#it really was so nice to be in a place that felt like where i grew up

[nerdlvr]

just perfect.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you watched jisung's stupid smile spread across his face, his body leaning towards the mystery girls ear, his words mute against the music of the room.

"need a drink?"

even more perfect.

you felt your body tense as a soft breath grazed your neck, "yuta-"

his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest, "you can tell who i am just from my voice? such a sweet girl- i knew you'd never forget me."

his grip was firm as you tried to release yourself from his grasp, hands tugging at his, "let go-"

"look-" he placed his chin on your shoulder, chuckling softly, "little jisungie seems to have gotten tired of waiting around- first time you let him out of the house and he's-"

"stop that-" you turned around shoving his chest harshly, "stop messing with my head- you have no idea what's going on between me and jisung-"

"i don't?" you gulped as a smirk spread on his lips, body moving closer to you, "i don't know about your fake little relationship- how he just wanted to test out what it's be like to have a girlfriend? he just wants to fuck something, y/n- don't forget your place- you think he'll hang around after he gets his piece?"

you felt your chest tighten, words getting jumbled in your throat, "whatever jisung does has nothing to do with me-"

"oh but it does- it completely does sweetheart, because you thought he might actually be different, you thought he was so so sweet to you because he cared. and now you look desperate searching for him in a party."

you slapped his hand away as he reached for your face, "you know nothing about jisung."

you tugged your skirt down as pushed through the crowd, yuta's mocking laugh making your cheeks burn uncomfortably.

in all honesty- you also knew nothing about jisung.

age? 20. major? unknown. siblings? no even a clue.

you downed the first shot that was in your sight as you entered the kitchen, a shiver running down your spine as you gagged.

.

just perfect.

jisung's eyes scanned the room- where the hell were you?

first you tell him that you're not coming to the party, and then you're posted up on twitter showing off the sluttiest little cheerleader outfit he's ever seen- well maybe not the sluttiest.

the girl that had been annoying him for the past half hour had to take the prize for sluttiest outfit. she was barely clothed, tits on full display as she leaned in closer to him.

"park jisung- look at me!" she reached for his face desperately, manicured nails cold against his face.

he sunk deeper into the couch as he inched away from her grasp, "uh- just- just jisung is fine- no need for all the formalities." he laughed nervously as he sat up straight again, grabbing her hands to place them on her lap.

"have you by any chance caught a girl walking in? green cheerleader outfit, about- hm about this tall- curly hair- really really nice-"

"jisungie i have a green cheerleader outfit-" she played with the hem of her basically nonexistent skirt, a dumb grin on her face.

"uh-huh- i bet you do-" he sat up a little taller, eyes slightly squinting as he searched the room again.

"jisung-" she giggled as he jolted in his seat, her hands sneaking across his lap, "jiiisungiee-"

his smile spread as he gripped her hands, slowly dragging them away from his lap. she bit her lip as she waited for his next move, cheeks heating up at his touch.

he moved in closer, breath fanning against her ear, "you touched me- and my dick remained completely soft- now if you have the slightest bit of shame, you'd ask a guy if he has a girlfriend before throwing yourself at him."

she pulled her hands out of his grasp, moving away on the couch as he straightened her outfit- clearly embarrassed.

but jisung didn't even give her a second glance, his eyes now trained on the familiar figure in the crowd.

even more perfect.

his eye twitched as he watched your ex boyfriend reach towards your face. the hosts never show up so what was he doing here trying to make moves on you?

he got up from his seat, fingers nervously picking at the skin of his lips. after everything- would you drop it all for a moment of relief with your slimy ex?

the short answer was no. he grinned as he watched you push him away, you body moving through the crowd as you distanced yourself from him.

he didn't hesitant as he strode after you- not missing the opportunity to bump past yuta on his way.

.

"park jisu-" you gagged softly, the shot of patron already not sitting right in your stomach.

"hey- hey pretty girl- you okay?" he was quick to move close to you, hands moving up to cup your face, "how many have you had?"

you pushed him away, a grimace on your face, "stop acting like that."

he stood back to watch you, your fingers playing with the rim of your shot glass, "like what?"

"i'm not your girlfriend park jisung- barely friends- so stop acting all lovey dovey." you nodded towards the stranger that appeared behind you, his steady hands filling your glass again.

he scoffed at you, hands moving to rest on his hips, "i recommend you watch that pretty mouth of yours- i don't like my girls drunk."

"why not? isn't it easier to sleep with me if i'm drunk? that's what you want anyways right? why you're doing all this?" you lifted the glass to your lips, hands clenching as the liquid burned your throat.

you whined as you felt him tug the glass away from you, "what's wrong with you right now? i've been waiting almost 2 hours for you and now you're here giving me attitude?"

"waiting? i'm sure it was a long wait as you macked on some random girl." you took a step back, cheeks heating up at the realization of your words- what were you even saying?

"oh so you think you have the right to be jealous while you went looking for yuta first instead of coming to see me?" he leaned in closer to you, face only inches away now.

"i didn't come here for you park jisung- what don't you get?"

your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, chapped lips grazing yours.

"you came here for me- i know you did- just say it."

your breath hitched as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his lips still dangerously close to yours, "we are nothing park jisung."

his lips spread against yours, mouth turning into a wide grin, "i love that the idea of us being nothing upsets you."

you looked into his soft eyes, his gaze burning your skin, "w-what-"

"look at you baby- you're melting in my hands-" his grip on your waist tightened, your breath now caught in your throat, "i-i'm drunk- park jisung-"

"no you're not- you're horny-" he chuckled against your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as they dragged across yours softly.

you felt his arm wrap farther around you, hand snaking down past your ass to press against your aching core, "it's hot down here isn't it baby? so hot you want me to fix it for you?"

you gripped his jersey, lips parted in a moan as you nodded softly.

"go home." his arms detangled from your body, pushing you away with his hands so he could look at you.

you were flushed all over, skin slightly sticky with sweat as your chest rose and fell with each pant- his balls were going to explode.

"text me when you're home- i- actually- wait here for a sec, i'll call you an uber."

you watched him dumbly as he reached for his phone, tapping at the screen, "jisung-"

"car's right around the corner- get home safe- remember text me." he pushed you softly towards the door, patting your ass to urge you out.

he watched as you shuffled away, hands bunched at the sides of your hips as you hung your head low.

"dude did you just send her home- what are you- her dad?"

his head snapped up as his friend entered the kitchen, his arm lazily wrapped around his girlfriend's waist.

"he just pulled a me! remember when i made out with you during that halloween party and then left you with blue balls! he totally just pulled a me!" he watched mark's girlfriend happily jump in place, soft giggles leaving her lips at the realization.

"sungie- she'll be all over you in no time- trust me-" she threw her thumb towards mark, "it works like a charm."

mark reached towards jisung's shoulder, squeezing softly, "dude- you're in some deep shit now."

wait- why didn't he just sleep with you?

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅rent-a-girlfriend.com ~ 21. BOMBOCLATT

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

notes : you'll be banging on my chest, bang-bang, gorilla. idk where the angst went so i will try to start an emo fight next chapter cause how am i going to miss to opportunity for horny party scene COME ON NEOWWWW- ok but yeah next chapter we're mixing it and twisting it haha

taglist : @bunniin , @neverbeurs , @fakeuwus , @natokkiz , @222brainrot , @mystverse , @sk8mrk , @ksywoo , @snowyseungs , @nislost , @nosungluv , @jae-n0 , @peterm4rker , @livingdoll-hara , @doejaejung , @tommina , @413ktz , @aerivrs , @cyjzzl , @dolleyedgirl , @nneteyamss , @mrkleelvr , @4chensungs , @nctrawberries , @multifandomania , @catpjimin , @dudekiss3r , @yuujiswrld , @slayhaechan , @catdonut657 , @kodasity , @ohwowzersthatscool , @byeonwooseokabs , @hyucksunset , @rksbae , @hyucktion , @lionzyon , @baobeii55 , @jakesbubu , @axo-l0tl , @sunghoonsgfreal , @strawberrysavi , @hyunjungjae , @kookssecret , @babrieeee , @defzcl , @sikuthealien

[stolasbuckzo]

I can see it playing out something similar to this:

Stolas sat quietly on the couch in the apartment he had come to know so well. Eight months had passed since he moved in with Blitz and Loona after his exile from the Goetia estate. At first, he had been overwhelmed with gratitude, keeping his distance from any sense of ownership or permanence. He’d left the apartment just as it was when he arrived, unwilling to impose. After all, this place wasn’t his; it was Blitz’s home, Loona’s sanctuary. He was just… a long-term guest, wasn’t he?

It gnawed at him quietly. Stolas tried not to notice how bare his surroundings felt—how the walls held no personal touch of his own. The balcony stood empty, no trace of the lush greenery he once surrounded himself with in his tower. Inside, there were no celestial motifs to remind him of the stars that had brought him comfort. He didn’t mind… or, at least, he told himself that. This wasn’t his place to shape, after all.

That was until Blitz, arms crossed and leaning against the kitchen counter, casually broke the silence over dinner one night. “So, uh… you really gonna keep this place looking like a dead guy’s mausoleum for the next century or somethin’?”

Stolas blinked, his fork pausing mid-air. “A century?”

Blitz smirked but softened as he stepped forward, his tail flicking lazily behind him. “Yeah, Birdbrain. You’re gonna be stuck here with us until your Goetia title gets reinstated, and who the hell knows when that’s happenin’. Might as well make yourself at home.” He plopped down next to Stolas, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “C’mon, Stols. Hundred years is a long-ass time to live like a guest. You ain’t a guest—unless you’re plannin’ on moving out once you save up enough to rent a place with your own royal ass or somethin’.”

Stolas opened his mouth to protest, but Blitz cut him off, his voice more tender now. “Look… I don’t mind if you, y’know, make it your own a bit. Neither does Loona. Hell, she said the other day it’s weird you haven’t ‘Stolas-ed’ up the place yet.” Blitz chuckled. “And… you’re here. Really here. So stop acting like you gotta walk on eggshells around us, alright?”

The words hung between them for a moment. Stolas felt a warmth spread through him, deeper than the teasing could account for. Blitz meant it. He wasn’t just a guest anymore.

A few weeks passed, and gradually, the apartment began to shift. It was subtle at first: a few small plants placed on the balcony, a vine climbing up a railing. Stolas didn’t overthink it. He simply let himself do what felt right. In the living room, Blitz noticed when Stolas hung a few celestial ornaments—planets and stars glimmering in soft gold and silver. One night, Blitz came home to find the living room bathed in a gentle, ambient glow from enchanted starlights Stolas had scattered across the ceiling. Blitz whistled low as he looked around.

“Damn. It’s kinda nice in here,” Blitz murmured, letting his eyes roam. He wasn’t the sentimental type, but seeing how the space had subtly transformed, it… felt right. It reflected both of them now—Stolas’s fascination with the cosmos and the life that Blitz, and even Loona had breathed into their little family.

Later that night, Blitz sat beside Stolas on the balcony, where potted flowers and herbs swayed gently in the Hellish breeze. They looked out over the city together, the faint glow of the enchanted stars inside casting long, gentle shadows through the glass door behind them.

