#i will be in a completely different part of my life.

[thaatdigitaldiary]

for the first time

hopkins paige bueckers x hopkins fem reader

for a long time, paige didn’t know why she felt the way she did about her best friend, someone who she “wasn’t” supposed to love, she didn’t want to ruin things. it was unfortunate she didn’t know you were waiting for her first. (kinda got this idea while listening to bags by clairo so i hope this makes your heart tingle and your eyes water!)

fluff and flirtationnnn (ofc🙏🏽), slight angst & minor argument, internal homophobia, cuteness and clarity at the end | this is lengthy! i hope ya like

enjoy!🙂‍↕️

disclaimer: i write nothing but angst or fluff when it comes to hopkins p, considering she was in highschool. thank you! - im considering this a “throwback story” so i can make a part two for older reader and older paige. 🫶🏽

paige and you were completely different when it came to high school. her priorities consisted of basketball, her future career, and passing senior year so she can make way to uconn. you however, were all about academics. you were in basically any club available, maintained a 4.0 gpa, and quickly climbed the rank of class president. how you two met was random, your sophomore year you were in photography club, meaning you took pictures of all the sports teams for the yearbook, and she stayed behind to talk to you.

"cool ass camera." she said going to touch it, but you quickly swat her hand away.

"hey! no touching. you break you buy." you say slightly stern, pointing your finger at her.

"technically YOU'D have to buy, this has nothing to do with me." she says laughing and shrugging her shoulders, getting a smile out of you. for her first time seeing you smile, she sure was in love with it.

"okay "miss photographer", what's your name?" she asks you, hoping she can get to know you. "mine's paige."

"i know, i see you all the time, you're like.. the best basketball player here." you say bragging on her, feeling kind of shy when you give away that you're a big fan of her.

"oh really, you think so?" she says in a flirty tone while she flexes, making you blush out of nervousness.

"okay, okay, don't get too in your head now, but yeah, you're really good. i'm the one who records and snaps all your shots. but my name is y/n, since you asked." you say with such a sweet voice, something that sent her in a trance, completely dazed in the sound of you speaking.

"cute name. hey uh, i was gonna ask did you need any help packing this stuff up, i won't break it i promise." paige says chuckling, her smile pure and full of life, an image that stayed in your head since you met her.

two years pass, and you and paige can never separate. despite being utter opposites of each other, you're glued to the hip. you still did photography, getting the best candid photos of your best friend on the court, excited to post them on social media so she gets the attention she deserves. you gathered the pictures together and created a collage to post on instagram.

you were paige's biggest fan to say the least, buying a hoodie with her name and number on it, and being able to sit on the sidelines and watch her play, with your photographer privilege of course. anytime she made a three, she'd point at you, making you smile. watching her play was something you couldn't get enough of, learning the game so you could understand when she was frustrated with a play, or if she just rambled on to you about it, you'd know exactly what she was talking about.

paige and your bond grew stronger, going to family events together, having sleepovers every weekend, even during the week, as well as going on family trips with her. you felt like you had your person when it came down to paige. you didn't really know much about anyone at your school, and you definitely didn't expect the school's star basketball player to befriend you.

life wasn't always so peachy though. you really struggled finding yourself. for a long time you were confused, not when it came to school, when it came down to your feelings. ever since you met paige, there was this feeling you couldn't shake, this feeling of nurture and love that you gained from her, the type no one else could give you. growing up, you weren't one to express your feelings to your parents. they were always busy, super strict, and for some reason never found too much time for you. but paige, she always dropped anything even if meant seeing you for 5 minutes.

the first time paige saw you, she noticed how you radiated positive energy, even though she had no clue what you were going through at home. all she wanted was to be the person by your side through thick and thin, forever and always.

with about a month and a half of school left, paige and her teammates took home the trophy for the final game of the season, and you were more than proud for her, ecstatic even. when the final buzzer went off for the end of the game, paige made a 3 pointer, beating the buzzer. you stood up and cheered as loud as you could, while paige ran towards you and swiftly lifted you up into a hug, making your feet dangle in the air.

"i'm so proud of you p." you said, muffled into her shoulder, as you feel her start to tear up from her words, and one of her biggest achievements.

"i really couldn't have done it without you, you're my motivation y/n." you feel a catch in your throat, signaling you're about to cry, and she quickly wipes your tears.

her family takes you both out to eat, and you had a duffel bag in their trunk that you packed the night before, so you could stay over at paige's house tonight.

after eating and making it to paige's place, you and paige made it up to her room, where she dropped her bags and your duffel that she insisted on carrying so you didn't "hurt your pretty hands" as she'd say. her room has evolved so much over the years, furniture moved around, basketball posters growing on the walls every visit, but one thing that never changed, was the framed picture of you and her on your nightstand, you on her back after her first win, both of your smiles bright and lively. the same picture lingered on her lockscreen ever since you two took it, your lockscreen being a picture you and her took at a sleepover at your house, you two under a fuzzy olive green blanket, exceptionally close for "best friends", but you never really cared.

that's another thing when it came down to paige, you never really cared. sure, questions and rumors spread, "are y/n and paige together?" "is paige gay?" "what's y/n's sexuality?"

it got annoying after a while, and paige and you always seemed to avoid the questions, and simply ignore them. it sucked that you wondered the same thing though. that was a sensitive topic, you couldn't ask paige about that, what if she finds you weird and stops talking to you?

you though, you should've been asking yourself that question. you've dated one guy throughout high school, and sure you liked him, (so you thought), but he was rude and belittling. after a conversation with paige, you immediately broke up with him. "he's not good enough for you," she said to you, always knowing what was best.

the real question was, what really was good enough for me?

paige never dated anyone in highschool, she turned down girls AND guys, so it made it extra hard to read her, even though you knew her like a book, cover page to the summary on the back of it. you wanted to know, but you didn't want to lose her in the midst of your curiosity.

sitting on paige's bed, you took your shoes off and got comfortable like you usually do, and she took off her practice gear and sat next to you.

"thank you for always being here for me y/n, like seriously." she sounds so genuine and would do anything to keep you here forever.

"p, i'm always gonna be here for you, you're my best friend." you go to embrace her, her muscular arms holding you close, your perfume lingering in her nose, making her feel at home.

you and her let go and look at each other for a while, eye contact never breaking, when she leans in for a kiss, and you let her in. the kiss is slow, as she tries to learn your body language, the kiss is meaningful, but is cut short when she starts freaking out.

"jesus christ y/n i'm sorry."

"i didn't mean to do that, it was an accident,"

an accident?

"oh, uh, yeah it's fine." you say, confused on what the big deal was, you've been wanting to do that forever, but i guess things weren't reciprocated.

things quickly got awkward, and then paige says something that honestly breaks your heart a little.

"maybe you shouldn't stay the night tonight, i uh, got family stuff."

you knew that wasn't true, she just didn't want you around after a moment like this just happened. but why is she shutting it down?

"you don't wanna talk first, i mean a lot just happened i think we should ta-" you try to explain to her when she cuts you off.

"just go home y/n." her voice cold and bleak, making you queasy.

paige was never like this with you, can a kiss really change everything? you thought asking your best friend a question would make you lose her, but you two KISSED. your heart dropped to your feet with the thoughts swarming in your head, "is she gonna leave me?" being the main one.

the next day rolls around, it was 12:30, the time she usually got back home after practicing with her dad, and you’ve received no sign of her, no texts or missed facetimes, which was unusual since you promised each other two years ago you'd try to facetime every. single. day. "she just needs time," you thought to yourself, but you text her anyway.

"hey paigeyyy, i'm gonna go to the store later, did you want me to pick anything up for you? i can drop by your house and give it to you?"

read 12:35pm

she read your message, but didn't respond until ten minutes later with a simple and dry "no" which made you sigh and move on about the day.

you missed paige. you slowly start to regret last night, but there's nothing you can do to change it. you already miss her face, her hugs, her lips, and how she looked at you. you open your camera roll to see a picture you and her took last night after her game, her holding you bridal style while you hold up her trophy, both of you smiling at each other. you put your phone down and decide to lay down for the rest of the day, as you had no motivation to do anything knowing your best friend didn't even wanna speak to you.

but deep down it was more than that, you had really fallen for paige, not wanting anyone but her, was that so wrong?

paige on the other hand, was losing it. she didn't know what to do with herself. there was no way she liked girls, let alone her best friend.

so why did she kiss her?

she wanted answers, but she couldn't and didn't want to talk to anyone about it, scared of how others would perceive her, worried she'd lose people over this, and worst of all, she didn't want to lose her best friend. she had to push her away, she needed space to think.

she thought there was nothing wrong with that, but it was the worst thing she could've done.

a week passes, neither of you are talking much, you haven't facetimed in what seems like forever, and her responses to you are weak and bland, making you feel as if she's not interested in talking to you anymore.

prom is approaching, you and paige planned to go together, to dance, make fun of other peoples dancing, and have another lively moment before summer break. but after that night, you're not sure what you two are gonna do, mainly because the day of prom, paige hadn't texted you at all. you weren't gonna go since you figured she wasn't, but you needed to get out of bed and go do something fun to get your mind off of the situation.

a couple hours go by, and you're finished getting ready. you have on an all black floor length dress, with small purple accents, since you already pre picked it out, intending to match with paige. you took your pictures with your parents, and drove to the school, as prom was being held in the gym this year.

you get there, hands clammy from your nervousness. you hate being here without paige, you wanted to take so many pictures, make so many memories, slow dance, and this was gonna be the night you were ACTUALLY planning on kissing her for the first time, showing her how long you've loved her.

the whole time you've been standing around looking bored, knowing you'd have so much fun if paige were here. that's until a guy from the football team comes up to you, asking you to dance with him. you insist, as you have nothing better to do. a slow song starts, and you and him are dancing slowly, until you notice a familiar face walk in the gym. paige.

she sees you and him and storms off to the bathroom, furious at the fact that you looked so beautiful, and that she wasn't the one with hands around your waist, taking in all your beauty.

you excuse yourself from his grasp, walking towards the bathroom, letting it clear out before you walk in.

"hey.." you say softly, not wanting to come off aggressive as if she hasn't been talking to you in what seemed like ages.

"what the fuck is he doing slow dancing with you? that was our thing y/n." she says, sort of yelling at you, but you quickly retaliate.

"no paige. you don't get to be mad at me because YOU shut me out. all i wanted to do was talk to you, you made me feel crazy, like something was wrong with me." you say, starting to cry.

"you completely went ghost on me, since before that night i've wanted no one but you, but i guess it doesn't matter,"

"i didn't come with him, he just asked me to dance because i looked bored, so i said yes." you tell her, looking at the tiled bathroom floor.

paige cups your chin and pulls your head up so you can look her in the eyes.

"i'm sorry y/n. i shouldn't have ran from you, i was scared. i really did mean to kiss you, just not like that. i wanted it to be special, i wanted it to be while we danced. i thought he was about to take that opportunity away from me. it woulda been memorable y'know?" she says while looking deep in your eyes, hoping you'd forgive her. “i know i’ve been acting weird, i just didn’t know what to do if i lost you.”

"i was also scared of what people would think of me, yknow, liking girls and shit. especially liking you, you're perfect, i didn't wanna ruin anything for you."

you don't respond immediately, until she says what's been on her mind since she met you.

"i'm in love with you, y/n. i've loved you since the first time i met you, you keep me sane, and without you i was losing my shit. there’s nothing wrong with you ma, and i apologize for making you feel that way."

your eyes go a little bit wider, and you finally respond, "i love you too paige, i always have. forget what other people think p, nobody matters but me with you." you smile wide at her and she smiles back, finally feeling content with herself, knowing she said what needed to be said, and could kiss you whenever she wanted to.

she leans in to kiss you, but you stop her.

"what cmon, i can't kiss you now?" she said to you while rolling her eyes.

"you said you wanted it to be special right?" you grab her hand and hold it for a while.

"yes ma'am i did," she says, leading you out of the bathroom and back to the gym, where another slow song has started. she quickly rests her hands on your waist, your hands on her shoulders, as you two sway to the song blasting through the cheap speakers the school borrowed.

"god, you look beautiful baby." paige says, finally taking in all of your perfection. your hair, makeup, and jewelry aligned perfectly, fitting you so well, she just loved looking at you. before you two continue dancing, she pulls her phone out of her dress pants pocket, and while she does so you take a good look at her. she looks stunning. a black button up and black dress pants, a silver chain completing the look. she goes to her camera app, and you kiss her on the cheek as a pose for the picture. she snaps multiple and eagerly changes her lockscreen.

"i love seeing this beautiful face everytime i turn my phone on," she says, you roll your eyes out of her corniness, but it still makes you blush. you also take a picture of the two of you, and you update your lockscreen as well.

"and i love seeing yours, and plus, this button up looks a little too good on you," you tell her, making her bite her lip slightly.

she grabs your hand and twirls you, bringing you back in, your faces exceptionally close to one another. the slow song comes to and end, and paige takes one hand off of your waist to cup your face, and connects her lips with yours and utters the words that make you happy to have met her,

"i love you y/n."

"i love you too paige."

and for the first time, you knew you had a forever person, and that person was paige bueckers.

HEY BAD BITCHESSS!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDD I KNOW THERE’S NOT MANY HOPKINS FICS OUT THERE SO I WANTED TO TRY! i’ll try and be consistent with posting, just bare with me 🙂‍↕️ love you

tags: @rosemariiaa @mrsarnold @wbbgetsmewetter

🫶🏽🫶🏽

the collage that “would’ve been posted”

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

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oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[luludeluluramblings]

Dick Grayson's Obsession with Smalltown!Reader

A/N: Why dialogue hard? Why so hard? Y'all I tried, once again. I saved Dick for last because I really really really did not want to screw up his character. I did end up adding a scene from Part Seven in here. Just to give it some pizzazz.

A/N: Part Eight is in the works, but it’s either gonna be massive or I’m going to have to divide it up. Also, people be posting so straight up fire in the Yandere Bat tags lately. Good stuff, I needed that.

Warnings: Yandere themes, physical affection.

Out of everyone, Dick was the most enthusiastic about Reader coming to Wayne manor, while also being the most melancholic. The tragedy of their arrival wasn't lost on him, despite the thrill he had over the thought of having another person to add to hi life. Already, the need and wanted to smoother them in comfort and care was there. But, the life experiences he had allowed him to realize it was probably best not to overwhelm them.

Therefore, it came out in short burst of staggering affection at times. But, only when he was visiting. (There was no denying the fact that he was extremely tempted to call them on the phone just to make sure they were settling in just fine. And, that he fought that temptation every single night.)

That didn't stop him from feeling some minor annoyance with Bruce for keeping the fact that they existed a secret. Dick had seen the affects of this life and even felt them, but to let the family nearly miss out on something so honeyed with normalcy was cruel. (It would have been preferred if they didn't have to lose their parents in order to join the rest of the family, but it was hard to think like with how busy his schedule was and soft they felt in his arms.)

Admittedly he may have latched on to them too hard in the beginning. They felt stiff the first time his arms wrapped around them. The guilt of it gurgled in his throat, which is why he cut it short and went about his business. But, he couldn't stop the urge to do so each time they crossed each other's paths in the manor halls.

And, much to his glee, they start to soften. Slowly, but surly, they start to cling to him a little longer when his arms wrap around them. They start to depend on him. For once the thought of someone so conventional depending on him as Dick rather than as Nightwing, because everyone seems to depend on him as Nightwing, doesn't fill him with anxiety. It makes his chest flutter in a different way. Not with anxious butterflies, but with a flicker of a warmth.

It's completely innocent, the way the craving starts. He has to talk himself out of rearranging his entire schedule to be around them. Especially after the kidnapping incident. But, the Rouge break out gives him plenty of work to distract himself, and more frequent chances to find them in the manor for a dose of his new source of comfort.

His feelings finally start to become clear when rather than holding him longer and tighter, they finally reach for him themselves.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

“And, how is my favorite person today?” Already Dick has his arms opened wide for you when you walk out of the kitchen. He always appears from the depths of the manor, before he wraps around you like a slow creeping vine blooming with all sorts of sentiments.

"Alfred was doing good last I saw." But, by now you've grown to appreciate the way the tendrils curl around your limbs and burrow themselves into you. A small grin forming on your face at the chance to finally have someone to talk to, even if he isn't consistent company.

"Alfred isn't my favorite person, and you know it." The banter between them enjoyable and the undertones of his words ignorable in your obliviousness. "But, seriously, how are you doing today? You look like you have something on your mind. If it is you can tell me, you know that right?" The concern pouring put of his lips, as his grip tightens.

He had seen you through the cameras and had overheard the longing phone calls. The fact that your birthday was coming up had crossed his mind, and the realization that this would be your first without your parents did register in his brain. (But, it would also be you first with them. With him.) Bringing it up to you seemed like a bad idea. But, he would still try to encourage you to spill your feelings to him.

"No, no. It's nothing I promise." Your reply was soft and dismissive. But, the dishonesty was noticeable in it still.

