dani did not end up winning a title - though 2017 is still the closest he'd gotten since 2013. he was very much in that title fight, pretty much until the wet race at misano, even if as the fifth of five contenders... so 13 of 18 rounds in, not bad. (incidentally, that's also the race that ended valentino's title aspirations by dint of missing it entirely.) and when dani was pushed out of honda and decided to call it a day in 2018, here's what sete had to say:

more recently, dani's spoken about the advice sete gave him late in his career:

"in my last years" does make it sound like he's being put down, eh. so yeah, a rider coach, but probably more importantly a friend. wonder if they're still close

[heymacy]

joy list? joy list ✨

i was tagged by @whatwouldmickeydo, @energievie, @gardenerian, @creepkinginc, @7x10mickey, @metalheadmickey, @mishervellous, @ardent-fox, @heymrspatel, @gallawitchxx, @y0itsbri, @whatthebodygraspsnot, & @sleepyfacetoughguy to share some little joys!

i won’t lie to you, friends in my phone, life has been less than joyful lately. but i’m trying my best to celebrate little victories and find happiness in the simple things. so here, in no particular order, is a list of things that make the days bearable 💛

✩ quesadillas, teriyaki, and tacos ✩ when there’s a dog in the drive thru at work ✩ sunflowers 🌻 ✩ when my monstera Maggie puts out a new leaf 🌿 ✩ literally everything First Aid Beauty has ever made ✩ when my cell phone battery is fully charged ✩ songs with really good bass lines that vibrate the entire car ✩ telling my best friends “good morning” every single day ☀️ ✩ my therapist, who would be disappointed in me if i didn’t at least try to make this list ✩ getting my silly $7 drink for free ✩ listening to the songs my friends put on their IG stories because it’s like a little window into their souls ✩ building playlists 🎶 ✩ people who are tactful, empathetic, inclusive, and kind ✩ valentine’s day flowers from my nanny kid 💐 ✩ tip day 💸 ✩ angst with a happy ending ✩ crystals 💎 ✩ laughing uncontrollably with my wife ✩ making other people happy ✩ new books ✩ you guys 

i’m Quite late to this so i’m only tagging a few people: @iansfreckles, @greggster, @thisdivorce, @howlinchickhowl, @sunoficarus, & @crossmydna 💫 ily’all sm!

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

What about showering with the mercs? Nothing dirty, like, at all. But like, washing the gross men’s hair while the bask in the most affection they’ve gotten since 5th grade. Maybe I just wanna see tough and gruff grown men turn into putty when given the smallest amount of care. Gn reader please!! And thank you!!

I love how you assume they got affection in 5th grade. What a very bold claim.

The Mercs taking a shower with Y/N (SFW)

Scout:

- Scout is a very restless person. He can never sit still for more than five seconds. It takes a lot of massages and rubbing soap on his body for him to finally stop shuffling his feet. Even then his attention is always caught by something mundane. Like a weird tile on the wall or the window high above near the ceiling where nobody could be a peeping tom.

- Your affections finally catch up to him. He relaxes a little more when you start to do his hair. He lays his entire head on you and lets you work at his scalp. You notice for some reason his dog-tags are still on him and ask him about it. He shrugs and goes “What if I die in the shower or some shit? Who knows. Maybe a frenchie will fuckshit out of nowhere and backstab me.”

- You can’t help but huff at his joke. It was an amused yet annoyed response to his nonsense. He smiles groggily as you begin washing his back. “Do you do this often?” “Do what?” You ask. “Join a group of mercenaries and then wash their backs.” He says. You scowl at him and shove the loofah in his mouth.

———————————————————————-

Soldier:

- Literal dog. Arches his spine and tilts his head back in bliss as you scratch his scalp. Sighs in relief as you release him of today’s pressure. Turns around against the wall to let you do his back. Raises any limb up when you need it. He enjoys being treated like a pampered animal. He’s like a big Labrador that loves water

- He begins doing you as well mid wash. Covering you in body wash and rubbing your back and tummy in circles. You know little to nothing of soldier’s past so it’s quite a pleasant surprise when you discover he’s good at this. Palming the knots out of your muscles and encouraging you to relax. It’s just enough pressure not to hurt you.

- He took his helmet into the wash.. unsurprising. Pyro and Spy have insecurities with their true face as well. He tilts his helmet upward and flicks it off. allowing it to fall to the floor. His grey eyes are so.. loving. There’s this adoring smile on his face. He makes you so weak you both have to sit down in the shower.

- “C’mere cutie.” Oh. oh shit.

————————————————————————-

Demoman:

- Motherfucker brings alcohol into the shower and lights candles. It’s going to be awkward trying to explain to the others why there’s traces of platonic/romantic intimacy (your pick) in the fucking showers.

- … Let alone why some of the candles look suspiciously like sticks of dynamite.

- “Eh, I ran out of candles and em’ too lazy to get me ass to the store. The rest are just Delayed-Dynamite I bought from mann co a year ago. Don’t worry, we have aroun’ an hour before dey explode!” God you hate him so much sometimes. But you trust his profession in explosive devices and decide to risk it. If all else fails you’ll both just respawn and you’ll beat the shit out of him. No biggie! (Also that dynamite sounds really unhelpful.. No wonder he never used it.)

- Falls asleep in the shower with you on his lap. Usually he snores but he’s dead quiet this time with a big smile on his face. He seems quite content with this. Although you’re the one who has to snuff out the dynamite in time.

——————————————————————————

Engineer:

- He obviously won’t show it, but he’s really timid and embarrassed about this. The moment you both get in, you’re squished against the wall by his massive tummy. Like actually suffocating. This particular shower is way too small for two people.

- “Sorry, pardner.” He says, so unsympathetically that he practically radiates it. In truth his shyness immediately faded when he realized he had the upper hand in the situation. He had a grin on his face as he watched you struggle to grab the soap. Jesus, even his manboobs were obstacles. You wondered how this guy didn’t just crush people on the battlefield by sitting on them.

- “See here, now..” He adjusts his mechanical hand, making sure it was still working — even under the water. He grabbed the soap and began soaping up a loofah. “Guess you’ll just have to watch me, instead. Huh?” He teased. His soft spoken voice made it sound more like he was teasing a small newborn puppy for falling on its back, though. Good luck trying to move around, let alone convince him you’ll wash him.

—————————————————————————-

Heavy:

- LITERALLY SUFFOCATES YOU TO DEATH LIKE ENGINEER BUT MORE PAINFUL

- You’re half wondering if you’re actually going to die from this or break the tile wall. Heavy just stares down at your poor body — that you SWEAR is being mangled right now. “Little teddy bear is too small for Heavy.” He grumbles, shoving his body into you to see your panicked squeaks.

- It doesn’t help that he’s actually incredibly muscular. All of that isn’t fat. It’s pure. fucking. bear. He moves back a bit after getting his fill of enjoyment and you touch his chest with your hands for the first time. Realizing it was rock solid. How did you not notice this before?

- His soft monster-like breathing was calming and evened out your own. It was like you were washing a sleeping dragon. You’re slightly disappointed he’s not a huge werewolf. But regardless, he was calm very often and you weren’t. This closeness and intense heat from the shower was making you sleepy.

—————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Literally refuses. good job trying to get them in. You have to be a SUPER trustworthy friend/partner of many years before you come to this point.

- Even then, after they take a shower they enjoy a nice hot bath to unwind. It’s incredibly relaxing to lay on their chubby belly and allow yourself to take in the heat. They like their bathes EXTREMELY hot by the way. Might as well be boiling themselves. Luckily it doesn’t seem to be killing you or causing third degree burns, so it’s not boiling.

- When you wash them, make sure to rub their belly. They’ll practically melt at the touch. Maybe even almost fall asleep. Don’t forget to slap their belly like a drum. Produces nice sound. You NEED to do this. This is a threat.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Yes, this man does shower regularly. Dear god. You people are degenerates. He is NOT smelly stinky. Professionals have standards.

- Gets extremely touchy feely with you. As you trace his chest scars he flinches for a second but then sighs. You explore his body whilst soaping him up. Every little part of him is free for touching. On his back are many, many scars from spies that the respawn machine didn’t quite heal. You touch those sensitive areas to test the waters (pun intended.) and he nearly takes a huge chunk out of your shoulder by almost biting you.

- But feeling your comforting touch.. And your fingers carefully gliding over the sensitive areas, he trusts you to treat them well. You are so close to him you can practically feel his breath on your face and smell his pleasant aftershave. “Goood..” He growls. He drags his compliment and his voice makes you shiver. It’s like your ears are orgasming.

—————————————————————————

Medic:

- He is unbelievably stubborn at first, but the moment you try and respect his wishes and leave, he goes “WAIT.” Yeah, fucking figures. You get in the shower with him and he’s trying to be stoic and distant most of the time. He feels exposed and it’s making him feel conflicted. Medic is dominate, protective by nature due to his difficult past. He feels a need to be in control of this situation entirely.

- He gets grumpy when you insist on washing him and reverses the situation. Instead opting to take care of you instead. He’s no stranger to massages. (Please don’t ask him about the time he had to check people bare naked when he still had his medical license.) And he’s really experienced in knowing all the right places. Instructing you in an incredibly professional manner to turn around, lift an arm and whatnot.

- The moment he goes to your stomach, he says quietly “Did you know that all your intestines are moving around in there like a snake right now? Ohh.. I’d love to feel the texture of them.” He presses his hand on your lower half, sad that it isn’t possible without cutting you open. He hums contently as he feels around where your lungs and heart would be. Counting every single second you breathe in and out.

- For some reason you feel like you’re being examined and breathe deeper breaths on instinct. Which only furthers his pleasure. “I want to be close..” His voice is barely audible. You swear he’s whispering this repeatedly. “I want to be close, I want to be close.. I want to be close.” He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you to death like a plush doll. “I want to be close, I want to be close!” He’s beginning to sound a little frustrated. As if he wanted to be one with you in some way.

——————————————————————————

Spy:

- He’s so used to sexual favors that he mistakes this as some sort of sexual intimacy at first. Taken aback when he realizes it’s just casual affection. He’s not used to people loving him for merely existing. He always has to be in somebody’s pants or he feels useless to said person.

- Refuses to take his mask off. It’s sopping wet. You look at his pitiful state with love in your eyes. He scoffs at you “Oh look, somebody who doesn’t have to hide their identity because they don’t have literal mafias, big name criminals, and government officials tailing them.. How very wonderful.” He’ll take it off for the hair wash but you have to close your eyes while doing it, otherwise he threatens to cut you. (Hah. Bullshit. He won’t.)

- Very quiet most of the time. Little speak. His touch is delicate and focused, rubbing your back as you wash his big chest. For somebody who folds like a piece of paper on the battlefield against enemy pyros, he’s certainly strong compared to you.

- You feel something gently poke at your back. Freezing in place, you eye the sliver object behind you. Low and behold there’s spy’s butterfly knife. He can’t seem to get intimate without pulling that thing out and doing casual knife play with you. No matter who you are to him; he’ll twirl the knife behind you on your skin. So delicate that he doesn’t pierce your skin at all. He does this often as a game of trust. Eager to see if you’ll shrink away or not. In fear of what he truly is. Weapons will always be a part of him.

[babydollmarauders]

VEGAS, TOKYO… — JACK HUGHES (MEDIA MANAGEMENT: SUMMER EDITION)

notes: i’m aware that i haven’t finished the playoffs parts- i apologize- but i wanted to spit out a quick summer edition to remind y’all that this au exists!

y/ndevils00

liked by dawson1417, jackhughes, and 110,381 others

y/ndevils00 you can catch me in vegas, catch me in tokyo… 🤠

tagged jackhughes and _alexturcotte

jackhughes babe…

y/ndevils00 what? we’ve been to vegas and tokyo this past month, just letting everyone know 😇

nicohischier why are you like this?

y/ndevils00 just the way i was born, i guess!

nicohischier is there any way to change it?

trevorzegras @/nicohischier there is not. trust me, i’ve tried

user74 y/n is the most unhinged WAG and i’m in love with her

user10 how is she unhinged with this post? i’m confused

user38 @/user10 her caption is a song “you can catch me in vegas, catch me in tokyo, catch me on the d*ck tryna ride like a rodeo”

user10 @/user38 oH OKAY

dawson1417 GO BEST FRIEND (3) THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND (3)

y/ndevils00 you’re my only true supporter in this sea of fake fans 🤧🫶

dawson1417 i’ve got your back best friend!

john.marino97 you make me question things. like our friendship.

y/ndevils00 and how amazing it is?

john.marino97 among other things…. like why it exists

lhughes_06 I DIDNT NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS! NOBODY DOES!

y/ndevils00 oh smush, as if you don’t live with us…

lhughes_06 i’ve decided to move in with John next season

y/ndevils00 no <3

lhughes_06 well, i tried

trevorzegras thriving and diving!

y/ndevils00 🤿💦

jackhughes what do these even mean?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes idk, i’m just rolling with it. i just assume you guys never know what your own comments mean either

user27 y/n calling hockey guys out on their weird comments 😭 she’s so real

_quinnhughes have you been watching edits again?

y/ndevils00 i don’t have to answer to you

_quinnhughes so yes?

y/ndevils00 yeah 😔

jesperbratt miss you! hope you’re having fun!

y/ndevils00 i’m gonna die for you. it’s no longer an “i would”, it’s an “i will”.

jesperbratt i would like you alive when i get back, please!

y/ndevils00 if you insist 😔

jackhughes you know my mom has this app, right?

y/ndevils00 ellen said i should post these pics! she said you look handsome!

jackhughes you concern me

y/ndevils00 that’s my job as your work wife

jackhughes you know you have a real title of my girlfriend?

y/ndevils00 i like this one better. it has the word “wife” in it

jackhughes i give up

colecaufield i don’t get a feature but ALEX does? what kind of friendship is this?

y/ndevils00 i’m so sorry, teddy bear! i’ll do better next time 😔

colecaufield thank you, bubble!

_alexturcotte damn, i look hot

y/ndevils00 does nobody care about how EYE look on MY OWN post?!

_alexturcotte you look great, honey bun

y/ndevils00 THANK YOU! FINALLY!

jackhughes you in that dress 🤤

y/ndevils00 if i remember correctly, me in that dress didn’t last long 🤭

jackhughes what can i say? it looked better on the floor

trevorzegras GET A ROOM, NASTIES!

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras i’m gonna flush your zyn down the toilet

[beom-pyu]

lust for life ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ kang taehyun

kang taehyun x fem!reader (choi yeonjun x fem!reader) , tags: non idol au , friends to lovers , one-sided crushes , pining , fluff , nsfw , angst , friend!taehyun , bff!yeonjun , roommate!yeonjun , college au , one-sided crushes , angst , pink-haired taehyun because why not, reader is a little ditzy but you mean well!! , pwp

warnings: smut (minors dni) , cursing , fingering , drinking , service top!taehyun (i need to spread this agenda please hear me out) , unprotected sex (reader is on the pill) , sane and consensual! , car sex (i have an obsession) , reader is going thru it

"in these stolen moments, the world is mine. there's nobody here—just us together. keepin' me hot like july forever."

a/n: hiii it's been a while! i've had this in the drafts for a little bit and i finally finished it yayyyy!! also happy 520+ in just a little over a month??? ily guys with all of my heart :,,,) i hope u enjoy!!! (this has only been proofread once so plz excuse any mistakes!)

wc: 8.17k

you’ve never been a fan of pancakes. in fact, you had even won an online debate about how waffles are the better breakfast food back in middle school on some weird forum site. pancakes are just too starchy, too flimsy, and way too bland. you’d rather eat sand than willingly go out of your way to devour a plate of pancakes.

but as yeonjun hand feeds you a bite of the blueberry pancakes he made for your “friendiversary” (the friendship anniversary that you guys celebrate every year), you decide right then and there that you have become a pancake connoisseur—a devotee… a fanatic, if you will.

you hum in delight, clapping your hands in appreciation as you chew the slice of doughy goodness. yeonjun watches your reaction with hopeful eyes—those fox-like eyes, shining as the daylight from the kitchen window hits his irises, a chocolate brown ring hidden in the center. you think you can get lost in them forever: the way they bunch up when he smiles widely, the way his eyelashes frame them beautifully, the way they seem to display any and every emotion he feels. those captivating, enchanting eyes.

“does it taste okay?” yeonjun asks, his soft voice snapping you back into reality. you’re nodding quickly before you even realize it, giving him two thumbs up as you swallow the food. 

“i didn’t know you were a pancake expert,” you joke, picking up your own fork to grab a strawberry off of your plate. yeonjun shakes his head with a faint smile, pushing around the food on his plate as he watches you eat.