Blitz leaned closer, resting a hand on Stolas’s knee. “See? Told ya you’d make this place better.”

Stolas smiled softly, his gaze turning upward. “You were right, Blitz. It feels… more like home now. I didn’t think I could ever have that again. Not after everything I’ve lost.”

Blitz squeezed his knee lightly and leaned his head back against Stolas’s shoulder. “Yeah, well, you didn’t lose everything. You got us, remember?” His voice softened, almost inaudible over the wind. “You got me.”

Stolas’s throat tightened, and he turned his head to press a light kiss to Blitz’s temple. “I do. And I’ll never take that for granted.”

They sat in peaceful silence after that, the city lights twinkling beneath them like distant stars. For the first time in a long while, Stolas felt a sense of belonging he hadn’t realized he’d been craving all along. He wasn’t a prince in exile anymore—not here. He was Stolas, a part of something real. A part of them.

The worse case scenario at the end of season scenario is that at some point (whether at the end of S3 or early S4) someone— possibly Paimon— pulls strings to end Stolas’s sentence early than intended

the balcony from the last scene looked so empty, i thought it might be a nice place for a little garden hehe

Don’t use without permission, don’t repost, please. Ok to reblog! Thank you! 💛

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 1

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have found yourself in a body swap situation, but your bodies don't seem to be aware of that. They keep trying to do what they always do.

And what they always do isn't really something either of you what the other to know about.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! On god I made it as weird as it could get. I'm proud of me. Also, we're once again looking at multiple parts. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.5k

This was fucking weird. 

Dean knew wasn’t exactly worth saying—it might be the most obvious statement in history—but this was so fucking weird. Weird in a way that made his brain feel a little fuzzy, that made his skin itch because there was no way this was real.

But there was certainly a way this was real.

And it wasn’t Dean’s skin that was itchy. 

She had nice skin. It was soft and comfortable to be inside of, the callouses on Her hands felt better placed than the ones on Dean’s, and there were scars that he’d sometimes touch on accident that felt more like art than stains. Her hair felt right whenever he’d brush his fingers through it. Her waist was perfect to hold whenever he’d brace his hands on his hips. And when Dean would reach up to rub his jaw, he’d be slammed with another reminder that this wasn’t his jaw. It was too smooth, at a different angle, and far too good.

This was the jaw he’d dreamt of holding and angling back. Of kissing a soft line across, sucking a small, dark mark on, or nipping at until everyone could see that Dean had been here. That his hand had wrapped around Her neck because she trusted him there, and he’d been holding Her chin up so She could look him in the eyes as they grinned at each other.

She had the prettiest smile. Her lips would curve up at the perfect angle, her eyes would shine like small stars, and every little line on Her face would serve as evidence that She was happy.

Dean hadn’t seen Her smile in a while. Not at him. Not like She used to. 

And he certainly wouldn’t see it now. He couldn’t.

All he could see was himself, across the room, rolling on the balls of his feet and sucking on his teeth as he thought.

As She thought.

This was so weird.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered, and Dean frowned. His voice sounded rougher, deeper, and heavier from outside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or how to interpret the small shivers up his spine and over his skin. 

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, in her sweet and musical voice, and he liked how it sounded. He’d always loved how She said her own name, like it was an answer to something or the only lesson Dean would ever need to learn. “Is it really that bad to be stuck in my body-“

“Yes.” She snapped, raising Her chin and glaring down at him, and now his heart was beating faster. “This feels weird, and I don’t like seeing you be me. You’re doing it wrong.”

Dean frowned, and Her hair fell over his eyes. “How the hell am I doing it-“

“You’re sitting wrong. Your legs are too wide, I don’t lean like that, and when I frown it’d not supposed to look like I’m trying to murder someone.”

Dean disagreed with that last one. Shit, for months the only expression he’d gotten from Her was a frown that told him She wanted him dead. 

He didn’t blame Her. He wasn’t all too happy with himself either, but it had been the only option. She wanted him. She said She wanted him, and she hadn’t been lying, and that had been the worst thing in the world.

If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that. 

And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt. 

So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.

She nodded, and backed off. Smiling less and frowning more and still joking with him but never bumping their feet together under a table or leaning Her head on his shoulder. 

It was what he’d wanted. She was safer, and still within Dean’s reach to just see Her, to know she was okay. But he’d never expected to touch Her again. He’d made his peace with the fact that She’d always be just a stretch away, but never his to hold.

And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.

He didn’t know if he wanted to thank the witch that had done this, or kill them again.

Right now he was leaning towards the later, if only because he really didn’t like seeing Her in his body. It wasn’t just weird. It was wrong.

“You’re not exactly acting like me either, sweetheart.” Dean raised his brows, and watched his own face drop into a further glower. “You’re standing too much like a girl.”

She scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean-“

“You’re too relaxed-“

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah.” He tried to raise his chin, but Her hair fell in his face again. He didn’t know how the hell he was suppose to do anything when he had to keep it out of his face. “And you gotta walk slower. We’re not in a rush-“

“I’m in a rush! I told you, Dean, I don’t like this-“

“I’m not a big fan either!” He snapped. “But what the hell are we suppose to do about it? Every time we’ve tried to tell Sammy he hasn’t heard us-“

She rolled Her eyes. And they were Dean’s eyes, but that was Her eye roll. “That’s the curse, dumbass. We have to break it-“

“I got that, sweetheart, but I’m not seeing how you plan to do that without help-“

“I have you, Dean.” Her voice—his voice—was louder. Firmer. Commanding. It made his gut warm, and his body—Her body—sit a little taller of his own accord. “You’re on research duty, buddy. Let’s go.”

Dean scowled. He hated it when She called him buddy. He wasn’t Her buddy, he was supposed to be Her-

Nothing. Dean was Her nothing, because he’d been so very careful to make and keep it that way.

And that knowledge never stopped him from wanting Her. Wanting Her so bad that, when he’d glance down at her hands, now in his control, he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d ever get to feel them like this again. Rubbing against skin and tracing over the curve of his lips and trailing nails on his legs.

It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven. “You don’t need my help-“

“Yes, I do.” She snapped, grabbing Her jacket from the bed and marching to the door. “Get up. We’re going.”

Dean didn’t want to get up, but Her body didn’t seem to agree with him. He pushed off the bed and gained an unsteady balance, because Her knees were oddly weak. She wasn’t weak—She hunted like an animal and had used this very body to knock Dean flat on his ass—but something was making him lightheaded and dizzy. 

He was probably just hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the curse hit. 

“If we’re doing this,” he grumbled, shuffling to put on Her shoes. “We’re doing it with food.”

“Deal.” She tried to shrug on Her jacket, froze when it didn’t fit around Dean’s body, and chucked it right at his face. “Wear that. I don’t want you getting me a cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but put on the jacket. She was already pissed, and this wasn’t worth fighting about.

“This is so weird,” She mumbled, shaking Dean’s head. “C’mon, Winchester, we’re fixing this-“

“Wait,” Dean frowned, patting his pockets—Her pockets—and scanning around the motel room. “Where are my keys-“

“You mean these keys?”

He turned to see Her holding up the Impala’s keys, a shit-eating grin on Her face. 

Dean narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand. “Gimme my keys.”

“No.” She shrugged, Her grin growing. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m not asking, sweetheart-“

“Okay. You take them, they’re yours.”

She walked out of the motel room, and Dean’s eyes widened. There was no fucking way She was driving his car.

“They are mine!” He shouted, sprinting after Her. “Just cause you’re in my damn body-“

Her body was faster than Dean was used to. He almost slammed right into Her back—His back—and an undignified sound left his when Her arms wrapped around his waist, catching him from a fall and holding him right to Her chest.

He’d never realized he was that broad. Or that strong. She was holding Dean like he was paper, and looking at him with shining eyes—he could see the real Her almost glowing in his body—and grinning with Her whole face. Dean’s whole face, with crinkles near his eyes he hadn’t known he had, and stubble on his jaw he’d meant to shave today.

Her hands were rubbing his waist. It was the small, careful circles he always dreamt of leaving on Her hips and arms. 

He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it.

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat, because She needed to let go now. Her touch was burning on his body, and they hadn’t really touched since the curse hit, so maybe they weren’t allowed to. “Keys.”

She shook Her head. “This is my one chance to drive, Dean-“

“It’s my freakin’ car-“

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.”

He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten. 

She needed to let go of him now. 

He tried to grunt Her name, but it just came out breathy and soft. “You crash it-“

“I pay for the repairs.”

Dean scowled, but gave in. Right now She was stronger and taller than he was, and Dean didn’t really want to lose any dignity trying to physically take the keys. 

And She didn’t crash it. Dean watched Her drive with careful attention—grumbling about what She was doing wrong until She shot him the deadliest glare he’d ever seen—and She never even came close to crashing. Her hands were big and firm and broad on Baby’s wheel, and Her arms would flex when she shifted the wheel, and there was a set look of determination on Her face that made her jaw look shaper-

That was not Her jaw. That was his jaw. And his arms, and his hands, and he wasn’t sure why the hell his eyes had been wandering over himself like that. He didn’t know why the hell he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and stomach. 

He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.

Those were things Dean always did for Her. He wasn’t used to a hand on his back, or how nice it felt there. Secure, like a tether that told him he’d be alright. He didn’t understand why his body leaned closer to Her’s as they walked, or why his stomach kept doing little flips when Her eyes would fall from scanning over the diner and land on his.

He felt so unbelievably safe and calm. Hell, he’d never felt like this. Like the sky could fall and it would be fine, because the body across from his in the booth would catch it. 

This was a really weird curse.

“You’re going to take notes,” She said, pushing a stack of books across the table that She must have pulled out of her ass. “I’ll look for something online.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. The fucking hair was in his face again. “Why do I have to do the notes-“

“Because I have better handwriting, and you have my hands.” She handed him a notebook and pencil, and their fingers brushed, sending small sparks of electricity through Dean’s blood. “Tell me if you find something.”

“Nah, sweetheart. I think I’ll have some pie and do the online research-”

Dean had started to push everything back across the table, but he froze at the glare on Her face. It was downright domineering, and did weird things to his brain. He felt fuzzy. 

“You’re doing notes.” She grunted, and Dean definitely felt at least a little dizzy. “That’s it.”

His voice was high and almost bratty in his own ears. He didn’t like it. “But-“

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.”

Dean tensed. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare-“

“You wanna bet?”

She’d won the argument again. Those were the arguments Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to be able to talk his way out of anything with Her. To smirk and wink and tease Her until she broke rank from Sam’s side, and Dean didn’t have to do the stupid parts of the cases anymore. He hadn’t taken notes in years. He hated taking notes, and he wanted to keep pushing until order was restored and She was doing the notes—she usually loved doing the notes—but Her body had other ideas.

His mouth couldn’t figure out how to open and snap at Her. His body was molded and frozen into the seat whenever She’d look at him, and something kept humming in his chest whenever She’d talk. He was taking notes because he couldn’t remember how not to—how to grab the laptop or point at Her with a stern finger—and Dean’s was writing fast and neat, and his hand wasn’t cramping.

His foot kept aching to inch forward and press on Her calf. His fingers kept wanting to reach out and trace Her jaw. Dean wanted to sit on Her lap—he could never say that one aloud—because his body seemed to think it would be comfortable. 