Dick's arms seemed to tighten around you as you spoke, as if he was trying to decode the root of your troubles from the way your heart was beating against his chest. Eventually, he does loosen his limbs around you.

As he looks down, you known and he knows you’re lying. For a moment you think he going to push. To try to choke the words out of your lungs with another tight squeeze. But, he doesn't. Instead he lets you breathe.

"Okay," is all he says.

No extra nor unnecessary words. No constant reassurance that he'll always be there for you. Just a single word and the room to breathe. Those other things have already been said. Multiple times, in fact.

It's this one instance where he lets you breath that somehow gives you lungs the air it needs to blurt out what's bothering you as he pulls away.

"I wanna go home." The words escape your lips when you finally exhale and reach for him. The words coarse. "I just really want to go home for a bit. I miss home. I miss my family. I just—“

Dick doesn't even let you get halfway before he's enveloping you again. A slight tremble in his hands as he sprouts around you once more.

This. This is what he's wanted. You coming to him with your raw feelings. And, he knows he's the first person you've said this to at all.

"How can I help you?" He asks instead of questioning the statement.

"Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?” The tentative way you ask and look up at him has him caving immediately.

"Of course!" Perhaps it was a good thing you didn't grow up in Wayne manor. If Bruce hadn't spoiled you, he most definitely would have. "I'll bring it up to B as soon as he gets back."

"He's gone?" You hadn't been informed of him even leaving, but then again, you were hardly every informed about anything it seems.

"Yeah, work emergency. It wasn't a big deal, but he'll be back soon." Dick can sense the mild tone shift, but manages to shift it back to something more lighthearted. "I'll make sure to butter him up for you. I swear. Puppy-dog eyes and everything."

It works, because before he can even clutch you to his chest you already wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled yourself towards him. Just the way you hug him tells him how genuine this type of embrace is. This is how you hold people. And, now, this is how you hold him.

"Thank you, Dick. Thank you." Comes your muffled reply into his chest.

The way you nuzzle into him like that's where you belong, because that's where you do belong, and the way you say his name causes his heart to melt. And, his mind to slowly sinks into the puddle it became.

Dick could stay like this for hours, but you start to pull away after a solid minute.

"I should let you get going. I know you got a lot of stuff to do." Your words sound so hopeful and understanding as you him go. The way you look up at him like he is your hero just for this simple small thing is touching.

Inwardly, he curses. The criminals of Gotham. The criminals of Blüdhaven, the team, the family, his schedule. Everything. He curses it all for that moment, because he could be holding you to his chest longer and having you look up at him like that instead. But, he lets it pass. He manages to let it go just as you pull away.

"Yeah, I do. But, don't think I'm going to brush off helping my favorite person in the world." Plastering on a well practiced pretty smile as he speaks.

"So, that means you got somebody more important off world? I see how it is." You tease in return as you fall for the practiced charm.

"Maybe." Dick lets the banter easy his mind. In reality, even off this world, you're probably his favorite, still. It should scare him, but it doesn't. "I'll let you know how Bruce takes the request. But, I'm prepared to sneak you out of here if necessary."

"I'll get the spy music ready, just incase." Things are starting to look up, and it's nice to have someone in your corner in this massive estate.

"Mission Impossible theme?" His grin become less practiced at the thoughts of having an adventure with you.

"Nah, the Pink Panther one. Just for the shenanigans." Your own grin growing wider and wider.

"Now I want to sneak you out just for fun." And, he means it. Already mentally planning your trip back home with him escorting you. And, then you possibly coming and staying in Blüdhaven with him in his guest room. Just to get you out of the manor, of course. Clearly you need it.

He can't ignore the way his pocket keeps buzzing, though. Clearly the others are in the cave waiting for him. But, they can wait a bit longer, he thinks diving in for one last embrace.

As you wholeheartedly reciprocate, he can see one of the secret security camera out the corner of his eye and he can't stop the smug smile from forming on his face as his gives you one last squeeze in front of it.

With the way his phone stills, he can tell the rest of them saw. It's not his fault they're too scared of physical affection to actually hug you. But, it does give him a monopoly on it with you.

As he makes his way down to the Batcave there's a skip in his step and that smug smile is still on his face.

He makes sure to look at everyone's faces as he joins them. Soaking up their envy. All of that wasn't to make them jealous, but it's kind of nice to have.

"Was all that necessary, Grayson?" Damian being the first to break the silence by practically spitting the words out through his gritted teeth. Even with his perfect poster the tension coiling in his limbs is visible to the untrained eye.

"Someone's got to be the one to do it, little D. And, clearly, they needed it." Dick's tone was placating, but his smile wasn't. The way he stands in the center of the room reminiscent of an orchestra conductor.

"Don't use them as an excuse for your touch-starved tendencies, Dick." Barbara retorted, rolling in her chair towards another computer. She immediately began typing on it at a furious pace, clearly trying to distract herself.

"Low blow, Babs." He whistled in return. Everyone else seemed focused on giving him the silent treatment causing his grin to widen further. "I can't help that I'm a naturally-"

"I just texted Bruce about it." Duke suddenly says, looking up from his phone with a smug grin. He face had been blank before, but the way his eyes glanced up at Dick and the others when there heads jerk towards him showed off a hint of self-satisfaction.

"That's cheating." Childishly spills from Dick's mouth. This was suppose to be his favor to them. His. Not anyone else's.

"Bruce doesn't get text while in the Watchtower." Stephanie points out while uncurling from her seat, but the damage is done.

"Could we contact Father in the Watchtower?" Damian practically leaps from his seat and rushes to the Batcomputer where Tim sits. Alliances quickly being drawn up.

"He'd be pissed if we contacted him for something like this." Jason adds with a grin. He doesn't bother looking up from cleaning his guns, just not at all bothered by the prospect of pissing Bruce off.

"But, then message would be logged into the League data base." Comes Barbara's stern voice from her computer, her typing coming to a pause. Tim still keeps at whatever he was working on before Dick walked into the cave, but on the screen there is a flash of airline websites so it's fairly easy to conclude what his plan of persuasion is.

Cassandra watches the exchange reading the emotions through everyone's movements. Silently, she throws her bid in as well. Choosing to slide over to Stephanie and signing the making of a plan.

From there it spirals into an all out argument between each and every member of the family. Debating logistics and exchanging petty insults that seems to go on for hours. Hardly anything gets done while words are being thrown around like bullets.

In the back of his mind, Dick once again curses everyone and everything for ruining this for him. But, he reassures himself, the banter from earlier comes back to him.

It's a decent plan, he thinks. Sneaking Reader out of the manor. Convincing Bruce would be ideal, but it wouldn't be the first time he's broken the rules. And, it's for their happiness and well being. They need him. They asked him for his help. Not the other's. Not anyone else's. His. Bruce will understand.

Besides, it would be nice to see the Smalltown they grew up in. It sounds like a quaint little place. What could possibly be wrong with it?

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C2)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (6.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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02: Love, Sweat, and Secondhand Embarrassment

"Clemmy I swear I wanted to die that entire time. Whoever I offended in an alternate universe I am so so sorry, I truly believe karma is real now," I lamented, voice weak.

Burying my head in my pillow, I could finally appreciate the cool blast of AC (well, it was a little bit of air conditioning but a little is better than nothing) I scratched my right leg that was hoisted up onto the blue duvet cover. If not for the horrible comedic timing of everything, in that moment, I might have said that I was enjoying myself.

On the other line of the phone, thousands of miles away, it was a completely different story.

"What the fuck," Clementine could barely muster out because she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't think any part of this story is funny, Clem," I roll my eyes and trail off.

"But it is! You genuinely should consider a career in stand-up comedy. If you recounted all of this in front of a paying live audience, I'm just saying it could make you a millionaire overnight," Clementine wheezed.

"Oh, shut up, bitch," I retorted, trying to suppress a smile despite my mortification.

"You know it's true though!" Her girlish giggles rang through my room. I could see her face through the screen and it looked like visible tears were streaming down her face from how funny she found this to be.

"I am completely and utterly humiliated. There is no way I can go downstairs and face everyone right now," I whined. It was true, as twenty minutes ago, mid-Facetime with Clementine, I heard the door to the foyer open and heard a lot of new noises.

New people. The neighbors. The rest of the Australians.

Crikey, mate.

There was no way I could face them. And since Oscar was probably their son (he looked way too young to be a father) he had probably already told them about the wretched and humiliating mishap.

"Seriously, Clemmy, you don’t get it," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice but failing miserably. "This is not just some embarrassing story. This is my life, and I have to face these people now."

Clementine’s laughter finally started to subside, and she took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, I get it. But you have to admit, this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of disaster. You can’t just ignore it. It’s like the universe is telling you to embrace the chaos."

I sighed, feeling a bit more grounded with her calming tone. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly feeling the universe’s love right now. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of sitcom. And what if they think I’m a total klutz? I can’t even begin to imagine how Oscar must’ve described me."

"It'll be fine. You are a pro at handling horrible situations. I mean, I can really only think that you have had more bad experiences with guys than good ones!" Clem tried to reassure me.

"Wow, thanks," I deadpanned. "Way to make a girl feel special."

Clementine's voice was full of playful sympathy. "Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve survived everything life’s thrown at you so far. Besides, look at it this way: if they’re judging you based on this one incident, they’re missing out on getting to know the amazing person you are."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'amazing' like face-planting into a pile of shampoo and knocking over a bunch of cleaning supplies," I said, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

Clementine laughed. "Exactly! And let’s be honest, if they do judge you for this, they’re definitely not worth your time. Besides, Oscar might even think you’re charming in a clumsy, endearing kind of way. You never know."

"You should really consider a career in therapy. If I lay here and close my eyes for a bit and sleep for three hours surely your advice will work," I retorted.

"Oh be so serious with me now,"

"I am! Now I can add a new skill to my LinkedIn profile," I said, trying to stifle a giggle. "How about 'Expert in Catastrophic Bathroom Mishaps: Master of Turning Shower Encounters into Slapstick Comedy'?"

Clementine burst into laughter. “That’s quite a title! It’s like you’ve got a whole new niche market for yourself.”

“Right? I’m just waiting for the endorsement from ‘The Association of Embarrassing Bathroom Incidents,’” I said, imagining a badge with that exact title. What a big, fat, fucking joke.

“Or maybe you'll become the keynote speaker for the 'International Conference on Unexpected Water-Based Accidents,’” Clementine added, her voice full of amusement.

“I’ll make sure to include a workshop on ‘How to Survive a Bathroom Collision with Dignity and Humor,’” I said with a chuckle. “And don’t forget the seminar on ‘Turning Slip-and-Fall Disasters into Networking Opportunities.’”

“A career to consider!” Clementine laughed. “And you know what? I’ll be your first fan. Just remember to keep me updated on how your new ‘disastrous bathroom mishap’ career is going.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” I promised with a smile. “Thanks for the laugh. It’s nice to know that even in the middle of a fiasco, I can count on you to turn it into a comedy show.”

"What can I say, I will never turn down listening to a free shit show," Clementine winked at me through the camera.

"Clem! What the hell!" I waved my manicured pointed nail at her.

"Bye! Don't die from embarrassment before you come back!" She quipped, then promptly hung up.

I lay sprawled on my bed, dreading the thought of going downstairs and facing the group of new neighbors. The whole idea made me cringe. I was just about to mentally prepare myself for the awkward introductions when a sudden knock on my door jolted me upright. My heart raced as I called out lazily, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Oscar standing there. His eyebrow was raised, and he wore a cheeky grin that did nothing to ease my nerves.

"Well, well, well," he said with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve been having quite the chat with 'dearest Clemmy,' haven’t you?"

My face flushed beet red, and I stuttered, struggling to find my words. “W-What are you doing here?”

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, you know, just overheard you and Clemmy talking about our little mishap. I believe you mentioned something about me being ‘a charming yet infuriating Aussie who managed to turn your bathroom break into a comedy skit.’”

I blinked, stunned into silence. My mouth opened and closed, but no coherent words came out. The sheer embarrassment was overwhelming. Oscar’s casual demeanor and his cheeky grin only made things worse.

“What can I say, my name was called,” Oscar continued with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If someone keeps calling you hot, I mean, wouldn’t you be too curious to listen?”

His smirk only made my breath hitch and my fingers tremble a little more. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I struggled to come up with a response. The playful glint in his eye and his casual attitude did nothing to alleviate my embarrassment. Instead, they only made me feel more flustered.

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “W-Well, I guess I didn’t think anyone would be actually listening.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully, his smirk widening. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. But it was too good to pass up. Especially the part where you called me a ‘human wrecking ball.’”

My face flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “Great. Just great,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sure I’ve made a fantastic first impression.”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Look, it’s all good. I’ve seen worse first impressions. Trust me. At least you didn’t accidentally set off the fire alarm or flood the place.”

I managed a weak smile, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I’ll try to keep any future disasters to a minimum.”

Look at me, constantly embarrassing myself in front of hot guys. This was the exact reason why I was still bitchless and socially awkward at the ripe age of twenty-one. I could navigate a spreadsheet like a pro, ace exams, and even master the perfect contour, but put me in a room with a cute guy, and I turned into a walking calamity.

I sighed internally, already dreading the inevitable teasing I’d get from Clemmy once she found out I had, yet again, failed to keep my cool around a guy. Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and let the ground swallow me whole.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, studying me with a curious look. “You know, you seem like a completely different person right now. Way quieter, more shy… less daring.”

My face flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “That’s not true,” I snapped, crossing my arms defensively. “I’m exactly the same as I was before.”

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sure, if you say so. But the girl who almost took me down like a rugby player in the bathroom seemed a lot more fearless.”

My nose flared as I shot him a glare, feeling the fire of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, making assumptions about me? I’ll show him just how brave I can be, I thought, my fists clenching. If he wanted to see daring, then I’d make sure he regretted ever doubting me. The nerve of this guy! He might have been hot, but that didn’t give him the right to push my buttons like this.

Oscar gave me a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway, everyone’s heading downstairs to meet each other. Figured I’d let you know, since, you know, it’s probably not the best idea to hide out up here forever."

My stomach twisted with nerves at the thought of facing everyone after that humiliating encounter. The idea of meeting new people while still reeling from my disastrous introduction to Oscar was daunting. But there was no way I was going to let him see how nervous I actually was. I took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. "Fine, let’s get this over with."

As we walked out of the room and toward the stairs, I could feel Oscar’s presence behind me—large, imposing, and annoyingly close. My face heated up, and I silently cursed myself for blushing yet again. Why did this guy have to make everything so difficult?

It was like shooting a sitting duck. A little small talk, a smile, and baby, I was stuck. I was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some teenager swooning over a crush. But there I was, getting flustered over a guy I barely knew. Get a grip, I told myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen—I wasn’t supposed to be this easily charmed.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated, gripping the railing a little longer than usual. I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me, and it only made my nerves worse. Just as I was about to take the first step down, his hand brushed against mine. The contact was brief but enough to send a jolt of awareness through me. His hand was rough with calluses, moderately enveloping mine in a way that felt both comforting and disarming.

What was it about this guy that made me feel so uncharacteristically off-balance? As I tried to steady my racing thoughts, I reminded myself that I had to keep it together. After all, I wasn’t about to let some smooth-talking Aussie turn me into a lovesick fool—no matter how much my traitorous heart seemed to enjoy the challenge.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes were drawn to two adults who were deep in conversation with my mom. Their warm, friendly demeanor and unmistakable Australian accents told me they were Oscar’s parents. They seemed just as lively and outgoing as he was, which only added to the strangeness of this entire situation.

Then, I spotted Oscar’s siblings—a trio of sisters who looked like carbon copies of him, yet each had her own distinct vibe, like different fonts of the same typeface. They were laughing and joking with each other, their bond evident in the way they effortlessly engaged in light-hearted banter. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had siblings to share that kind of closeness with.

My daydream was abruptly shattered when Oscar’s large, warm hand clasped onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing gently but firmly against my skin. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through me, making me jump slightly as a flush of heat rushed to my cheeks. His chuckle, deep and amused, rumbled behind me, the sound wrapping around me like a teasing caress. He was standing on the step just above me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His presence was unmistakably felt—broad, solid, and way too close for comfort, yet somehow not close enough.

His fingers lingered on my shoulder, almost as if he was testing my reaction, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his touch, seeping into my skin. The space between us seemed to shrink with every passing second, and I could barely concentrate on anything but the weight of his hand and the steady beat of my heart hammering in my chest.

Oscar leaned in slightly, his voice low and smooth as honey. “Jumpier than I thought,” he drawled, his tone dripping with playful mischief. “Didn’t take you for the shy type. Especially not after our little bathroom tango.” His grin widened, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that was both infuriating and ridiculously charming.

My pulse quickened at the way he was looking at me—those eyes sparkling with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with a retort, but all I could focus on was how his hand, still resting on my shoulder, felt both protective and possessive. The air between us crackled with a tension that was impossible to ignore, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

I could quite literally cut the sexual tension with the dullest fucking butterknife in the world.