“i just threw some things together. guess i’m just a natural, huh?” his voice is filled with feign cockiness and you find yourself giggling at the way he leans back in his seat with his arms behind his head like some 90s chick-flick jock.

he looks especially good today—you don’t know if it’s just the warm feelings surrounding your friendiversary, or if it’s the way the sun rays frame his figure, creating a halo effect around his body. he’s perfect in your eyes; his black hair falls beautifully around his face, and his cheeks are naturally flushed pink from the warm air of your shared apartment. his lips are glossy with some syrup residue and you wish for nothing more than to kiss it off of him, tasting the sweetness of his mouth as your hands find their way to his—

“—ift today, so i have to go in. i’m really sorry, y/n.”

you blink, tilting your head a bit as you rip your attention from his lips. “sorry, what did you say?”

yeonjun sighs with a small, apologetic smile, bouncing his fork in his hands. “there was no one who could cover my shift for our friendiversary, so i still have to work today.”

his voice is filled with so much guilt, and despite the deep disappointment you feel in your chest, you don’t want to make him feel any worse. he doesn’t deserve to feel that way. you guys have celebrated your friendiversary every single year for the past decade and a half. from visiting the aquarium in sixth grade, to go-karting in ninth, to climbing onto the rooftop of your apartment complex to stargaze last year; you guys have done it all. there’s nothing wrong with cutting one short, right?

“oh, that’s okay! i… i still have some cramming i need to do, so that’ll definitely keep me busy.” you wave your hand to dismiss him with a small smile before quickly spooning another strawberry into your mouth to cover up the falter of your lips. yeonjun’s shoulders untense with relief, nudging your foot under the table—the action is quick to summon butterflies in your stomach, a small warmth rising to your face from the short contact. 

“i promise i’ll make it up to you, okay?” and any hint of dismay in your body dissipates with the lopsided smile he sends your way, too distracted by the fluttery stuttering of your heart and the way those eyes glimmer in the morning sunlight.

“i’m going to die.”

“you’re not going to die.”

“yes, i am. i’m going to die and it’ll be all your fault.”

taehyun deadpans you as you dramatically drape yourself across the library table, whining with your cheek pressed against the cool wood. today was supposed to be your friendiversary, and now here you are, face to face with your friend (and calculus tutor) in your stuffy campus library.

you mentally curse the current recession—yeonjun could’ve had the day off to cuddle and watch movies with you, but now he’s holed up in a dumb, understaffed clothing store. 

on top of it all, calculus seems to always have the ability to literally melt your brain through your ears, feeling yourself growing more and more delirious with every number and formula you write down. there’s a reason why you’re an english major.

taehyun simply watches you throw your contained fit, his demeanor blank with the slightest hint of amusement—he’s definitely used to it by now. with one final huff, you lift your head up, grabbing your pencil with vigor as you straighten your back.

“okay, let’s do this.”

a tiny puff of laughter fills the space around you as taehyun’s lips quirk up at your immediate change of pace, his eyebrows raised with entertainment.

“you sure you don’t need another minute?” he teases you with a sly smile and you give him a tiny glare in return.

“not everyone is a mathematical nerd like you, kang,” you retort, but the words are light and airy—it’s easy to banter with taehyun. you’ve known him since your freshman year, meeting him by chance at this exact library during exam season. you approached him first—he had on a t-shirt of a band you like a little too much and with your extroverted nature, you cracked through his shell quickly. 

you two would be complete opposites if it weren’t for the fact that you have so much in common with each other. he’s like the less talkative, “critically thinking”’version of you—he balances you out perfectly and you’re incredibly thankful to have a friend like him. he’s always open to listen to your rambling, help you out when you’re struggling in one of your classes, and provide silent company when you don’t want to be alone. 

you’re especially grateful that he willingly offered to help you prepare for your upcoming exams, knowing how scatterbrained you get when it comes to studying—and by the time it hits 5 p.m, you’re officially burnt out, unable to intake any more explanations of radians and whatnot. 

taehyun notices your attention drifting as you chew on the end of your pen, a tiny and fond smile falling onto his face. 

“how about we call it a day?” taehyun asks as he closes his textbook. you immediately brighten up, nodding aggressively—taehyun quietly laughs at your enthusiasm.

“wanna get something to eat? i think i’m actually going to die after all of this now.” you motion to the mess of paper and notes in front of you, hearing taehyun hum in agreement. you pack up quickly as you randomly stuff your papers into their proper (see: random) folders, ready to get some food in your stomach as you tell taehyun about this new show you’ve started watching. he listens intently, nodding along to your breakdown of the plot—you speak way too fast for anything to be even the slightest bit comprehensible, but your eagerness makes up for any lost translations.

the air is warm on your skin when you exit the library, soaking up the heat as you fall into step with taehyun next to you. as brutal as finals season is on you, it does leave one positive in your mind—summer is coming. 

you had planned a trip with yeonjun to your hometown for the first few weeks of summer—just the two of you with no distractions of work and assignments. alone. together. you were going to confess during this trip; you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t chicken out this time. you have liked yeonjun for years, ever since middle school, but you’ve been too afraid of losing him to actually tell him the truth about your feelings—but this is it. this will be the summer you tell him everything. you beam at the thought, already feeling giddy at just the idea. 

“watcha thinking about?” 

taehyun’s inquisitive voice enters your ears and you turn your head to look over at him. he’s already watching you, his big eyes focused on the goofy smile on your face. your neck heats up with embarrassment at the prospect of being caught daydreaming about your best friend, shaking your head.

“nothing, really. i just love when the sun’s out,” you speak, looking up to the clear sky as you silently applaud yourself for that on-the-spot excuse. you can still feel taehyun’s eyes on your face, but you brush it off as your phone rings in your hand. 

you look down at the caller i.d., your heart jumping at the giant display of letters that spell out “junnie bug”. his contact photo takes up your entire screen and you’re sure taehyun sees it as well—it’s a selfie yeonjun took when he used one of your hello kitty headbands to wash his face, his lips puckered up in a kissy face with a v by his eyes, winking at the camera. god, he’s so cute. 

quick to answer the phone, you press the device to your ear with a small smile on your lips, muttering out a quiet hello.

“hey, where are you right now?”

you scan the area, realizing you’re closing in on one of the campus restaurants, one you and yeonjun frequent weekly. 

“i’m about to grab dinner. why?” the line is quiet for a beat as you hear some shuffling and jingling before yeonjun finally responds.

“i got off early! come eat with me. i brought your favorite~” yeonjun sing-songs through the speaker of your phone. you pout a bit, glancing up at taehyun whose hands are shoved in his pocket as he looks off into the distance, giving you privacy to speak.

“i’m actually with taehyun right now…”

yeonjun makes a small, whiny sound, quick to intervene. “but it’s our friendiversary! plus, i have something i’ve been waiting to tell you.”

your heart stops in your chest for a moment as the words reach your ears, feeling the world around you slow down.

yeonjun has something to tell you.

he has something he's been waiting to tell you.

you try not to overthink it, but you can’t stop the conclusion from jumping into your head.

he’s going to confess. he’s going to confess!

you bite back a small squeal as you gain your composure, your eyes flickering over to taehyun once again. he’s a few steps behind you and you already feel bad for what you’re about to do—but yeonjun has something to tell you and your best friend always comes first.

(especially when he’s going to confess to you!)

“okay, i’ll be there soon! love you, junnie.”

“love you too. see you in a bit.”

and then the line goes silent. you try to hide your wide grin as you turn on your heel towards taehyun who stops in his tracks, his head cocking to the side at your excited demeanor. 

“hey, can we make a reign check? i’m really sorry,” you pout as you speak, but taehyun doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, nodding his head.

“yea, that’s okay. seems like you have somewhere important to be.” the small smile he gives you seems a little forced, but you’re too blinded by the excitement pooling in your gut to linger on it. you make a small happy noise, reaching out to pat taehyun’s arm softly.

“i’ll pay for dinner next time—pinky promise.” you hold out your pinky and taehyun’s eyes follow your hand, smiling a bit at the action.

“what, are we twelve?” he teases and you huff, gently jabbing your pinky into his arm. 

“pinky promises are the ultimate form of trust and commitment!” you declare with a self-assured nod. taehyun hesitates for a moment as he gives you an unreadable look before his warm pinky hooks onto yours, your thumbs pressing together in a silent seal. 

“thank you, kind sir,” you say in a horrible british accent and the corners of taehyun’s eyes crinkle in that darling way they do when he smiles. “i’ll see you tomorrow. bye, bye!”

if taehyun watches your figure retreat until you’ve disappeared around the corner of the communications building, and a short while after you’re already gone—well, that’s for only him to know.

you’re nervous, you realize as you wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, taking in a deep breath as you stand outside of your apartment. one would think you’d be prepared for this, considering how many sleepless nights you’ve tossed and turned imagining this exact moment. the exact moment when yeonjun tells you, to your face, that he has been in love with you for years—and you would confirm that you feel the same way, and all would be well and dandy and you’d finally be able to breathe.

but your breath gets caught in your lungs the moment you see yeonjun sitting on the couch with a movie paused on the screen, all of your favored dishes from your favorite takeout place laid out in an array on the glass coffee table in the middle of the living room. time moves in slow motion when his head turns towards you as you walk through the front door, those butterflies making their way back to your belly the moment his eyes lock onto yours.

he’s always so gorgeous—even after being on his feet for hours due to his long shift, he still manages to look positively effortless. his plush lips are slightly parted in a wide smile as he beckons you over, his hair bouncing on his forehead at the movement. he’s shining, the sunset casting a wonderful glow over the living room, making his pristine skin look even more angelic than it usually does.

you’re in love. you’re absolutely, absolutely enamored with the man in front of you. 

it’s like a scene in a movie as you take a seat on the couch next to him, his arm coming to rest over your shoulders, pulling you into a tight side hug and… oh goodness, he smells so amazing. he’s had the same signature scent for years—a sweet grapefruit with hints of cedar and black currant. intoxicating, alluring. you subtly inhale as you bury your face in his shoulder, letting yourself bask in his warmth. his comfort.

you feel his body rumble with quiet laughter at the way you cling to him, his free hand coming up to pinch your cheek fondly. 

“hello to you too,” he speaks and you pop your head up to smile at him.

“i missed you. i think i lost half of my sanity after that study session,” you mumble as you pull your knees up to your chest, pressing yourself closer to yeonjun’s side.

“wasn’t taehyun there to help, though?” yeonjun questions as he massages the back of your neck. you hum in response, your eyes slipping shut as your body relaxes.

“he’s the only reason i didn’t actually go insane,” you groan and yeonjun laughs a bit at your theatrics. “but enough of that. it’s friendiversary time!”

you try to ignore the anticipation bubbling in your chest as the night goes on. yeonjun seems to have pushed the “something” he’s been “waiting” to tell you to the back burner of his mind, laughing and joking around as per usual as some corny 2000s chick flick plays on the t.v. screen. you’re painfully aware though, your eyes glancing over at him during every bout of prolonged silence, trying to egg him on with subtle words—and by the time the movie finally ends, you think he’s forgotten completely.

but then he turns his body towards you, and if you weren’t already hyperfocused on his entire presence, you would’ve missed the way he takes a subtle deep breath, silently preparing himself for whatever he’s about to tell you. naturally, your body faces him as well, your hands in your lap as you dismiss the rapid pounding of your heart in your chest. 

it’s finally happening.

yeonjun cracks a small smile to break the growing tension in the room and you swoon at the way his cheeks bunch up in that adorable way they do.

“soooo,” he starts and you can’t help but to smile a bit at his unusually awkward demeanor—choi yeonjun, you’re choi yeonjun, is actually nervous right now. something about it makes you feel a little fluttery; just the sight of his face reddening makes your stomach flip. he’s so cute.

“soooo…?” you echo, nudging his knee with yours. he chuckles a bit, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“remember how i said there’s something i’ve been waiting to tell you?” he speaks slowly as if he’s thinking of every word he says before they exit his mouth. you nod, trying to hide your growing grin. “so, um…”

this is it. this is it. your days of pining are finally over. you’ll be able to kiss, hug, and love yeonjun all you want, as loudly as you want. you’ll finally be his.

“i think i’m going to throw up from the suspense,” you blurt out and your words help to lighten the mood, yeonjun laughing again as his hand drops back down to his lap. 

“i guess i’ll just say it then,” he inhales once before his next sentence tumbles off of his lips like an avalanche, destroying your world with every passing millisecond. you’re dunked underwater as your breath hitches in your throat, your hearing muffled as you watch yeonjun’s lips move, but none of it reaches your ears.

you can’t think. you don’t want to think. it’s all too sudden and you feel your hands tremble slightly in your lap as yeonjun’s eyes fill with adoration as he talks about the girl from his fashion department. 

“we’re official. me and eunbin… we’re dating.”

he’s so happy as he lulls on about the exact moment everything happened; the way her eyes lit up, the way she jumped into his arms, the way she kissed him on the lips. how she’s so smart and mature. how she’s beautiful and confident and charming in every way. how she’s exactly what he needs at this point in his life. 

how she isn’t you.

you have always kind of been aware of the fact that the girl had a crush on yeonjun. she’d always be by his side walking through campus, hanging off his arm like a koala, overly affectionate with skinship. but yeonjun was friendly too, and he’s touchy with all of his friends—it’s his love language. you’ve never thought too much of it seeing as yeonjun always returns home to you. cuddling you at night when you can’t sleep. cooking you breakfast and dinner almost every day. matching outfits with you. staying up late to talk with you. 

you were just too stupid—too naive… too blinded by your own infatuation with the man to realize that his eyes weren’t set on you this entire time. you were just his comfort. his roommate. his best friend. and nothing more.

you aren’t sure if you’re still present in your body—it feels as if you’re watching the entire scene from afar, somewhere high up in the clouds. away from yeonjun. away from yourself. 

you want to cry, already feeling a lump form in your throat as your waterline burns with tears, but yeonjun’s smile is the widest you’ve seen it be in a while, and those eyes… those same eyes you’ve found yourself getting lost in one too many times… they’re so big and bright tonight as he rambles on about this girl. this girl who is everything you’re not. 

it feels as if your heart shrivels up and falls into your stomach right then, fighting to make a smile form on your trembling lips. you want to be joyful for your best friend—you really do—but it just hurts so, so much and you’re about to break at any second.

“i’m so happy for you, junnie,” you mumble out quietly, positive that if you speak any louder, your voice will crack and give it all away. yeonjun directs that endearing smile your way and you feel your heart break even more.

“thank you, y/n. you’re… you’re the first person i’ve told so i was a little nervous. thank you, really.” yeonjun lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls you into a hug. it should’ve been warm and cherished, filling you with nothing but precious feelings—but you can’t help that ice-cold feeling that washes over you as you inhale his citrusy cologne, patting his back with a shaky hand. when he pulls away, he has this little dazed smile on his face—he’s definitely thinking about her—and your gut churns with the ickiest feeling you’ve ever felt. 

“you know it’s hard for me to open up to people,” he continues, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can sit here while holding in your tears. “but with her, it’s just like… it’s so natural and easy. she reminds me of you, actually. she always understands me in the way that you do.”

no, she doesn’t. 

“i’m glad,” you mutter out and he doesn’t even process your short response, too busy lost in thought as he smiles down at his lap. 

you can’t. you can’t. 

“‘m gonna go to the bathroom,” you speak, standing before he even acknowledges your words. your tears are already falling down your cheeks as soon as you turn your back to him, your legs moving quicker than the speed of light as you shut the bathroom door behind you, letting it all rush out. 

you muffle your quick breathing with the sleeve of your sweater so yeonjun can’t hear—you don’t want to ruin this moment for him. he’s still your best friend, and he deserves all of the happiness in the world. but you’re selfish and your heart hurts a little too much; all of those years of pining and chasing… 

this truly sucks.

you don’t know how long you sit in there, but it must’ve been long enough for yeonjun to become worried seeing as a knock soon sounds from the door.

“y/n, you okay?”

you quickly pat your cheeks dry with your palm, nodding your head before remembering he can’t see you from the other side of the wall.