This curse was insane. He didn’t need to try and act like Her anymore, because his body—Her body—still seemed to remember how She was supposed to move. He found his hands spinning the pen between Her fingers like he’d seen her do a million times. His legs were crossed on the booth instead of spread under the table. He ordered a burger, but he couldn’t eat it. It was too greasy and heavy, and he already felt a little sick from just one bite. 

She’d ordered chicken nuggets, and put Her usual disgusting amount of ketchup on the plate, but barely touched them.

They smelled really good. Dean was starving, his mouth watering as he couldn’t stop staring at them—or Her, in his body, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that—and when She glanced up at him, Her eyes flicked to the burger in front of him.

They traded plates without a word. And Dean had never seen himself eat before, but he finally understood why Sam was always so annoyed with him. She inhaled that thing, chewing loudly and wiping Her mouth with the back of her hand, licking her fingers clean and making disgusting smacking sounds-

The sounds should’ve been disgusting. Instead they settled in Dean’s gut, lighting a small fire he didn’t know how to stop feeding. He couldn’t figure out how to not stare at Her, arms braced on the table and brow furrowed as she read something on the laptop screen. 

He had to excuse himself to go get more drinks. 

“One beer.” He muttered, then immediately cringed. Beer sounded foul to his mouth. “Actually, make it a milkshake.”

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.

“What flavor, sweetheart?” The server asked, and Dean frowned. Being called sweetheart was weird.

He responded with Her usual order—hopefully that would satisfy his unwelcome craving—and someone off the side cleared the throat.

“You gonna answer me?”

A hand landed on Dean’s arm, and he flinched. It felt clammy and wrong on his body. Like a weight that settled into his bones and sent a creeping, itchy feeling over his skin.

He turned to see a fairly tall, well-built man grinning at him with an almost predatory smile. It made his body go rigid, almost shrinking in on itself.

“Are you, uh,” he frowned. “You talking to me?”

The man laughed. It was too loud, with not warmth, and echoed like a gunshot in his skull. “Course I am, sweetheart. I don’t see any other pretty girls ‘round.”

Oh.

Dean was the poor chick being hit on. 

And he hated it. His body hated it. Not only was this man’s touch wrong, his voice was wrong. It slithered over Dean’s gut and chest, making everything in him recoiled and balk, because that was not how he was supposed to be called sweetheart. 

“I, um,” he glanced back to the booth, frowning when he realized She was gone. “Listen, dude, I’m not-“

“Dude?” The man laughed. “We can do better than that, baby-“

Dean might have visibly recoiled. He hated baby, only one voice felt like it was supposed to call him baby, even if it never had-

He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-

“What’s going on?”

That was Dean’s own voice. And there was a large presence behind him that felt reliable. That his body wanted to lean back into.

When Dean turned, She was right there with narrowed eyes. 

He didn’t love how he immediately felt better, and softer, and a little light-headed.

“Hey, man, you gotta wait your turn-“

“My turn?” She snorted. “Walk away from hi- her, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass. I can do that now.”

She puffed Her chest, and—as soon as his brain remembered how to not be static warmth—Dean would have to talk to Her about not abusing his body for unapproved bar fights.

The man scoffed. “Bro, there ain’t no way this is your girl-“

“She is.” Her voice was dry, her face flat. “In more ways than you can imagine. Go.”

Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants. 

Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly. 

It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go. When the man walked away and She started talking, he never wanted Her to shut up.

“You-“ She swallowed, shaking Her head slightly. “Never mind. I found it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “It?”

“How to tell Sam.

“Oh.” He paused, mostly staring at her as the words sank in, and letting out a long breath of relief escape him when they did. “Awesome.”

She raised Her brows. “You’re pro switching back now?”

“I’ve always been pro switching back-“

“You said it wasn’t that urgent.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, sweetheart. What’d you find.”

She gave him an odd look—Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurt, annoyance, or absolute indifference—but continued. “We have to work around the curse.”

“What the hell does-“

“We can’t tell Sam that I’m you and you’re me. Every time we have the call gets dropped, or something loud has drowned us out, Sam’s literally fucking hangs up-“

“I know,” Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a flat look. “I was there for all of that-“

“Shut up. My point is every time we’ve tried to explicitly tell him, he hasn’t heard us. So what if we just don’t?”

Dean frowned at Her. “Your solution is to just freakin’… give up? Like we’re a kiddie soccer team that lost one to many matches, and we’re gonna quit and cry about it?”

“No, Dean. My goal is to not say it, but let Sam figure it out himself.”

“How-“

“Think of something only you and Sam know about. Something you’d never disclose to anyone else.” A wide, broad grin was stretching over Her face. Dean’s face.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

“We’ve got a few of those kinds of secrets, but I’m not-“

“You don’t have to tell me. You have to tell Sam, in my voice. Just like I’m going to say one of our secrets in your voice.”

It was a smart plan, and it would probably work. Sam knew She and Dean were being so annoying and weird about each other, so they wouldn’t be spilling deep, dark secrets anytime soon. Sam would hear them, and he was smart, so he’d figure them out. 

But Dean was mostly stuck on the last part of that sentence.

“You and Sammy have secrets?”

She rolled Her eyes. “We’re friends. Of course we have secrets.”

“About what?”

“It’s not a secret if I tell you.”

She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold-

Jesus. 

“Whatever.” Dean muttered. He needed to get away from Her now. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “Can you hold it?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I-“

“I don’t want you peeing in my body.”

Dean snorted. “Are you freakin’ serious-“

“Yes! You’ll have to wipe-“

“I know how to wipe, sweetheart. And you’re gonna need to take me to piss eventually-“

Dean could swear She blushed. He blushed. Goddamnit. 

“I’d hold it.” She snapped, standing a little taller. “You can go back at the motel, where I can go with you.”

“Why would you need to go with me-“

“I don’t want you touching me there, Dean!” Her voice was a low, hushed shout. “It’s- You don’t get to- I’d need to wipe, and make sure you didn’t look!”

“It’s just a pussy,” he said Her name slowly, and She looked like she was going to kill him.

His horrible body—Her body—wanted to either give in or push harder, until She snapped him in half. 

It seemed to like the idea of Her giving him anything at all.

Dean could work with that.

“Dean, I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I! It’s just a body, ” He sneered, and really wished She was taller. It was hard to be firm and authoritative when She was bigger. 

When this was over, he’d probably respect Her a little more. She shouted and him and Sammy all the time without ever flinching.

“Look, I get that this is weird as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

 “You haven’t seen it before. It’s my vagina, Dean, and you don’t get to see it now. Hold your piss.”

Suddenly, it clicked. She cared that Dean would be touching Her. If it was Sam, She wouldn’t give a shit.

But Dean had lost the right to touch Her there when he’d decided he could never hold Her.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Past Dean had understood that She deserved better, and She shouldn’t have to live Her whole life with a target on Her back. Past Dean had known that She’d find better, and he’d be forgotten in a few years, and it was better for his to have another good thing slip through his fingers rather than hold it and break it. Past Dean just wanted Her to be happy and safe, and She’d never be both as long as She was attached to him.

Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach. 

Dean opened his mouth to say something—not an apology, because he’d make that choice in every life to keep Her safe—but before he could, She was moving. Grabbing the hook of Dean’s arm and pulling him out of the diner.

“That’s my body, Dean.” She snapped. “You’re peeing at the motel.”

Dean grumbled an agreement, and didn’t fight all that hard. He had bigger worries. She was pulling him through the parking lot, and he was letting Her. Shit, he was trying to jog a little to keep up with Her, maybe fall into her side. Just fall into Her. She opened the Impala door and he scowled, but let Her help him inside. Her hand touched his lower back again, and it set off fireworks around his ribs and through his intestines.

He felt weirdly warm and gooey, his skin was tingling again, and when he shifted slightly in his seat he could feet something wet between his legs-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-

They needed to fix this right fucking now. 

End Note: Brace for incoming smut and silliness and angst. Brewing a perfect storm over here.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

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@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey

@and-i-wish @jsudsgf

[4linos]

empty words

hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: you thought you’d tell him about the pregnancy with excitement, but his cold rejection shatters your hopes. Now, with everything crumbling, you must figure out how to move forward.

warnings: asshole!!! hyunjin, pregnancy/pregnant mentions, huge argument & just overall really angsty.

wc: 1338

You sat on the edge of the bed, the test still warm in your hands, its small white stick almost mocking you as it proved everything you'd been afraid to admit. Positive. You knew it deep down, didn't you? The nausea, exhaustion, and little, subtle changes in your body. But seeing it in black and white made you feel as if the world had stopped. Your heart raced in your chest, a deafening thrum that overshadowed everything else. You'd imagined this moment numerous times before, but none of them matched the crushing sense of terror and uncertainty that gripped you right now.

What were you going to do? You didn't even know where to start. You'd hoped to start a family with him someday. Hyunjin. You imagined him holding the test, his face beaming with excitement, making plans and talking about everything you two could do to prepare. But now that you saw the reality of the situation, you're afraid.

How would he react? Would he be happy? Or would he be disappointed? Will he panic and push you away? Your mind swirled with questions, each one more pressing than the previous. You thought that, whatever happened, the two of you would be able to handle it together. You've always been able to handle things right? But now, with the test in your hand, everything seemed uncertain, as though a single word from him could shatter everything.

You shook your head, trying to focus. You couldn’t let this news get to you before you even told him. He’d be home soon, and you needed to figure out how to tell him.

You hid the test in the drawer and closed it, trying to push it to the back of your mind. Dinner. You should focus on dinner. You still had some time, so maybe you could make something nice, something that would ease the tension. You wanted everything to be perfect when he walked through the door, so you could tell him with some semblance of normality, of calmness. He would be okay, wouldn’t he?

But when the door clicked open, it was anything but normal. The usual excitement you felt when you heard his footsteps in the hallway was gone. It was like the air had changed, a heaviness settling between you before he even entered the room. He didn’t greet you with the usual teasing smile, didn’t ask about your day or tell you how much he missed you. Instead, he walked in, his face drawn, tight with something you couldn’t place. The warmth you were used to was completely absent.

"Hey, love, how was your day?" you asked, a little too cheerfully, hoping he would smile and make everything feel okay again.

He didn’t. Instead, he just grunted, his gaze flicking toward you briefly before he turned away, walking past you without saying a word.

"Do you want to have dinner now?" you asked, trying to fill the silence, trying to make things feel normal, even though everything in you screamed that nothing was normal. "I was thinking about making something, maybe pasta or—"

He scoffed, cutting you off. "You didn’t make anything?" His voice was sharp, colder than you’d ever heard it.

The words hit you like a blow in the face. You got so preoccupied with thinking about whether or not to take the test, swirling fear and anticipation, that you had entirely forgotten about dinner. You felt an overwhelming sense of shame come over you, yet it was nothing compared to how his words made you feel. You instantly looked down at the floor, avoiding his eyes, wishing you could just break down the tension in the air.

"I forgot," you confessed slowly, your voice small.