I tried to muster a sharp retort, something that would wipe that smug grin off his face, but my brain was too busy short-circuiting to cooperate. All I could manage was a stuttered, “I-I’m not shy! You just—caught me off guard, that’s all.” The words tumbled out, weak and unconvincing, and I mentally cringed at how feeble they sounded.

Oscar’s grin only grew, clearly enjoying my flustered state. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze locked on mine with a playful intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Off guard, huh?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “So, you’re saying if I hadn’t surprised you, you’d be able to keep up?”

I opened my mouth to respond, determined to regain some semblance of dignity, but nothing clever came out. Instead, I just stood there, caught between wanting to pull away from his teasing and feeling inexplicably drawn to his warmth. His hand slid from my shoulder, and the absence of his touch left a surprising chill in its wake.

Realizing that my window for a comeback was closing, I finally managed to sputter, “Y-Yeah, exactly.” I immediately cursed myself for sounding so pathetic. Not exactly the sharp comeback I was hoping for. His smirk deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oscar replied, his tone still dripping with amusement. He straightened up, giving me a quick wink before stepping down to the next stair. The playful glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin, and he was loving every second of it.

As he moved past me, I finally found my voice—too little, too late—and muttered under my breath, “Cocky bastard.” But it was quiet enough that I hoped he didn’t hear it. To my dismay, Oscar paused, turning back with a raised eyebrow and an even wider grin.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Care to repeat it?”

My cheeks flamed as I quickly shook my head. “Nope, nothing. Let’s just… go meet everyone.”

Oscar’s grin didn’t falter as he took a step closer, still looming above me. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but with that familiar teasing edge, “I’ve already met everyone else. Your mom, too. And I’ve gotta say, you two seem like complete opposites.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard again. “Opposites?”

He nodded, leaning against the wall with that effortless ease he seemed to have perfected. “Yep. Your mom’s all smiles and warm welcomes. You, on the other hand… well, you’ve got this whole ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe going on.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just messing with me again. “I do not have a ‘ready to throw punches’ vibe.”

Oscar’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, you totally do. But don’t worry,” he added with a playful smirk, “it’s kind of endearing. Keeps things interesting.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Glad to know I’m so entertaining for you.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, I’m just saying, opposites attract, right? Besides, your mom already likes me. You could take a few notes.”

His comment sent a fresh wave of warmth to my cheeks, both from irritation and something I couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need notes from you,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

Oscar just chuckled, giving me one last teasing wink before turning to head down the stairs. “Whatever you say, mate. Just try not to tackle anyone else while you’re at it.”

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A girl with short hair and a devious grin matching Oscar's grinned at me as well entered the kitchen. Shimmering her hands like "jazz hands", she rolled her eyes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

I turned to face the new arrival, immediately recognizing her as one of Oscar’s sisters—one of the three siblings who seemed to share his penchant for mischief. Her cropped hair and sharp, playful eyes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a rom-com where she was the resident troublemaker, always stirring the pot and having a laugh at everyone else’s expense.

“Hey, party people,” she said, her voice dripping with a teasing lilt. She shot me a grin that was almost a mirror image of Oscar’s, mischievous and knowing, like she was in on some inside joke I hadn’t been let in on yet. I could feel the same heat from before creeping up my neck. Why did it feel like these siblings were reading me like an open book?

“Looks like someone’s already made a grand entrance,” she continued, flicking her eyes between me and Oscar with an amused smirk. “Oscar’s been talking about you nonstop since we got here. Said something about a ‘bathroom fiasco’ that deserves an award?”

I shot a glare at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Did he now?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the mortification clawing at me.

The girl laughed, light and musical, but with an edge that told me she was fully enjoying every bit of this. “Oh yeah, he’s been filling us in. But don’t worry, we’re used to his tall tales. I’m Hattie, by the way,” she added, extending a hand with exaggerated enthusiasm as if we were meeting on the set of a game show rather than in my kitchen.

I hesitated for a beat before shaking her hand, trying to muster a smile that didn’t look too forced. “Nice to meet you, Hattie. I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she interrupted, her grin widening. “You’re the girl who almost took out my brother. Honestly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever managed to knock him off his game quite like that.”

I glanced at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. Maisie’s comment hung in the air, both a compliment and a lighthearted jab. I couldn’t help but feel like I was once again the butt of some inside joke between the siblings.

“Yeah, well, it’s a special talent of mine,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling like every word was being scrutinized. “Guess I just have that effect.”

Hattie laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. “Oh, I like you already. But hey, if you’re gonna hang out with us, you better be ready for a little friendly chaos. And maybe a few more unexpected collisions.”

Oscar gave a soft snort of laughter, and I could feel his eyes still on me, assessing, teasing, and—annoyingly—almost impressed. I tried to ignore the butterflies that seemed to be staging a full-on rebellion in my stomach. Clearly, this family thrived on playful torment, and I had somehow found myself right in the middle of it.

“Don’t worry,” I said, straightening up and forcing a confident smile. “I think I can handle whatever you guys throw at me.”

Hattie's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave me a mock salute. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the chaos, mate.”

Oscar chuckled again, giving me that damn wink before pushing off from the counter. “Oh, she’s ready for it. Trust me, she’s already made quite the impression.”

The other two girls strolled in, each with their own distinct energy that filled the room. One had a fierce, confident look, dark hair tied up in a messy bun, and a leather jacket that screamed ‘cooler-than-you’ vibes. The youngest, a curly-haired, bright-eyed whirlwind, practically bounced into the kitchen, her infectious smile lighting up the space.

“So,” I said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new faces. “I’ve met Oscar, obviously, and… Hattie, right?” I glanced at the girl who had first greeted me, who nodded with a playful smile. “But I’m afraid I haven’t gotten your names yet,” I continued, pointing between the other two sisters.

The girl with the leather jacket gave me a wry grin, leaning casually against the counter. “I’m Edie,” she said, her voice dripping with casual confidence. “The cooler, smarter middle child.”

Mae, the youngest, immediately chimed in, rolling her eyes at her sister. “And I’m Mae, the fun one,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing as she hopped up onto a stool. “Edie’s just mad she wasn’t born with my charm.”

Edie snorted, pretending to be offended. “Please, you’re like a tiny tornado of chaos. But yeah, I guess she’s not wrong,” she added, shooting me a smirk. “Mae’s got a way of making everything a little… livelier.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their playful back-and-forth. “Nice to officially meet you all. And thanks for the heads-up on your brother’s antics,” I said, glancing at Oscar, who was watching the exchange with an amused glint in his eye.

“Oh, trust me,” Hattie added, her grin widening as she nudged Oscar with her elbow. “We’ve got years of experience keeping this one in line. You’re welcome to join the effort.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Wow, ganging up on me already? This is why I never bring girls home,” he joked, though there was a hint of genuine warmth in his voice, like he was more than used to—and secretly enjoyed—their teasing.

Mae leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just wait till we start telling you all the embarrassing stories. Oscar’s got quite a few, and we’ve got no problem spilling the tea.”

Oscar smirked, shifting his weight just enough to close the distance between us, his presence suddenly feeling a lot closer, a lot warmer. He leaned in with a casual ease, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to make me squirm. His voice dropped into a playful, low tone, rich and velvety, each word dripping with deliberate charm. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “I’d much rather hear your stories. You’re far more interesting than anything they could say about me.”

The way he looked at me was like I was the only person in the room, his eyes lingering on mine with a bold, flirtatious glint that sent a shiver down my spine. His grin was maddeningly confident, a little crooked, and devastatingly irresistible—the kind of smile that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. It was teasing, suggestive, and far too charming for its own good, like he was daring me to blush, daring me to react.

I felt the heat creeping up my neck, a slow burn that spread across my cheeks, making my skin prickle with the sudden awareness of how close he was. My mind scrambled for something clever to say, but his flirtatious tone, the way his eyes roved over my face as if he was reading every reaction, left me tongue-tied. It was like he was peeling back layers with just a look, searching for the part of me that he could fluster with a few well-placed words and that infuriating smile.

I tried to steady my breath, but his proximity was overwhelming. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of something spicy—and the subtle shift of his body as he leaned closer sent my senses into overdrive. Every nerve seemed to hum in response to his nearness, and I could feel my face burning hotter, betraying me with every second that I failed to look away.

Edie made a gagging noise, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ew, Oscar, seriously? Can you not flirt for like five seconds? It’s embarrassing.”

Mae giggled, giving Oscar a playful shove. “Yeah, gross. No one wants to see that. Save it for when we’re not around, Romeo.”

Hattie snorted, shaking her head as she watched Oscar with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “He’s always like this. Thinks he’s Mr. Smooth. Don’t let him get to you.”

But Oscar only chuckled, clearly unfazed by his sisters’ teasing. He turned back to me, his grin widening as he caught sight of my flushed cheeks. “Aww, look at that,” he said, his voice soft and teasing. “Did I make you blush? How cute.”

I quickly tried to hide my face, mortification bubbling up as I realized there was no escaping the heat radiating from my cheeks. “N-No, you didn’t,” I stammered, though the pink tint on my face said otherwise.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know. It’s kind of endearing.”

I could practically feel my cheeks getting even more red, if that was even possible. His sisters snickered behind us, enjoying the show as much as they enjoyed tormenting him.

Mae nudged Hattie, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s really laying it on thick, huh? Someone needs to put a leash on this one.”

Hattie snickered and turned to me, giving me an exaggeratedly sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, he does this to everyone. It’s part of his ‘charm offensive.’ Just don’t let him get away with it too easily.”

“Yeah, make him work for it,” Edie added with a laugh. “And don’t let that blush fool you. He’s got enough of an ego without you feeding it.”

Oscar just shrugged, clearly unbothered by his sisters’ ribbing. He kept his eyes on me, his smile softening just slightly. “They’re just jealous because they know I’m right. You really are something else.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face despite my best efforts. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms in an attempt to compose myself.

Oscar leaned back, finally giving me a bit of space but not without one last wink. “Impossible’s my specialty,” he said, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

Hattie clapped her hands together, breaking the charged silence that had wrapped around us. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s change the scene before this kitchen gets any steamier,” she said with a sly grin, glancing between Oscar and me. “What do you say we all head out to the pool? It’s hot as hell today, and I could use a swim.”

Mae’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and she bounced on her toes with excitement. “Yes, please! I’ve been dying to jump in all morning. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Edie shrugged, pushing off the counter. “Sounds like a plan. Beats sitting around here watching Oscar make a fool of himself,” she said, shooting her brother a pointed look that he brushed off with a careless smirk.

I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden change in plans. The thought of the pool—cool water, bright sun, and lounging with these new, vibrant personalities—was tempting, but my mind immediately jumped to what that would mean: changing into a bikini, being under the sun's scrutiny, and, worse, the idea of Oscar’s eyes on me again, but this time with even less to hide behind.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual, though my heart was starting to race for an entirely different reason now. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

As I slipped back into my room, I rummaged through my suitcase, finding the bright bikini I had packed on a whim but hadn’t quite planned on wearing in front of a whole audience of strangers. It was a pretty number—a little more revealing than I was used to—but suddenly, the idea of wearing it around Oscar felt daunting. My insecurities bubbled up: the nagging thoughts of whether my stomach was flat enough, if my thighs looked alright, or if the faint stretch marks I tried so hard to ignore would be too noticeable under the bright afternoon sun.

I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it in a way that made me feel more comfortable, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. I could already imagine Oscar’s eyes lingering on me, his playful smirk turning into something more appraising, and the thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. God, why was I letting this get to me? It was just a pool. Just a bikini. Just Oscar. But the more I tried to rationalize, the more those little fears crept in, whispering doubts that made my stomach churn.

I was so lost in my own thoughts, adjusting and readjusting the strings and trying to silence the negative self-talk, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a sudden knock rattled my door. My heart leaped into my throat, and I spun around, my breath catching as I called out, “W-Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Oscar’s familiar voice, muffled but still clear enough to send a jolt of nerves through me. “Just checking to see if you’re alright in there. You’ve been quiet, and, well, didn’t want you chickening out on us.”

His tone was light, but there was something softer in it, something that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the usual teasing or the cocky one-liners I’d grown accustomed to in the short time I’d known him. This felt… genuine. A flicker of concern threaded through his words, almost like he actually cared if I was okay. My cheeks flushed anew, this time from the unexpected warmth of his attention rather than embarrassment.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my cover-up as I tried to piece together my swirling thoughts. Was this the same Oscar who had been smirking at me in the kitchen, flirting shamelessly in front of his sisters? The same Oscar who seemed to relish every moment he made me blush or stumble over my words? It was strange, almost disarming, to hear him like this—concerned, attentive, with none of his usual bravado.

My heart fluttered at the thought. What if there was more to him than just the cheeky guy who lived for teasing? I couldn’t help but feel a small, unexpected tug in my chest, an urge to believe that this side of him was real and not just some act. But then, just as quickly, my rational side kicked in, reminding me that I’d known Oscar for all of three hours, most of which had been spent flustered and caught up in his whirlwind of charm.

Was I reading too much into this? Was I letting my own insecurities and wishful thinking color my perception of him? It was hard not to, especially when he swung so easily between flirty and sincere, keeping me constantly off-balance. I barely knew this guy, yet here I was, letting my mind wander into dangerous territory, imagining depth and sincerity that might not even be there.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my thoughts. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions—didn’t want to let a few kind words make me think I’d seen some hidden side of him. But it was hard not to feel flustered when his voice had softened like that, when he’d taken the time to check on me instead of just joking about how long I was taking.

The knock on my door, the concern in his tone—it all felt so different from the playful Oscar who’d swaggered into my life just a few hours ago. Maybe it was nothing, just a moment of decency, a brief glimpse of something real behind the jokes and teasing. Or maybe I was just overthinking, desperate to see something more in him because he’d managed to get under my skin in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I sighed, feeling my cheeks heat up once more as the realization hit me—I was blushing again, and not just from embarrassment this time. There was something about Oscar, something that made me want to believe he was more than the carefree charmer he projected. But whether that was true or just wishful thinking, I couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

“I-I’m fine!” I called back, trying to steady my voice, but it came out shaky, betraying the mix of anxiety and embarrassment that had settled in my chest. “Just… getting ready.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door, long enough that I thought he might have walked away. But then, Oscar’s voice cut through again, softer this time, and with a teasing edge. “You sure? I promise no one’s gonna judge you out there. Least of all me.”

The reassurance felt sincere, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced with all the what-ifs. What if he did look? What if I didn’t look good enough? What if this stupid bikini made me feel more exposed than I could handle? I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, trying to summon the confidence that I usually wore so easily, but right now felt like it was hiding somewhere I couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I finally managed, forcing a smile I hoped he couldn’t hear through the door. “Just... give me a sec. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Oscar said, his voice fading as he finally moved away from the door. “But don’t take too long. You don’t wanna miss the fun.”

As his footsteps retreated, I let out a shaky breath, trying to collect myself. I ran a hand through my hair, giving myself one last pep talk before heading out. It was just a pool day, I reminded myself. Just a stupid pool day with some new people and a guy who was way too good at making me blush. And maybe, just maybe, it would be fun—if I could get out of my own head long enough to let it be.

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taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 22/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, SMUTTTT, Language, age gap, fluff

Word Count: 7322

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You bit your lip, glancing down at Jensen, who was still seated in his chair, absentmindedly rolling his fingertips around as if lost in thought. His brow furrowed slightly, and you could see the traces of tension that lingered in his features despite the banter with Misha and Jared. There was something about the way he sat there, quiet and contemplative, that tugged at your heart.

You ached to be alone with him, to feel his arms around you and to kiss him in the way you could only do behind closed doors. It wasn’t something you could do in public—not with his friends so close by and the attention that always came with being around them. You understood that there were boundaries when it came to his world, boundaries you respected, but that didn’t make the longing any less.

You knew, though, that there were still many weeks ahead of you—weeks where you and Jensen could simply be together, away from the eyes of the public, away from the teasing remarks and the protective glances. There would be quiet mornings, late-night talks, and moments when it was just the two of you. That knowledge grounded you, helped you push aside the urge to retreat somewhere private with him right now.

Jensen must have felt you looking at him because his eyes slowly lifted to meet yours. The softness there—so different from the playful teasing just a few moments ago—said everything. He gave you a small, knowing smile, his hand reaching up to gently squeeze your fingers where they rested on his shoulder. His touch was reassuring, and you knew he felt it too—the desire to be alone, but also the patience that came with the understanding of your current situation.

You smiled back at him, trying to convey through that look how much you understood. He squeezed your hand one more time before slowly standing, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist once more.

"Alright", Jensen said, his voice steady but warm, pulling himself back into the moment. "Let's go get those drinks".

Jared grinned, clapping Jensen on the back. “That’s the spirit!”.

Misha smirked, leaning toward you both. “And maybe we can find a place with a dimly lit corner where Jensen won’t feel so uptight about showing some PDA”, he teased.