“yeah, ‘m just getting ready for bed!” you call out, cringing slightly at your hoarse voice. hearing an affirmative hum from yeonjun in the hallway, you turn on the sink to wash the tear tracks from your face. 

now this is definitely a friendiversary to remember.

taehyun has always had a knack for being incredibly perceptive—you like to call it his “kitty senses”, the way his nose twitches cutely when he spots something in the distance, or the way he perks up when he hears something interesting. he always seems to be aware of the space and those around him, noticing the little things, and paying close attention to detail. maybe that’s the reason why he blinks so little; he’s always keeping an eye out for the minuscule things people usually overlook.

so when your laugh isn’t quite as full as it usually is, and your smile doesn’t fully reach your eyes, and your fingers keep fidgeting with the zipper of your jacket—taehyun knows something is up.

it’s not like you’re not trying to hide it. you had made sure to put on extra concealer that morning to hide your sleepy eyes from your lack of sleep, which is useless because already sure you’ll be crying it off by the end of the day. you try to joke around with taehyun as usual, but you can’t seem to stop your mind from drifting. 

it hurts—it hurts so bad, and as much as you wish to just accept reality and move on, some part of you still wants to believe that this is all a dream. some horrible, horrible joke the universe decided to play on you. you just want it to all be over.

taehyun’s over at your place today. yeonjun has work until 6 and you really don’t think you can bring yourself to leave the dark, brooding coven that has become your bedroom, so you came up with a flimsy excuse of the library being too hot to study in today.

“let’s take a break,” taehyun’s voice sounds from your desk, successfully making you look up from where you’re laid stomach down on your bed. in all honesty, you’ve been repeatedly reading the same sentence for the past ten minutes, drawing the conclusion that you’re definitely not going to get anything done today. 

you sigh with a small nod, moving to sit crisscross as you shut your laptop, feeling your shoulders slump. taehyun’s watching you—you can feel his eyes follow your movement as you move your laptop to your bedside table, your lips adorning a permanent frown. 

you don’t even bother to check your phone as you flop backward onto your bed; it’s not yeonjun’s fault that you feel this way—you know that. he’s not responsible for the way your stomach swoops when he smiles, or the way your skin tingles when his hand lingers on your face for a little too long. it’s your fault for jumping to conclusions, for seeing everything through rose-tinted glasses.

it’s your fault for falling for him so hard. 

and here comes that feeling again; that lump in your throat, the churning of your insides, the sting behind your eyes. too caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t process the dip in your bed as taehyun takes a seat next to you.

“are you alright?”

his voice is oh so soft as you turn your head to look at him—those big eyes scan over your body as he tries to read what’s wrong, seeing his kitty senses working a thousand miles a second. you catch the way his fingers twitch as if he wants to touch you, but his body is stiff with uncertainty.

you almost want to cry simply at the way he so obviously cares, his brows knit together, eyes searching yours for an answer you aren’t giving him. he’s lovely, you render, as you scoot over to give him some space to slip in next to you as you curl up to his side. it’s nothing new; you’re used to sharing a bed with taehyun to get in quick power naps during cramming, or to scroll through your phones in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. 

but something feels different this time as he wraps his arm around you, his fingers tickling your arm. your head rests on his shoulder while your index finger draws random patterns on his chest, his black t-shirt bunching and scrunching up with the movement. it’s quiet as he strokes your arm, the pads of his fingers making goosebumps rise to your sensitive skin. you don’t realize how bad you need this—the warmth of his body is so nice and you can already feel your walls coming down as you sniffle, a few tears escaping your eyes.

“‘m gonna get your shirt all wet,” you mumble, and taehyun just laughs a bit, resting his head on top of yours.

“i don’t mind,” he replies quietly and you immediately break, the dam collapsing as your tears soak into his shirt, accepting all of the untamed emotions running wild inside of your body. taehyun holds you silently and gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in an attempt at solace. 

heartbreak is a weird, weird thing. it feels like you’re yearning for something that you know you’ll never have. craving the touch of someone you’ll never be able to hug and kiss and love in the way you want to. you don’t believe you’ve ever felt anything like this before.

so you let yourself cry, and cry, and cry as taehyun nuzzles his cheek into your hair—a silent reminder that he’s still right here next to you.

he doesn’t ask any questions, and in a way, you’re thankful for that. what would you even say? your bestfriend broke your heart even though you guys were never together in the first place? it sounds ridiculous in any way you can think of wording it, so you bask in the silence as you let everything out.

by the time your tears slow down, your fingers are clenching the front of taehyun’s shirt like a lifeline… and he lets you hold onto him for as long as you need. you don’t know what you have ever done to deserve a friend like him. always ready to catch you when you fall, giving reassurance when you need it, and always prepared to lend a helping hand. 

you find yourself lifting your head to find taehyun’s eyes already on you, his hand slipping from your arm to your waist at your movement. his eyes are clouded with apprehension, and you’re sure you look an absolute mess right now with your swollen eyes and tear-stained skin. but there is something left unsaid in the air as your eyes trail down to his pink lips; his hand grips your waist a little tighter, his big eyes flickering quickly between yours.

his eyes are different than yeonjun’s—while yeonjun’s are filled with memories of home and familiarity, taehyun’s are present and swirling with unadulterated want. he wants to be here with you. 

everything is muted save for your air conditioning, the quiet hum from the fan of taehyun’s laptop sitting on your desk, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

you shouldn’t do it. you know this is a bad, bad, bad idea. you’re still not over yeonjun—you’re not ready to move on yet. but that feeling of heartbreak and pure longing wraps around your brain and you just need something, someone to make it all pause. the feeling of taehyun’s hand on your waist is grounding as his thumb brushes over your your clothed skin, his dark brown irises still fixated on you, waiting. and waiting. and waiting.

your lips are on his before you can give anything another thought. 

he kisses you as delicately as he holds you, giving you the lead, and allowing you to take whatever you want from him. his lips are incredibly soft—you taste his vanilla and peppermint chapstick on your tongue, getting lost in the slightly tingly sensation. your mind is hazy as your hand trails up from his chest to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse under the pads of your fingers, pressing closer to him to deepen the kiss.

his tongue swipes across your bottom lip in silent permission and you gladly give in, parting your lips for him. a quiet moan slips out as his free hand tugs your thigh over his waist, moving you to straddle him. his body is firm and sturdy underneath you, your hands falling to his shoulders as you steady yourself.

it should end here… it really should—but then taehyun tilts his head and takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and his hands are so heavy and pleasant on your waist and you’re reminded of citrus and home and…

he pulls away slowly, his chest rising and falling quickly as he stares up at your figure.

“y/n…”

his breathy voice quickly makes you come to your senses.

guilt overrides your body as you realize—you just took advantage of your friend’s kindness and company, all because of your own stupid feelings. a grave emotion washes over you as you shake your head, quickly moving off of his body as taehyun sits up.

because only then does it dawn on you that you were pretending taehyun’s lips were yeonjun’s.

“hey, hey, it’s okay—”

“no, i can’t—fuck, i’m so sorry, taehyun,” you spill out as you climb off of him, creating distance between the two of you, unable to meet his hurt eyes. you don’t want to cry again, but the stinging behind your eyes comes back in full force. the shame is too much; taehyun is so kind and you just—you used him for temporary validation. “you should… you should go.”

taehyun is silent and you see him nod in the peripheral of your vision, lingering for a second before he slips off of your bed. he’s quiet and quick as he collects his things, and your eyes only watch his figure once his back is turned toward you. you try to pretend you don’t notice the weighted gaze he gives you before leaving. 

it’ll give you one less thing to cry about tonight.

you need another drink.

the slight buzz in your body is not enough to blur out the sight in front of you as you lean against the wall holding a plastic cup tightly in your hand. you’ve never really had a problem with pda—if couples want to show their admiration for each other in public, then so be it. it isn’t any of your business, truly.

but now, your stomach seems to lurch as you watch eunbin kiss up yeonjun’s neck, sitting prettily in his lap on the living room couch as yeonjun smiles that perfect smile at something she whispers in his ear. theoretically, you can simply look away, or walk away, even—but your feet stay planted where they are as your hands shake slightly. 

you aren’t sure how long heartbreak is supposed to linger, or how long it should take before you stop thinking about how that could’ve been you… should’ve been you. jealousy is one hell of an emotion, and you try your absolute best to keep it at bay; yeonjun owes you nothing, but the spite eats away at you as you bring your nearly empty drink back up to your lips. 

a body shuffles up next to you, but you don’t pay them any mind, your ears ringing with the pulse of the music reverberating through the walls. you’re definitely not drunk enough to enjoy the atmosphere, too hyperfocused on the way yeonjun’s head tips back in a hearty laugh as eunbin swats at his chest playfully. 

“you look like you need some air.”

your head whips to the side at the words, coming face-to-face with taehyun, his eyes holding a type of intensity you’ve never seen before. a dejected laugh leaves your lips as you tilt your head back, nodding slightly in response. 

“yeah, i probably do.”

taehyun’s hand is slipping into yours before you can even process his grip, tugging you towards the front door of the house. there aren’t too many people in the front yard—just a small group passing a blunt on the porch, someone in an intense argument on the phone, and a few people loitering by their cars. 

you follow taehyun to the steps of the porch, taking a seat on the cement. it’s dark out, but the air is still slightly humid, making your skin feel sticky and warm. taehyun’s hand is still in yours as you scoot closer to him to allow some people to walk up the other half of the steps, your thigh pressing against his. 

he’s silent as he looks ahead, and you can feel tension filling in the space around you both. it’s been a couple of weeks since you two have spoken—you’ve felt too guilty to face him after that kiss, but now you find yourself looking over at his figure. maybe the alcohol is working better than you thought.

his brows are slightly furrowed, one of his legs bouncing up and down incessantly. the low glow of the porch light illuminates him in a way that makes it impossible to look away, your eyes trailing from his cat-like eyes, to the slope of his nose, to his soft lips. 

his soft lips.

you rip your eyes away from them. you aren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“y/n, did i do something wrong?” taehyun questions quietly, his eyes finally landing on your face. there’s something cloudy and uncertain behind them, something that you can’t quite put a name to.

“no, taehyun, you didn’t—it’s not your fault. i’m just…” you sigh, your gaze focusing on the way his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. “there’s a lot on my mind right now.”

taehyun nods slowly, turning his head away from you again. 

“is there anything i can do to help?”

he doesn’t mention the kiss. he doesn’t mention the way you’ve practically been avoiding his existence. 

you don’t know if it’s your tipsy state, or if it’s the way his body heat radiates onto you or the way his eyes flicker back up to yours when you’re quiet for a second—but then you catch the way they travel down to your lips and you’re in the backseat of his car in the blink of an eye.

it’s warm, too warm, as you straddle his lap, your hands tangled into his hair as he kisses down your neck, hands on your hips to steady you. you don’t want to think anymore—you don’t want to hang onto something you’ll never have.

so you let taehyun distract you at this moment.

“you can use me however you’d like,” he breathes out heavily as your hands come to rest on his chest. “use me to get over him.”

your body stiffens as the words slip out of his mouth, meeting his eyes in the darkness of the car. 

“how… how did you…?” your voice is breathless as you trail off, the corners of his lips quirking up into a sad smile.

“i’ve always noticed the way you look at him, y/n.”

your eyes are unfocused in the low light as you gaze at taehyun’s state, his pupils blown wide in the darkness of the car, only a side of his face lit up golden from the street lights outside. his lips are bright pink and bitten raw, his fading pink hair messy and falling onto his forehead in fluffy waves. he’s always been gorgeous, a fact you could never deny, but in this moment, he looks absolutely unreal.

sudden guilt fills your chest at the thought, shaking your head quickly.

“i can’t do that to you, taehyun,” you replied weakly. he’s shaking his head now, his big hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your soft skin delicately.

“i want you to. i hate seeing you like this,” his hand drops down to cover one of yours, feeling his chest rise and fall under your palm. “i’ll do anything you want me to, y/n. you just have to say the words.”

his voice is low and faint, gazing at you with his pretty brown eyes. they flicker in between yours, trying to read the emotions on your face in the limited light. you nibble on your lip as you feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt, your mind scattered and dizzy.

“please. let me help you.”

a hot flash courses through your body at the pure desperation in his voice—and something in you snaps at that exact moment, your lips crashing onto his vanilla and peppermint ones. the kiss is messy and feverish as your hands run up and down his torso, teeth clashing with the vehemence of it all. you feel his hands drop to your hips, holding you down onto him as his tongue explores your mouth, running across your teeth, swiping across your lips. he tastes like cheap liquor, and you’re sure you do too, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

you press down on him, your hands running over his toned stomach, up to his pecs, over his shoulders; anything you can reach. you shut your mind off, not letting yourself focus on anything other than taehyun taehyun taehyun taehyun.

he’s moving you, you realize as your back presses against the cool leather of his back seat. he doesn’t break the kiss once as he hovers over you, hiking your skirt up to run his hand up your leg, running his nails over the sensitive skin of your thigh. you allow your legs to fall open so he can comfortably slot himself in between them, feeling his bulge press against your pulsing core just right. 

a faint gasp leaves your lips as he grinds against your clothed cunt, already feeling yourself leaking through the thin fabric. one of your legs wraps around him to pull him even closer to you, drowning out all of your senses with the scent of his cologne, his hair tickling your cheek as he kisses down your neck. his hand leaves your thigh to slip under your top before his fingers dance over your stomach, brushing over your bra—admiring every inch of you as you arch up into his touch.

“tell me what you want, baby,” he pants against your neck, nipping the flesh there. you stifle a moan as his fingers brush over the wet spot on your panties. “come on, use your words.”

“i want… fuck—i want your fingers in me.” 

he’s quick to obey, pushing your panties to the side to rub his middle finger up and down your dripping slit, a low groan leaving his lips as your hand finds its way to his hair, tugging at the pink strands to hurry him up.

you moan softly as he slips his first finger in, curling it upwards as he pumps in and out of your clenching hole. the car is filled with the sounds of your soaked cunt, his heavy pants, and your moans as he finger fucks you, slipping in another two easily with how wet you are. his fingers are incredibly long and slender, reaching parts of you that you’ve never been able to hit by yourself. 

when his lips find yours again, it’s much slower, his fingers matching the restrained pace as he kisses you deeply, devouring all of your little noises. your hips buck up as his thumb rubs circles onto your swollen clit, your fingers tightening in his hair.

he seems to be in no rush as he takes you apart slowly, hitting that spot inside of you perfectly as you leak onto his seat, body shaking with pleasure. there’s a small smile resting on his lips when he pulls back to peer down at you, taking in the way your lips part and your brows furrow as he speeds up, pressing down on your clit just right.

you can’t control the noises leaving your lips as you grind onto his hand, chasing your high as he pumps into you. his actions don’t slow down when he moves up to capture your lips again, curling his fingers inside of you as his thumb rubs your clit. you grab his biceps, needing something to ground you as you feel your impending orgasm rushing upon you. 

“taehyun—fuck, ‘m cumming…”

he swallows all of your moans as you tip over the edge, your back arching up into his hold as white fills your vision. you can hear the gentle praise leaving his lips through the ringing of your ears, your body left feeling fuzzy and warm as his fingers slow before gradually pulling out of your sensitive hole. 

“so good for me,” he mutters against your lips, his own traveling down your jaw. you feel dizzy as you catch your breath, leaning into his touch.

“i need you,” you mumble as he lifts his head to catch your gaze. he looks completely enamored, his big eyes glossy, reflecting the light from the street lamps outside.  “i need you in me. fuck me, taehyun.”

 he smiles before sitting back to undo his pants. “anything you want, baby.”

it’s all a blur as he’s back on top of you again, his length hard and throbbing against his stomach as he captures your lips again. his hands roam every piece of your skin he can touch, sucking marks onto your collarbone. claiming you.

you reach down to grab his heavy dick in your hand, stroking him a few times. he sighs lowly in your ear, whispering praise and encouragement that just turns you on even more. it’s hard to be patient when taehyun is bucking up into your hand, your mind clouding up by his hot tongue trailing over your skin. he seems to sense your urgency, placing one last kiss on your lips before lining up with your entrance.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers as if his voice was only made for you to hear. you nod quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses his forehead against yours. the heat radiating from his body manages to make your clothed, scorching skin even warmer, moaning out softly once you feel him push into you. his eyes flutter shut as you clench around him. “fuck—you feel so good.”

you bite your lip to keep quiet as he slowly thrusts into you, wrapping your other leg around his waist as if it would bring you impossibly closer to him. your fingers tangle gently in his hair, tugging slightly in a way that drives him absolutely crazy.

soft grunts leave his lips once he speeds up, the sound of skin on skin drowning out the muffled music in the distance. your eyes are half-lidded as you strain to keep them open, wanting to watch the way his jaw clenches and his brows furrow. it’s all too much as you take in the fluttery tickles of his lips on your cheek and jaw, the way he stretches you out with his thick cock, the way his hands tightly grip onto your waist as if you could disappear at any moment. 

every thrust into your heat makes your stomach flip with pleasure, getting lost in the feeling of his hips snapping against yours perfectly. he kisses you once more before he leans back, hands slipping down your hips to fuck you even harder, the car rocking with his strokes. you can’t control your sounds anymore, getting closer and closer to the edge with every move. you can tell he’s getting close too by the way his rhythm falters — his grip on you is tight, and you know there would be marks to cover up by the morning. 