His expression darkened. Without saying anything, he turned toward the kitchen, his footsteps heavy and irritating. "I'll make something for myself," he murmured under his breath, turning away from you to begin gather food from the refrigerator. You stood there for a moment, watching him walk with displeasure with each stride.

Something within you stirred. Something was not right. You hadn't seen him this off in a long time. "Hyunjin, are you okay?" You tried again, your voice softer this time, and stepped closer to him, your heart racing in your chest. "You’re been acting distant... Is everything alright?

He didn’t turn around, but you saw his jaw tighten. His hands moved faster, the sounds of him grabbing pots and pans harsh against the stillness. Then, he scoffed again, this time louder, more frustrated. "I’m tired of everything," he muttered, not looking at you, his voice low but heavy with frustration.

"What?" You didn’t know if you had heard him correctly. Your breath caught in your throat as your chest tightened, a wave of dread flooding over you. You took a step closer. "What did you say?"

Hyunjin turned to face you then, his eyes cold, a deep frown etched on his face. "I said I’m tired of you. Tired of this. Tired of everything. The relationship. Everything about it. It’s been building up, and I just… I don’t know anymore." His voice was sharp, cutting through you like a knife. The words hit you harder than you had imagined.

Your legs went weak, but you held yourself upright, willing your body to stay steady. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, like you were afraid that if you spoke too loudly, the fragile piece of reality you were holding onto would shatter.

"Hyunjin, you’re not making sense. This isn’t… you."

His gaze turned even colder, and he looked at you like you were a stranger. "I’m suffocated," he spat. "I can’t do this anymore. I can’t breathe when I’m with you. Everything feels like it’s just… weighing me down. I’m done."

The words struck you like a stab to the chest. Your breath caught, and the world around you started spinning. You wanted to scream, ask why, and beg him to stay. You couldn't lose him like way. But the hurt in his eyes and the finality in his tone told you it was already over. You swallowed hard, tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. Not yet.

"Hyunjin…" you muttered, struggling to maintain your voice. "What are you saying?" "You want us to break up?" He nodded, without a trace of emotion on his face. "Yes," he responded, almost coldly. "I don't want this anymore. You can keep everything, the apartment, all the stuff; I don't care. I just need out. I need to be alone."

A heavy silence hung between you, the weight of his words settling like a thick fog around you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to make this make sense, but the words wouldn’t come.

You can’t leave. You can’t do this to me.

But instead, you just choked on your breath, the sting of tears becoming unbearable.

"You want to leave," you whispered quietly, the finality of your words making your throat ache. "Then go." You did not want to show him how much he was hurting you just yet. You didn't want him to see the brokenness in your eyes. Hyunjin didn't hesitate. He grabbed his jacket and keys and proceeded toward the door without saying anything.

The slam of the door as he left rang around the room like a bullet punctured the air. You slumped to the floor, your body trembling, tears finally spilling freely as you held your stomach, your hand reflexively pressing against the growing life inside you.

The sobs wracked through you, each one pulling at your chest as you sat alone. You had pictured a future where the two of you were making a life together, but it seemed so far away. You'd never felt so small and alone.

"Why?" you cried into the emptiness.

And then, as your hand rested over your belly, you whispered, through your tears, "I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to do this alone."

//

[cceana]

Arcane Highschool!AU 2

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 6.1k words, part 1 here, established relationships except for vi's, Star athlete!vi x band!reader, Childhoodbestfriend!caitlyn, New kid!jinx x Class president!reader, Troublemaker!sevika x Tutor!reader, Artist!ekko x Muse!reader, Bestfriend!jayce, and Enemies to lovers!viktor

A/N - lmaoo.. sorry yall for not posting for like a really long time ;-; studied my azz off last week which was def worth it cuz i did so feaking well on that exam hehe. this was lowk rushed bcuz i rlly wanted to post. hope yall enjoy queens (> 3 <)

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

The weeks following that unexpected late-night moment between you two felt different—charged with something new, something unspoken but lingering in the air. It wasn’t just the occasional brush of hands when walking side by side, or the way she’d glance at you across the cafeteria before looking away just a little too fast. It was the warmth in her voice when she teased you, the way she stuck around after practice just to sit beside you while you tuned your instrument.

She never said why she stayed. You never asked.

But you both knew.

It started with one call—past midnight, your phone buzzing against your nightstand.

“I can’t sleep,” she said when you answered, her voice rough with exhaustion.

You could hear the faint sound of cars passing outside, the rustle of her shifting under the covers.

“You’re calling me because you can’t sleep?” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded at the thought of her thinking about you this late.

“Yeah,” she admitted. A pause. “Your voice is kinda nice.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Oh.”

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

You smiled, rolling onto your side.

From that night on, the calls became routine. Sometimes she ranted about her coach pushing her too hard. Sometimes you talked about your music, your fingers unconsciously tracing the melodies you’d played that day. Other times, you simply listened to each other breathe, neither willing to hang up first.

one day, she told you about a celebration party her teammates where hosting

She invited you.

“It won’t be the worst thing ever,” she had said, arms crossed as she leaned against your locker. “Just show up for a little bit.”

You’d raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you want me at parties?”

Her lips had twitched, almost like she was fighting back a smirk. “Since I realized you never leave that damn band room. It’s tragic, really.”

So here you were, awkwardly lingering near the kitchen, nursing a half-empty cup of soda while bodies moved and music pulsed around you.

And she? She was in the center of it all—laughing, drinking, surrounded by teammates who treated her like some kind of legend. She belonged here, in the chaos and the noise.

You? Not so much.

You should have left an hour ago, but something held you in place. Maybe it was the way she kept glancing at you between conversations, like she was making sure you were still there. Or maybe it was the warmth in her eyes whenever your gazes met.

Either way, you weren’t leaving just yet.

You had just decided to step outside for some air when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned, blinking up at her. She was closer than expected, her usual cocky smirk in place—but there was something else in her expression, something tense.

“Just getting some air,” you replied. “It’s suffocating in here.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Come on.”

Before you could respond, she was leading you out the back door, weaving through the crowd with ease. The cool night air hit you instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat of the party.

You leaned against the railing of the back porch, inhaling deeply. “Finally.”

She chuckled beside you, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shot her a look. “You asked me to.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring out into the night. Then, in a voice softer than you’d ever heard from her, she said, “Yeah. I did.”

Something about the way she said it sent your heartbeat into a sprint.

You shifted, watching her carefully. “Why?”

She exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Because I wanted you here.”

Your breath caught.

She turned to face you fully now, her expression serious—no teasing smirk, no sarcastic remark to deflect. Just raw honesty.

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be around,” she started, voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I’m stubborn, I’m hot-headed, and I probably piss you off at least twice a day.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “At least.”

Her lips quirked up slightly before she continued. “But you… you’re different. You challenge me. You don’t put up with my crap, and somehow, you still—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure she could hear it.

“I keep catching myself looking for you in a crowd,” she admitted, shifting her weight like she was forcing herself to stay still. “I wait outside your rehearsals, even when I could’ve left. I call you at night because your voice is the only thing that makes me feel like the world isn’t spinning too fast.”

She took a shaky breath.

“I like you.”

The words hung between you, thick with weight, with meaning.

“I don’t just like you, actually,” she corrected, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I—I think I’m falling for you.”

You stared at her, stunned, unable to form words.

Her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was bracing for rejection. “If that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, just—”

You stepped forward before she could finish, reaching for her hand.

She froze as your fingers slid between hers, as you squeezed lightly.

“You idiot,” you murmured, your chest aching with something overwhelming. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t fully considered that possibility.

Then, after a beat, she huffed out a laugh. “God, we’re dumb.”

You grinned. “Yeah. A little bit.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked nervous. “Can I—?”

You didn’t let her finish. Instead, you pulled her down into a kiss.

It wasn’t perfect—she was clumsy, caught off guard, but warm and sure the moment she realized what was happening. One of her hands came up to cup your face, rough and calloused but impossibly gentle.

When you finally pulled away, she was breathless, eyes flickering between yours.

“So,” she murmured, voice lower now. “Does this mean I can start calling you my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you like it.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to think. “Unfortunately.”

She grinned, lacing your fingers together. “Good.”

And as she pulled you back inside—back into the noise and the chaos of the party—it didn’t feel overwhelming anymore.

Not when she was right beside you.

Not when she was yours.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

The days that followed felt like something out of a dream. The kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from.

She had been true to her word—she didn’t want to let you go again. Every morning, you’d wake up to a good morning text, and by the afternoon, she’d have already made plans for the two of you, whether it was a quiet café visit, a stroll through the city, or simply lounging in her estate’s massive library, reminiscing about the past between pages of old books.

She had slipped back into your life as if she had never left it.

And yet, there was something new about this—something deeper, sweeter

Like the way she’d always find an excuse to touch you, whether it was resting her head on your shoulder when she was tired, bumping her knee against yours under the table, or absentmindedly playing with your fingers when you sat next to each other.

Or the way she would wait for you. Even when she was drowning in responsibilities, she would insist on having lunch together, texting you just to tell you something random about her day.

Or the way she’d steal your snacks.

Without fail, if you had food, she would somehow find a way to take at least a bite. “Sharing is caring,” she’d say, plucking a fry from your plate before you could react. And if you tried to call her out on it? She’d just smirk, pop whatever she took into her mouth, and say, “You love me, so it doesn’t count as stealing.”

(And you couldn’t even argue. Because she was right.)

Then there were the nights.

Those were your favorite.

She was always busiest during the day, but at night? That was when she really let herself be soft with you.

Like when you’d both curl up on the couch, watching movies that neither of you paid attention to because she was too busy tracing lazy patterns against your arm, or playing with your fingers, or resting her head in your lap with the most peaceful look on her face.

Or the nights when she’d show up at your door unannounced, eyes heavy with exhaustion but still full of warmth as she mumbled, “Just needed to see you.”

You’d let her in without question, and she’d collapse onto your bed with a tired sigh, reaching for you without hesitation. “Come here,” she’d murmur, voice softer than usual, more vulnerable. And when you settled next to her, she’d just hold you, burying her face against your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping her steady.

Or—your personal favorite—the way she looked at you.

Soft. Fond. Like you were the most precious thing she had ever laid eyes on.

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch in her study, she nudged you with her foot. “Hey.”

You looked up from your book. “Hmm?”

She grinned. “Let’s make cupcakes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I want cupcakes,” she repeated matter-of-factly, already standing up and stretching. “And I want to make them with you.”

You laughed, setting your book aside. “Since when do you bake?”

“I don’t,” she admitted, offering a hand to pull you up. “But I’m a fast learner. Come on.”

You sighed but let her drag you to the kitchen. What followed was absolute chaos.

Flour on the counter, sugar accidentally spilled on the floor, a mess of ingredients neither of you fully measured properly. She kept getting distracted, flicking flour at you, grinning mischievously every time you yelped in protest.

At some point, she wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder as you mixed the batter. “I think we make a good team.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s because I’m doing all the work.”

She hummed, tightening her hold on you slightly. “And you do it so well.”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling away. “Okay, okay, let’s get these in the oven before I distract you too much.”

Too late, you thought, but you didn’t say it aloud.

Instead, you watched as she carefully placed the tray in the oven, a proud gleam in her eyes despite the fact that neither of you had any idea if the cookies would even taste good.