Jensen rolled his eyes good-naturedly but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t push your luck, Misha”.

The four of you headed out of the room, the tension from earlier almost forgotten as the night awaited. And while you couldn’t indulge in everything you wanted to right now, you knew that those moments with Jensen—when it was just the two of you—would come soon enough. For now, you were content with the warmth of his arm around you and the promise of what lay ahead.

A few hours and a few drinks later, the four of you found yourselves tucked away in the back corner of a dimly lit bar. The atmosphere was warm, loud enough to provide privacy but not so noisy that you couldn’t hear each other. The low lighting gave the booth a cozy, intimate feeling, even amid the bar’s hum of activity. Drinks in hand, you all relaxed into the easy rhythm of conversation, the earlier tensions long forgotten.

Misha, ever the instigator, swirled his drink and leaned back against the booth, his eyes still wide with disbelief. “I just can’t believe no one knew about this whole… arrangement”, he said, looking pointedly at Jensen, shaking his head. “You and Danneel have been doing this for how long? And not one person in our circle knew?”.

Jensen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual sign of discomfort when the topic veered into tricky territory. “Yeah, well, we kept it under wraps”, he said simply, his voice steady but cautious. “It wasn’t anyone’s business, you know?”.

Jared raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Wait, so all this time, while the rest of the world thought you two were the picture-perfect couple, you were…?”.

Jensen shrugged, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. “Like I said, we had an understanding. It wasn’t… what people thought it was. It worked for us. For a while”.

Misha shook his head again, clearly still processing. “So, you could just… do whatever you wanted as long as it was behind closed doors?”, he asked incredulously, his voice lowering slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Jensen chuckled lightly, more out of discomfort than humor. “Pretty much”, he admitted.

Misha leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “So… does Danneel know about her?”, he asked, nodding toward you with an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow.

Jensen paused, his fingers toying with the edge of his glass as he considered how to answer. He hesitated for a moment longer before mumbling, “Partly”.

You furrowed your brow at that, shifting slightly in your seat as you looked at him. You weren’t aware there had been any partial knowledge, or what that even meant in this situation. Jensen glanced at you, reading the curiosity and mild confusion in your expression.

“She knows there’s someone”, Jensen began, his voice a bit quieter now, a touch of strain beneath the casual tone. “It’s not just the same kind of… casual arrangement we’ve both had before. This is different, and she knows that much. She knows it’s not just me fooling around”.

Misha’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth opening in a knowing “ah”. He took a long sip of his drink before saying, “And that’s what’s bothering her, huh?”.

Jensen nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the table as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Yeah, it bothers her. She always knew we were both seeing other people—it’s part of the deal—but the idea that I might actually be serious about someone… well, that’s something different for her”.

You felt a pang of realization hit you. While you knew that Jensen and Danneel’s relationship had been unconventional for a while now, you hadn’t really thought about how it might impact her to know that what he had with you was serious. It added a new layer to everything, one that was more complicated than you had anticipated.

Jared, sensing the shift in the conversation, leaned forward, his tone more thoughtful now. “So… she’s okay with the arrangement as long as it’s just casual, but now that she knows it’s not, things are getting messy?”.

Jensen nodded, letting out a small sigh. “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up”.

Misha shook his head, leaning back in his seat. “Man, that’s gotta be tough. I mean, for both of you. Knowing it’s more than just a fling changes the whole dynamic”.

Jensen’s eyes flickered over to you again, his gaze softening as he reached for your hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Jensen took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around your hand as if drawing strength from the connection. He hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his next words before finally speaking, his voice low and filled with a weight that hadn’t been there earlier in the conversation.

“Yesterday, before I flew out here”, Jensen began, his eyes fixed on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze for a moment. “I told Danneel that I wanted to end things… for good. Divorce”. He let out a small, bitter chuckle, shaking his head as he continued. “And… well, she didn’t take it well”.

There was a heavy silence at the table, everyone processing the gravity of what Jensen had just admitted. You could feel his tension radiating through his grip on your hand, and you shifted slightly closer to him, offering him as much comfort as you could.

Misha, always direct and curious despite the sensitivity of the subject, leaned even more forward, his voice gentler than usual. “What did she say?”, he asked, concern and a bit of hesitancy in his tone. It was clear that even Misha, usually the joker, understood the seriousness of the situation.

Jensen sighed deeply and shook his head slightly before speaking, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “She said a lot of things”, he began. “Mostly about how I was ruining everything—her life, our family, the image we’ve built together. She said I was making the biggest mistake of my life and that I’d regret it”.

He paused for a moment, swallowing hard, clearly still processing the confrontation himself. “She was angry, of course. She felt blindsided, even though we’ve been living separate lives for a while now. But the thing that really stuck with me… she didn’t talk about us or about love or anything like that. It was all about what she stood to lose”.

Jensen let out a bitter laugh. “I think that’s when it hit me—when I realized that this wasn’t about our relationship anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. It’s about the lifestyle, the reputation…”.

Jensen exhaled deeply, as if trying to physically push away the weight of the conversation. His grip on your hand softened slightly, and he forced a small smile, his expression shifting from the earlier tension. He looked at you, then back at Misha and Jared, and gave a dismissive shrug.

"But, you know…", he mumbled, his voice lighter now, trying to brush it off. "I’ve made up my mind. I’m filing for divorce. It’s just a matter of time now. She can say what she wants, but I’m done living that way".

He ran his fingers through his hair, and for the first time in the conversation, there was a small glint of determination in his eyes, mixed with something else—maybe relief. "So now… I’m here. I’m here to have a good time, especially with you", he said, turning his full attention to you, a real smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You smiled back at him, grateful for the shift in energy. You could see the relief in his eyes as he allowed himself to focus on the present moment, on being with you and his friends, rather than the complications waiting for him back home.

Misha caught the change in tone immediately and leaned back with a grin. “That’s what I like to hear”, he said, raising his glass once again. “To a good time, then. No more heavy stuff tonight”.

Jared followed suit, raising his own glass. “Yeah, man. We’re here, you’re here, and it’s time to relax. Let’s make the most of it”.

Jensen chuckled, the sound lighter and more genuine than it had been all night. He clinked his glass against Misha’s and Jared’s before turning to you, holding your gaze for a beat longer. “Here’s to that”, he said quietly, his voice warm.

The four of you raised your glasses, the earlier weight of the conversation dissolving into the background as the mood lightened. Jensen, now more relaxed, leaned back in his.

Eventually, after a night filled with laughter and drinks, you and Jensen found yourselves back in the bathroom of your hotel room. The atmosphere was calm now, the lingering tension from the evening finally melting away. You stood in front of the mirror, gently wiping away your makeup, wearing nothing but a soft silk robe that hugged your body.

Jensen stepped into the bathroom quietly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed above his chest. His eyes watched you with a quiet intensity, taking in the sight of you as you focused on your routine. The soft lighting of the bathroom made the scene feel intimate, the quiet hum of the night contrasting with the lively energy you’d both left behind downstairs.

You caught his reflection in the mirror, his gaze soft but filled with that undeniable spark of admiration and something deeper—something more vulnerable than what he usually let others see. You smiled softly, finishing the last of your makeup removal and placing the wipe on the counter.

“You’re staring”, you teased gently, turning to face him, your fingers lightly adjusting the silk robe tied around your waist.

Jensen chuckled softly, his arms still crossed as he shifted his weight against the doorframe. “Can you blame me?”, he asked, his voice low and warm, filled with a mix of affection and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You stepped toward him, the smooth fabric of your robe brushing against your skin with every movement. When you reached him, you placed a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath your palm.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”, you asked softly, looking up at him with curiosity. You could tell there was more behind his gaze tonight, something deeper lurking beneath the surface.

Jensen uncrossed his arms, one hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face as he let out a small sigh. “Just… thinking”, he said quietly, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “About tonight. About everything”.

Jensen’s hand moved gently across your back, his touch sending a warm shiver through you despite the soft tension in the air. His fingers grazed your spine lightly as if grounding himself in the moment with you. You noticed he was still dressed in his clothes from earlier in the day—jeans and a simple t-shirt that had somehow made him look effortlessly put together, even after everything the night had brought.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him through your lashes, your voice quiet and teasing. “I don’t know if I like this deep-in-thoughts Jensen”, you mumbled, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tried to break through some of the lingering heaviness.

Jensen let out a small chuckle, his lips curving into a gentle smile as his thumb continued to trace the line of your jaw. “Yeah?”, he murmured, his voice soft. “Well, this version of me seems to show up more than I’d like lately”.

You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips, and you could tell he was still working through everything that had happened tonight—everything he’d been carrying for a while now. But even in the midst of all of that, there was a quiet intensity in the way he was looking at you, as if you were the calm in his storm.

“I think I like the relaxed Jensen better”, you teased, your fingers tracing light patterns over his chest. “The one who smiles more… laughs more”.

Jensen’s smile grew a bit wider, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll work on that”, he whispered against your skin.

His hand slipped under the loose fabric of your robe, resting on your lower back now, and he pulled you closer. You could feel the heat of his body radiating through his clothes, grounding you as you stood there in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You know, you help with that”, he admitted, his voice still low but with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “It’s easier to let go of all the other stuff when I’m with you”.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling at his words. “Good”, you whispered, resting your head against his chest for a moment. “Because I like seeing that side of you”.

Jensen’s arms tightened around you slightly, holding you close as the weight of everything seemed to melt away in the silence. It was just the two of you now, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

After a few moments, he leaned back just enough to look down at you, his gaze soft but more relaxed now. “Why don’t we change that deep-in-thoughts Jensen into something more fun?”, he suggested, his voice playful now.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking up at him. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”.

Jensen’s grin turned mischievous, and with a swift but gentle movement, he scooped you up into his arms, making you let out a surprised laugh.

Jensen’s grin widened as he carried you effortlessly out of the bathroom and towards the bed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, still giggling from the sudden movement, feeling a surge of warmth spread through your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you now—playful, yet filled with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

As he laid you down gently on the bed, hovering above you, he leaned down and brushed a few soft kisses along your jawline. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you.

“You know”, he murmured between kisses, his voice low and teasing, “earlier tonight, you said something about me… neglecting you”. He moved his lips down to your neck, his kisses feather-light and deliberate.

You felt a thrill at his words, biting your lip to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face. “Mmm, did I now?”, you teased back, your fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.

Jensen pulled back just slightly to meet your eyes, his gaze darkening with playful intensity. “Yeah, you did. You said I didn’t take my time with you. That I was too rough, too fast”, he continued, his fingers gently tracing the edge of your robe, teasing the fabric.

You could feel your heart racing at his words, your breath hitching slightly as he looked down at you with that mix of desire and affection. “Well, you were”, you teased, your voice light but carrying a challenge. “You didn’t exactly take your time earlier…”.

Jensen chuckled softly, shaking his head as he trailed his fingers down your side, leaving a heated path in their wake. “I suppose I owe you an apology then”, he murmured, leaning in closer again. “But maybe I can make it up to you… if you let me”.

You shivered under his touch, your lips parting slightly as you felt the weight of his words. He was close now, his face inches from yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

“I’m listening”, you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, anticipation buzzing between you.

Jensen’s eyes darkened with a mix of desire and mischief as he hovered just above you. His hand slid slowly from your side to your waist, fingers grazing your skin lightly, sending shivers through you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice a low, sensual murmur.

“You know”, he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, “I could take my time with you. Make sure every touch, every kiss, is exactly what you need. I want to feel you tremble beneath me, see you lose control”.

His lips traced a line down your neck, his breath warm and teasing. “I want to make you forget everything but how good it feels when I’m inside you”, he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I want to draw out every moan until you’re begging for more”.

You felt your breath quicken, your body responding to his words with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. His hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your lips before leaning in to capture them in a tender kiss. It was a kiss that started slow and deep, building in intensity, just as he promised.

“You like the sound of that?”, he asked, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I want to make sure you get exactly what you need tonight. Tell me what you want”.

You pulled Jensen closer by his neck, your fingers curling around his strong, warm skin. Your lips found his with a sense of urgency, the kiss deep and hungry as if you were both trying to make up for lost time. Jensen responded instantly, his hands moving to frame your face, his fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you back with equal fervor.

The world outside seemed to disappear as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment. The kisses were both tender and demanding, a blend of passion and affection that had your heart racing and your body yearning for more.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured again, his voice low and rough, brushing his lips against yours lightly as he spoke.

“I want you”, you breathed, your hands sliding down to grip his shirt, pulling him closer again. “I want you to show me exactly how you’re going to make it up to me”.

Jensen’s smile widened, a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation lighting up his face. He leaned in, capturing your lips once more, his kisses becoming more insistent and heated. His hands roamed over your body with a renewed sense of purpose.

Jensen’s kisses trailed down your neck again, each touch light and reverent. His fingers delicately traced the edges of your silk robe, gently parting the fabric as he explored the skin beneath. His breath was warm against your collarbone, causing a shiver to run through your body with the gentle contact.

As the robe fell open, Jensen took a moment to look down, his gaze sweeping over your body. Each time he saw you like this, it was as if he was seeing you anew, and his reaction was always the same—a deep, overwhelming admiration mixed with a hint of disbelief at his own fortune. His face softened as he leaned against your collarbone, his lips pressing a tender kiss there.

You pressed his head gently against your skin, guiding him closer as your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him flush against you. The closeness heightened the electric sensation of his touch, making your heart race faster.

“I need you, Jay”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with the depth of your desire. The words were barely audible, but they carried the weight of your need and longing.

Jensen’s breath hitched at your plea, his body responding to the urgency in your voice. He nuzzled against your neck, his hands gripping your hips with a firm, yet tender pressure. “I’m right here”, he murmured. “I’m here”.

His lips traveled from your collarbone to the hollow of your throat, his kisses growing more fervent as he continued to explore you. His hands moved to your back, drawing you closer, as if he were trying to meld himself with you.

“I’m not going anywhere”, he promised, his words mingling with his kisses, his touch both comforting and thrilling. “You have all of me, right here”.

He tilted your head slightly to access your mouth more fully, his kiss deepening, expressing the intense desire he felt for you. Every touch, every kiss was a testament to the connection between you both—a connection that was as passionate as it was profound.

You broke the kiss, your breath coming in soft, uneven bursts as you gazed up at him. With a determined look, you reached for his shirt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buttons. Each movement was filled with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as you sought to remove the barrier between you.

Jensen’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mixture of anticipation and affection. He lifted his arms to assist as you pulled the shirt free from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. The sight of his bare chest made your heart race even more, and you could see the same admiration and desire reflected in his eyes.

He leaned in again, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss, his hands moving to cradle your face. The warmth of his skin against yours intensified the connection between you, making every touch and kiss feel even more significant.

As the kiss deepened, Jensen’s hands roamed over your body, exploring the newfound freedom of skin against skin. His touch was gentle yet assertive, a perfect balance that made every moment feel electric.

You wrapped your legs around his hips tighter, urging him closer, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, a blend of passion and tenderness that made everything else fade away.

As Jensen’s body pressed against yours, the sensation of his hard erection rubbing against your already heated and wet core sent waves of pleasure through you. His movements were deliberate and teasing, his clothed hardness sliding against your sensitive skin.

“You feel that?”, Jensen murmured, his breath hot against your neck. He shifted his hips slightly, the friction intensifying the delicious pressure. “Can you feel how much I want you?”.

You moaned in response, the sensation making it difficult to form coherent words. Jensen’s lips pressed against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you as he continued to move against you. “Use your words”, he urged, his voice low and insistent. “Tell me what you’re feeling”.

The pressure of his body, combined with his teasing movements, made it hard to focus. “It feels… so good”, you managed to gasp out, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter as the pleasure built. “I can feel how much you want me”.

Jensen’s smile was almost predatory as he continued to kiss and suck on your neck, his hips pressing firmly against you. “That’s right”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I want you so badly".

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your moans as his movements became more intense. “I need you”, you finally managed to say, your voice trembling with urgency. “I need you inside me”.

Jensen’s groan vibrated against your neck, echoing the growing need within you both. His hands briefly left your body, and you instantly missed his touch. He sat back, eyes locked on yours as he quickly unbuttoned his jeans.

He returned to you in a heartbeat, his movements even more purposeful now.

Jensen hovered above you, his eyes dark. The heat from his body radiated onto you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and anticipation. He gripped himself firmly, his hand moving slowly over his length, preparing himself with a meticulous, deliberate touch that was as much for your arousal as it was for his readiness.

“You see what you do to me?”, he murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes never left yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that made your heart flutter. Slowly, he aligned himself with you, the tip of his hardness pressing gently against you, teasing the promise of what was to come.

His other hand moved to trace the contour of your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness of the gesture juxtaposed with the raw, palpable desire in his movements. He leaned down, his lips barely touching yours, breathing you in, his control almost slipping but not quite.