“‘m so close,” you squeak out as he intertwines one of your hands, his other forearm resting by your head to lean down to kiss your lips again. 

“me too, baby,” he speaks against your lips, his hips stuttering. “you’re so perfect, y/n, fuck.”

you can already feel your high crashing upon you with one last stroke, your own whimpers falling deaf to your ears as his words tip you over the edge. your body buzzes with electricity as you clench around him, feeling him pump his thick ropes of cum into you at the action, his moans high and breathy in your ear as you cum together.

it takes you a second to come back to your surroundings, blinking your eyes open to see taehyun watching you, silently stroking your hair. he’s still nestled inside of you, but you don’t really mind. he leans down to capture your lips again—it’s passionate and unrushed as he tries to convey every single emotion he’s feeling, his hands coming up to cradle your face. 

you can’t think of anything other than the way your heart flutters as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing still uneven as his eyes open to gaze into yours. 

“thank you,” you whisper, your stomach swooping as he smiles, that dimple on his right cheek peeking out in the darkness.

“don’t thank me,” and his voice is dripping with so much sincerity, you find yourself unable to look away from his eyes, your hand coming up to rest on top of his. with a small giggle, you glance down at your intertwined bodies.

“i think we should clean up,” you speak light-heartedly as your nose brushes taehyun’s, and he lets out a small puff of laughter, nodding in agreement.

you don’t know what any of this means anymore—how your heart flutters at the way taehyun gently cleans you up before pulling you back in his lap to kiss you silly, how he drives you home, walking you up to your door with your fingers interlaced with his. how you linger for a moment, not wanting to leave his side so soon even though you can barely keep your eyes open long enough to unlock the front door.

but all you know is that yeonjun doesn’t cross your mind again for the rest of the night.

reblogs are very much appreciated!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

[camilyscove]

LONG AWAITED . POPE HEYWARD ꩜

trope : best friends to lovers

genre : fluff , a little angst .

summary : you and pope are best friends, however when he finally expresses his feelings for you, you’re ready to be more than that.

YOU COULD NEVER GET OVER just how much you really needed pope in your life.

you couldn't count with your fingers how many times he had been there for you, gotten in trouble with his dad because he always ran off with you rather than doing his chores. and you loved him for that.

when you two were kids, you guys were the ultimate duo. you were outside, running around on the playground until you got into a heated argument with some other kid. it ended with you pushing them down the slide, causing the tears to flow and one of the teachers making you sit inside.

you huffed and complained as the teacher told you that the rest of your recess time would be spent in the isolated library. you rolled your eyes when she turned her back, putting up your pinky-finger at her while sticking out your tongue.

you, being a bright extrovert that never knew when to shut her mouth, couldn't help but notice the only other person in the empty library without speaking to him. he was peering at you from above his book, curious and a little surprised.

your eyes widened, and you quickly slid down into the seat next to him. "don't tell her I did that. I'm already in big trouble," you whispered into his ear. he moved away, a weird look on his face.

"you do know that the whole 'chinese middle finger' hoax, isn't real, right?"

your face was blank. "huh?"

"putting up your pinky finger isn't an alternative for the middle finger."

"does that mean you're gonna snitch?" you questioned, squinting at him. he sighed, shaking his head.

"thanks. I hate that teacher. she's always on my cheeks."

"your.. cheeks?"

"it's an alt— alter—“

"alternative?"

"yeah, that, for," you leaned in closer, glancing around to make sure nobody else was there, and even though there wasn’t, you lowered your voice, “ass."

pope stared at you. he had never heard anyone— especially a girl— say that, except his dad, and that was a one-time thing. you giggled, a mischievous smile on your lit-up face.

"anywayyyyy," you said in a sing-song voice, "whatcha' doin' in here?"

"reading and studying."

"why?"

he knitted his eyebrows together, tilting his head to the side a bit. "because i have a pop-quiz."

"i thought pop quiz means you don't know about it."

"yeah, it does."

"then how come you know?"

"because I'm smart. duh," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. you scoffed, "I'm smart, too. and I didn't know about it."

pope gave you a nasty look before going back to his book. you sighed, spinning his pen between your fingers and observing the library you were in. it had that dewey smell of old books, and the ceiling was high. you could see the playground from the tall windows, and you longed to be out there, joining games of telephone and freeze-tag. however you had no ounce of self-control, at least not enough to take some random kid’s bullshit.

you figured this boy went to library everyday during recess, considering you had never seen him on the black-top, in the fields playing dodge-ball, or on the playground. and that's what every normal kid did.

"hey," you mumbled, poking his arm with the pen. he hummed softly, paying no attention to you. you spoke up, anyway. "are you an alien?"

his eyes slowly trailed up your face before they landed on your own. he didn't respond, instead just staring at you as if you were the weirdest, most stupid person he had ever came in contact with.

"what's your name, alien?"

"pope. and I'm not an alien."

"that 'kinda sounds like an alien name, pope."

"it's really not."

after a short moment of silence, you smiled.

"hey, you're actually pretty cool. I'm not 'tryna be mean. just curious. I've never seen you outside with everyone else, but if you ever do, you can always play with me."

he didn't answer, instead deciding to turn away from you, but nobody could miss the faint smile that played on his lips.

pope chose to ignore you for the next twenty-five minutes of recess, tuning out your constant rambling about literally anything that popped up on your mind. even though he barely paid attention to what you were saying, he quickly learned that you truly had no filter. but he liked it. so for the next week, you had purposely gotten in trouble to talk to him in the library, your smile becoming the highlight of his day. (even though he'd never admit that.)

you started waving at him in the hallways, inviting him to sit next to you at lunch with your friends. you even began to read a book he was, just so you guys could be ‘twinsies.'

and soon enough, he was welcomed into the friend group that consisted of jj maybank, kiara carrera, and john b routeledge.

and now, you were sitting on the hammock outside of the château, pope right next to you. your head was buried in the crook of his neck, and he softly played with your hair.

the sunset was gorgeous. you and pope spent the day boating and swimming, watching tv and eating snacks on the couch of your home before going back to the château. all the pogues were there; john b and jj and kie and sarah. they were drinking out of beer-bottles and laughing while they got high on some weed jj stole. while you’d usually join them, you wanted to just relax in the arms of your best friend.

it felt perfect, the gentle touch of pope’s fingertips brushing against your hair, while you breathed in his scent of sea-salt and faded cologne.

“hey, y/n?” pope said, his voice soft. you opened your eyes, humming in reply, to show you were listening.

“remember when i told you about me and kie?”

you nodded. he was talking about how he kissed kie.

it hurt, when you he told you.

you remember how all the hope you had of possibly becoming more than just best friends with pope had all but vanished. his words felt like being punched in the gut. the rejection stung, you became bitter. you began to wonder if anyone would ever see you more than just a friend.

it hit you then, when he told you in the dead of night that he kissed kie, that you didn’t just like pope. you didn’t just have a small crush on him. you were in love with pope. you’d defend him when he wasn’t around, you would laugh with him and go through crazy shit with him. the features of his face were carved into your mind, impossible to forget. when you made him smile or laugh, you felt proud. you were making him happy, not kie. not any other girl.

you.

so why couldn’t he choose you?

because he was your best friend. and he saw you as just that.

it might’ve been a greedy thought, but you just wanted more.

“i don’t like her that way.”

you blinked, shifting underneath his arm to look up at him. you tried to meet his eyes, but he was clearly avoiding eye-contact. you figured he was lying.

“oh,” you replied, and you hoped the uncertainty in your voice didn’t show.

it was quiet for a moment, and you tried not to let it bother you.

“i don’t think i ever liked her that way.”

his words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but not believe him. you sighed softly, biting down on your bottom lip, trying not to remind him of how he’d get that look on his face when he saw kie; like he was in an unbreakable trance.

“you know, that, right, y/n?” he asked, his voice barely audible. there was a slight tremble in his voice, and you feared it was your fault,

“yes, pope.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“okay, well, i’m not buying it. are you seriously telling me that the whole ‘i’m in love with kie’ thing wasn’t real? that you never liked her?”

“yes? i was just.. i always thought no girl would want to be with me. so kie was different. i never—“

“okay, pope. i believe you, alright?” you scoffed, sitting up in the hammock.

pope stared at you. “you’re my best friend—“

“yeah, no shit—“

“can you just listen, y/n?” you shut up, trying your hardest not to get up and join the rest of the pogues. that beer and weed were looking real good right about then.

“i was always scared to tell you. afraid that it would ruin our friendship and you’d never wanna be around me anymore. but i like you. no— scratch that, y/n. i fucking love you. i always have. but you’re just.. too good for me. too pretty and too cool and too— everything. you’d never choose me. i knew that.”

“pope..” you whispered, but he quickly shook his head.

“no. let me talk. if im going to do this, then let me talk.”

you nodded a little, your heartbeat going one hundred miles per hour. he loved you.

he really did.

“i thought that maybe if i got with kie, then you’d realize i could be more than just your best friend, that i could do anything a good boyfriend would. but then she dropped me. and i was scared that you would think it was because i wasn’t good enough. but i want you to know that kie is my best friend. you.. you’re like, the love of my life. it’s corny but—“

“just shut up,” you said suddenly.

you pulled him in, slinging your arm around his neck as you came in contact with his lips. they were softer than you expected, and your lips moved together in sync passionately.

you couldn’t believe this was finally happening. after years and years of dreaming of this one moment, it finally came to you.

when you pulled away, pope tried to chase your lips, but you placed a hand on his lips with a laugh. “geez, eager much?”

pope rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around you, embracing you as tight as he could.

“i love you, y/n. i love you so much,” he whispered into you ear, his head laying on yours. the corners of your plump lips from kissing pope curved up in a sweet smile.

“i love you, too, pope.”

and when you finally pulled away from the hug, you couldn’t help but admire the eyes of the boy who had been yours from the start.

[httpscomexe]

Ensnared 1

So, after I read your response to my last ask, I got an idea for a fic or drabble whatever you want to do. So basically, it would be a Logan x plus-size reader. The timeline is set in the x mansion and reader came to them for help so she could stay somewhere idk something of that origin. Logan immediately becomes OBSESSED like he turns into a complete yandere. He starts following her and stealing her clothes 👀 knowing Logan he’s gonna act all weird and protective. And for shits and giggles let’s throw in some jealousy but on an outside character; They have a crush on Logan and are like “why would you be interested in someone like her🙄” then Logan goes batshit crazy. Regarding readers powers idk I always love what you come up with so I would love to see what you bring into this one!!

Summary: Finally, after having enough of the abuse and violent attacks, you decide to take shelter in a friend's home, the X-Mansion.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Yandere!Logan Howlett x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Discrimination of mutants, foul language, use of the word God, description of violence, traumatised reader, hidden injury, injury. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Tags: @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 3488 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

You didn’t remember much, but you know you were attacked.

Being a mutant wasn’t easy, and you needed an escape.

Xavier had mentioned the X-Mansion to you many times, but you’ve never even thought to consider it. At least not until you discovered there was a fucking gang trying to kidnap you, your powers considered something you can ‘only find once in a lifetime,’ if you’re lucky that is. But you didn’t find yourself very lucky. You wish you had just been normal, you wish you looked normal. You wanted to change everything.

So as you stand at the front doors of the mansion, your knuckles on the wood of the door as you hesitate to knock, you think again about turning back. It was late, and surely no one would be awake to hear you. You take a step back, unsure of if you actually wanted to be in the mansion. Sure, you’d be safe, but you wouldn’t be free.

But just as you’re about to step away, the door opens, slowly, and you expect someone to walk out and greet you, but nobody pops out. You peek around the door, and take a single step inside, then another, then another. Then you’re standing in the entrance of the mansion. It was cool inside, but you stood there awkwardly as you turned your head up, down, left, right. Looking all around you as you admired the size of the mansion. It was huge, and you’ve dreamt about it, but it was better than what you could’ve ever imagined. Still though, you had no idea where you were expected to go. After all, it was a mansion, and you’ve never been inside.

But you start walking anyway, hoping to run into someone. You pass through some halls, a door every few feet which you assume are classrooms or bedrooms. Only some doors had a label, but there was one part of the hallway with an arch instead, so you turn into there, but it’s empty. Still, you step in, looking around in the dark. It was empty, and you immediately lost interest, turning back around too quickly as you collided with another person, their hands immediately moving to hold your arms and steady you.

“Hey watch it-” A deep voice comes from above you, and you look up to see deep brown eyes staring back down at you.

“I’m so sorry… Where can I find Xavier?” You ask quickly and step away from him, he seems to hold on for a moment longer, but he does let go.

“He’s probably in his office still.” His voice is softer now, and you swear you recognise him, but it was so dark you couldn’t be sure.

“Where uhm… where’s his office?”

“Are you new?”

“Kind of…” You lift your shoulders, and he turns around, you take that as a cue to follow him. Trailing close behind him as he turns and makes his way up some stairs, eventually stopping at a door with a plate on it that said “Professor Xavier.” Which is when you finally start to feel sick to your stomach, thinking maybe this isn’t the best idea. So as his hand lands on the door knob, your own hands shoot out and grip his forearm, stopping him immediately and he stares back down at him.

“I just uh… maybe… I think I’m actually just going to leave.” You tell him, removing your hands off of him and shoving them into your hoodie pocket. “Thank you though, I appr-”

The door opens, stopping you mid sentence, and you see Xavier standing at the door.

“Look who’s here.”He says, his voice tired but he stares at you in the dark, your face however illuminated from the light of his office.  “Oh, and you’ve already met Logan I see?” His head turns towards Logan, which you could now recognise as he also was glowing from the light of the office. It was Wolverine.

For someone who’s rumoured to be an asshole, he was pretty nice to show you to Xavier's office.

“Xavier… Hi.” You panic a little, your voice raising a few octaves as your fingers lace in front of you nervously.

“Finally decide to move in?”

“Move in?” Logan asks.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get her to move in for a few months now.” He tells Logan, looking back over at you. “And what happened to your face, darling?” Xavier asks, his hand coming up to your face as he takes the hood of your hoodie off your head.

“I got into a bit of a fight…” You tell him. You knew he was talking about the massive bruise under your right eye. You’ve had a non-stop headache from it the last few days.

“It sucks you can’t heal yourself like you can heal others.”

“Yea, God's little way of hating me.” You tell him. You’ve always wondered why you can’t heal yourself. And it’s always triggered you.

“You have healing powers?” Logan asks. And you wonder why he was still there.

You nod.

“She does, and that’s why it’s dangerous for her outside of the mansion.” Xavier tells him, in a ‘I told you so’ sort of tone. “Which, I’m assuming, is why you’re here?”

You nod again. “Yea…” Your voice cracks a little, and you’re not sure why it was a sensitive subject for you, but it was.

“Well, lucky for you, I know you’ve been wanting to for the past few weeks, so I have a room already assigned for you.” A tear slips down your cheek. You didn’t deserve someone like Xavier. He cared more than anyone else could’ve possibly done. “The room should be done by Tuesday, so give it two days, I have Logan here and Scott working on it. Making it comfortable for you.”

“Oh I don’t need anything special really.”

“Y/N…” He growls, stepping towards you and placing his hands on your shoulders. “In your own home, you're sleeping on a blanket and your actual blanket is whatever you’re wearing. I can’t find it in me to give you just any room. So it will be nice, like the students have. A comfortable bed, pillows, blankets, and anything else you ask for.” His hands rub down to your biceps, squashing your baggy hoodie down. “You live here, so you’re family. Now until the room is finished, I have spare keys to my office, and I have a fold out couch, alright?” You hadn’t even realised the amount of tears that were falling from your cheeks until he wipes them away with his thumb.

You would actually be loved. You’d be around people that care about you.

“Do you have anything you need to grab from your place?” You shake your head, afraid to speak knowing your voice will break embarrassingly. “Okay, come on in and we’ll set up your couch, I’ll have Logan here give you a tour in the morning.” He tells you, gently placing his hand on your back as he led you into the office. “Good night Logan, just be here in the morning when I text you she’s awake.” You see Logan nod, then he walks away. You guess it was at least true that he wasn’t much of a talker.

You spend the next minute getting under blankets after Xavier presses a button next to the couch and you watch as it unfolds itself. You weren’t surprised in the slightest.

And the bed was comfortable, but you still struggle to sleep after the lights go out and Xavier leaves you, locking the door and heading to his room.