It didn’t really matter.

Because moments like this—messy, chaotic, ridiculous moments with her—were worth more than any perfect, scripted day.

And when the cupcakes came out horribly burnt, she just laughed, tossed one to you, and said, “Guess we’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

Loving her was like standing in the eye of a storm—unpredictable, consuming, and just a little dangerous.

But you never wanted to be anywhere else.

She was everything you weren’t. But in the same way that she crashed into your life like a hurricane, she had also settled into it, leaving pieces of herself in all the places she had touched.

And now, she was everywhere.

You didn’t even know when it happened, but somewhere between her dragging you into trouble and worming her way into your perfectly structured life, she had become a permanent fixture.

No, more than that.

She had become yours.

Your mornings were different now.

Instead of waking up to your alarm and immediately drowning in responsibilities, you woke up to her texts.

chaos incarnate: WAKE UP chaos incarnate: pres, you better not be ignoring me chaos incarnate: hello?? chaos incarnate: fine. i’m calling you.

And then, not even a second later, your phone would start ringing.

You groaned, answering it without opening your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“Good morning to you too, babe.”

You sighed, rolling over. “It’s four a.m.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you.”

Your heart stuttered, heat rising to your cheeks.

You hated how easily she did that.

“…We saw each other yesterday.”

“And? That was a whole eight hours ago.”

You groaned again, but this time, you couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your lips.

The entire school knew about you two.

Not because you told anyone, but because she made it impossible not to know.

She’d sling an arm over your shoulder in the halls, leaning in obnoxiously close just to see you flustered.

She’d steal your lunch, even if she had her own, just to make you roll your eyes and huff at her—because, according to her, you looked cute when you were annoyed.

She’d sit in on student council meetings—uninvited—kicking her feet up on the table like she belonged there, just to watch you glare at her.

And if anyone so much as looked at you for too long?

She’d pull you closer, smirking as she draped herself over you and drawled, “Mine.”

You pretended to be exasperated by it all.

You weren’t.

One second, she was smirking at you from across the room, her gaze sharp, teasing, full of something wild you could never quite pin down. The next, she was leaning against your desk, spinning a pen between her fingers as she sighed dramatically about how boring the student council meetings were, just to get a reaction out of you.

And sometimes—when no one else was around—she’d be quiet. Soft. Like a storm that had momentarily calmed, if only for you.

It was confusing. It was frustrating.

But it was also thrilling.

You never knew what she’d do next, but somehow, you always ended up right there with her.

“We’re skipping.”

You blinked up at her from your pile of papers. “What?”

She grinned, already grabbing your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. “I said, we’re skipping. Come on.”

You pulled back instinctively. “I can’t. I have to finish—”

“Boring,” she cut in, rolling her eyes. “You work too much. If you spend one more hour staring at those papers, you’ll turn into one.”

You crossed your arms. “And you get into trouble too much.”

She smirked. “Yeah? And yet, here you are, still standing next to me.”

You sighed, but the fight was already slipping out of you. With her, it always did.

She took advantage of your hesitation, intertwining her fingers with yours, and your heart definitely didn’t just stutter in your chest.

“Come on,” she murmured, giving your hand a squeeze. “Just for a little while?”

And just like that, you were done for.

The two of you ended up on the rooftop, the one place where no one ever checked.

She sat on the ledge, legs swinging slightly, looking up at the sky like she had never seen it before.

For a moment, she was quiet. Contemplative.

Then, without looking at you, she spoke.

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever stuck around.”

The words were soft, but something about them hit harder than anything she had ever said before.

You swallowed, watching her carefully. “You don’t make it easy.”

She laughed, a little breathless. “No. I don’t.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable in a way you never expected.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against hers where they rested on the ledge.

She went completely still.

You hesitated, pulling back slightly, but she caught your hand before you could.

Her grip was tight—like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

“You drive me crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn, and you worry too much, and you never break the rules.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

She huffed, exasperated, before turning to face you fully.

And then—before you could react—she leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

Your brain short-circuited.

She pulled back, smirking at your stunned expression, but there was something warm in her eyes, something real.

“You’re mine now,” she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You opened your mouth—probably to protest, maybe to demand an explanation—but she just squeezed your hand again, tilting her head at you.

“…Unless you don’t want to be.”

You swallowed, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

And then, slowly, you laced your fingers through hers properly, squeezing back.

“…I think I do.”

Her smirk softened into something almost gentle.

“Good,” she murmured.

— Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t sure when this became normal.

When tutoring sessions turned into something more—into lingering glances across textbooks, into stolen moments between classes, into a relationship that neither of you ever really talked about, but both of you knew was real.

It had started with her grumbling about the stupid school system, about how she didn’t need to study when she had “better things to do.” But now? Now, she was here—on time, every time, sitting across from you with a scowl like she hadn’t just walked across campus grinning at you like an idiot when she thought no one was looking.

She had changed.

Or maybe she hadn’t, and you were just seeing her differently now.

Either way, she was yours.

And that was enough.

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, realizing that, yes, you were staring, and, yes, she was very much aware of it.

“I’m not,” you lied.

She smirked. “Yeah? Then why haven’t you flipped the page in five minutes?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.

Damn it.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Didn’t take you for the distracted type, tutor.”

You sighed, closing the book. “Maybe if you actually studied, I wouldn’t have to get distracted.”

She scoffed, leaning back. “I do study.”

You gave her a look.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “I study when you make me.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Instead, she tilted her head, watching you in that way that always made your stomach do something weird.

“Why do you even put up with me?” she asked.

The question caught you off guard.

Not because you didn’t have an answer, but because she sounded genuinely curious.

Like she didn’t understand why you were still here.

Like she didn’t realize how easy it was to love her.

You frowned. “Because I want to.”

She stared at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Then, suddenly, she reached across the table, grabbing your hand.

It wasn’t gentle.

It never was with her.

But her grip was warm, steady, real.

“…Good,” she muttered, squeezing your fingers once before pulling away. “You’re stuck with me, anyway.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dating her meant learning to navigate her world.

The world of bruised knuckles and reckless grins, of sharp words and sharper instincts, of someone who had spent so long fighting that she didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t mind.

She never hurt you—not really.

But sometimes, she’d show up to your study sessions with a fresh cut on her cheek, or a bandage wrapped around her hand, or a bruise blooming on her jaw, and every time, you’d sigh, pulling out your first aid kit without saying a word.

She hated it.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

She huffed but didn’t pull away, letting you press a cotton pad to her cheek, wincing when the antiseptic stung.

“Idiot,” you muttered, brushing your thumb over her skin after you were done.

She smirked. “You love me.”

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the uninjured side of her face.

She tensed for half a second before melting into it, her fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place like she never wanted you to leave.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

There were other parts of her world, too.

Parts that had nothing to do with fights or scraped knuckles.

Like how she always walked you home, no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to.

Or how she’d steal your pens just to hear you complain about it, only to return them later with a smug grin.

Or how she’d grumble about studying, but when you fell asleep next to her, she’d pull a blanket over you without saying a word.

Or how she’d stay, even when she didn’t have to.

She wasn’t the best with words.

But she didn’t need to be.

Not when she loved you like this.

“Hey,” she called one day, leaning against your locker.

You raised a brow. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she shifted, suddenly looking a little… awkward.

Which was weird, because she was never awkward.

You frowned. “Are you—”

“I got you something,” she blurted out.

You blinked. “You what?”

She huffed, shoving something into your hands.

It was… a necklace. Simple, understated. Something you would actually wear.

You stared at it, then at her.

“…Why?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Because I wanted to.”

You looked down at it again, running your fingers over the chain.

It was nice.

And it was from her.

Your heart did that weird thing again.

“…Put it on me?” you asked softly, handing it back.

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected that, before scoffing. “You really like making me do things, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

She muttered something under her breath but moved behind you, fastening the clasp.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, and you shivered.

“…There,” she murmured.

You turned back to her, letting her see the way you were smiling. “Thank you.”

She shrugged, but her ears were red.

You grinned.

Then, impulsively, you reached up, cupping her face in your hands before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She froze.

“…You absolute menace,” she muttered after a second, her voice half-choked.

You laughed. “You love me.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way she grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as she pulled you down the hall?

That told a very different story.

— Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

The world felt different when he painted you.

Maybe it was the way his eyes softened as they traced your features, the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly in that absentminded, faraway smile. Or maybe it was the way he became so completely immersed in the moment, like nothing else existed except you, him, and the quiet hum of creation between you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—when you had become his muse, when his hands had memorized the slopes and curves of your expression more intimately than you ever could. But at some point, it became normal to sit in his studio, to let him paint you while the sun spilled golden light across the room.

At some point, it became home.

"Stay still," he murmured, his voice soft but firm.

You huffed but obeyed, shifting just slightly to get comfortable. “You know, I’m starting to think you just tell me that so I don’t walk away.”

He smirked without looking up. “Would it work?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

He chuckled, dipping his brush into a fresh stroke of color. "Then I don’t see the problem."

You watched him work, watched the way his fingers moved with practiced precision, his brow furrowing in deep focus.

It was so like him—to get completely lost in his art, in the way he captured emotions in strokes of paint. You weren’t even sure he realized how much he gave away when he worked. The quiet admiration, the unwavering patience, the unspoken tenderness in the way he committed you to canvas.

The thought made warmth curl in your chest.

He loved you.

Even in the moments when he didn’t say it outright, you felt it.

“…You’re staring,” he noted after a moment, amusement dancing in his tone.

You smirked. "So?"

"So," he mused, dabbing a final stroke onto the canvas before finally looking at you, "stay still."

You scoffed but didn’t argue.

His gaze lingered, studying you like he was committing every detail to memory.

Then, suddenly, he set the brush down, wiping his hands on a cloth before standing up and making his way toward you.

Your brows furrowed. "Are we done?"

He hummed, stopping right in front of you. "Almost."

Before you could question him, he reached out, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek.

You blinked.

“…Did you just wipe paint on me?”

His lips twitched. "Maybe."

Your jaw dropped. "You menace—"

He laughed, grabbing your hands before you could retaliate. "It’s barely anything!"

"You smudged me!"

"You’ll live."

You gasped dramatically. “I can feel it on my face—”

"Would you like me to fix it?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How?"

He smiled. "Like this."

And then, before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, right where the paint had been.

You froze.

Your heart stumbled over itself, warmth blooming beneath your skin.

"...That doesn’t count as fixing it," you mumbled, embarrassed by how breathless you sounded.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smile soft, fond.

"I disagree."

Loving him meant understanding the way he saw the world.

The way his hands itched to create, to turn fleeting emotions into something tangible.

The way he’d go silent for long stretches, caught up in his own thoughts, before suddenly dragging you into his latest project with that spark of inspiration in his eyes.

The way he loved you—not just with words, but in the way he painted you, over and over again, like he was trying to keep you forever.

And maybe, in his own way, he was.

One night, long after the city had gone quiet, you found yourself back in his studio, curled up on the couch while he worked.

You weren’t posing this time.

You were just there, watching as he sketched in his notebook, his focus unwavering even as the hours slipped by.

“…Do you ever get tired of painting me?” you asked suddenly.

He paused, looking up at you.