“Tell me if you want more”, he said, his breath a warm whisper against your lips. The restraint in his voice contrasted sharply with the evident need in his body, visible in the way his muscles tensed, ready to claim the intimacy you both craved.

Jensen waited for your affirmation, the air charged with electricity, your shared breaths the only sound in the quiet room. As you nodded, whispering your consent, he gently pushed forward, enveloping himself in the warmth of your welcome.

The moment Jensen began to move, the sensation was intoxicating, each slow, deliberate thrust designed to heighten the sense of union between you. His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure, every slight shift of emotion that crossed your face.

The rhythm he set was unhurried, allowing each sensory detail to be amplified—the slick sound of skin meeting skin, the soft bedding beneath you, the dim light casting shadows that played across Jensen’s focused expression.

His free hand never stilled; it roamed from your face down to your shoulders, tracing the line of your collarbone with a featherlight touch that caused shivers to ripple through your body. His fingers then danced downwards, circling around the delicate skin of your breasts, thumb brushing lightly over a nipple, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

“Does this feel good?”, Jensen whispered, his voice a mere breath as he adjusted his angle slightly, hitting a depth that made you moan in response. He took your moan as an affirmation, continuing his exploration, his movements growing incrementally more firm, more assured.

Jensen’s pace gradually built, each thrust becoming more insistent, though never losing the smooth, controlled grace that he had maintained from the beginning. The tension in your body began to coil tightly, pleasure pooling and spiraling with each pass of his body against yours.

Your hands reached up to his shoulders, nails digging slightly into his skin as a wave of intensity washed over you. He responded to the slight pain with a deep groan, his own control beginning to fray at the edges as he felt your body responding so viscerally to his.

“Look at me”, he commanded gently, and you fixed your eyes on his.

As the intensity of your movements grew, Jensen's breath became heavier, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He leaned closer, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his gaze never leaving your eyes. "Tell me you feel me", he murmured, each word punctuated by a deep, purposeful stroke that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"I feel you", you gasped. "Every inch".

Jensen's smile was both triumphant and hungry. "Good", he replied, his voice thick with arousal. "Because every part of me is yours tonight". His hand slid from your breast down to where your bodies joined, his fingers expertly teasing, heightening the sensation that pulsed through you both.

"You're close, aren't you?", he coaxed, his movements becoming even more targeted, designed to push you over the edge. "Let go for me".

Your response was a moan, high and needy, and it seemed to drive him even more. Jensen’s thrusts quickened, his fingers moved with precision, and his eyes burned into yours, intent on witnessing every moment of your surrender.

"Come for me", Jensen commanded, his voice a seductive growl that vibrated through your core. "Show me how much you need me".

The room spun as you clung to his words, your climax building rapidly. With a few more calculated movements, you felt the dam break, waves of intense pleasure rolling over you in a relentless tide, leaving you breathless and quivering. Jensen followed close behind, his own release overtaking him as he buried his face against your neck, his body tensing, then shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

As you both caught your breath, Jensen’s kisses became softer, more tender, tracing a line along your jaw as he whispered, "Perfect, just like always". His words wrapped around you, just as his arms did, holding you in a gentle.

As Jensen's lips found your neck again, softly sucking at the tender skin, you felt every residual pulse from him—a quiet aftershock of the intensity you'd both shared. Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently, encouraging his gentle exploration.

He chuckled softly, the vibration against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His body still joined with yours, he felt every subtle clench of your body around him, even as he softened.

"You're making it hard to stop", Jensen murmured, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "Literally", he added with a mischievous grin, feeling a reactive twitch that contradicted his earlier softening.

Your laughter mingled with his, the sound light and full of warmth. "Maybe I don't want you to stop", you whispered back, playful yet sincere, drawing him in for another deep, lingering kiss.

His hips shifting slightly in a slow, teasing motion that suggested the evening was far from over. "Then we won't", Jensen said, his words a promise as his gaze locked onto yours with renewed desire and a hint of challenge. "We'll keep going as long as you can take it".

With a mischievous twinkle in your eye, you arched an eyebrow. “Can you get hard for me again?”, you teased, a smirk playing at your lips, challenging him with a tone laced with both amusement and desire.

Jensen’s eyes darkened as his pride kicked in. He gave a low, confident laugh. “You really want to test me?”, he replied, his voice a mix of amusement and arousal. He shifted again, aligning his body more closely with yours, his expression turning determined.

With a slight thrust, he repositioned himself, his hands roaming to caress the curves of your body, rekindling the fire that had barely simmered down. “Watch me”, he whispered huskily, leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of his intent.

His kisses trailed down your neck, each touch lingering longer, more provocatively, as if he were painting an invisible trail with his lips. His hands were equally persuasive, stroking and teasing, building the anticipation between you.

You felt him responding to your provocations, the physical proof of his arousal growing once again. His breath caught slightly as he felt the change, a grin spreading across his face. “Looks like I’m up for the challenge”, Jensen murmured against your skin, a hint of victory in his voice.

He pressed his hips deliberately against yours, his hardness unmistakable as he made his point clear. The firm contact made you moan softly, the sound a mixture of surprise and pleasure that fueled his confidence further.

“I think that proves it”, he teased, his voice low and husky, thrilled by your reaction. He maintained the pressure, moving his hips in a slow, grinding motion that had you gasping, each movement precise and calculated to remind you of his physical capabilities.

“Does that feel good?”, Jensen asked, a rhetorical question wrapped in a growl, as he adjusted his angle to press even more insistently against you.

Your hands clung to his back, nails pressing into his skin as a way to anchor yourself against the wave of sensations he was expertly drawing out of you. “Jensen”, you managed to utter, your voice breathy and laden with desire, urging him on without needing to say much more.

Jensen’s grin grew even more knowing as he heard the breathy urgency in your voice. With deliberate intent, he reached for the headboard of the bed, gripping it tightly as his muscles tensed.

He slowly withdrew from you, each inch of separation heightening the anticipation between you. The moment he pulled back, you felt a pang of longing, an almost unbearable need for his full presence. Jensen seemed to savor the sensation of you clenching around him, your body craving the return of his depth.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, but this time it was with a single, slow, and incredibly deep movement. The depth of his penetration was thorough, stretching you to the limit and causing a gasp to escape your lips as you felt every inch of him inside you. His eyes were fixed on yours, watching the transformation of your pleasure with an intense focus.

The sensation was overwhelming, a potent mix of fullness and the slow burn of pleasure that seemed to stretch every second into an eternity. Jensen’s grip on the headboard was tight, his breathing heavy.

“Feel that?”, he murmured, his voice a low growl, both intimate and commanding.

Jensen’s slow, deep thrusts continued, each movement sending ripples of pleasure through your entire being. The depth of his penetration and the deliberate pace had you gasping and moaning breathlessly, the sensations so intense that you could barely contain them.

With every thrust, you felt him stretch you, each push hitting the very core of your pleasure. The combination of his steady rhythm and the overwhelming fullness made you clench around him, the intensity of the moment causing you to curse softly in a mix of pleasure and frustration.

“Fuck, Jensen”, you breathed out, your voice strained and desperate. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles whitening as you anchored yourself against the relentless waves of sensation he was drawing from you.

He kept his eyes locked on you, taking in every reaction, every shiver of your body as he continued his deliberate pace. “I want to hear you”, he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let me know how good it feels”.

His command only intensified your moans, each sound a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing. You could feel yourself getting closer to a breaking point, the pressure building with each slow, deep stroke.

Jensen seemed to sense your rising climax, his movements becoming even more controlled and calculated, ensuring that every thrust was exactly what you needed to reach the peak of your desire.

"Let me hear you", Jensen demanded, his tone insistent. "Louder".

His words were a direct challenge, stoking the fire of your arousal. With each deeper, faster thrust, you couldn't help but respond. Your moans grew louder, filling the room, a mix of pleasure and the sheer intensity of the sensations cascading through you.

Jensen's hands moved from the headboard to your hips, gripping them tightly as he adjusted the angle, aiming to deepen his thrusts even further. The new position hit just the right spot, sending sparks of pleasure zipping through your nerves. Your back arched off the bed in response, pushing against him, seeking more.

"That's it", he growled approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your vocal response.

The room echoed with the sound of your combined moans and the rhythmic creaking of the bed. Jensen's control was impeccable, managing to balance on the edge of his own release while focusing entirely on your experience. His every move, every sound, and every touch was designed to bring you both to a powerful climax together.

“Come on”, Jensen urged, his voice low and gritty with desire. “I want to hear you scream for me”.

You could barely manage a coherent response, your voice a breathy, desperate mix of moans and gasps. “Jensen, I’m… so close”, you managed to plead, your body arching in response to each powerful thrust.

“Good”, he growled, his voice rough as he pushed deeper. “Let go for me. Show me how much you need me”.

The pressure in your core built rapidly, each of his movements pushing you closer to the brink. The relentless pace and the intensity of his touch were overwhelming, your climax imminent.

“Tell me how bad you want it”, Jensen demanded, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear.

“I want it so fucking bad”, you cried out, your voice cracking with the force of your release.

With a final, powerful thrust, both of you reached the peak simultaneously. Jensen’s groan was deep and primal, a sound of raw satisfaction as he felt your body convulse around him. Your own climax hit with explosive force, your cries of pleasure mingling with his as you both succumbed to the overwhelming wave of ecstasy.

After the climaxes subsided, Jensen’s breathing gradually slowed, though the intensity of the moment still lingered in the room. He pulled you closer, his touch now gentle and affectionate as he began to catch his breath. His gaze was both amused and satisfied as he looked at you, a playful smirk forming on his lips.

“Funny”, Jensen murmured after a while, his voice low and teasing, “you were complaining about me being too rough earlier”. His fingers lightly traced along your damp skin, a contrast to the roughness you’d experienced moments before.

You looked at him, still catching your breath, your face flushed but smiling. “You were”, you replied, though there was no real annoyance in your tone, just the lingering thrill of pleasure.

Jensen’s smirk widened further. “Yet here you are, coming the hardest when I fuck you exactly like that”, he teased, his voice a warm rumble that seemed to vibrate directly into your heart.

The comment made your cheeks heat up even more, a deep blush spreading across your face. In a playful attempt to hide your embarrassment, you covered your face with both hands.

Jensen’s eyes softened with a mix of adoration and amusement as he watched your cheeks flush deeply. He gently took your hands away from your face, his touch tender despite the teasing nature of his words.

“That’s exactly what I adore about you”, he murmured. “You can be so innocent and still such a dirty little mess at the same time”.

Jensen noticed the subtle changes in your body as you responded to his words—your breath catching, your body tensing slightly. The faint but unmistakable clench around him drew a deeper grin, his eyes darkening with renewed desire.

“Like that, huh?”, he teased, his voice a silky whisper that made the air between you crackle. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position to maintain the delicious pressure that elicited such an honest reaction from you. “You can’t hide how much you love this, can you?”. Jensen’s tone was both cocky and warm, a combination that made his teasing all the more intoxicating.

You could only nod, your breathing heavy, as every word he spoke seemed to resonate through you, deepening your arousal. Jensen’s hands moved from your face, tracing down your neck, over your shoulders, and along the sensitive skin of your sides, his touch light but deliberate, designed to tease and provoke.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"You're something else", Jensen murmured, his lips brushing against yours with each word, barely touching yet sending shivers down your spine. His voice was a blend of wonder and desire, thick with emotion that resonated deeply within you.

His gaze held yours, intense and unyielding, as he paused to study your reaction, seeming to relish the slight quiver of your lips and the quick rise and fall of your chest. His fingers continued their exploration, now sliding down to trace the curve of your waist, coming to rest at the small of your back, pulling you closer into him, erasing any space that remained.

The closeness intensified the connection, the heat between you nearly tangible. Jensen's control was palpable, yet so was the affection and genuine admiration he held for you, making his allure almost magnetic.

"I mean it", he continued. "You captivate me like no other".

The sincerity in his voice, combined with the deliberate movements of his body, stirred a profound response within you. You felt enveloped not just by his physical presence but by the intensity of his emotions. His words, laden with affection and admiration, seemed to echo through you, heightening the intimacy of the moment.

Jensen finally closed the scant distance between your lips, sealing the words with a kiss that was both a promise and a claim—a slow, deep melding of mouths that spoke of shared desire and the unspoken acknowledgment of the bond between you.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309

[outofconcheol]

Tune In For Love (KSM x GN!Reader)

pairing: college radio host!Seungmin x co-host!reader

genres/au/rating: sfw, mostly fluff, the mildest of angst, idiots to lovers, pg

summary: When you and Seungmin come up with a crazy new idea for your radio show, a week of chaos and unspoken feelings unfolds. As you learn more about relationships, will the two of you tune in for love? Or decide to shut it down completely?

warnings: swearing, fake exes trope, a playlist of seungmin coded songs mentioned, stupid amounts of pining, mentions of relationship drama, they almost kiss, then they actually kiss, one mild (joking ) threat of violence, Jeongin being the best wingman ever, RAIN, Ningning, Joshua, Cheol, and Day6 all make cameos

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy Seungmin day!! honestly this could have been a whole fic on its own but i'm happy with this cute little drabble! this draws some inspiration from the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon. our boy deserves all the love, i hope you enjoy!

“Okay everyone, this has been another week at The Sound FM, the university’s #1 radio station! ____ and Seungmin signing off!”

Your voice fades out to the tune of the hit that Seungmin had selected for the week, ears perking up at the rumble of the bass and the tick tick tick of the hi-hat. Another Day6 song. Congratulations this time. 

“When will you admit that you’re Day6’s number one fan?”

“When you admit that you’re their number two,” Seungmin adjusts his glasses, a devious smirk lighting up his face. 

(You were, but you would never give Seungmin the satisfaction.)

“That segment on how to deal with the stress of midterms turned out great! What should we do next?”

You fidget with your pen, tapping it against your notepad, twirling it around in your fingers, before moving to put it behind your ear–

Seungmin’s hands shoot out, fingers clasping around yours for a brief moment, and a shiver runs through you, despite the fact that it was sunny outside with not a cloud in sight.

“I had an idea, actually, well it’s not my idea, Jeongin brought it up..”

For however composed the two of you were on air, you turned into awkward rambling messes when the mics were off. It had always been like that though. You’d been hosting the show with Seungmin for the better part of a year and you still didn’t know why you felt shy around him, or why you’d barely progressed beyond simple acquaintances.

“There’s this girl that uh, he, yeah he wants to impress, so he was asking if our next segment could maybe have something to do with dating advice.” 

“That is sooo much better than the segment on recycling tips I was planning,” you nudge him, oblivious to the way his ears turn red.

“Oooh but what if we make it spicy you know? Like approach relationships from a different angle?”

“What angle?” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck. “As far as I know, neither of us are in a relationship. I mean, right?”

“Right but no one else has to know that! What if we pretend that we’re exes, who broke up? Hindsight is always 20/20, people will eat that up!”

“I thought I was supposed to be the menace here,” Seungmin’s tone is deadpan but his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me Min,” you giggle. “So, what do you say we put your charm to good use?”

“You think I’m charming ___?” 

You miss the excitement in his tone, writing it off as enthusiasm for the whole absurdity of this plan.

“Who knows, Min! Maybe we’ll even find people! This is so exciting!”

Seungmin pauses briefly, a choked sound escaping his mouth, but you think you imagine it, watching him straighten and nod.

Laughter fills the studio as you bicker back and forth about what to include and how the next week would go. It was a risk, but you hoped it would pay off — both on the airwaves and maybe even for your stagnant love life. The possibilities were endless.

“Hello, and welcome to Tune in For Love! We are your hosts, ___ and Seungmin, and for the next week we’ll be tackling all your relationship questions and concerns!”

Your voice booms into the mic, echoing throughout the tiny studio, and you take a moment to mute yourself, heart pounding in your ears. Butterflies had begun to bubble up in your chest – you were really doing this.

“You ready for this?” Seungmin’s voice knocks you out of your daze, and you look over to see his lips twist into a lazy smile, running his fingers through his hair.

Fuck. Why did that make your stomach flip-flop?

You give him a shaky nod. It was probably just the rush of trying something new, so different from what you were used to. The simultaneous thrill and terror of dipping your toes into uncharted waters. 

Seungmin unmutes the mic, his softer, more melodious voice reverberating into the windscreen. He’d make a great singer, you think. Maybe for your next segment you could convince him to croon on air.

“We’re your resident experts on dating, whether it's still in the early stages of puppy love, the cool cruising of the honeymoon phase, or the bitter sting of love gone wrong. We have all your answers, right here, right now on The Sound FM!”

“Trust me, we’ve had experience with all of those,” you chuckle.

The story just falls off your tongue – a tumultuous end to a relationship that had never existed, one full of angst and heartbreak that even the finest writer couldn’t think of. Seungmin interrupts you spontaneously to respond to your dramatic anecdotes with dry quips of his, and you can’t believe it — you actually sound like a couple. A real couple.

“How was I supposed to know you were allergic to garlic? You let me take you to an Italian restaurant on the first date!”