It all felt so unrealistic. Like you were in a dream. But you knew you were finally safe…

You’re not sure what time you wake up, but it was late in the morning. You only awoke because of the sound of a bell, and you remember the mansion was also used as a school. So you sit up, grabbing the phone that you had slept with in your back pocket.

It was already two in the afternoon, you had seriously slept in, and the office was empty, but the light shone through the closed curtains, showing little dust particles as they flew through the air and invaded your lungs.

You look to the foot of the bed, some clothes were neatly folded with a little note on it. You reach for the note first, taking the blankets off your body.

‘Here are some clean clothes. There’s a bathroom on the opposite side of the room if you’d like to clean yourself. Text this number when you are finished, saying you’re ready for your tour.”

It was sweet. He was always sweet to you, always bringing a smile to your face, even when it wasn’t that special. You always thought maybe he had bad intentions, like he also wanted you only for your powers, but everytime your eyes landed on him, that thought immediately left your brain.

You stand up, grabbing the clothes and looking at them. Plain black sweats and a baggy T-shirt with the Rolling Stones logo on the front. He apparently also knew you liked a baggy style. You take the clothes and go to the bathroom, deciding to just take a quick shower, just to rinse yourself off.

You start by taking off your hoodie, then you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your ribs adorned with bruises that were turning purple and blue, your pudgy skin looking like a canvas decorated with a dash of fucking pain.

As soon as you’re finished showering, you step out, drying your hair as much as you could before working on drying your body, being gentle when you dry over your bruises, staring at yourself in the mirror again when you’re finished. An enormous bruise still decorating your face. You looked kind of badass.

“Oh you’re awake.” You hear a voice enter the room, it was Xavier and you step out of the bathroom to meet him.

“Yea, hey, I used the shower so-”

“That’s fine, I really don’t mind. Have you messaged Logan?” He gets straight to the point and you assume he’s in a hurry.

“I haven’t.”

“Okay, if you’d like, he’s in the kitchen right now grabbing himself a drink, do you know the way?”

You nod, remembering being there last night. It should be even easier to find now that the sun is up.

“Alright, let me know if he gives you any troubles, he’s a hardass.” He chuckles and you smile a little, slipping your slides on which were next to your bed before telling Xavier bye and leaving him to be in his office, quickly making your way down to the kitchen.

You lose your way so quickly it wasn’t even funny. Stopping as soon as the halls feel unfamiliar. There was no one around again of course, just like last night. So you just keep walking, once again hoping to run into someone.

You swear as you realise you’ve come across just about anything except the kitchen. There was a training room, classrooms, bedrooms, a restroom, and even a fucking gaming room. But you couldn’t find the damned kitchen. Until you hear a beeping sound. Like a microwave, to which you immediately follow the sound.

“There you are.” Logan greets you with a smile that would brighten up anyone's world.

“Got lost…” You admit, mumbling your words slightly.

“Everyone gets lost when they first move here.” He tells you, putting a milk jug back into the fridge. “I made you something to eat, figured you’d be hungry.”

You step into the kitchen, you weren’t hungry. You were famished.

“Oh thank you…” Your voice sings sweetly as you see the bowl of food, it was lunch time already, so in the bowl was ravioli. Simple, but easily one of your favourite foods.

“Of course.” He watches as you take the bowl, and another person walks into the room.

“Hey Logan, how’s it going? Is this the new girl?” She asks immediately. She knew about you already?

“Yea, her name is Y/N, Xavier seems to like her.”

“Well hi, my name is Vincent, you can call me Vin though. My friends call me Vin. And I know we just met, but you seem cool, so you can call me Vin, it’s nice to meet you! Xavier talks about you ALL the time.” She fills your brain with words, half of which you really don’t give a fuck about. Something in you already didn’t like her. But to be fair, you had the same feeling last night before you ran into Logan. So your instinct might just be fucked up. “Good God girl, and what happened to your eye?”

“It’s personal.” You tell her quickly, your instinct taking control of your lips instead of your empathy or friendliness.

“Oh…” She pauses for a moment. “Sorry…” She apologises, but you know you hear some spite in her voice as her teeth grit. Well sorry if you didn’t wanna share your personal stories with some girl you’ve never seen before.

“Well, I have to give her a tour, so I will see you later, Vincent.” He puts an emphasis on her name, then puts a hand on your back at the same time you stuff a thicker ravioli in your mouth, making you cough a little but they don’t notice as he leads you out of the room. That wasn’t the best first interaction.

He takes you through every hall, not spending much time anywhere, but spending enough time for you to remember what the rooms looked like. You tell him the only places you need are the library, and your room. He also brings you to your room actually, but he explains how he can’t open it at this hour, since Scott has the key to the room. Then he takes you to where his room is.

“And I’m right here.” He tells you, stopping at his door.

“Jesus this place is huge.” You breathe out heavily. You wouldn’t know all the halls for at least an entire year.

“Yea, but most students only have to learn three or four rooms, two of them being the kitchen and their own room.” He explains and watches you as you take a deep breath, feeling a little more relaxed now that you could navigate a little better through the halls.

“Hey, it ain’t that bad. Once you get used to it, maybe make some friends. There are some good kids here.” He tells you, but his voice lowers and he sighs when he brings up making friends. You just assume he hasn’t made any.

“Well thank you so much for the tour.” You smile your best. “I usually do keep my group very small though.” A chuckle comes from your throat as he stares down at you, his eyes burning into yours.

“Of course. And having a small group is always better than a huge one. Less to worry about.”

“Yea no kidding.” He laughs a little, and it makes you smile, just knowing that you can make someone, a man, who is hated by society, laugh.

“Is Xavier just keeping you locked up?”

“Uh for now yea, he wants to do a checkup though sometime this week.” You sigh, part of you wishing you had just dealt with the normal outside world. “Just to make sure I’m okay, I guess he’s worried I’m hurt more than I’m letting him know.”

“Well it is a damned big bruise on your face.” He tells you, then reaches up to your face, his thumb gently stroking over your bruise, his touch soft enough for it to not hurt.

And also somehow comforting.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You chuckle a little, and he’s confused at what’s funny as he stares down at you, his hand still cupping your cheek.

“There’s a video on it, I can send you the link later.”

“You have my number?” He asks and lets go of you, presumably reaching for his phone.

“Yea, Xavier gave it to me.” You tell him, and he crosses his arms.

“Alright, I guess I’ll watch it later. Is there anything else you wanna know? Anything you need to tell me?” You shake your head, not wanting to bother him anymore through the day. “Alright. You know the way back to Xavier's office?” You nod, confidently.

“Yea, and thank you so much.” You take a step back, beginning to walk away.

“Of course, let me know if you need anything, Xavier is usually busy.”

“Okay, thank you. See you later- or- tomorrow?”

“See you.”

You don’t get back to the office until later, you spend the next few hours just sitting outside and relaxing next to a tree until the sun starts to set, mainly because you didn’t want to intrude in Xaviers office the entire day while he was working or busy.

So when you do get back, you take off your shoes and collapse on the bed, groaning into your pillow before taking out your phone and opening YouTube.

You scroll mindlessly for a while, occasionally giggling at something you found funny, then a message notification pops onto your screen.

Unknown number: About to head to bed, do you need anything?

You assume it’s Logan, he’s the only one you’ve spoken to all day, so to check it you take the little note from this morning and verify it’s his number.

You: Don’t need anything. I’m looking for the video right now though.

You respond, then go back into YouTube as you type ‘Mutant attack New York,’ into the search bar. Your video is the most recent to pop up, and you copy the link before sending it to Logan. Then you go back to the video to close out of it, but it starts playing the moment you move back to the app.

“Panic breaks loose as another Mutant is attacked in public. Witnesses say that the Mutant was the first to attack but recorded camera footage shows otherwise as a young female Mutant attempts to defend herself against three men, and the following footage shows her struggle as she manages to get away”

The woman on the video disappears as the video enlarges a video of you, standing and minding your business as you wait for a bus home. In the back you can hear cars driving by, until you can hear one skid to a stop. You head looking up from your phone as three men exit their car, each of them wearing a mask and quickly approaching you.

The audio doesn’t catch it as one of the men speaks up, asking you to just go with them so they aren’t using force, and in the background an old woman's attention is caught before you start telling the men off. Then there’s the punch that leaves you a bruise after telling them to fuck off. Knocking you back against the frame that covers the bus bench as the other two try to grab you, but you manage to meekly fight back, adrenaline soaring through your body, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten away. Of course, the pepper spray you pull out also played a key factor in getting away, at least from two of the men. The only thing the video doesn’t show is what you had to go through with the last man that chased after you as you got away. Even if it did, it would be too violent for the news. You were glad it wasn’t on recording.

“None of the men have been identified, and neither has the woman. It is not uncommon however to find Mutants who have escaped the system. If you have any details on the mission, please call the number below to reach this news channel's service. Thank you, and have an amazing Friday.”

After it’s done playing, you sit there biting your lip as you try not to cry, another text coming in from Logan.

Unknown number: I’m sorry that happened to you, it’s ridiculous.

You: It’s alright. By the way do you have any pictures of yourself so I can change your icon?

You ask as you begin to fill in the information for his number.

Logan: I don’t. Sorry.

You: It’s alright, I’ll take one while you aren’t looking.

Logan: Fine by me lol, just make sure you get my good angle.

‘Every angle is your good angle,’ is what you wanted to send, but you quickly delete the message before another one comes in from him.

Logan: And Y/N.

Logan: You’re safe here. Know that if you ever need somebody to talk to, anyone to cry to, or just a shoulder to lean on, I will be there for you.

You: Thank you, Logan. I appreciate you.

Logan: Of course darling. Good night.

You: Good night 😁

[tuliptired]

hi! could you write anymore little looks at a humanities ta!reader x egon in college?

Do Wah Diddy Diddy

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Ta!Reader

Warnings: Reader is drunk for most of it

The egon/reader tag is so barren ;( Why nobody else dressed like a slut tonight?

INSANELY better formatting on Ao3!

 Egon left his lab, surprisingly, stressed. His major didn´t often stretch him too thin, he knew what he was doing and how to do it best, but it was just that time of year. Lots of work, and not a lot of time to do it. He always managed, with lots of coffee and little sleep, it was just a fact of academia.

The outside world reflected the inside ecosystem of his fellow students, buzzing with life and blazingly hot. Plagued by the heated air trying to cling to the classroom, you cracked a few windows open as you taught in place of the absent professor. This wasn't out of the ordinary- the man trusted you enough to run a class, and you ran it like a natural, admittedly. But today was a little strained, your daily seminar not getting to the level of intensity it usually did. Egon would’ve made a comment on it as he got the last word in, but he decided against it. While you were a TA, there was more emphasis on the “A” in times like these, evident in how you scoured through notes for other classes when you had a spare minute.

They worked independently, before you lifted your head out of a notebook, one of many fans blowing some of your hair off of your forehead. You glanced at the clock, before quickly setting up a projector and unboxing a handful of identical, thick books.

“Big assignment,” you started, a few complaints sounding from the students, “it wasn’t even me this time, blame Mr. Coulms.” 

He left the lecture room in a worse mood than he entered it, the thick tome under his arm. A play. He was a great reader- he could read each edition of Tobin's Spirit guide cover to cover in an hour if he was looking to cite something. Scientific journals were light entertainment to him. But plays? You actually had to dissect a play. To dissect it, you had to read it- well. 

He leaned against a bookcase, in the not-leaning-but-leaning way that he does, so as not to disturb the books. He would be searching for something like Ray was, crouched on the ground and investigating the bottom shelf, but he wasn’t in the mood, glaring at the text he was given before placing it on an empty shelf beside him. 

They were tucked away in the basement of the Public Library- it was one of the few places that they could ask for books about harnessing pure protonic energy and campfire stories of the 30’s without being looked at weird. Peter messed with the straps of his bag, ready to go and saying so for the 3rd time.

“In a minute, Peter.” Ray placed a few books next to him, searching for the right one that happened to be inconveniently smaller than the one’s surrounding it. He looked up at Egon sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry, Spengs. But I did this one in high school, and it was a lot of fun!” His optimism was cut short as the rest of the books along the wood fall towards the middle like dominos. 

“It won’t be hard, Egon. Do the voices.’ Peter procured a rubix cube from his bag. Egon seriously didn’t know why he carried it around, as it was never once solved.

Ray fumbled with the books as he tried to Dewey-Decimal their placements in his head. “I’ll help. Just, uh…” He looked around at the mess he made. “Can you look around for ‘Ghastly Apparitions of the Appalachian’? We’re gonna need it, too.” Egon only nodded, eager to clear his head a bit. He remembered the author well enough, weaving through aisles to find the proper section. 

He didn’t make it far, there was a reshelving cart in his way, his feet coming to a halt. As he looked up from the roller, you were standing there, hands on your hips. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re studying very hard.”

He sighed a puff of air out his nose, as you peered over his shoulder. You saw two men on the ground, grabbing handfuls of discarded books. “And your friends are messing up my hard work.”

He glanced back at the men, then back at you. “Is there anywhere you don’t work?” He didn’t intend to be in a confrontational mood this afternoon, but a bad class will do that to you.

You pointed to a pin on your chest, which read your name in small print under ‘BOOKKEEPER’.

 “Nope. How many people do you know have a gold plated name tag?”

“Waste collectors and prison guards.”

“Did you need a book? Because you’re in the library?”

He had his hands resting on the handle of the cart, not noticing until you dragged it to the side, taking away the partition between you. “Ghastly Apparitions of the Appalachian by Gregory Lederer.” He expected you to not know what he was talking about, and stand there dumbfounded. But you pushed past him, making your way to the “L” aisle of the General Knowledge section.

Your eyes scanned the spines of various options. “I don’t remember this play taking place in Appalachia,” you moved on to the next row. He followed you like a dog, unsure of what to do while you helped him.

“It’s personal. Scientific.” 

“The title’s a little oxymoronic, then, no?” You finally found it, examining the covers quizzically.

As he reached out for the book, you pulled your hand back. Egon wanted to be annoyed, but it wasn’t in him.

“Actually read the play. Do the voices.” Your own voice had the tone of someone trying to reason with a child. He reached his hand out, again, and you placed the book into his palm, conceding. 

Though you had a modest smile, Egon couldn’t help notice your tired look, under eyes darkening despite your efforts otherwise. He could understand, this was a hard time for everyone, no matter their field. Before he could show you his commiseration, against his better judgment, you let the book go limp in his grasp, passing by him with a small “see you, Mr. Spengler”.

Peter appeared in his line of sight amongst the maze of shelves, as Egon stood dumbly. A voice told him to “clean up my basement” as he passed by.

“It appears we’re not wanted here. Let’s go, Egon.”

When it was officially late, you sat in your dorm, finally having time to sit and work. You had to skip a proper lunch, mindlessly putting a baby carrot in your mouth every 10 minutes as you snuck a binder under your desk at the Public Library. By the time you were on your bed, feverishly taking notes, checking notes, and reading notes, you were barely halfway done with your studying itinerary. This week was sufficiently kicking your butt, to say the least.

The door opened and shut, revealing your roommate, Christine, setting her bag down on the chair nearby. You barely verbally acknowledged her, looking for a specific page in your textbook. She gave you a once over, before making her way to the fridge, but unable to stop taking you in. 

“Did you hear what I said?” Christine asked you, skeptical.

“Don’t think so-” Page 392.

She poured herself a glass of something, eyeing you as she did. “I said, you need to relax a bit.”

That was easy for her to say. As much as you appreciated her and her companionship, all Christine did was relax. Still, your flow was disturbed, and you reluctantly put your materials down.

She continued now that she had your attention. “You don’t hang out anymore. It’s Friday.” She crosses to stand in front of your spot on the bed, effectively tapping you in the conversation.

“There’s some guys in my advertising class throwing-” You can tell what’s coming next, and you shimmy past her as she exclaims in protest.  

“Come on,” she follows you around, nearly pleading with you. You sighed, stopping as she leaned up behind you. It wasn’t that you didn’t like fun, or being with friends- parties just stopped being your scene a few semesters ago. How’s that for maturity?

“I’m telling you like I’ve told you a million times before. That’s just not my domain.” Christine spun you around, intent on not giving up until you caved.

“You guys always get drunk, then you get pissed, then I’m dragging you home and helping you puke it all up.” She rolled her eyes.

“We’ll only have a little- and,” she pointed an accusatory finger to your chest, “to be fair, you wouldn’t have to do all that if you drank a little yourself.”

You pointed the same finger back at her. “So we can all puke together? What a fun night.”

Christine made the sign of the cross then, pointed her fingers to the sky virtuously. “I swear on my life; we’ll know when to stop.” When she opened her eyes, you still weren’t convinced.