Then, without hesitation—"Never."

You stared at him. “You say that like it’s obvious.”

"It is obvious," he said simply, setting his notebook aside as he moved toward you.

You let him sit beside you, watching as he reached for your hand, tracing absentminded patterns along your fingers.

“…There are infinite things in the world to paint,” he murmured, his touch feather-light, reverent. “Landscapes, emotions, stories… But you?” He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. "You are my favorite."

Your breath caught.

You weren’t used to this—to his quiet, devastating sincerity.

He didn’t always say how he felt outright. He spoke in colors, in soft touches, in lingering glances over paint-stained canvases.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

“…You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, feeling your face grow warm.

He smirked. “And you love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

Instead, you tugged him closer, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just existed—wrapped in warmth, in paint-stained fingertips and whispered affections between the silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

— Bestfriend!jayce

There were moments where you still couldn’t believe this was real.

That after years of laughter, inside jokes, stolen hoodies, and whispered dreams of the future, you had ended up here—curled up next to him, his arm lazily draped around you, as if this had been inevitable from the very start.

In a way, maybe it was.

Loving him never felt like a sudden thing, never like some grand revelation that struck you out of nowhere. It had crept in slowly, weaving itself between every late-night conversation, every lingering glance, every touch that lasted just a little longer than it needed to.

And now? Now it was second nature.

He was yours.

And you were his.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

He smirked without looking up from his book. “The thing where you stare at me like I put the stars in the sky.”

You scoffed, shoving him playfully. “Get over yourself.”

He chuckled, finally turning his attention toward you. “Not denying it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Maybe I was just zoning out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or judging you.”

“Doubt it.”

You sighed, dramatic. “God, dating you is exhausting.”

“Right?” he teased. “Can’t believe you fell for me.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Can’t believe I did, either.”

His expression softened at that, his teasing smile melting into something fonder.

Then, suddenly, he reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face before letting his fingers trail down, tracing the curve of your jaw.

“…Lucky me,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just sat there, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, your heart stumbling over itself at the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something rare.

Like he had been waiting his whole life for you.

“…You’re such a sap,” you whispered.

His lips twitched. “Only for you.”

The thing about dating your best friend was that nothing really changed.

Not in the way you expected, at least.

There were still late-night fast food runs, still study sessions that turned into existential conversations, still a constant presence at your side whenever you needed him (and even when you didn’t).

But there were differences, too.

Like how he held your hand without hesitation now, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Or how he hugged you longer, pressing his face into your shoulder like he needed to be close to you.

Or how he kissed your forehead absentmindedly whenever you did something that made him proud, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Or how he whispered, "Love you," so casually, like he had always been saying it.

Like he always would.

“Okay, real talk,” he said one night, sprawled across your bed like he owned it.

You hummed, flipping a page in your book. “Mm?”

“If we weren’t dating, would you still have a crush on me?”

You blinked, giving him an unimpressed look. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one.”

You sighed, setting your book down. “We are dating.”

“But if we weren’t,” he pressed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Would you still be into me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of answer are you looking for?”

“The truth.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was really asking.

Then, with a smirk, you shrugged. “Dunno. You’re kinda annoying.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

“But,” you continued, reaching over to poke his cheek, “I’d probably be in love with you anyway.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Hopelessly in love.”

You groaned. “Why do I even like you?”

He laughed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together.

“…Because we were always meant to end up here.”

Your breath hitched.

The words were simple, said so casually, but they settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through your entire being.

Because he was right.

Every moment, every choice, every little thing that led to this—it had always been leading you here.

To him.

To this.

To something more than forever.

— Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

It still surprised you sometimes—how things had changed.

How the cold rivalry that once existed between you had melted into something warm, something constant, something that made your chest tighten in the best way whenever you so much as thought about it.

About him.

Once upon a time, you and him had been at odds with each other, a battle of sharp words and stubborn ideals. He was relentless, fiercely determined, a mind constantly working ten steps ahead. And you—well, you were the opposite. Passionate, chaotic, diving headfirst into the unknown with little concern for anything but discovery.

But now?

Now he was yours.

And God, you loved him.

“Stop working,” you whined, dramatically flopping onto his desk.

He barely spared you a glance, eyes still locked onto the notebook in front of him. “Can’t.”

“You always say that,” you huffed, watching as he furiously jotted down another equation, his pen moving like it had a will of its own.

“Because it’s always true,” he shot back, voice carrying that familiar unwavering certainty.

You rolled your eyes. “Five-minute break.”

“No.”

“Two minutes?”

“No.”

You sighed, tilting your head at him. “What could possibly be so important that you can’t take two minutes to—” You peered at his notes and blinked. “Wait. Is this…” You trailed off, recognizing the layout of a physics equation, the bold scrawl of hypotheses scattered between calculations.

He finally glanced at you, the sharp glint of his focus not dulled in the slightest. “I had a thought earlier and needed to get it down.”

You stared at him. “You had a thought so urgent that you couldn’t even pause for two seconds?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You’re crazy”

“And you’re distracting.”

“You love me, though.”

A flicker of something softened his expression. He didn’t answer immediately, just studied you with those impossibly sharp eyes, the ones that always seemed to be unraveling the mysteries of the universe—except, in that moment, they were solely on you.

“Yeah,” he murmured eventually, the intensity of it making your breath catch. “I do.��

It was rare, hearing it outright like that. He wasn’t one for grand proclamations, but when he did speak—when he let himself be honest—it always hit you like a tidal wave.

You swallowed, warmth pooling in your chest. “Then take a break.”

He sighed, exasperated but amused. Then, to your utter delight, he set his pen down.

“Two minutes,” he relented.

You grinned, holding out your arms. “Hug me.”

He stared. “…Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, like he was analyzing the request for its deeper meaning. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and pulled you against him.

You melted instantly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His arms were strong, steady—the kind of embrace that felt unshakable, like he would hold the entire world together if it meant keeping you safe.

“…Better?” he murmured.

You nodded against him. “Much.”

His fingers lingered at your back, just the faintest trace of hesitation before he fully gave in, relaxing into the embrace.

And neither of you let go.

Dating him had been an adjustment.

He wasn’t the kind to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He was driven, always looking forward, always chasing after the next big thing. His brain never stopped, his heart never wavered, his ambition burning like an unstoppable fire.

Which meant he showed affection in his own way.

Like the way he never actually said I love you, but instead muttered things like, don’t forget to eat or stay inside, it’s cold.

Like the way he pretended to be annoyed when you interrupted his work, only to immediately pull you back when you tried to leave.

Like the way he sighed every time you teased him, only to let you lace your fingers with his under desks, his grip never faltering.

And the thing was?

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One evening, you were in the library together, him completely immersed in his research while you doodled aimlessly in your notebook.

The silence was comfortable, the kind that had become second nature between you.

Then, suddenly—

“…You make me reckless.”

You blinked. “Uh. Excuse me?”

He didn’t look up, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “You make me reckless,” he repeated, almost contemplative. “It’s irritating.”

You squinted at him. “Are you… saying you love me?”

He hummed. “Statistically, it would be hard to deny.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. “Oh my God.”

He finally looked up, arching a brow. “What?”

“You just confessed your love for me like it was a scientific fact.”

“…And?”

You let out a laugh, completely endeared. “You’re unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look annoyed. If anything, there was something fond in the way he regarded you, something soft in the way he reached out, tapping his fingers against your wrist.

“…You already knew,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

Because of course you knew.

You had known for a long time now.

But hearing it—even in his own, methodical way—still sent warmth flooding through your entire being.

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I did.”

And if he squeezed your hand just a little tighter?

Well.

You didn’t mention it.

[sombaf]

Just One Drink (Before I Fall For You)

Kara had spent three days sulking in her apartment, replaying the fire over and over in her mind. She saved everyone—every single teacher, every single child. But not him. Not the firefighter who had stayed back, trying to make sure no one was left behind. She had almost had him. Almost.

Alex had finally lost patience.

“You’re coming with us tonight,” she had said, standing in Kara’s doorway with that no-nonsense big-sister stance.

Kara had tried to argue. “Alex, I—”

“No. No ‘but I’s. No excuses. You need to get out of this apartment before you start merging with your couch.”

Kara had sighed, rubbing at her temple. “It’s a lesbian bar, Alex. I’d stick out.”

Alex had smirked. “It’s not like there’s a gay dress code, Kara. Besides, the bar isn’t just for lesbians. It’s just… mostly lesbians, and other queer people.”

Kara groaned, already feeling the battle slipping away. “Alex, I’m really not in the mood to go out. And I’m straight and super boring.”

Alex smirked. “Perfect. That means there’s no pressure—just a good time, no expectations.”

Kara exhaled, long and dramatic, but she knew further resistance was pointless. “One drink. That’s it. Then I’m going home.”

Alex grinned, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Sure, sure. One drink.”

And that was how Kara had ended up here, watching as Alex and Kelly were welcomed with open arms, showered in hugs, and handed drinks before they even reached the bar.

Kara had to admit, the warmth of it all made something settle in her chest. Alex had always been so guarded, always the tough one. And yet here, she had people who loved her for who she was, people who got her.

Kara hadn’t even been sitting before the teasing had started.

“Oh, Alex, you never mentioned your little sister is such a gorgeous specimen,” one of Alex’s friends had drawled, smirking at Kara over the rim of her beer.

“Such a shame you’re straight, darling,” another sighed dramatically before taking a slow sip of their cocktail.

Kara had rolled her eyes and laughed, her protests drowned out by the cheerful music and the clink of glasses.

She had been hit on a few times again after that, all in good fun, but it was never serious. And honestly? It was kind of nice to just be here, no expectations, no pressure, just people having a good time.

The party was already in full swing, laughter spilling from every corner of the bar. Alex and Kelly were somewhere near the pool table, surrounded by friends, and Kara was comfortably settled at the bar, nursing a beer. It wasn’t like she was waiting for someone.

And yet—

When she walked in, it was like someone had turned down the volume on everything else.

She wasn’t loud. She didn’t make a scene. But somehow, the moment she entered, people noticed.

Kara noticed.

She wasn’t even sure sure why.

Maybe it was the way the dark green jumpsuit hugged her frame in all the right places, or the way the sharp, thin Louboutin heels made her legs look endless. Maybe it was the way she moved through the room—smooth, effortless, knowing exactly how much space she took up and exactly how to command attention.

Or maybe it was the way her lips curled, painted deep red like something dangerous, when she laughed at something someone said.

She wasn’t in a hurry. She took her time, greeting people as she passed, her smile easy but never careless. Calculated, almost—like she knew exactly the effect she had and wielded it effortlessly.

Kara swallowed.

She wasn’t even drinking alien alcohol, and yet suddenly, she felt a little dizzy.

The woman finally reached the bar, lingering only a moment to scan the options before slipping onto one of the free barstools.

The one right next to Kara.

Kara straightened instinctively, shifting in her seat as she tried very hard to look at something—anything—other than the graceful way the woman crossed her legs, or the way her jumpsuit dipped just slightly at the neckline, revealing smooth skin and the soft, tempting curve where bare met fabric.

The bartender didn’t even ask.

“Usual?” they said, already reaching for something behind a hidden cabinet.