“As my boyfriend, you should have asked my best friend about my allergies! That’s like standard dating protocol,” you shoot back, making sure to smile so that Seungmin knows you’re not serious.

“Noted, I’ll keep that in mind for the next relationship,” Seungmin grunts, the air becoming thick with a tension you can’t pinpoint.

Clearing your throat, your fingers hover over the buttons of the soundboard.

“How about we take some listener calls instead?”

The line crackles to life, a caller named Ningning groaning about how her girlfriend forget their anniversary and didn’t even apologize.

“It’s an honest mistake,” Seungmin mutters. 

“I don’t think so,” you counter, chewing your lip. “It’s important to be considerate of special moments like anniversaries, birthdays. It means you care. I mean Seungmin probably doesn’t even remember mine–”

“October 17th,” he interrupts you, and you go rigid. How did he even know?

I asked Jeongin, he mouths, and it only leaves you more confused. Why would he need to know that? It leaves you more embarrassed that you don’t know his exact day, only that it was sometime in September.  

Ningning rambles on, thanking you both for the added perspective and resolving to make things right with her girlfriend. You feel your heart warm at her determination, amazed at the effect that you and Seungmin had already managed to have on your listeners. 

Seungmin closes out the show, the easygoing and carefree chords of Polaroid Love ringing into the mic, and you think to yourself, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

As the sun sets, campus comes alive, buzzing with excitement. You glance out the window, watching students filter out of the library, walking towards the commons for a cup of coffee, or hugging outside their dorms. A deep pang of longing hits your gut, not sure whether its from watching them outside or the fact that you’re cramped here in the tiny studio, band posters all over the walls, and Seungmin is playing Love You For A Long Time, Maggie Rogers’ ethereal voice filling the space between you. 

“Had to ease you into our next listener call,” Seungmin grins into the mic. “This one is – ouch. It might hit home for some of us, I mean you all.”

“Hi, ___ and Seungmin? I’m Joshua, a senior. I’m calling because I have a dilemma – my best friend Seungcheol just started dating my ex, and I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand I wanna be happy for them, but on the other hand, I’m a mess. What would you do if you found out one of you was dating someone else?”

“Oh.” Seungmin breathes out, and he remains there, lips parted like he’s frozen. An awkward silence falls over the studio, and you’re sure Joshua is blinking on the other end of the line, wondering what the hell just happened.

“I’m not sure,” you shudder, thinking of the hypothetical situation. But it wasn’t so hypothetical. You and Seungmin were free to date people. There was nothing stopping you. But it still felt wrong somehow.

“I would give yourself some space, Joshua. Take time to confront your own feelings about this, and when you’re ready you can decide what to do. Let yourself heal first.”

“That’s a good answer,” Seungmin whispers, and you panic, muttering out a rushed goodbye before cutting the broadcast.

“Wow,” you sigh. “That was, I–, I guess I didn’t think of that when I suggested this.”

“Think of what?” Seungmin’s eyes glimmer with interest, and he leans in closer.

“How shit would get so deep? Like how would I actually react if that happened to me? I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Sometimes this feels almost like we’re not pretending,” Seungmin murmurs, a strained laugh escaping his throat, a mask for the change in his tone. 

You’re not sure what you want to say, but it feels like you should say something. The moment hangs heavy in between you two, and you don’t remember how Seungmin got so close, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“Seungmin, I–” 

“You had a piece of hair in your face,” he responds, straightening up to stretch his arms. “It’s late, want me to grab you an americano?”

Shaking your head, you manage to muster up a weak response, telling him to go ahead without you. He nods slightly, before throwing his jacket on and slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

An unsettling dilemma dawns on you – this was supposed to be an act, but why did it feel so real?

“You know,” Jeongin’s loud chewing echoes in the dining hall, Seungmin bristling as he watches his friend stuff five french fries into his mouth at once. “I should revoke your roommate privileges for this stunt you pulled. I thought you were grumpy before, but breaking up with ____ has taken it to a whole new level.”

Seungmin scowls, cursing under his breath at Jeongin. Yanking his headphones out of his ears, the lamenting tune of These Days by Wallows cuts off abruptly. 

Outside the rain patters, echoing his stormy emotions. Over the course of the past week, his mood had felt like he was on the world’s most nausea-inducing roller coaster ride. The highs were the times he got to spend with you in the studio, cracking jokes and watching your eyes shine as the two of you came up with the next devious plot for the show. The lows were the knot in his stomach every time someone would call in with a question that hit a little too hard.

After this week, he was glad the show would end, and maybe you guys could go back to the way things were before. That easy, comfortable dynamic that always existed between you two.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin sees the way his eyes zone out, like he can read Seungmin’s mind. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking and it’s absolute bullshit. You’re in too deep, hyung.”

“I’ll fucking punch you,” Seungmin hisses. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just spill to ___ that this isn’t some game for me? That my feelings are real? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Hyung–”

A gasp echoes from behind him, and Seungmin turns to see you behind him. Your lip trembles, and you lock eyes with him, a tear escaping the corner before you’re turning on your heels, running out of the dining hall. 

Seungmin stands there, frozen with the weight of what he’d just confessed, heart sinking to his shoes. All of a sudden, he feels a sharp jab to his arm, Jeongin’s fist colliding with it.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

The rain pelts the back of Seungmin’s neck as he runs, indifferent to the fact that he’s probably soaked to the bone, slipping and sliding along the cobblestone. He can make out your figure storming ahead furiously, like you can’t get away fast enough, and he speeds up, panic in his voice.

“___, wait! Please stop.”

His voice turns hoarse from all the yelling, and he’s about to give up, turn back in defeat (and go sock Jeongin cry into his friend’s shoulder), when you stop under a streetlight, your figure slumping. 

Seungmin is by your side in moments, not caring that he takes your hands in his, blowing on them to give you warmth.

“Y-you d-don’t even h-have an umbrella, w-what were y-you thinking?” he chatters, and he watches your lips turn up in a smile. But your eyes remain downcast.

“What about you?” you whisper, and Seungmin cocks his head, looking at you in confusion.

“I left my jacket in the dining hall with Jeongin—”

“No Seungmin, I mean what about you?” your voice croaks desperately. 

Seungmin takes a deep breath. There was no use in pretending anymore.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do,” he chokes out.

You take his hands in yours and Seungmin feels dizzy. The cold rain no longer bothers him, warmth filling his veins from the inside out.

“You think?” you sniffle.

“I know. I know I’ve been in love with you, since the day you walked into the studio and pitched your ideas for five-star dorm meals.”

“I really like your hands,” you blurt out, and Seungmin’s eyes widen in shock. That was not the response you’d been expecting.

“They’re warm when mine are always cold, I like the way they look when they’re holding a pencil, or when you bring me a cup of coffee. I like your voice too – the way you sing along to Day6 when you think no one is listening, or your annoying little laugh–”

“It is not annoying–”

You press a finger to his lips, and Seungmin thinks he might just evaporate. 

“Not now, Min. I’m trying to say something here. What I’m trying to say is that if there’s anything this whole week has taught me, it’s how much I like you. How much I want to have those crappy problems that everyone complains about with you, how much I want to celebrate birthdays with you, and anniversaries with you, and how I think I might collapse inside if I ever saw you with someone else—”

It’s Seungmin’s turn to interrupt you now,  cold lips colliding with yours, the initial shock replaced with heat. Your hands burrow into his hair and he draws you closer, hands weaving around your waist. The startled, frantic sounds of your breathing did nothing to help the pounding of his heart, and he wonders if you can hear it too. 

In this moment, Seungmin never wants to let go, holding you steady against him even when you part, your breath fanning in the cold air. 

“I just, I, needed to be honest. No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” he smiles against your lips, nudging his nose against yours.

The wet slap of shoes against the pavement interrupts you both, turning to see the Jeongin behind you, Seungmin’s jacket in his arms. He takes in the sight of you two wrapped around each other, a smug grin lighting up his entire face.

“Hell yeah! It worked!”

“___ and Seungmin signing off, this is Tune in For Love on The Sound FM, and we’ve loved having you this week!”

The air in the studio buzzes with a different kind of excitement – the dreamy notes of Hypnotized by The Weston Estate filling up the room.

“Before we go, we have something to share with you–” your voice wobbles, and Seungmin reaches out immediately, squeezing your hand.

“Please send your email petitions in so our show doesn’t get canceled, but we’ve been faking it this whole time. We’re not actually exes.”

You can almost hear the collective gasp across campus, the soundboard going crazy as it lights up with calls.

“We are, as of yesterday, the happiest, and newest–, couple on campus,” Seungmin beams, his pride echoing through the mic and your heart lurches at how right it feels to be his.

You hit the answer button, the lines flooding with congratulations and well-wishes to the news.

“Congrats!” Ningning’s voice echoes. “I always thought you were the cutest together.”

“You make me want to find someone of my own now,” Joshua says in the background, and the studio fills with you and Seungmin’s laughter.

When the last call goes through, Jeongin gives you both a thumbs up, shutting off the soundboard. 

You turn to Seungmin, heart racing. 

“I can’t believe we actually did this,” he says,  half-laughing.

“Me neither,” you reply, a soft smile on his lips. “But I’m really glad we did. It feels… right, you know?”

“Thanks for being part of this with us,” he echoes through the airwaves, his voice sincere. “We’re excited to see what’s next—together. And while the show may be over, we hope you’ll still tune in for love every single week — no matter the topic.”

“Next – how to cook a five star meal worthy of any restaurant using just your dorm microwave…”

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[feroluce]

Not to make everything about my ship, but if I don't do it no one will, so today we are making meta analysis of Boothill's faceoff match about henghill, because the differences between Boothill's stand off with Luka and his one with Dan Heng- and what you can infer about Boothill himself and what catches his eye in a person- makes me chew concrete.

JUST. I loved the scene between Luka and Boothill so much. I love how wildly unrestrained Boothill is. He really just shoved the barrel of his gun in his opponent's face and put the fear of death into him as a way to test Luka's resolve. I utterly adore him. I hope he does it again. Anyway.

When confronted with all this, Luka freezes. His stress-induced hallucinations were already bad, but you can see how they really ramp up in this match, because before, they were always something familiar. Previous enemies became Silvermanes, or Belobogian automatons, or even Cocolia. Luka is far from home for the first time in his life, and he's so terribly homesick his brain is making everything familiar, because that is what he's desperately craving right now.

But Boothill.

Boothill is something so new, and unique, and horrific and terrifying, that he becomes something entirely unknown to Luka. His hallucination manifests as Something Unto Death, as the very fear of death itself.

And this stand off (which I love so much that this is how this match progressed, because like that's literally just Boothill's in-game skill; he locks the enemy into a one-on-one duel, so this was extremely in character for him) lasts long enough that Owlbert starts having to fill in the silence over the loudspeaker,

and even Boothill himself starts trying to push Luka into making a decision one way or the other.

Given that Boothill is a hunter by trade and is proven to have all the patience to track his prey and then some, this was more for Luka's sake than any impatience on his part, to try to shove him out of his freeze reaction.

And Boothill isn't really hard to read throughout this whole exchange, he all but says outright what he's looking for.

Boothill wants to see him surpass this test and come at him! You can see it in his face when Luka finally takes a step! And in how he congratulates him!

And then he fucking shot him snxhsjksjsn

Boothill admires courage, and bravery, and decisiveness. He admires a person's ability to put their life on the line and still fight in the face of danger and overwhelming odds. Those are the things that catch his eye.

And Luka does kind of get there eventually, but it is a stalling, halting motion that gets him there, and he fell to pieces immediately afterwards. This is his first time with this, and he's still figuring it out.

Dan Heng, on the other hand.

Boothill's stand off with Dan Heng from 2.2 is so fucking far in the total opposite direction that it is HILARIOUS.

Boothill literally breaks into the Astral Express, ambushes Dan Heng, and Dan Heng still has the balls to not only demand info out of Boothill- like doesn't even ask nicely, demands it- he also just straight up calls Boothill a liar. Right to his face! And he still isn't nice about it!!

By the way, that entire conversation? This is how it takes place.

Boothill, phrasing!!

Boothill has him at gunpoint! Dan Heng does not have his weapon with him! He does not flinch, and even stands there with his arms crossed seeming simultaneously pissed and utterly unimpressed. He looks like he should be irritably tapping his foot and looking down his nose at him. Dan Heng could not give less of a shit.

For that matter, Dan Heng even turns his back and walks away from Boothill- right in the middle of him talking, too! Not a single attempt to be considerate of the man who could decide any moment he feels like decorating the wall with Dan Heng's brains.

Dan Heng is brave and courageous and completely unflappable in the face of danger. He is ruthless and decisive in how he conducts himself, even when staring down the barrel of a gun. And through his efforts in Penacony, he shows the ability to put his life on the line and fight through overwhelming odds to save his once-in-a-lifetime companions.

No wonder Dan Heng caught Boothill's eye the way he did, no wonder the two of them were working together and bantering not even minutes after Boothill pulled a gun on him haha

[crustyfloor]

So many people were genuinely surprised Ivan was placed so high on Till's relationship chart, just below Mizi. Till never showed he hated Ivan though, annoyance on occasion? yeah. The way he acts sometimes appears like he merely tolerates Ivan, but they are each other's closest friends. (maybe even best friends if I want to stretch it a bit)

Ivan is confusing and reserved and does things without prior explanation, and it throws Till off and annoys the fuck out of him too because it makes him uncomfortable not understanding why this boy who constantly picks on him and is always sticking to him, and doing weird things, what's his problem? the confusion unnerves him.

Closeness does eventually make the heart grow fond in a relationship, back to the point that they are each other's closest friends, Ivan is always there for him even if just a shoulder to cry on, he doesn't say everything is okay when it's not. But he's there for Till in other meaningful ways, and they care about each other. But even with that fact without Ivan’s intentions made clear to Till there was ultimately a distance between them, and it's a testament to Till's self-deprecation that this was almost intentional on his part for Ivan's own good, but still, it’s endearing to know that despite this Ivan was still regarded quite highly in Till’s head even as a "nuisance"

Also want to mention how much of a poet Till is, "Mizi, you are the most gorgeous, beautiful woman in the universe. When you smiled at me for the first time, I felt like my heart was reborn." what a way with words, he should've been at the club.

But that writing really is beautiful, as he was an isolated and miserable child for his life before meeting Mizi, being in her presence and feeling her positivity was so impactful for him, he felt like a completely different (and happier) person when he was around her, even though he couldn't approach her. It's a sad thing, considering Mizi did want to get closer to him, too, as a friend, but he was held back by his own doubt and deprecation, there had been many opportunities for him to get closer to his friends.

[merakiui]

JADE MUSHROOM DILDOS????? THE SENTIENT DOLL PROMPT?? WOULD SOME MORE DETAILS! WHENEVER I TRY TO RUN, THE TWEELS ENSNARE MY ATTENTION AND HEART BY WRAPPING THEIR LONG AND SLIMY TAILS AROUND IT <333

(Fem darling)

Although they're nerds... Maidenless, pathetic (absolutely adorable) I still adore the trope of suave and sleek on the outside, handsome and reliable (yet dubious) Jade, wild and free Floyd who wants to get freaky.. They're what the freshmen of NRC aspire to be. Charismatic and enigmatic.

Yet when behind closed doors, both of them are absolute loser virgins. Nerds who haven't lost their first kiss. Nerds that simply can't admit to liking the prefect~ They're always bullying darling cause it's "fun".

It's not like they could ever harbour feelings for a lil shrimpie! That's ridiculous! Their sex doll? Pfft! Doesn't resemble that shrimpie at all! (This reminds me a little bit of that onna hole series but the difference being that, darling doesn't feel it.)

They're just in complete denial aren't they? They both hide the sexdoll they have, Floyd doesn't know that Jade has one that's nearly the same, Jade doesn't either. Despite them having their own respective ones, their interpretation of darling is totally different! The dolls aren't literally alive, but when they're shoving their cocks, darling's moaning along with them.

When they're in a horny daze, the doll comes to life. (Like in Tatami Galaxy if you happen to know! Difficult to explain but I hope this made sense anyways (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) )

Floyd interprets darling as completely inexperienced, and really docile and responsive. Whimpers a lot and has this shimmery look in her eyes. (Another example of sex dolls in this instance would be Interspecies reviewer, it's an ecchi anime but I needed inspo ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

"N-no Floyd don't lick me there! Hyaaah! No! Floyd! Floyd-senpai! Nghh!" The pseudo darling whimpers and moans even if his performance is utterly sloppy! A darling that can unravel faster than him (who cums prematurely, wayyy too quickly! Too quick for an athlete!)

"Senpai's too big! You can't!" The cliché subby H-manga character that's catered to loser incels like him. Babbling way too quickly. (Realistically, it takes wayyyy more work to dumbify a person, a quick cummer would never get a real lady to reach that point of babbling in five minutes. Better luck next time, virgin eel!)