“Pleeeease? If it’s lame, we’ll leave and rent a video and get a pizza. But you might have fun.” She looked at you with those big blue eyes, and it took all of your strength to resist. She pleaded with you again, until you finally broke, covering your ears.

You groaned dramatically. “Alright, fine, fine. I’ll go to your stupid frat party and get smashed on cheap beer.” Christine cheered, making her way over to the phone. 

“I’ll call Dean and Lisa and-” you flopped back onto your bed. Staring at your long forgotten work, you wondered if this was the right choice. 

Egon read the line, waiting patiently for Ray to respond from the copy he borrowed himself, as the man read for all other 11 characters of the play. It was about two rulers from warring countries forced to live together in a dungeon, but he just couldn’t grasp what was so special about that. It was late into the night, the dorm only illuminated by a few lamps and the little bit of light pouring in from under the door. After hours of trying to evade it, both men had only made a small dent in the long drama.

Ray pushed his reading glasses up. “You need more conviction, Egon, I don’t feel like your wife right now.” Egon closed his copy, putting his forehead in his hand against his desk.

“I don’t think this is working.”

“Are you doing improv? ‘Of course it’s not working, you-”

“No, Raymond. This book isn’t working.” Egon slid it away from him, the bright red cover hurting his eyes, and his pride.

Ray looked sad for his friend, taking off his glasses. “The only way to do it is to read. I’m sorry.” He tossed his book onto his bed. “But we can take a break. Whaddya wanna do?”

Egon remembered it was Friday, the day most young adults would use to unwind. He reached into the drawer beneath him, emerging with a miniature Tesla coil Ray had fashioned.

“You read my mind, Spenges!”

The two men were engrossed with messing around with it, placing numerous objects on and around the transformer- granted that any other flammable or conducive thing they owned was moved out of the way. As Ray teased the sparks with a pencil, he suddenly recalled something, eyes flashing and wide as he dropped the writing utensil.

“Peter has my car!” He grabbed each side of his head, almost comically as he could picture it- a nice, clean Camaro being trashed by beer and bodily fluids.

Ray was just short of spiraling, stuck on either racing down to the party himself or bawling in the spinny chair. “I’d go there myself- and strangle the life out of him,” he nearly wept, covering his eyes.

Egon let his eyes shut, before willinging himself to his feet. He’d never, ever associate with any sort of party, let alone one at a fraternity. But Ray loved that car, his dad’s graduation gift to him that’s been his pride and joy since freshman year. His friend barely even drove it around, afraid to raise the mileage too much. He didn’t doubt Ray’s conviction, or ability, to show it to Peter for going against his wishes, but the engineer was in hot water with the hosting students. One complicated party trick gone wrong, and the front lawn was ablaze quicker than he could control the little ball of plasma. It was their sophomore year, but he still wasn’t welcome near the block of brownstones he managed to devalue.

“Thank you, Egon, I promise I’ll repay you,” Ray’s eyes were glossy with tears as he pressed his face impossibly close to the glass of the window, trying to spot his baby driving somewhere down the street.

Time lessened the heat, Egon thought to himself. It was dark, but not a long walk off campus and a block or two away from the party. It wasn’t hard to find it, either- the music was loud and the bacchanal activities spilled out onto the street and into neighboring yards. No sign of the car. He wrinkled his nose. In the last stretch of freshman year, Peter tried convincing him and Ray to join a fraternity, rattling off a laundry list of reasons that it’d be a thrilling experience for the trio. He was obviously unsuccessful, and dropped the idea when he realized that it’d be hard to make friends in the already tight knit community. 

Egon didn’t dare touch the doorknob, evading people lounging on the stoop as he entered the large house after someone, using his foot to keep the door open. It smelt strongly of booze in the hot, dimly lit apartment, music still blaring from an unknown source. Not to mention the hazy smoke that was billowing through the air, hard to avoid with his height, much like the sounds of two people making out behind the couch. Infection central. How were all these people still going this late? He had to step over the passed out body of some guy without a shirt to get to the kitchen. 

As he stepped from the carpeted area to the tiled floor, arms quickly wrapped around his middle. His head snapped down, and there you were, head buried in his chest.

“Hi, Egon,” you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes glazed over and voice syrupy, not as precise as you made sure it was. He blinked a few times, noticing not only your shoes standing on his, but the fact you called him by his first name.

“Hi.” He reveled in the confusion, before pulling you away from him, gently. “Have you seen Peter? Peter Venkman?”

You thought about it, before the memory flashed back into your recollection. “Dr. Love? He left with my friend Christine.” Your voice slurred the words “left” and “with”, the same way Ray did when he was so smashed he couldn’t stand. Junior year was a sight to behold. 

He remembered how he handled drunken Ray, noting how warm your shoulders were under his fingers. “You’ve been drinking?” He asked despite himself. Being a gentleman was above personal vendetta. It was odd, seeing you dressed like this, out of the professional attire you took pride in every day. Your ability to pick clothes with an anal retentiveness rivals even him- the only college student in a pressed dress shirt, a sweater vest, and slacks. 

“Like, one or five. Itsfine, I’mfine,” you waved your hands around dismissively, before placing them over Egon’s. “I didn’t know you could party, Egie.” He ignored the heat that stung the muscles in his cheeks.

“I don’t.” He went along with it as you started swaying the two of you back and forth lightly. “Did you come with any other friends?”

You went silent, thinking again. It was evidently hard to think and sway, and you eventually fell back into him, unable to keep your balance. “DeanandLisa went to get…food. And they told me to stay here. So I took���a nap.” You nodded to yourself.

“When?”

You couldn’t answer. He peeked sideways at the clock- 3:19. Wherever your friends went, they weren’t going to be back for a long time. 

Your arms were still around him, head back on his chest as his hands hovered over you, awkwardly. It was barely audible, but you were mumbling along to the song playing throughout the rest of the house. He should’ve felt a smug pride, watching you who were once so confident drool on yourself, stumble over your words, and paw at him, but he couldn’t. Egon felt a lash of guilt at the idea of leaving you behind, telling Ray that Peter was long gone, and going to bed. You were obviously inebriated- with no friends and too juiced to know not to sleep on the floor, he couldn’t just let you stay in this dump. 

That’s how he ended up herding you out the door, but not before you stumbled about the apartment, saying good night to everyone. He was on your heels as you banged on a socked-bedroom door, bidding whoever was on the other side farewell, but he wasn’t quick enough before you were shouting your goodbyes down the stairwell of the basement. For being wasted, you were surprisingly fast. He finally got you outside, the skin under his fingers actually cooling as you left the cramped party.

“I didn’t take you to be a party-person,” he confessed, hand on the small of your back to stop you from running across the street to greet the cat staring you down.

“I’m- wait,” you did in fact run, having to kick off your shoes for efficiency before bending down rather ungracefully to pet the feline like a child would, fingers splayed and pushing its ears back unintentionally. He watched on as you skipped back to the sidewalk, grabbing a street sign for stability when you reached him.

“I’m not,” you resumed as he steered you on. “But- it was Christine! She showed me her’fake eyelash…es and convinced me!” You looked to him to share your disbelief as you told the story, shoes waving around as you moved your hands. “I’couldn’t say no!”

Egon found himself smiling. “I have a roommate very similar.” You were surprisingly easier to talk to when drunk. He wasn’t burning up, or scrambling for his words like he normally did when you teased him, making the scientist detest you more and more for your ability to confuse him. His thoughts ceased, as you got closer to campus, but walking with increasing difficulty.

It was when he had to catch you before tripping over yourself that he swallowed his inhibitions, wrapping a hand under you. He wasn’t the strongest out there, maybe even a little weak, but he could support your weight until you reached home. As you let out a small noise of surprise though, he felt a primitive sense of manliness, your figure pressed to his in a bridal carry.

“Soooo strong.” You praised him, voice trailing off as you let your head hit his shoulder. He had to remind himself that you were drunk, none of this really meant anything. You’d wake up, and decide to torment him after taking an aspirin. His grip weakened as his smile did.

“Don’t drop’me,” your hands clawed at the fabric of his shirt, and he adjusted his hold.

“I won’t,” he watched you close your eyes, face content. “I won’t.”

 You were halfway back to the dormitory. He could feel you stirring, looking down and finding your eyes fixed on the night sky. 

“What’s up there?”

“Ursa Major.” You pointed lazily.

“That’s a plane.”

You stiffened in his arms. “No, it’s’not. I know this. It’s the bear.” You managed to cross your arms over yourself while in his hold. He felt bad, provoking you while inebriated. 

“Then it’s the bear.”

“Put me down,” you hit him on the chest a few times, willing him to reluctantly place you on your own two feet. You shook off his attempts at still holding you, intent on trying to make it home on your own. You stormed off along the path, nearly veering off into the grass.

“Where are you going?” He couldn’t hide the concern behind his voice, trying to keep up with you as you took on a sudden irritation towards him.

“Home.” You kept your pace, before slowing, battling something in behind your eyes in your drunken state. “You think I’m dumb.” Egon stopped in his tracks in a moment, before walking behind you again.

“That’s not true,” he said simply, throwing away his feud with you when sober. He thought of you as one of the smartest people he knew. And you managed to make him look like a mere child while baring your smile at him.

“Maybe I’like being drunk,” you retorted to no one in front of you. As you slowed, so did Egon, watching on as you looked on down the dim, street lamp lit path. When he followed your gaze, he saw nothing but the darkness of night ahead of him. Suddenly, you fell forward, uncaring and weightless. He wasn’t quick enough to catch you, heart dropping to his toes before you simply rolled over onto your back. Your knees were scraped, rapidly drying blood mixing with the gravel and dust of the ground over your lacerated skin. Before he could worry too much about it, you merely laughed, full of glee as your eyes were transfixed on the stars, arms out like you were a star yourself. 

You passed out pretty quick after that, a little heavier in his arms. To say Egon was uneasy was an understatement, but at least you were out for a bit. He struggled to get the door to the building open, and even more so getting up to your dormitory floor, only narrowly avoiding hitting your head against a door frame every so often. Taking a quick look at the plates on each door, he was relieved at finding your surname printed on one. After a few discreet knocks, however, no one opened up, either passed out themselves or simply not home. Searching for solutions, he sighed, again, gently laying you against the baseboards. It wasn’t his most elegant idea, but it’d have to do as he reached in his pocket for a pad and paper. He simply scribbled the words “Passed out, sleeping in 244. Please pick up when you get home.” Pressing it in the space between the room number and the wood, he picked you up for the third time and made the trek back to his own place.

You looked peaceful, as Egon decided on putting you in Ray’s bed, alcohol and cotton pads ready. Ray wasn’t home himself- and it’d be unbecoming of him to put you in his own. He hummed to himself, your current state reminding him of the deuteragonist in the play you gave him. They were affluent and sybaritic, imprisoned while drunk and jovial, to the aggravation of the protagonist, tied to tradition and analytical. He hoped that whoever you were in chains with took the liberty of cleaning your open wounds like he did. 

Apparently, the sting of disinfectant is enough to rouse the unconscious awake, as the liquid being pressed to your skin made you jolt back to the present, sucking in air between your teeth and nearly kneeing him in the nose. You rushed to sit up as properly as you could, bringing your legs to your chest.

“What’re you doing?” The pain must’ve been worse in this state. He suddenly felt very, very bad about not waiting until you were awake to take care of it, but he remembered that you couldn’t make proper decisions for yourself like this. He wet another pad, though warily. Who was Egon to say that he could make proper decisions for you, sober or otherwise?

He approached you gently, showing you his materials. “Sanitizing. It could get infected.” Maybe that was a bit overzealous, but germs love untreated, open flesh.

You calmed, letting your legs dangle over the bedside again, the exaggerated idea of losing a leg scarier than the cleaning agent in his hand. “Oh.” He figured you were sobering up, even by a bit, from the way your words slurred less and you clung Ray’s blanket to yourself, night’s activities catching up with your tired body. You looked around as he worked quickly, taking in the room.

“You’re messy.” Egon raised his eyebrows once at that, prepping another pad.

“We’re scientists. And Peter.” He could hear you laugh weakly above him. It felt nice, to make you feel nice. Egon felt oddly at ease, on his knees, cleaning you up- as dubious as it sounded. He moved on to your other leg, remembering your situation. “Would you like to stay here? Your friends aren’t home.”

Silence as he wiped away the grime. Your voice sounded again. “A sleepover.”

He resisted a yawn, letting it escape through his nose before catching sight of the clock. “Sure.”

You didn’t say anything else. Better for him- he was sure you didn’t have a key and he was a terrible locksmith. You were leaning back on your hands.

“My doctor.”

He bit back the smile and blush that spread over his face with a clench of his jaw. You were still drunk, no matter how coherent. And wrong. “Not yet a doctor.” He was done bandaging both your injuries some time ago.

“Doctor Egon,” you drew out the word, giggling to yourself. He’d let it slide, this time. Misused titles were disdainful in academia. But he supposed being a stickler didn’t matter so much, now.

Eventually, he rose to his feet, eyes honing in to a surface level scratch on your cheek from the fall. He held your jaw lighty, thumb careful to not graze too much over it. It wasn’t severe, but he assumed you’d prefer to not have a deep scar there for the entirety of the summer to come. He thought about summer. He’d be here, on an internship, while you’d be away, probably away with your friends again. You’d get drunk, seemingly trusting the people around you far too much until you’re hurt- worse than you are now. Whatever meathead you’d spent the night with wouldn’t know first aid if it was thrown at him. Egon soaked in his jealousy, eyebrows falling over his eyes, before coming back to his senses, soaking one more piece of cotton and gently tapping it to your face, a small adhesive placed to protect it. 

“Kiss to make it better?” He let go of your face, moving to the kitchen sink to wash his hands as you giggled to yourself again. It was awfully late, now.

“You should get some sleep,” he dried his hands off. He would miss you, but time was the only fool-proof remedy- and daylight was quickly approaching.

“No fun,” you complained, but you still settled into Ray’s bed, pulling the comforter around yourself. He contemplated what to do, get into his own bed or just wait for you to sleep instead. You rolled over to face him.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help with the play? I’m not supposed to, though. But I can do the voices.” Right. The play. He eyed the book, forgotten about in the corner of his desk.

“I’d rather you rest.” 

“You should sleep, too.” He could tell you were fighting your own exhaustion. He pulled out his chair, moving Ray’s coil to the side to make work of his assignment again. 

“I’d rather you did, first.” He opened to the page he left off on.

“Egon.” You sounded scarily sober. He turned in his seat to face you.

You freed yourself from the blanket a bit. “You’re tired. You always look tired.” Another state of inebriation was taking hold of you. Maudlin. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

He chewed at the inner part of his bottom lip before speaking again. “You’re very stressed. And you’re going to wake up feeling like hell.” He searched for the right words to convince you to let yourself go. “I’ll sleep too, and we can talk to each other in our dreams.” A little ridiculous, but it’s not the craziest thing he’s said to a tippler.

The hammered part of you was contemplating it, before you smiled and nodded. Before he went back to his work, you called for him one more time.

“Egon?”

“Yes?”

“I need a lullaby.” You had the same devilish, teasing look in your eye as you did when you were sober. He looked around in confusion as you looked towards him expectantly, before he surrendered, winding up a small snow globe that Peter kept out, even in Spring. As it played, you shook your head.

“No, sing the one by Manfred Mann.” He grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over your head as you laughed uncontrollably to yourself.

“Goodnight.”

Egon had fallen asleep over his book some time later. As he came to, he looked back, hopeful to still see you, sleeping soundly. His hope faltered as he took in the empty space, neither his roommates returned or your spot on Ray’s bed filled in by your shape. There was a strange emptiness in his chest, knowing you were gone in a matter of hours. The only proof of your presence was the used bottle of isopropyl in the corner of his desk.

His breath slowed, light of the early morning burning into his eyes as he slowly rose out of his chair. Walking off, not sure if he was going to shower, or eat, or what, he noticed a small paper on the pillow. He picked it up, wondering if it would disappear in his hands.

“Thank you, Doctor.” He folded it back. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything. But he still smiled.