The woman hummed her approval, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the bar. “You always remember.”

The bartender smiled as they pulled out the bottle, a top-shelf whiskey Kara hadn’t seen them offer to anyone else. “Hard to forget.”

That earned a quiet chuckle. The bartender poured a glass of rich amber liquid and slid it across to her, no questions, no hesitation.

Kara watched as she took the glass, her fingers delicate against the crystal.

Only then did she turn, facing Kara fully for the first time, and—God.

Piercing green eyes. Sharp, clear, intentional in the way they held Kara’s gaze.

A flicker of heat curled in Kara’s stomach, unexpected and unsettling.

And then, without meaning to, she heard it.

The slow, steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Kara tried to ignore it—she never focused on things like that, not in casual interactions—but for some reason, it stood out. Unhurried, unshaken. As if the brunette never let anything rattle her.

The woman smirked, tilting her glass slightly before bringing it to her lips. “So,” she mused, her voice rich and smooth, “are we the only two sober ones left?”

Kara blinked, taking a second longer than she should have to respond.

“Oh—uh, yeah. Looks like it.”

The woman’s lips twitched, eyes still on her. “Lucky me.”

Kara let out a soft breath of laughter, shifting in her seat, but her fingers tightened around her glass. Her grip could shatter it if she weren’t careful. “Yeah, well. Alcohol doesn’t really do much for me.”

That arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “That so?”

Kara nodded, forcing herself to look away, but it didn’t help. Her own pulse had picked up, and her senses—usually so easy to tune out—were suddenly locked onto her.

The faintest rustle of fabric as the woman shifted against the barstool. The warmth of her skin radiating in the small space between them. And her scent—God, her scent.

Kara had smelled thousands of scents before, cataloged them all in the back of her mind. But this one—warm and deep, something dark and spiced with a hint of vanilla—wrapped around her like a slow burn. It was intoxicating in a way nothing had ever been before.

She swallowed.

“Alien biology,” she added, clearing her throat.

Most people reacted when she said that. Usually, there was at least a blink of surprise, a brief hesitation.

The woman didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she leaned in slightly, just enough that Kara caught the soft exhale of her breath, the faintest shift in her heartbeat—just a little faster now, like she was aware of the space between them.

And then Kara saw it—so brief she might have missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention.

The woman’s pupils dilated, just a fraction, just for a second.

Her eyes flicked over Kara’s face, assessing, considering.

“Convenient,” she murmured.

Kara exhaled a quiet laugh, though it came out softer than she intended. Something about the way she said it—low and knowing—sent a shiver down her spine. “For some things.”

The woman took another slow sip of her drink, eyes lingering for just a second too long before she finally extended a hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, voice like honey and smoke. “I’m Lena.”

Kara stared at the hand for half a second longer than necessary before shaking it.

The touch was steady, deliberate. Lena’s fingers were cool at first, but the heat between them rose fast, burning through Kara like a wildfire.

She almost pulled away too quickly but stopped herself at the last second.

“Kara,” she said, a little breathless.

Lena’s fingers curled slightly before she let go, as if dragging out the moment just a little longer.

And for a second, Kara swore she heard it—Lena’s heartbeat stuttering, just the faintest skip, so fleeting she wasn’t sure if it had happened at all.

“Kara,” Lena repeated then, red lips curling slightly.

And maybe it was the way she said it, slow and smooth, like she was testing how Kara’s name would sound on her tongue later.

Maybe it was the whiskey-warm rasp in her voice, or the way those sparkling eyes lingered, just long enough to make Kara wonder if she was imagining things.

Or maybe it was the way Kara’s senses—so sharp, so attuned��had locked onto her without permission, as if her own body had already decided something she wasn’t ready to admit.

But suddenly, straight felt like a label that didn’t quite fit the way it used to.

Full story here😉

[madthetruemad]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 24 | Brand New Day

You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Fic Masterlist

Sunday took you to a place that looked and felt so familiar. Flowers bloomed all around for the eye could see. You wondered why you haven’t found this place before.

“Jing Yuan brought you here all the time in your past life.”

“Really?”

You watched Sunday carefully as he stopped and turned to stand in front of you, his smile was soft as he held out his hands for you to take. You took a moment for yourself, your eyes wandering from flower to flower before smiling yourself, “did you know that you would win?”

“For a long time I didn’t.”

You closed your eyes, “you promise it won’t hurt?”

“I promise… it’ll be like drifting off into a sweet dream.”

“It won’t be a nightmare?”

“Never a nightmare. Not for you.”

You felt him press a kiss to your forehead, his lips were soft and warm, and you realized how different it felt than when he would kiss you in his other form, “to forget the pain,” and he was right. When you felt your body start to fall and he catches you so easily, it didn’t hurt at all. I felt at peace when you finally… drifted off… into sle…ep…

Though the moment that you did it felt like you were snapping your eyes open and sitting up in bed. You looked around almost frantically until you realized that you were in your room, your bedroom in your father’s castle that is.

“Princess,” a maid called from outside, “you better be ready when I get in there! You have an audience today and I refuse for you to be late!”

The maid who was usually badgering you was named Lizette, it was nice to hear her voice again.

“Come on princess! You know how she can get!”

Gepard too? He was here?

Was all of that… a bad dream? You shook your head, it couldn’t be.

Getting out of bed, you went straight for your door, opened it, and rushed out all while still in your nightgown.

“Princess,” both Lizette and Gepard called out but you were already down the hall causing the two to chase after you.

You headed straight for the throne room where you could already hear a few voices talk to one another which wasn’t the norm for your father. If anything he was as antisocial as a brick wall.

“Princess, wait!”

You didn’t listen as you opened the door. You didn’t venture further into the throne room as both your father, Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, and a girl you haven’t see before turned to look at you.

“What is-“

Your father was the first to speak up as Gepard and Lizette finally caught up to you, “daughter! How many times do I have to tell you not to run around in your nightgown!”

You ignored him as your eyes landed on both Sunday and Jing Yuan, the two people who shouldn’t even be standing next to each other which was when the unknown girl turned to your father, “your highness, with all due respect, may we talk to her in private?”

Your father gave you a disapproving look before agreeing and leaving the throne room.

“Y-“

Sunday cut you off, “you probably have many questions.”

“Obviously,” you said, “what is going on?!”

The unknown girl stepped towards you, “my name is Robin.”

“Sunday’s sister?”

She nodded, “just as you died, Jing Yuan reset time.”

“Reset it? So he-“

She nodded as Jing Yuan walked towards you and held out his hand for you to take, “I went far back into the past with knowledge of the future I shouldn’t have. But… I decided to take that knowledge and save Sunday’s sister, however, by saving her you died in her place.”

Sunday spoke up next, “but there was still a way for you to live again, though, it did take about three hundred years for your soul to come back.”

“But how? You didn’t have all of your power,” you said as you fitted your hand into Jing Yuan’s palm.

“For you, my power can exceed anything, even if it is locked away.”

“If that was your plan, why did you send me away?”

“I felt I didn’t deserve you… you died by my hand, so many times.”

“But you reset it each time.”

“That I did.”

He interlocked your fingers together before you gently pulled your hand away, “so what now?”

“I hope to make you my fiancé and my empress, if you’ll allow it.”

You smiled at that, “and if I refuse?”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to win your affections.”

You turned away and motioned for Gepard and Lizette to follow you, “I look forward to it, dear Emperor.”

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[zapernz]

dont you have a thing for sub sam 🥳 HERE YOU GOO. im not a writer, so I will not be posting this. I just wanted to share my thoughts about subby sam because I know you're a big fan. had this after you posted that one linkhjhkjnms

“you really wanna use it on me?” Sam asks. “it” being the pocket pussy he owned. A few months back, he had sent you a video of him fucking it. By mistake, of course! at least that's what he says. He was apparently drunk and not thinking straight. “yeah,” you push him on the bed, on his back. the boy adjusts himself to lay back on his elbows. “you're fucking with me.” he shakes his head. “no way you'd do something like that. you're too.. shy.” “it's not like im saying im gonna replace the toy.” you roll your eyes. “it'd be amazing if you did.” he smirks, tilting his head to the side. “ew, no.” its not that you were a virgin, you just didn't want to have sex with sam. as hot as he is, he's kind of a whore.

sooner or later, you had him moaning, staring at the place where he connected with the toy. “fuck, stop. er—I mean.. d..on't stop.” he pants, throwing his head back. “my fuckin’ god..” he starts rolling his hips up into the hole of his toy. “you don't know how bad I wish this was you.” his thrusts get a little faster. “pleasepleaseplease lemme fuck you..” he knits his eyebrows together, choking out a moan. “no, you're not good enough.” you reply, making him whine.

“I can't cum.” he reaches for one of your hands and leads it to his neck. “gotta.. just... stay there.” he mumbles. “jesus christ. you like to be choked? guess it's not that surprising. you look like a freak who'd like that shit.” your insults only spurred him on. “hhuuh,” he whimpers. “yeah, whatever!” sam manages to say. “can.. you do that for me? ‘m already letting you fuck me w—mmn..” he sucks in a sharp gasp after whining from how wet and tight the toy felt around his cock. “with this..” he holds onto the plushy, fake tit of the toy. suddenly, he pulls out of it and leads your other hand to his dick. “do it, cmon. please?” he asks nicely (out of desperation) you give in a jack him off, enjoying the sloppy wet noises of your hand going from tip to base. “hhoh my god. mmn, please. yeah just like that.” sam moans, and you grip his neck even tighter. “gonna—mmh! fu—uhnm,” he cums into your hand.

— 🐆

oh my fucking god please feel free to bless my inbox anytime holy shit this is insane nutted so hard what im actually lost for words

[sugarplumkneecaps]

hiiiiii, i saw you were taking shadow the hedgehog x reader requests! I was hoping it would be okay if i requested one? Can i have a shadow the hedgehog x reader (romatic) where shadow when the readers had a really bad day just holds them close and cuddles them after he finally gets them ti admit what happend? And maybe he starts to play with the readers hair, because he knows it brings him comfort when someone does so with his quills? (I like to headcannon lol that shadow pats out his quills when hes idle because it provides comfort due to it reminds him of how maria used to do something similar)

A/N: I feel like this is so on brand for him and love the HC you have for why his idle animation is what it is! I hope I can do your request some justice <3

Comfort

Pairing: Shadow x Reader C/W: none Genre: Wholesome, cuddling, fluff, playing with hair

Life really had a cruel sense of humor, didn’t it? Everything that could have possibly gone wrong today absolutely had. You woke up late, your hair was an absolute mess that was beyond saving, and searching for a hat only made you even more late. Your car had issues starting up, so you had to beg your neighbor to help jumpstart it to get it running again (and you hoped with everything you had that it would start again when you needed to return home. Upon arriving to work, you were lectured and written up for your tardiness, your supervisor having very little patience with everyone but especially you. Customers screamed at you more so than usual, complaining about different orders being wrong in ways they had expected you to figure out on your own. Still, as unjustified as it was, it earned you another talking to about your performance. And the cherry on top was, of course, slipping and covering yourself in the large bucket of sauce you were carrying to the fridge. You did everything you could to try to get it out of your uniform, alas it was an effort in futility.