Jade interprets darling as someone that's bratty and just as passive aggressive as him. Darling usually wouldn't bother in engaging with Floyd since it doesn't change what Floyd's going to feel about doing his chores. Floyd is just such an unreckoned force, darling always does his bidding to shut his whining. Jade on the other hand is occasionally negotiable.

When the prefect is doing part time in the lounge, Jade's always attempting to break that patient exterior of hers just for his own amusement. (Cuz this loser does not know how to flirt.) Unlike the other staff who immediately lose their tempers and quit within the end of their contract, the prefect always smiles back at him. Giving Jade backhanded compliments, retorts that aren't explicitly rude. The prefect is resilient after all, she successfully negotiated with that stubborn tako for a fat check at every end of the month. This slimy eel can't just push her down so easily!

Darling will never back down, this check has given her and Grim more than just stale bread and leftovers for meals! Jade is sleek and cunning, but Prefect is not an idiot! Jade has met his match for backhanded comments and sly forms of insulting. Saccharine "service" smiles, never a frown on darling.

Jade wants to break that resilience. Something he can't have in reality.. A bratty darling that's easy to manipulate. A bratty darling who messes up her responses. He wants the prefect to feel shame. He wants her to fall for his figurative traps. He wants to utterly humiliate her just like how he did to all the employees that were subject to his bullying.

"Fuck you Jade! Fuuugh!" Insults just turn into moans as he erratically fucks his 'darling', it's not the prefect! It just coincidentally looks like her! The real prefect would never utter a single cuss, she has an image to uphold, but this doll right here? So utterly lewd! So bratty and potty mouthed. So vulgar! What a harlot! A horny harlot that's starved of cock! Jade's cock, a brat that gets trained into being an absolute shameless harlot, stripped off any form of dignity. Stripped off that elegant facade. So utterly dirty and below him.

For as long as those two don't work on their actual plans to get their hands on the real darling, they're left with the sad reality of cumming into lifeless caricatures of the real prefect. (They have zero rizz, they just keep fucking up their flirting attempts and opportunities.)

It would be even funnier if they read the doujins Idia makes. The MC is oddly familiar, can't think of who it resembles... Oh well, it gets the junk junkin!!!

I wanted a bit of a different trope for darling and the tweels! I hope it was good to read, Mera! I don't see a lot of Floyd pacifying darlings. (Maybe I haven't been looking in the right areas.) I just love a dynamic with Jade where he isn't as sleek with rude innuendos as he thought. Someone finally matched his passive aggressive freak!!

Always remember to prioritise yourself over content creation! It's quite easy to neglect the little things like hydration! It's been way too long since I last sent you an ask <3

Xoxo, Izuna.

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

IZUNA...... IZUNA!!!!! GRABBING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS!!! AAAAAAA THIS IS SO MUCH MORE THAN JUST A GOOD READ. THIS WAS BRILLIANT AND SO DELICIOUS AND AN ENTIRE FIVE-STAR MEAL!!!!!

(๑﹏๑//) I'm eating so incredibly good with this omg,,,, the different interpretations of darling for each eel is so yummy. Aaaaa Floyd would absolutely have a thing for being called senpai,,, it just sounds so lovely coming from your mouth... Floyb with his cock-drunk and no-thoughts-in-head-other-than-cum doll and Jade with his brat of a doll who fights him until the very end when she's unraveling beneath him....... so good. orz orz orz

They're both such losers!!! T_T getting off with a doll while imagining it to be the real you even though the spell breaks when they're no longer horny,, >_< aaaaa so maidenless!

That line in the beginning of your ask regarding mushroom dildos... 👀 there are so many thoughts in my mind... Jade is a freak when it comes to his mushrooms!!! You just happen to be his favorite darling to test these things on. <3

[childrenofcain-if]

Maybe it would help if I slowed down and read and I might find these answers for myself in the demo, but I hope you won't mind the ask.

We essentially take after our mother physically in almost, if not every, way, right? While I'm eternally grateful for the freedom to sculpt my MC how I see fit, I can't help but think about Elias.

What do we get from him? Did Elias take Mother's surname as his own when they married? What was it beforehand? Do you have a physical/ethnic description for him?

Also I just wanted to say the way you've described some of these options really helps to reinforce the fact our MC is, well, beautiful/handsome in a way that makes them feel like Ancient Greek statues breathed to life by Aphrodite herself. Fantastic stuff.

i’d say that physically, MC might’ve inherited elias’s eyebrows and nose 😭 not too defining, if we’re speaking description wise, but there’s a spoilery reason why they’ve taken so much of their mother’s physical features 👀

elias is dutch on his mother’s side and has amber eyes + dark hair. i’ve made his race, ethnicity and a lot of his physical features a blank slate for the most part because his paternal side depends on what you want to set it as. MC’s mother took elias’s last name and carried it till the day she died, mostly because she had severed ties with her family ages ago. she came from a completely different world than what elias was used to and did not want to go back to that life again for unknown reasons.

when MC was born, both their parents thought they were the most beautiful baby ever. of course there was some parental bias involved, but even the medical staff agreed wholeheartedly which did wonders for their parents’ ego.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

another theme between spop and gravity falls that i want to point out is one of the characters being shelved for most of the series, and revealed to be alive towards the end. Micah and Ford.

only difference being:

1. Foreshadowing

from the first episode, we see that Stan has some sort of a secret and that he's working towards something.

and throughout the series, we get hints that indicate the existence of a twin brother, one episode even straight up SHOWS Ford (but viewers were led to believe it was Stan).

Micah, on the other hand? the only scene that could be proof of him being alive is during the fake reality in s3 finale.

Micah: Angie, Angella wait! I'm not-

people assume that Micah was trying to tell Angella that he's not dead, but we have no way of knowing for sure. it could have been anything.

so basically, there's no foreshadowing that Micah was alive and i'm pretty darn sure that the writers only wrote him in so that the viewers would forget about Catra killing Angella. Glimmer just needs one of her parents, it's not important which one.

but that's just before. what about after? do these characters have any importance after they are finally revealed to be alive?

2. Plot Relevance

even before the big reveal, Ford was a very important part of the plot. he was the mysterious author of the journals, he was the missing puzzle piece in Stan's life, his connection with Bill was clearly seen in the structure of Mystery Shack.

and after he emerges from the rift, he is even more relevant to the plot. especially because of his history with Bill and his knowledge about the supernatural. even though Stan is the one who defeats Bill in the end, it could not have been done without Ford.

not to mention, his relationship with Stan is essential to the plot. they are a direct parallel to Mabel and Dipper, and the entire series is about familial relationships.

the show just wouldn't be the same without Ford, because he was always one of the main characters, even before he was officially introduced as a character.

and how about Micah? he literally plays no role in the narrative after he is introduced.

one similarity between Ford and Micah is that they were both stranded in an unfamiliar place for years, with no connection to humanity.

but the difference is that while this is used for comedic purposes with Ford, it is also given enough emotional importance, especially when it came to his trust issues and his relationship with Stan.

whereas with Micah, it is solely used for comedic purposes and we never see how being forced to survive on a deserted deadly island has affected Micah's psyche or his relationship with people.

coming back to my point, Micah doesn't even seem all that bothered after learning that Angella is dead. he is shocked and sad for a moment, and then that is completely forgotten.

reconnecting with Glimmer? everything is settled with just one generic emotional speech and a hug.

reconnecting with his sister, Castaspella? barely touched upon.

like Ford, Micah had history with a master manipulator - Shadow Weaver. they could have expanded on this, shown us how Shadow Weaver's treatment of Micah had an impact on him.

but no, apart from him being all "you can't trust Shadow Weaver!" he provides no new insight. if anything, he just got in the way of Shadow Weaver trying to do something good for once.

other than that, he's just a silly goofy dad who wants to bond with his daughter. that's it. he has absolutely no relevance to the plot other than making a fool out of himself, and kind of forming a connection with Frosta.

we're supposed to believe that Micah was this powerful sorcerer and the king of Brightmoon, when even the writers don't give him the respect that he deserves.

newsflash: you can make a character funny and important to the plot. Ford had his fair share of comedic bits, but that didn't take away from his emotional moments and his role in the narrative.

[tofu83]

The Boss’s Collection

Police officer/bot

You just refuse to give up! Officer Anderson!

Why do you insist on investigating these disappearances? Just pretend they are tired of life and leave without saying goodbye.

Do you think that's your job and you just have to do it to get paid? Then why do you want to pry into my secret lab where I convert them?

Actually, I don’t really understand the principle, but I counterattacked when a bad doctor tried to brainwash me into being his cash slave. As a result, he became my scientist slave and helped me turn annoying guys like you into my property.

Different people use different methods to convert, and men in uniform like you are the most suitable to transform into robots.

Tell me how do you feel about being my Police bot?

"It feels good."

Good to what?

"Good to be reduced to a property. To be owned, be used. To obey, to comply. "

Now that you are a missing person, what are your thoughts on this?

"I'm tired of the interpersonal relationships and bureaucracy within the police force, and frustrated that people misunderstand our law enforcement operations. I followed the rules, but I was under pressure. I want to change, and I want to thank my master for changing me. Officer Ian Anderson has completely disappeared, and it is now only Police bot A1, which always obeys orders."

I'm touching every sensitive part of your body, top, bottom, front, back, all hard. Do you mind if I rub harder?

"Not at all, Master, please use it as you wish, it is very happy."

It's a pity that I can't let you get the ultimate happiness for the time being, unless you complete the task.

"Police bot A1 is waiting for orders!"

I need to slowly bring the entire police department under my control. You need to put away your flat voice and rubber uniform, then put on your old uniform and pretend to be Officer Anderson. Return to the police station and put the brainwashing visor on all male members, making them my slaves. They will all become robots like you later.

"The order is confirmed. Police bot A1 will comply!"

I will let you experience real pleasure after completing the task.

"Thank you, Master! The entire male force in the police station will become your robots soon!"

[callsign-rogueone]

questions

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader (sweetheart!) Part three of Ridoc and Sweetheart's story words: 2.9k 🏷: no real book spoilers, this will make more sense if you've read Resson (Garrick's version) but it's not required, set a week or two into Iron Flame, this is a sweetheart chapter so warning for intrusive / self-deprecating thoughts and anxiety spirals, I made a bunch of stuff up about Ridoc's life because RY never told us anything, Rhith being a cool mom, this hasn't been proofread, oops. gonna go have a bagel now byeeee

Rhith had told you that Ridoc would meet you at the gates at eleven — so naturally you’ve been standing there since 10:45, rocking back and forth on your heels and peeling your cuticles.

Why did you agree to do this? Actually, this was your idea — why did you bring it up? What if he’s not going to show up, and you’re just going to stand here for an hour like an idiot?

“Hey! Am I late?” he asks, startling you out of your thoughts. He’s a little out of breath, like he’d ran here, but he offers you a wide smile nonetheless.

You open your mouth to speak just as the bells chime. 

“Guess not,” he laughs when they’re done. “You ready to go?”

You nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets so he can’t see the state of your fingers. Thankfully it’s not too hot to wear your flight jacket. This is your first venture into town, and you don’t want to have your relic on display when you’re in a new place — just going is scary enough.

He leads the way — of course he knows where you’re going. He probably goes out every weekend with his friends; another way you’re completely different.

“I figured we could play twenty questions,” he offers. “Get to know each other a little more. You can go first, if you want.”

You take a second to remember how to speak again. “Alright, um… do you have any hobbies?”

“Coming up with jokes is pretty time consuming.”

“And here I thought they were all completely spontaneous,” you say, shaking your head. “Do you write them all down in that fabled diary of yours?”

He laughs. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t actually have one?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering it. “Only because I don’t see you spending your free time sitting down, writing.” 

“You wound me, sweetheart. I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of writing complete sentences.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just said that I didn’t see you doing it.”

“Fair. Tell me about your book,” he prompts. “The one you’re always carrying around.”

“That’s not a question.”

He gives you a sly smile. “Well played. I’ll rephrase, then. What’s the book about? Do you like it?”

“That’s two questions.”

He laughs, warm and full. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Three.”

“Okay, okay. The first one, then — what's it about?”

“The main character is a trained assassin who is called before the king to join a contest to become his hitman, basically. But the contestants keep getting murdered in the night by some creature that they can’t track down.  It’s part of a series, but I’ve never seen the other volumes anywhere. I like to imagine a different ending every time I read it.”

“You’ve read it more than once?”

You ignore the fact that that’s yet another question, answering it without protest. “Yeah. I know that’s dumb, but it was the book I was in the middle of when my life went to shit. It’s technically property of the library in Aretia, but it was burnt to the ground, so I never gave it back.”

Your heart beats a little faster at the mention of your hometown, and you immediately regret bringing it up, but thankfully Ridoc seems none the wiser. 

“There’s nothing dumb about it if it makes you happy.”

You’ve just stepped into the tiny restaurant when a man that you guess is the owner sees Ridoc and pulls him into a tight hug. “I was wondering when you’d bring your girlfriend!”

Your cheeks warm, but you don’t correct him — that would be too awkward.

Ridoc doesn’t correct him either. “I set up Ezra here with ice that never melts,” he explains with a smile.

“It’s been a blessing. Keeps everything fresh longer, so I don’t have to waste it. You two sit — I’ll make you something special, on the house.” He disappears into the tiny kitchen in the back, leaving the two of you alone in the nearly-empty dining room. 

Ridoc gestures to a table in the corner, away from the door, and you settle into the chair silently. You can’t help but run through Garrick’s mental checklist — your back is to the wall, and you have clear sight of the two exits. You have a knife in your right boot and one in your left sleeve — plus the blunt one laid on the table in front of you. The fork would probably do more damage, though.

“I think it’s your turn.”

“Hm? Oh. Right.” You take a moment to look at him. “Why are you here?”

He gives you a stupid grin. “Because you asked me on a date.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I mean, why Basgiath? Why the rider’s quadrant?”

“Oh, I know. I just wanted to remind you that this whole thing was your idea. But really… probably because I’m an adrenaline junkie who feels like he has to prove to the world that he’s not an idiot. And I’ve always admired the riders and their magic. We can do some pretty cool shit.” 

There’s a pause, and his voice softens as he continues. “I know you didn’t want to be here, so I probably sound super ignorant saying all that. I do think it’s fucked up that you didn’t get a choice — and the way that they handled all of it.”

“I respect your answer. It was honest.”

His turn for a question. “How do you feel about it, really, being here? Not here as in here,” he clarifies, tapping the table, “but at Basgiath.”

You look at him for a second. “Is that your question, or…”

“It can be. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we can go back to the dumb ones.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say quietly, thinking for a second. “I’ve accepted it, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

He’s quiet, giving you space to elaborate — the same way Garrick does; not prying, but silently offering to let you tell him what you’re thinking, if you want to.

“Challenges are the one thing here that doesn’t scare me, because I don’t have to think about it anymore. I know what to do if someone takes a swing at me, and I know how to disarm someone, because Garrick made me practice hundreds of times. But everything else…” 

“Is uncertain and unfamiliar, and therefore scary,” he finishes for you. 

You’re a little surprised by the gentle tone of his voice, the lack of judgment in his words. “That pretty much sums it up.”

Another pause.

“I’ve had an anxiety disorder pretty much my whole life,” you admit. “I was that kid in school that everyone thought couldn’t speak, because I never talked to anyone, except my siblings. Liam was my first real friend who was my age. He didn’t mind the quiet. We would just sit together, and he’d do his wood carvings while I read my books. That was good enough for both of us.”

“Where are they now? Your siblings, I mean.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking down at the tablecloth and the barely distinguishable pattern of flowers woven into it. 

“I know that’s two in a row for me,” he says, backpedaling. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I had a brother and a sister. They were eight and ten years older than me, but they were my best friends. I think they knew that I didn’t have anyone my age, so they always let me tag along for everything until they left for Basgiath.”

“They went here?”

You nod. “As infantry. When they graduated, they joined Fen Riorson’s movement, and a few years later, they were executed along with my parents.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Something compels you to keep talking, to push past the awkwardness and condolences. “I don’t mind talking about them. It’s hard, but they were an important part of my life, and they deserve to be remembered. Losing them was devastating, but Garrick and my foster sister helped fill that void.”

You trace a fingernail over one of the tiny flowers. “I think… I think that’s why I kept pushing you away, and why I haven’t really made any friends here. Being marked doesn’t help, but I can never let myself get close to anyone, because everyone I’ve ever been close to has left me, one way or another.”

You can’t bring yourself to say “died” — and that wouldn’t be quite correct, either. Garrick is very much alive, last you’d heard, but he’s at least a twelve hour flight away. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I only met her twice, but she was always kind to me and everyone she met.”

It takes you a second to realize that he means your foster sister — as far as Ridoc and the rest of the school know, she’d died at Resson along with Liam and Soleil.

“She was,” you say softly. 

It feels weird speaking about her in the past tense. You know she’s not dead, that she’s safe with Brennan and the elders, but the last time you saw her, she might as well have been — she’d felt so cold, and looked so drained, unable to respond to you or even open her eyes. 