[buddierecs]

mutual pining buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

i could find you darling, in any life by: justhockey "buck and eddie meet in afghanistan. it changes everything." word count: 27k important tags: diferent first meeting au, army!eddie diaz, navy seal!evan buckley, emotional infidelity, slow burn, hurt/comfort, love confessions drench yourself in words unspoken by: foxwatson "the one where everything in canon is the same, except eddie diaz is secretly a bestselling romance author, and nobody knows. yet." word count: 26k important tags gay disaster!eddie diaz, idiots in love, getting together this is it, all the flames by: withoutthetiger "set sometime in the middle of s6, just a quiet surprise in the middle of buck's kitchen." word count: 4.6k important tags: requited love, friends to lovers, soft boys, first kiss, diary/journal i want your midnightsby: allyasavedtheday "in which eddie decides to rent out his spare room to help with mortgage repayments right around the time buck decides to move out of abby's place after some not so gentle prodding from maddie. it's a coincidence. or serendipity. or maybe just really good timing." word count: 36k important tags: roommates au, slow burn, alternate pov, fluff, friends to lovers no kingdom to come by: waywardrenegades "when his father experiences a health scare, eddie flies to el paso." word count: 23k important tags: feeling realization, love confessions, slow burn, idiots in love, light angst all bets are off by: nobodyknows_u "the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it." word count: 35k important tags: 5+1 things, idiots in love, team as family, fluff and angst, didn't realise they were in love it's always been you by: coupe_de_foudre “what do i normally get from there?” eddie asks him, chin settled back onto his shoulder. “the kung pao chicken.” he answers almost instantaneously, having all of eddie’s usual take-out orders memorised by now. it comes in handy for when they need to get food in quick whilst navigating work and christopher. it’s not weird. he, unfortunately, misses the odd look that maddie sends him. as well as the way that hen hides a snicker behind a cough." word count: 8.7k important tags: 5+1 things, oblivious idiots, feelings realisation, getting together, fluff the definition of love and all things ineffable by: elvensorceress "in which buck processes his breakup, learns his place in his family, has a huge crisis of sexuality, and finds the truth about love beating in his own heart" word count: 29k important tags: idiots in love, christopher diaz has two dads, coming out, sexuality crisis, family feels but, baby, watching you blush by: calvingseason "buck and eddie go to hershey for buck's high school reunion. the only problem? everyone thinks that they're married." word count: 10k important tags: fake marriage, sharing a bed, gay!eddie diaz, high school reunions baby, say you'll always keep me by: hattalove "the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing" word count: 8.2k important tags: didn't know they were dating, getting together, friends to fiances, first kiss the thing is by hideeho "when eddie's friend carlos comes into town to escape a broken heart, eddie has high hopes that he and buck will hit it off and become friends. that’s all he wants, really. two of his favorite people getting along. if he could just get buck to stop glaring" word count: 18k important tags: carlos reyes (911 lone star), jealous!evan buckley, oblivious!eddie diaz, healthy male friendships, miscommunication eddie's not-so-secret feelings by: r_e_r6 "5 times eddie says sweet things about buck in spanish so buck doesn't find out he's in love with him +1 time eddie realises buck speaks spanish and knew all along" word count: 17k important tags: buck speaks spanish, fluff, soft!eddie diaz, feelings realisations, making out

[kings-highway]

Fanfic Writer Review

Thanks you the wonderful @mania-sama for tagging me for this and letting me inflict my thoughts upon all of you <3 love you asshole :)

Many, many words below the cut!

“How many works do you have on Ao3?”

Sitting pretty at 47! I have deleted a few fics in the past but I have never orphaned any or posted anonymously, so the count is accurate.

“Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes?”

In the Woods of Japan - 1,969 kudos

Should surprise nobody to find this one is my most beloved! Ironically this is also the second story I ever posted to Ao3 - writing it was like a fever dream, posting a chapter almost every day or every second day for a bit. I truly, truly think that writing this fic was one of the best decisions I ever made, if you all and the haikyuu community hadn’t shown me so much support, I have no idea what I’d be doing now - it broke me out of a 3-4 year dry spell where I hadn’t written anything at all, and has directly led to me not only writing regularly now but finishing original stories as well and truly even if it’s not my favourite piece in my library, I will never regret deciding to attack Daichi with a bear. Also shoutout to the only story I ever let Daichi be bisexual in. Finished writing this story and then stole his labels forever. Bitch never figured out his identity again.

All for the Love of an Energetic Redhead - 1,185 kudos

The success of this story is so funny to me. Sometimes I have an idea on whether or not a story will be well received, and other times the story is Energetic Redhead and you post it and are immediately flabbergasted by how many other people wanted Kags and Ushi to get blackout drunk and fly around the world. Ironically, the only reason this got written is because I don’t have the art skills/patience needed to make a comic I wanted to, based on the only two red-haired characters, but wanted to push my “two autistics vs. two energetic but VERY different redheads” agenda. It would have gone something like “several panels of Ushijima and Hinata standing side by side, Ushijima is distracted by something while Hinata motor-talks about all things volleyball. Ushijima suddenly interrupts him, realizing who he is and saying: You are not my usual redhead-” and the panel is interrupted, cutting to Kageyama trapped in a dark room with Tendou.”

Competitive Fake Dating - 1,061 kudos

Sometimes as a fanfiction writer, you have to remind yourself that you are a fanfiction writer. It’s all fun and games writing massive, sprawling stories with deep themes and complex character relations. But this is fanfiction, bitch, sometimes you have to make your blorbos kiss for points.

Imperfect Facial Symmetry - 916 kudos

Oh, what can I say. This one truly is special to me. 100% one of my favourite fics of all time, there are only very few things I would change about it, but most of those being wishing I could go back and add more, drag it out. I don’t like stories or headcanons that make Tendou out to be attractive or even “attractive in a weird way” I think his character is far more interesting if you allow him to be conventionally unattractive, and I think pairing it with a version of Ushijima obsessed with the limitations of his own self expression, to rewire the definition of “attractive” into “lively” and “expressive” is such a good representation of why I love this ship specifically. There are a lot of headcanons present in this story that I since used in pretty much every other. God I could talk about it / them / this story for fucking ever.

American Summer - 882 kudos

Sequel to #1, In the Woods. What can I say, you go for a bear, you escalate to an American named Adam. I did NOT want this story to be the way this story ended up. Earlier drafts of the story included stargazing on the top of a rented motorhome, losing your virginity in the back of a car, getting into a fight with a couple of 22 year olds outside of a bar, visiting national parks, overcoming jealousy for your boyfriends’ trauma-bonded found family, and slowly beginning to let go of that trauma. INSTEAD after writing a couple chapters I remembered you can’t legally rent a car at 18/19 in California and I had to rapidly adjust, and apparently instead of a coming-of-age vacation my only other idea was serial killer so. Uh.

“Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?”

So-so. I WANT to reply to every comment, but I have a really severe kind of social anxiety, so I don’t reply most of the time. I’m too afraid of looking really conceited and egotistical, if I reply to a comment about the things they like about the fic with the things I liked about the fic or just agreeing with them, I’m just hyping myself up as if I wasn’t the author and keeping all the attention on me, if I just thank them and nothing else, I feel like I’m not appreciating it enough and they’ll be offended by my shorter response, if I make a joke or be funny, 90% of the time I don’t get a reply back, and then I sit there with a stomach ache of anxiety wondering if they were annoyed by me trying to be silly. So. I really, really, try my best to reply to comments, especially at the last chapter of a longer fic, or if there’s a direct question I’ll always answer those, but otherwise I get nervous and can’t bring myself to hit enter on the responses. But I love all the comments I receive so much and I really am trying to get better at engaging with people.

“What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?”

Has to be Astrophilia. I don’t enjoy angsty endings most of the time, I don’t think the world needs more stories about people failing to be happy, or suffering needlessly with no reprise. Astrophilia was originally going to be a hardcore angst ending with them definitively dying in space/losing the ability to communicate with Earth, but as per the previous reason given, I just didn’t see any value in that story, and wanted to give it more of my usual spin. (No hate to people who do like angst, I just don’t.) Most of my angst is found in the middle of my fics, where it belongs :P (the catharsis of recovery is important to me!)

“What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?”

All of them? I think ignoring the one-shots that exist only to be fluffy, and thinking about what really qualifies a happy ending, I would have to go with Soulmake Adventures. Sure, there’s no fairytale happy ending to it (which is the point of that story) but in that I think that’s the happiest ending. Each character is explicitly given long, healthy lives filled with new experiences and growth and change, and are not bound to static one-note love stories. Their happy endings are not defined by the satisfaction of the romance story that was contained in Soulmake Adventures, but each of them achieving a level of self-actualization that allows them to take control of the choices they make and live for themselves first.

“Do you write crossovers?”

In theory? Yes. I just don’t have a reason to :)

I would LOVE to do a SK8 + Haikyuu crossover though. I think Langa and Kageyama need to be locked in a room together.

“Have you ever received hate on a fic?”

Not really. One comment comes to mind but I also don’t feel like giving enough description that would allow someone to track it down, feels mean to put a spotlight on someone, especially because I've never received hate, with such a strong word. Just��� disappointment or confusion.

Oh, except for this one time this crazy person told me I’d stolen the plot of Sharkboy and Lavagirl. smh.

“Do you write smut? If so, what kind?”

Yes? No? I think sex and physical intimacy is one of the most interesting ways to explore relationship dynamics and emotions, so I tend to use sex a lot in my stories, but as most would know I rarely, rarely write graphic sex. “Smut” I think has the connotation of sex that’s meant to be hot, which I’ve never done. If you see characters fucking in my stories, there’s a purpose to it. BUT that being said never say never. Sex is just sex, if I think of a good story idea that uses it, then it will be.

“Have you ever had a fic stolen?”

I think? I had a ton of my stories being hosted on one of those data scam sites or whatever. I truly just. Whatever.

“Have you ever had a fic translated?”

I think so! I’ve had many people approach and ask me permission to, but I can’t say for certain if they ever got completed. I think so.

“Have you ever co-written a fic before?”

No! I do love the idea of collaborating on a fic, but I hate the idea of co-writing. There would have to be a premise that lets us write our own halves (dual perspective, maybe?) that’s relatively separate. Otherwise, the actual process of two “writers” on a fic sounds absolutely terrible. What, gonna share a google doc and take turns writing lines? I would go crazy with control-freak energy. BUT the idea of collaborating on a story in other ways and sharing credit for ideas and working together to make it good would be awesome.

“What’s your all-time favourite ship?”

*glances at my Haikyuu themed fanfiction blog and Ao3 account*

S… Sculder… (Mulder/Scully - X-Files)

It’s really really hard to decide, “all-time favourite” comes with a huge weight to it. Amy/Rory from Doctor Who is also really fucking high on that list, as is Ten/Rose to be fair. But then I think about where I am currently, and in terms of energy/thought put into a ship, that shit has to be DaiSuga, right? In terms of favourite, clearly… but… if we’re going with Haikyuu, a relatively recent love of mine, I think UshiTen is more compelling…

BUT if we’re talking about ships that take up my brainpower, ships that live rent-free forever in my head, it’s going to be my original characters, always. I have a handful of personal characters from original stories that never leave my thoughts. The real answer would probably be two of my OCs. If you know you know.

But that’s a stupid answer so I’m gonna go with Sculder because they are perfect.

“What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?”

There are SO many WIPS that’ll never get finished, but I think the answer that serves this question the best is a WIP in my scrap folder called “The London Reconnection,” which follows Suga about 5 years post leaving Japan to study English Lit in London, and is working towards his masters. He had effectively lost a lot of his cultural roots and really enjoys the lifestyle of London, especially the teas, and although he had always planned on eventually going back to Japan after getting his masters, as he gets closer to that, he’s started considering staying in London and staying forever. Which, at the time, doesn’t hurt so bad - he hasn’t spoken to anyone back home in three years, and the last time he went for Christmas, he didn’t even bother checking in with his friends… though a wrench gets thrown into his confidence for what he wants and his plans for the future when, literally out of nowhere, Daichi shows up in the library he works at with his little sister, having come to support her while she receives an experimental treatment for a rare disorder, and they’re expecting to stay, possibly indefinitely. Suga hadn’t spoken to Daichi in quite a few years, but had always considered him “the one that got away” (though they had never officially dated.) So suddenly, his perfectly curated London lifestyle is tipped on its side due to the dropped-in presence of an old, familiar face and one that can barely speak a lick of English, let alone blend into the London culture. Cue English lessons, lots of metaphors about teas, identity, and falling in love with someone you used to know intimately, but don’t really know at all anymore. I think about it like 3 times a week but more than likely will never write more than the 4k or so I put down for the first chapter…

“What are your writing strengths?”

Fuck if I know, my man. I think dialogue? I get a lot of compliments regarding how natural my characters feel, how much they seem like real people, so I think that has to be one of the strongest points of my writing. I also think I’m very funny. Humour is 100% subjective so this doesn’t really count, but I love some of my own jokes in my writing. Write to make yourself laugh, friends, that’s the key.

“What are your writing weaknesses?”

The fact that if a scene bores me I’ll just straight skip it. I tend to rush scenes that would be realistic simply because I don’t care about them, certain characters or plot lines getting abandoned because writing the necessary scenes for them to really work just sounds boring. Even if I think the scenes or characters are good and important and very interesting, if it bores me I just… can’t force myself to do it. I also really struggle with combat and action sequences, anything that requires “choreography” of any kind, I think I tend to under-explain each scene in an effort to avoid over-explaining an action sequence, which results in muddied and confusing character motions with little context.

“What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?”

I don’t think I have any thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I’m sure this is related to some kind of fan-debate about this, but… I’m not sure what the camps are. If I write Dialogue in another language in a fic, and the perspective character doesn’t speak that language, I italicize it but otherwise write it like normal dialogue. If the character does speak that language, I italicize it but write it in English and make a note in the dialogue tag that it was in whichever language. I think, though don’t hold me to this, spoken dialogue should always be written in a way that the reader can “hear” which would unfortunately have to include the phonetic anglicization of languages that don’t use the latin alphabet IF you’re writing in English (or converting it to whatever language you’re writing in.) This is due to the enjoyment of the reader being able to “hear” the story or keep the immersion. If I’m reading a story, and it presents to me, in dialogue, a string of sanskrit, just skipping over that without hesitation. No idea. Character may as well not have spoken, can’t hear it. BUT if it’s in the text of the book, describing the writing they’re reading, signage, or anything else, then it should stay in its original written form, perhaps translated elsewhere in the story if needed. I don’t think authors are required to translate spoken dialogue if the perspective character can’t understand it. HOWEVER that is also my opinion for, like, original fiction stories. Because fanfiction is supposed to be for sharing, I can understand wanting/expecting a translation of whatever cute or funny quip the characters are making in the language. I, personally, have never provided translations for any of the languages I use in my fics. Sorry.

“What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?”

I have no interest in writing fanfiction for other fandoms. As mentioned above, if I had to pick one I might go with SK8, but I’m not really a “fanfiction writer” in the sense that when I read/watch media I get overwhelmed with the urge to write stories for them. I don’t even really read fanfiction. Haikyuu is special in that, these little fucks satisfy my creative urges and that’s all they have to do, it’s not really about any hyperfixation on the media or interest in writing fanfiction as a whole, y’know. Besides, if I started writing for other fandoms, that would give Daichi a break from me and I can’t allow that.

That being said, ships I haven’t ever written for… I have a SemiShira WIP in progress that hopefully will be finished Kogagoshi as well I’m a fan of, if you can believe that. FukaTora, too. Honestly I have a dozen AsaNoya WIPS, and considering they’re one of my favourites the fact that they’ve never been more than a background ship/side pairing is a SHAME. Same with AranKita.

“What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?”

Time Enough to Risk it All has to be my favourite, just because it’s, well… it’s what it is. I think it’s tight and well contained, it doesn’t suffer from my usual rambling, missed plotlines or dropped ideas that I scrapped after I started posting. It feels cohesive and tightly knit and it ends the same way. Not too many things going on. However, I will say, Imperfect Facial Symmetry is really high up there as well, as is The Stoplight Demon even though it was not everyone else’s favourite. I do think if I can finish “This is Not the End” the way I want to, and have it be what I hope it’ll be, it will become my favourite. But I still have time to ruin it, so we’ll see if Time Enough keeps its title :)

Tagging: victims!

@harumin24 @vvalllerie @reviiely

[fairy-writes]

Hiii! I'm a fan of MTP and i haven't seen many William fanfiction :')

The things is mother is being such a pain right now, i have my period today and it's painful, i got a headache and my mother is painfully hard to deal with today she even brought out my insecurity and insulting me with it. Aight.

So i was thinking... How is William and Louis if they're little sister is insulted, y'know when they are still a child, cause i feel like it's easy to get insulted when they are still nobody, or even from the 'family'. If you can, please make this a oneshot, but i'll leave the decisions to you ;)

Thank you so much, i hope this is not a burden

And have a good day! <3

PROTECTING THE WEAK

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Louis James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 0.6k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS (don’t make this weird ya sickos)

Notes: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out and that your mum was being a pain, hon! If you need to talk, I’m here! This goes out to all my followers. My DMs are always open for talking and chatting!

The ages of everyone are as follows: 

William: 11 (I tried to keep name usage for this boy to a minimum since we still don’t know his real name.)

Louis: 10

Reader: 8

TW for Lady Moriarty’s abusive behavior

__________________________________________________________________________

Your brothers have always been… protective ever since you were young. Well… younger. Especially ever since you began to live with the Moriarty’s, they had taken to keeping you out of nearly everything they could. You knew it was to keep you safe, so you allowed it.

Most of the time.

But things don’t always go to plan. 

Louis finds you wiping teary eyes in your shared bedroom and drops the laundry he had in his arms.

“What happened?” He demands, and you sniffle, scrubbing the tears away stubbornly. 

“‘S nothin’.” You mumble; your “improper way of speaking,” as Lady Moriarty put it, betrays how you really feel. 

Inwardly, you curse yourself and try again. 

“I’m fine, Louis.” He helps you up from where you had been curled up on the bed that you shared with him. After all, Lady Moriarty refused to allow you a third bed for the tiny room in which you shared with your two brothers. 

“Clearly not. What happened? Do I need to get—” 

“No!” You exclaim, cutting him off before he can say your eldest brother’s name.

You didn’t want to worry him—no more than you had already bothered Louis with your crying. 

Louis said your name quietly, eyes wide and imploring, as he pleaded with you to tell him what had happened. 

“Lady Moriarty just said some mean things, is all.” You finally say and feel Louis grit his teeth where he had leaned his head on yours. He and your eldest brother were taller than you, but it wasn’t that big of a surprise. You were only eight years old, while they were ten and eleven, respectively. But you had always been small.

It was one of the things Lady Moriarty hated about you. 

Well… she hated everything. But today, she had decided to pick on how small and weak you were. 

“You’d be better off dead in a ditch somewhere!” She had shrieked when you had been caught sneaking tarts from the kitchens. You had been hungry, is all!

“Did she touch you?” Louis asked, and you shook your head.

“She doesn’t want my “peasant filth” on her clothes.” You mumbled, and it was then that you heard another voice.

“You ought to have touched her then.” Comes the voice of your eldest brother. You whirl out of Louis’s hug and turn to see him standing in the doorway. His ruby red eyes are ablaze with anger, his bony fingers clenched into fists.

You watch him as if expecting him to direct his anger onto you. 

But that was a silly thought.

Your lower lip wobbled as he took three steps into the room and gathered you in a tight hug. It wasn’t often he hugged you, preferring to help you rather than show physical affection. But you knew that he knew that you needed a hug, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

[gareleia]

THE KNITTING SAGA CONTINUES

update: my co-writer friend FINALLY got a tumblr account, so I can tag them now!!

previously: part 1

next: part 3 part 4 part 5

a continuation because I have no impulse control and am in dire need of more Aeolus content

first of all, let's establish one thing - and I think we can all agree on that - Aeolus loves to fuck with people. they are a benevolent(-ish?) trickster deity, and they revel in harmless pranks

as a consequence, they are on pretty good terms with Hermes. while Hermes doesn't care much for the 'small fry' and doesn't pay that much attention to the wind god most of the time, Aeolus has their winions follow the messenger god religiously (pun intended), because? where Hermes goes, shenanigans always follow.

so when they get the tea that he's apparently hanging out on that one random Greek island, playing nanny? oh, they know it's gotta be good. so naturally, they go to check it out.

well, turns out that Athena is also there, and both of them are sooo bad with babies, it's hilarious

Athena, holding baby!Telemachus: Ehhh, shouldn't it be eating more meat? it's body is so weak, it can't even hold a spear! Hermes, exasperated: oh my me, 'thena, that's not how humans work!! babies eat liquids first!! how can you not know that!! here you go, champ, drink some wine!! Aeolus, hiding in the leaves: holy shit these guys are dumb

so now they can't just leave Telemachus alone with Athena and Hermes! they might not be an expert on child rearing, but surely they can do better than those two dorks! and the baby is adorable.

so they decide to stick around. just for a little bit. a week tops.

fast forward a few years, and they have been raising the prince of Ithaca

Aeolus: *shocked pikachu face*

and Aeolus is the much needed chaotic good influence to Hermes' chaotic neutral and Athena's lawful neutral.

the thing is, Aeolus is really good at hiding. so good, in fact, that no one but Telemachus had even realized they are here. everyone else just thinks that the prince has an invisible friend which, well… they're not wrong?.. and it's not like other kids are exactly lining up to be his friends anyway, cause everyone thinks he's weird (or their parents don't want to catch the attention of the suitors)

and the gods think that it's because they hang around too much and Telemachus can't make friends because of them. so maybe they try to spend less time in Ithaca, for his own good. which only makes things worse, because now the boy is upset, and Aeolus and winions have to try extra hard to cheer him up, which pisses them off.

Athena & Hermes: oh, goodness us, we shall try not to interfere too much with the mortal affairs, so that the young prince grows up healthy and happy ¯_(ツ)_/¯ Telemachus: (T⌓T) Aeolus: ヾ( ･`⌓´･)ﾉﾞ

and then they have to subtle bully the two dumb fucks to come back.

on a less serious note, Aeolus also has a sweet tooth, especially for marshmallows (idgaf there weren't any marshmallows in Mycenaean Greece, they're a god. they can make all the damn marshmallows they want)

and of course, since they are sooo generous, they always share with Telemachus.

what they don't know(?) is that winions, who all get their own treats, also collectively share them with the baby, because they are secretly evil adorable little freaks.

which results in a very hyper prince sugar rushing seemingly out of nowhere.

Telemachus, running all around the palace and crackling madly: I AM SPEED- Penelope, unimpressed: and who, pray tell, had given my son sweets right before dinner? Athena, equally unimpressed: yes, I would also like to know. Hermes, sweating nervously: heyyyy, why are you all looking at me like that???? ( ಠ‿ಠ ) Aeolus, from behind a tree, unseen by anyone: (｡•̀U-)┘

Hermes always gets blamed.

It's the only time he doesn't do the thing

and he's seething, because nobody believes him.

[klspacecadet]

aita in this ao3 comment thread

I don’t think it’s needed but for context this is a transmasc pwp that doesnt use afab language

Also if nobody tells me otherwise I’m gonna continue to think I absolutely ate them up at the end, so if you disagree I’d appreciate an explanation :)

comment exchange under the cut

me I’m so confused can someone please explain what keith’s anatomy actually looks like for context I missed the trans tags before reading this and spent the entirety of the fic violently confused as to what is going on (im trans) I appreciate the usage of gender neutral language but esp bc I didn’t realize he was trans here I just. don’t know whats going on??????? help me please I was like, “is this referencing foreskin….? does this person not know what a dick looks like? is keith intersex or something? uhhh” before I decided to go and check the tags and the comments and realized lol

them what about this made you feel like it was appropriate to comment?

me it was a genuine question?? Excuse me for being confused and wanting to be able to visualize the fic better, especially as a fellow trans person...

them your phrasing is really rude, intentional or not. I’m using language that describe mine and other trans men’s real life bodies. if you don’t get it, that’s fine, you’re not the target audience - but it’s not my job to explain it to you. leaving a comment about how it’s so confusing and weird is not the way to ask a genuine question, especially one about trans genitalia. yes, even if you’re also trans. I feel like that’s common sense. please gain some.

me I’m sorry if my phrasing came off as rude, I didn’t indend for it to be seen that way and I generally struggle with tone and phrasing. I commented my confusion over the vague phrasing and lack of description that might otherwise be inherent, and I merely wished to express my lack of understanding and willingness to learn more, which honestly isn’t that common on the internet. If this were about a real person’s body and a real person’s identity, I understand why more reservation and politeness would be necessary; however, since I’m commenting on something fictional that you wrote and posted for anyone to see, asking questions about your word usage and the body of a fictional character, I don’t think it’s justified to feel like I need to walk on eggshells when expressing this. Also, when I called it confusing, I felt it was implied that I was referring to your usage of vague descriptive terminology that nobody outside of your circle would be able to comprehend and picture, especially when they didn’t realize it was a trans fic at first. I also never said anything about it being weird, I actually said the opposite so idk where you got that from. I hope you have a good day and get off your high horse, I don’t see what reason you had to be so aggressive in response to someone asking a question, especially when most would probably jump to insults and hate. Hopefully from now on you no longer feel attacked when someone asks for clarification on your work, and you gain the ability to hold a respectful conversation without jumping to insults like “gain some common sense.” also idk why you responded in the first place instead of just deleting my comment and moving on if you felt it was so rude— I feel like that’s common sense nowadays, but perhaps you were looking for an argument. Good luck on your journey to kindness and hope you have a good rest of your day! :)

[auseyre]

kp questions and my weird theories.

I was gonna tag this with secrets but most of these are not technically secrets, just burning questions I want answers to.

What was Kimlock Holmes looking for? He had no idea about the Kittisawsds so what other threads was he following about his Mafia dad that were bad enough that he thought he could use them against Korn if he needed to?

Did Nampheung use fainting as a tactic like possums do? I refuse to believe the that woman who was bold enough to leave the Mafia life is so fragile that she collapses like a sack of potatoes every time anything happens. Does she have a medical condition that leads to anxiety-induced fainting? That would explain why instead of trying to revive her, they just hold her up at an awkward angle every time. (I’m kidding but only sort of. Each time she faints it immediately changes the tension in the situation, making it less dangerous for her and her kid)

Why did Papa Theerpanyakul suddenly decide it was time for Nampheung to come back to the family? The timeline is definitely wonky, but Chay would have been @ toddler age, so it’s not like his birth should have been the reason.

In Korn’s version he says “You know someone is out to get the family” implying immediate danger for them out in the world but in Gun’s version(true version y'all -fight me), Pat says that Papa Theerpanyakul is having his family killed off(is this a translation issue? I don’t remember it from my first viewing but I could have missed it.) It would explain why there was nobody other than Thee to take care of Porsche and Chay. If that was the case though, he was weirdly calm about it(sure he was angry but not terrified like he should have been -did he think they wouldn’t kill him for some reason?)

On top of that, why did Papa T take Nampheung in after he killed her family in the first place? Was it his Odin-Loki moment? Did he plan on using her in some way, maybe by marrying her off to one of his sons? I think it’s fanon that her family were Mafia bigwigs but it would explain why she was so important. 

Does Korn actually have any health issues at all or was this just an extremely long game to eliminate Gun and anybody that wasn’t going to be loyal to Kinn? And if so, I’m assuming that Porsche’s arrival sped things up. He was trying his best to send them on a long, long vacation once Porsche started to figure things out. I mean I could see the doctor giving him a “you’re not young any longer, you need to take better care of yourself” speech and him deciding to go from there and start getting things in order for the day when he actually did need to step down. 

What do the different colors of the bodyguard pins mean? Are they random? Are they based on seniority?  

And leading from that, why were the main family bodyguards so bad at their jobs? Other than the ones that were sleeping with the family members or hanging out watching series and partying with the family members I mean.

The minor family bodyguards are in a frickin' kill box and the main family guards are the ones that get slaughtered? My theory is that it was because Chan wasn’t actually any good at being in charge of the bodyguards. He was great as head bodyguard to Korn, and he obviously was kickass at bodyguarding itself but he was not equipped to organize or train other bodyguards. There are signs of it throughout the series but that shootout was a goddamned embarrassment of poor planning on the part of the main family. I know we all love Chan, but just no.

[nvuy]

your writing style is a dream of mine, and the pacing & humor in your fics are some of the many reasons i decided to follow you !

i'm trying to write fanfics myself & potentially even run a writing blog! could you share a few writing tips?

you are so cute.

i’ll let you in on a secret: i started actually publishing my fics in 2020, but i since abandoned them because they’re embarrassing. however, here’s one as a starting point. i look back at it and cringe A LOT, but it was my foot in the door, and 15 year old me was very proud of it, so i didn’t want to straight up delete it.

i didn’t start out on tumblr because i get nervous being forced to interact with people because im a pretty abrupt person and i talk about the things that i like too much and im aware that can scare people away. it was about halfway thru writing old habits before i actually posted something. that was this and i posted it because i knew what little audience i had knew ME because i wrote a scaramouche fic. so. scaramouche content.

and because of the tumblr tagging system, people saw it, they liked it, and some people wanted more.

i then interacted with other writers slowly even though i was scared and frankly still am. you dont have to go around asking to be moots or spamming hearts left and right and putting their dicks in ur mouth, but being nice and having a scope around on what other people do on here helped me develop this ugly little blog i have.

i got really into hsr so i write a lot of hsr. i get a lot of people that ask if i could write more genshin impact, and i could, but at the end of the day, it’s my blog, and if i dont want to, i dont have to. i lost interest, so i dont really have to care about it, nor pay it any mind. do i still write it? sure! rarely, but i do. i don’t play wuwa anymore, but im down to write a piece or two if i get an idea, etc etc.

another thing is: don’t write in the hopes that you’ll post it on tumblr. same way i don’t think artists should draw just for the sake of posting. i have so much shit laying on various docs that won’t even be shown on this site, because it doesn’t need to be here. not because it’s bad, or it’s weird, but because i don’t have to post it, because it’s my blog.

the thing is you just be yourself and write whatever the fuck you want. i write horror & weird shit; my audience is probably well aware of that by now, and im not really worried to post anything super weird because its sort of what’s expected of me.

i know horror and romantic cannibalism connotations and yanderes and unsubtle sexy threats is not everyone’s thing, and that’s ok! they don’t have to like what i put out, and i don’t worry about it, because people who like your shit will interact, and people who don’t will not. and people that don’t like ur shit and still interact are losers. hit the block button & move on.

someone is always bound to like your works.

i guess the ‘funny’ comes from the fact that i try to write dialogue how real people would speak. in fictional context, someone like kaedehara kazuha could wax poetry for three hours without stuttering in game, but realistically, nobody can probably do that without pauses, stammers, messing up words, etc. so i try to incorporate a sense of realism into everything, even if it’s a fanfiction in a world where a small boy in white tights is a god and everyone gets tiny little orbs that give them magical elemental powers.

i remember that even though these characters are fictional, i write them as though they could potentially be real people that do things real people do: fidget, stutter, blush, try and be funny and fail, they have problems large or small, etc. you have to mould your personality and writing style to make these characters alive on what you put out—childe seems like a great husband on paper, but is he all that good when he has unchecked mental health problems and has violent outbursts and desires? think about it.

another thing: don’t doubt your skill and prowess, especially in comparing yourself to posts with like 10000+ notes. most of them are note farming bullshit anyway—and a lot of the reader community is more likely to click on porn fics than normal fics. its why the popular posts on the x reader tags are usually porn. it’s half the reason why confiteor is infinitely more popular that old habits when im pretty sure scaramouche is a bigger character on the popularity charts.

strictly nsfw blogs that people make i can guarantee you are a lot more popular than their main blogs.

which brings me to: dont hop on trends. don’t do it. youll burn yourself out. just write what you want. fuck everyone. do whatever the fuck you want. if porn is popular but you’re extremely sex-repulsed or not comfortable, don’t write it. dont write to please people; it’s your blog and your time you’re putting into to do what YOU like, and you’re sharing your work for FREE on a public platform. a lot of people can’t do that. there’s people that follow my blog that openly admit they don’t like yandere/horror/whatever content. am i going to change what i post because of these people? no. not my problem. don’t care. i don’t exist to please everyone, and neither do you. stick to what you like.

don’t write for fandoms you don’t give a shit about just because they’re popular. even if what you like has a small, non-existent fan base, i promise you’ll enjoy writing for that more than something that you’re creating for clicks. notes are nice, but again, you don’t have to post everything you create. half the joy in writing is rediscovering old shit you don’t remember writing for a fandom you actually like. it’s like a reward.

[occasionalsnippets]

Eldritch mc gets kidnapped and Tim has to save them, Stephanie tags along and as they save Tim’s weird relative she also gets roped into the secret that Tim’s relative is actually a creature when mc decided to be silly.

The thing is that Tim knows that mc doesn't need help. Unfortunately, nobody else does. So he has to go retrieve them and Steph tags along because why not right?

They find mc toying with the kidnappers, dangling them over a pit of darkness. A bit of an eye opening experience for everyone involved except Tim and MC.

"It's not like I was actually going to kill them," they say. "Besides, they know where to go if they need help, right?"

Tim takes it to mean that they've... recommended one of the resources at Wayne Industries. They go back to the manor and explain kind of to Steph what's actually going on.

At least she thinks it's funny that an eldritch creature is sticking around to play house.