She has to be awake by now, starting to recover. She has to push through, if for no reason other than that it would absolutely shatter both you and Garrick if she didn’t. 

Ridoc exhales, choosing his next words carefully. “I really am sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that, especially so young. But for what it’s worth, which probably isn’t a lot — I think you’re handling it all incredibly well, and you’re really brave for it.”

You, handling anything well? and being brave? Yeah, right. You take a sip of water to cover the look of dry disbelief on your face, but he sees it anyway. 

“I mean it. Bravery isn’t “never being scared”, it’s “being scared but doing the scary thing anyway”, and you’ve been doing that every day for the last year — for your whole life, honestly. I think that’s admirable.”

You blink at him for a moment, surprised. 

“It’s true,” Rhith says gently. 

“Thank you,” you say softly — to both of them. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

He offers you a soft smile. “I think that’s enough deep questions for now. Thank you for telling me all of that, though. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t,” you agree. “But I feel… lighter.”

“Lighter is good.”

Ezra arrives at the perfect time, holding a tray with two plates of steaming noodles and two glasses of water, placing them in front of you and making a quick exit.

Ridoc brushes a hand against his glass, and you watch the pattern of frost crawl over the edges as it chills itself near instantly. “Want me to do yours?”

You blink, realizing he’s speaking to you. “Sure. Thank you.”

He pushes the cold glass toward you, taking the other and chilling it for himself.

The question comes out before you can think. “How long did it take you to get used to the cold?”

He looks up at you, surprised. “Not long. A week, maybe. I run hot, so sometimes it’s kinda nice.”

You nod in understanding. He’d been warm to the touch when he’d wrapped his arms around you, and you’d melted right into him. That was a first. But so is this, and it seems to be going okay.

You both eat without further discussion, every minute of quiet a little more comfortable than the last. The food is good — better than anything they serve at Basgiath. 

“So, where’s home for you?” you ask after a while.

“Deaconshire,” he answers. “My dad’s still out there. It’s been just me and him for a while.”

“Not too far, then,” you comment, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he hadn’t mentioned his mother. 

“Yeah. I’ve thought about going AWOL for an afternoon, just to see him for an hour or two. But at least the letters will arrive fast.”

“Right,” you say softly, pushing the last piece of pasta around your plate idly. 

It hadn’t really sunk in yet that you can write letters now, as a second year. You could write to Garrick, but it would be too dangerous to send anything to Aretia, with the professors reading everything to make sure there’s no classified information being spread. You might be able to write to the Duke, and hope he passes it on to the right people, but that would still be deemed suspicious. 

Maybe Bodhi could help you.

“Where’d Garrick get stationed?” he asks.

“Samara,” you answer quietly. 

He winces, knowing that’s right on the front between Navarre and Poromiel, but he recovers quickly. “He’s with Xaden, right? They’ll take care of each other.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll be fine,” he reassures. “They were the two biggest, most intimidating dudes in fourth wing. Nobody’s going to mess with them — but if anyone’s dumb enough to try, they’ll get what’s coming to them. And they can definitely kick ass in the air, too.”

He’s right — they’ll be fine.

Probably.

“Yeah,” you say again, hoping it sounds convincing. “They can definitely hold their own.” But against wyvern… what if what happened to Deigh happens to Chradh or Sgaeyl, and there’s nothing they can do? 

You force the thought out of your head before the universe can hear it and make it come true. 

“You ready to head back?” he asks gently.

You nod in affirmation, and he gets up, finding Ezra. The owner bids him a cheerful goodbye that includes a hearty pat on the back, while you stand by the table and offer him a weak wave and a soft thank you.

The walk back to the school is quiet, only the crunching of gravel under your boots, but this time the silence isn’t as loud.

You’ve already said everything you needed to say, laid all your cards face up on the table and shown them to the other — almost all of them, you think with a little flare of guilt, but there are some things you just can’t tell anyone, for the sake of Tyrrendor in its entirety.

“This one’s mine,” you say quietly, stopping in front of your door. 

You call it yours, but it doesn’t feel that way. Just because you sleep here and your stuff is piled up in the corner, yet to be unpacked, doesn’t make it feel like yours, and doesn’t make it feel safe, despite the ward that Garrick had helped you put up before he left for Samara with Xaden.

Ridoc offers you a warm smile. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. I’d really like to see you again, if you want.”

“I’d like that too.”

He lingers, and for a moment you’re worried that he’s expecting something of you, but he remains a few steps away, his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you,” you add. “For today. And for finding me yesterday.”

“Of course, sweetheart. And next time you start to feel that way, you can have Rhith tell Aotrom to get me, okay? You shouldn’t have to deal with that alone.”

“Okay,” you say softly. 

He gives you another knee-weakening smile before he heads off, disappearing into a room that must be his — eight doors down, on the other side of the hall.

You make it inside just as the bells strike twelve thirty. The afternoon is still young.

You decide to unpack — starting by shoving the box of your sister’s things into the bottom of the armoire. You’d burned most of her stuff, to maintain the appearance that she’s actually dead, but you and Garrick had both taken some for yourselves. Malek couldn’t get mad about that, right?

You don’t know if you should worry what he thinks or not — you despise him for taking everyone away from you, but you need to remain in his good graces if you want to keep the few people you have left. But you aren’t sure how — it remains unclear what you did, or didn’t do, to deserve that. 

“It was nothing you did,” Rhith says gently, startling you. “And you didn’t deserve it.”

“Sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to project that to you.”

“We’ve talked about the apologies, sweet one,” she prods. “They’re never necessary.”

“Sor—” you stop yourself before you can finish the word. “I’ll work on that.”

She changes the subject for you. “I’m proud of what you did today. I know that was difficult for you.”

“It’s easier with him,” you say quietly. “I don’t know why, but it is.”

“Many things don’t require explanation. It is enough to simply appreciate them.” 

Spoken like a true green. “I wish I could be as logical as you,” you sigh. 

“There is value in both logic and emotion, but there is a balance to be found between them.”

You sit with the statement for a moment as you start to fold the laundry you’d shoved into a bag and dragged up the stairs when you’d moved, trying to smooth out the wrinkles to no avail.

“What do you think?” you ask. “about him, I mean.”

“I think he has a good heart. He genuinely cares for you, but it is your decision whether to trust him or not. And even if you do, there are some things that he can never know.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”

“I’m proud of you, my girl.”

You’re a little bit proud of yourself too.

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[dolljunk]

When I visited Belgium, I met up with both @ayrtonschmidt and @darkodark which was a fun experience. Ayrton gave me a LOT of doll parts to play with, and some of them was enough to finally work on a Madison Fear doll since I've been rotating the idea in my mind.

I hesitated on starting on her since I didn't like the one off doll that was made and I wanted her outfit to be different but ever since Madison Beer's "Make You Mine" video came out I opted to push her in that direction rather than the 2010s fashion she had.

I opted to ignore the one off doll since I found the execution a lot to be desired and focused on making her look a lot closer to Darko's artstyle, which is always dripping with personality and mystery.

I rerooted her in dark blueish green nylon and lilac nylon from @customdollhairAU as saran doesn't quite have those colours and I think it really brings her to life with those colours.

I'm not only really happy with how she turned out, but I really associate her now with fond memories of meeting people I wanted to see irl for a long time and to complete a project in my mind.

[mariberrycake6058]

Hiii, I present to you my Gravity Falls AU: We'll Meet Again AU (I'm still thinking about whether to change the name or leave it as is)

To tell the truth, the lore is very long, so I hope that whoever is interested reads it completely and can let me know if they like it, I may make a comic about this.

If there are any mistakes, I completely apologize, my English is not very good and I used Google Translate for this, anyway, you can correct me if I'm wrong about something! I hope you like it and that someone sees it :]

⚠️TW: Mental disorder/problems mentioned!

CHARACTER DESIGNS:

WE'LL MEET AGAIN - A GRAVITY FALLS AU

In this alternate universe of Gravity Falls, Bill returns to town in a physic form after a long time of being in some therapies, but now with some changes in it, the most notable being their great loss of many of their powers, among them is the difficulty of to be able to levitate in the air, wanting recover this little by little. Seeking revenge within, returns to the village to put an end to what it started, but due to a fault "unknown" ends up reaching a Gravity Falls very similar to where he comes, but feels that there is something different.

Someone shakes hands with a triangular statue with only one eye in the middle of the forest, hoping to see it again, but there is nothing. He sighs and when he is about to give up, the atmosphere begins to get heavy, the breeze of the wind becomes strong and slight tremors begin on the ground, some small animals run around, and what he thought would never happen, finally gives results.

The one-eyed triangular entity appears in front of him, at first wondering what is going on, and upon recognizing that place, he begins to laugh and look around, he had finally been freed again, all thanks to... Stanford!?

But this was not the Stanford he knew, this one looked more tired and worn out than the one he had seen last time, how long had it been since he had done his job? Something was wrong!

Stanford, for his part, couldn't believe that the creature he hadn't seen in years had finally appeared before him, but... More different than he remembered.

—

STORY

In the past, at the age of 19, Stanford suffered an accident (which remains unknown) along with his family, in which only he and his brother, Shermy, were the only survivors. This caused him to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, leading him to live with guilt for the rest of his years.

Stanford, seeing that only he, along with his brother, decided that better, according to him, was to get away for a while time since he was not in a good state after what happened, also with the excuse that he did not want to be a annoyance for him and that it was time for become independent. Despite the Shermy's insistence, finally he understood what his brother wanted, being so they never saw each other again after that his family's funeral.

Stanford tried to continue with his normal life in a town called Gravity Falls, where many types of anomalies occurred, which were of complete interest to him since he was seen as a phenomenon due to his extra fingers on both hands, and these creatures connected well with him.

He met Bill after seeing a stone engraving during one of his investigations and, not believing enough in the existence of a certain creature, that same night it appeared in his dreams, it transmitted a lot of confidence, it was very kind and flattered him in a certain way, the nights continued like that and both came to have a very great friendship.

Until one night, Ford in one of his many crises for remembering his traumas from that accident, Bill appeared before him, letting him know that in the same way that he had also lost his family in an accident in his dimension. For this, Bill offered him his help to be able to create something unmatched that could "bring his family back alive", as if it were a time machine to avoid everything and be able to save his family, and this could also "bring Bill's family back", Ford who was still very naive, desperately accepted the deal to remedy everything and leave behind the guilt that gnawed at him daily, without knowing that what Bill really planned was to create a portal to be able to take over that dimension. (The canon thing)

Stanford worked with Fiddleford on the project, however, McGucket did not know very well what the purpose of this was, but he did not hesitate to help his friend. But the pleasure did not last long, because months after so much work, the truth came to light, although Fiddleford did not say anything at first, with the passage of time he reflected on the project and how dangerous it could become if it altered time, so in the end he ended up facing Stanford, telling him that he was so obsessed with his family and Bill, that he should give up and accept that they had died, and that he felt that this Bill was not trustworthy. After that, Fiddleford abandoned the project and they never saw each other again. Stanford finished the project by himself and as he could.

Having everything finished, he was ready to tell Bill about this, but as he approached him he could hear a conversation that he was having with other creatures which were laughing out loud and calling Ford insults and humiliations, in which Bill also participated, this being the way in which Stanford would have found out about Bill's true intentions, going immediately to close the portal and get rid of anything that could activate it, however, Bill had noticed his presence before, making himself present later to confront him and tell him the truth about everything, betraying Ford in the cruelest way with illusions and promises so he could see his family back. Full of anger, confusion, disappointment and even some hope that it was all a very heavy joke on Bill's part, Ford refused to believe what was happening, but in the end Fiddleford was right in that Bill was really not to be trusted.

Ford closed the portal before anything else could happen, Bill for his part became upset and cursed him, promising to return one day to accomplish his plan, he left leaving Ford alone, and he quickly got rid of most of the things that gave power to the portal.

Stanford fell into a slight depression because of Bill's abandonment, since he was the only one who could make him feel special and feed his ego. In a certain way he was still obsessed with Bill and with his promise that of course, would never come true. He made a stone statue in the shape of Bill and abandoned it in the middle of the forest, with an engraving on one side of the statue where you could read the lyrics of the song that Bill used to sing to it (We'll Meet Again), from time to time he would visit it and take the hand of the statue, hoping to be able to see him again, for what? Even he didn't know, despite the fact that Bill had betrayed him, he still felt that need to keep seeing him, he was going crazy.

Years later, Dipper and Mabel come to visit, they are under Stanford's care for the entire summer and have some adventures with the town's anomalies.

Some time later things happen and Bill from another dimension arrives in this different one.

Stanford has knowledge about the multiverses, and he knows very well that this Bill what has appeared there is not the Bill that he knew, and vice versa, this Bill knows perfectly that this Stanford is not the that he knew, however, he knows nothing about this one's past, and seeing it in that somewhat vulnerable state, "takes pity" slightly from it and gives the opportunity to meet him again, even if it is someone different but similar at the same time, in addition to the fact that by Axolotl's obligation, is obliged to improve his conduct and act for the good.

Stanford doesn't know what this Bill's intentions are, but seeing that he doesn't have many powers, he doesn't care, which makes him invite him to stay with them at his cabin. Bill initially refuses, but then agrees when he sees how useless he has become without powers, and sees the advantage of taking advantage of it to find out how to return to his "original" universe and plan his revenge against the other Pines (something that won't be possible for him), but of course, he doesn't say anything about this to these different Pines, although Ford has his small suspicions.

FUN FACTS

Here, Dipper and Mabel are already 13 years old.

This Pines family does not know what Bill has done in the dimension he comes from, that is, wanting to get rid of his-selves, them- from that dimension (The Weirdmageddon).

Dipper has had free access to Ford's journals, even reading the pages Bill had written before the whole conflict happened, so this Dipper doesn't trust Bill very much, but tries to live with him (forcibly).

This Bill is nicknamed "Dori" (from Dorito) or "Chip" by Mabel, she is more relaxed than Dipper and is even the one who spends the most time with Bill, she sees him as so dumb and vulnerable that she doesn't believe that one-eyed thing is evil, but Dipper still insists that she doesn't trust him too much. Mabel makes mini sweaters for Bill, she even usually puts band-aids of different designs and colors on the cracks/scars he has, so that they don't look so horrible, in her words.

Bill is bitter, but he tolerates the twins a little since they don't spend their time yelling at him. His only question is where Stanley is, however, when he asks about him, he doesn't get an answer from anyone.

Bill takes on human form from time to time, at Mabel's request because she thinks he looks less silly that way.

Bill gives Ford cute/embarrassing nicknames, and of course he also calls him Fordsy/Sixer, the first one leaving Mabel curious.

In a certain part of the AU, Ford sends Bill away because it's not free to stay at the shack and because the positions there are taken (he tried to fight with Wendy for her place but ended up losing). So here Waiter!Bill is born, as in that Gravity Falls the Weirdmageddon never happened, nobody knows Bill and they just take him for one more creature of the town, so it's normal for them and it wasn't difficult to get hired by Lazy Susan, although his attitude isn't the best, he tries to do well so they don't fire him and Ford doesn't get upset with him. (Last photo at The beggining)

Another fact that I didn't mention is that yes, the Mystery Shack does exist as such and is also a tourist place, but Ford is the one who usually gives the exhibitions of the things that are there, and when he can't attend, Soos is the one who helps him (only there are no scams here)

WHAT IS BILL'S RELATIONSHIP WITH THIS PINES FAMILY?

Dipper Pines.

A 50/50 between the two, Dipper prefers not to get directly involved in anything Bill is present at, he doesn't trust him, but he has to live with him at least a little, he tolerates him, although he thinks Bill has a very high ego and is kind of conceited, despite not having powers. He prefers to stay away from him at certain times. Bill also prefers to be away from him.

Mabel Pines.

What can you say? Bill, aka Dori/Chip is like a pet for Mabel, she likes to do it small outfits, their coexistence is good, but there are times when she should also moderate her personality with him, at Dipper's request, so that her wouldn't trust him so much. Bill likes him Mabel's creativity is like a very colorful chaos, but it is embarrassing to wear the outfits that he does it, but he has to agree so as not to hurt their feelings and to try to gain trust of others (which seems to be the case which will not be achieved at 100%)

Stanford Pines.

Their relationship is good but not at all 100%, because Ford has matured from all the events from the past with his original Bill, so which in any case tries to don't trust this Bill so much that appeared. He usually does investigations with this Bill and his human form that it usually adopts, making theories and expanding their knowledge. Bill gives himself the opportunity to listen whatever Ford tells him about his past to get to know him better. They may both have a better and good relationship after.

Wendy Corduroy

They both have a certain respect for each other, but they are not directly related.

Soos

They are not directly related, but Soos spends his time making theories about Bill that he only tells Dipper. Even so, he has a certain respect for him. Bill, for his part, notes that Soos is a bit dumb, but what else can he say if not having powers also makes him a dumb person.