The only thing that possibly went right was that whatever hoping and praying you did that morning allowed your car to run again. Another downside, however, was that even with the windows rolled all the way down, your seat still stunk of the sauce you were covered in. Cursing the universe, you peeled your uniform off and immediately got in the shower to wash yourself. The warm water did wonders against your skin, washing away your tough exterior. You slunk down to your knees, crying softly as the warm water hit you.

“Love?” Shadow’s voice cut through the sound of the shower. You pulled yourself up, doing your best to compose yourself before he saw you.

“I’m in the shower!” you called back, attempting to sound at the very least neutral. It came off somewhat awkwardly and caught in your throat, almost making you choke on the words.

“Alright, I’ll get dinner set up for you.”

You rushed through the rest of your nightly routine, wiping at the redness under your eyes but to no avail. Shaking the feeling of knowing Shadow might notice, you did your best to fake a smile. Exiting the bathroom, you found dinner put together in a nice display in the center of the table. It was takeout night, and Shadow worked closer to all your favorite eateries. The sight of your favorite cuisine placed lovingly at your spot made your eyes water all over again.

“Everything alright?” Shadow’s voice was dripping with worry.

“Yes! I just appreciate you grabbing dinner,” you smiled, wiping at your eyes in a quick fashion before taking your seat.

For the most part, you both ate in silence, the only thing hanging in the air being your over the top attempts to try to compliment Shadow further. Much like your address in the shower, it came off as forced and awkward. Not that you were a stranger to complimenting your partner, but this felt akin to nonstop yapping than true appreciation. Shadow only thanked you each time, reassuring you it was no issue, and watching you intently.

With dinner done, the inspiration to ask Shadow to watch a movie with you came over you. In reality, you probably should’ve gone to bed, but you were determined to try to at least have a pleasant evening. Shadow obliged, even as his eyebrows knitted with concern. Quickly rummaging through your DVDs, you chose a film haphazardly, shoved it into the disc player and plopped yourself down next to Shadow.

He settled in next to you, a light chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You wanted to watch “Idiocracy”? I thought you hated this movie.” The title stared at you as you realized you had completely blown your cover. You scrambled to figure out a way to cover your blunder.

“Y-yeah! I figured, why not give it another chance? There are so many good meme moments!” you laughed nervously, clicking pressing play and readying yourself to suffer through the film. You truly felt the film was made as a social experiment, perhaps even one with the potential to be used as torture. You had watched it once with your friend and it filled you with a rage that you could not describe. The same friend had given you a copy of your own for your collection of movies as a gag gift, to which you swore up and down you would never subject yourself to it again.

Of course it would be today of all days that you eat your words.

Shaking his head in protest, Shadow reached over and paused the film, sensing your doom. “Alright. What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange.”

You swallowed hard, working at the lump forming in your throat, “nothing! I’m fine, let’s start the movie-”

Your outstretched hand was grasped by Shadow’s, preventing you from keeping up with this facade. His crimson eyes were intense as they searched your face, his smooth voice serious, “tell me. We promised to not keep things from each other. Let me help.”

As if a dam had been broken, your eyes welled with tears and they poured down your cheeks. “Today has just been-“ hic “the worst.” And just as he had asked, you spilled everything. How you woke up late, your car wouldn’t start, how awful work had been, everything. He listened intently, his hand moving to caress your cheek before pulling you into an embrace. You sat there for awhile, your shoulders heaving as you cried.

Shadow pulled away for an instant, moving to the disc player and ejected the wretched movie in favor of one of your comfort films. He moved silently into the kitchen, filling up a water bottle and gathering up some of your favorite snacks. You wiped at your wet face, watching on curiously.

He set everything down before you and sat once again next to you, pulling you into his arms. You did little to prevent the shift, feeling a great amount of comfort from his touch. The movie started up, the opening scenes working magic on your nerves. You exhaled a much needed breath.

A gentle smile stretched along Shadow’s lips as he moved his hand up and began to stroke your hair. The soothing sensation rivaled the work of the Sandman himself as your eyelids began to droop. The sounds of Shadow’s steady breathing mixed with the background noises of your favorite film set the perfect backdrop for you to fall asleep, Shadow’s fingers working through your hair gently to seal your fate. Images of better days fueled by Shadow’s love for you made their way into your mind. You sighed one last time as you drifted asleep in Shadow’s arms.

[opheliachoi99]

My Oh My! 𖤐

MICHAEL KAISER X READER

ABOUT : Your cousin Isagi has introduced his teammates to you, and one person caught your attention. Is he an insane walking black flag or the literal opposite?

note : I'll still post guys! It's just that university is killing me recently T^T Enjoy!

— You were just peacefully reading a novel, as Isagi suddenly showed up in your room bringing exciting news.

"WELL IF IT ISN'T MY FAVOURITE COUSIN!" Isagi sarcastically spoke "What is it now.. You're literally just ruined my day." You rolled your eyes.

"Hey hey, I came here to tell you some news—" "Yoichi.. Aren't you training in what you call that place blue block?" You teasingly squint your eyes.

"Correction. "Blue Lock". And yes I am training, but I came here to tell you my news related to my training.. I want you to come visit! There's a day where visitors are allowed! I want to introduce my team to you" You were speechless from the sudden news Isagi had carried for you.

"Woah woah, slow down. Visitors? Why me though?" You asked "Oh c'mon! You're always staying inside your room. Go get some fresh air, touch some grass. Your skin has barely felt sunlight!"

"Yoichi, you're exaggerating. I'm coming, I did not say I wasn't accepting your offer" You sarcastically scoffed. "REALLY? YES!! Chigiri is also inviting his sister, you two will surely get along!" You simply snickered "Okay okay, slow your horses down. When exactly?"

"Tomorrow!"

— Time Skip —

As you arrived to the headquarters of Blue Lock, you noticed that they're not only Japanese men here, but also foreign men.

"Goodness, good thing I never failed my English.. Perks as mixed blooded." You sighed in relief "Hey! You must be Isagi's cousin!" A cute red haired girl approached you "Ahh yes! Hello! And you are?"

"Koyuki! Chigiri Koyuki" She smiled "AHH! You must be the sister Isagi told me about! Nice to meet you!" You bowed "Yes! I'm Hyoma's sister" You both smiled.

"There you are!" Isagi said as he was sweaty from his practice "I see you've met Chigiri's sister" He said as he bowed at Koyuki "You guys can come in now, don't mind us being so sweaty and stuff, we just finished training" He awkwardly laughed "Intense training indeed." You and Koyuki laughed.

As you guys entered the headquarters, you saw a lot of players, and all laid eyes on you and Koyuki "Uhh.. Yoichi, where are the other visitors?" You asked in a concerning tone.

"お姉ちゃん!" [ O nēchan ] Chigiri called out to Koyuki "Hyoma!! Where are the other visitors..?"

"About that... They invited their friends and family, but... Most of us here are foreigners, so traveling was one of the major problems.." Isagi explained "But what about the Japanese?"

"Busy, had reasons." Chigiri replied "So basically only you and Isagi's cousin are the visitors here" You and Koyuki stared at each other and awkwardly smiled. "Sure.."

— Time Skip —

You and Koyuki had been talking with each other while staying in the bleachers, and she was talking so much, yet you felt shivers down your spine as the boys were staring at you two, leaving you anxious.

"Uhm.. Koyuki, the boys are staring at us.." You tried to calm yourself down "I know. I just tried to talk alot to release my nervousness" She awkwardly laughed.

"Why weren't we informed that it was only the two of us.." You rubbed your nosebridge from despair.

"They're all so hot too.. Help me.." Koyuki gripped my wrist, and you tried to calm her down.

While you two were lowkey panicking on spot, Isagi and Chigiri was surrounded by the boys.

"Yo! Chigiri, who's the cutie? Is that your sister?" Otoya slung his arms on Chigiri's shoulder flirtatiously.

"Oh not today Otoya, I don't want you playing with my sister's heart, no." "Oh please, I just wanted to get to know the gal" Otoya winked.

"Isagi, is that your sister?" Ness asked "No, she's my cousin. Why?" "Uh, nothing she looks foreign, like not purely Japanese" Ness added, without knowing someone from behind was eavesdropping Ness and Isagi's conversation.

"Oh, yeah she's not purely Japanese, my aunt, which is my mother's sister had married a German, so she's half German. But she's staying here in Japan because their home is still in progress, it's a big place." Ness was astonished "So that means we can interact with her easily since she can speak German" "Correct."

"WOAH REALLY? That's interesting..." Aiku popped up "She's really pretty too" Bachira added.

"So a hottie and a cutie as the visitors of the day.. I'm BLESSED!" Otoya rejoiced "Shut up!" All of them yelled at Otoya.

— Time Skip —

As the day is finally over, everyone had done their post-stretching. "I'll be back, just gotta grab my water bottle in the locker room" Isagi reassured and you simply nodded.

You grabbed your novel you were still reading it halfway of it, a large figure appeared in front of you.

"Was liest du, hübsche Dame?" [ What are you reading, pretty lady? ] You startled yourself, "Excuse me?" You look up to find a very intimidating looking man "You heard what I asked, or you did not understand a single thing I just said?" He cockily stated.

"Ja, ich verstehe dich" [ Yes, I understand you ] You coldly replied "Guess Yoichi's wasn't lying" He chuckled "Why would he be lying anyway? And who are you?" You asked as you closed your novel.

"Michael Kaiser, 19, German." He spoke bluntly "And you are Yoichi's cousin, who is half German. Age?"

"He told you?" You simply sighed "18."

"Wie schön~" [ How lovely~ ] He chuckled. You simply felt awkward since a random guy approached you out of the blue, but you couldn't deny, he was ravishingly handsome.

"So you're German huh? From where?" "Berlin, you?" "Same" He smirked "What a small world, visitors can visit here anytime you know, didn't Yoichi tell you that?" You shook your head.

"You should visit sometime, y'know to see us play" He offered "Well—"

"Kaiser.." Isagi interrupted "Let's go" You nodded "Nice meeting you Kaiser, I'll be on my way now." He just gave a salute and said "Come back tomorrow, see us play" He winked flirtatiously. "This guy.." Isagi groaned.

— Time Skip —

As Isagi took you home, you couldn't help but ask "Yoichi.. Who's Kaiser? He suddenly introduced himself to me and he knew I was half-German. How?"

Isagi furrowed "I think he eavesdropped our conversation with Ness earlier, he's a devil, don't be with him. He's insane on-field. Everyone is targeting him, because of is mad skills in soccer. He's known as "God's Chosen Emperor" he's also a walking BLACK flag, not red, but BLACK"

"You're exaggerating again" You chuckled. "His a.k.a is basically just a translation of his name, Michael means "Gift from God", while Kaiser means "Emperor" and I saw a glimpse from his hand. He has a tattoo?"

"It goes all through his left collarbone, girls find it "hot" AÆUGH-!" You laughed "I don't know if your disgusted or possessed"

"But yeah, he's right you should come back tomorrow, visitors starting today can visit anytime" You nodded "Sure, I am pretty bored in my room most of the time. See ya Yoichi!!"

— Time Skip —

It's been a month since you've visited Blue Lock, and you seemed to develop a relationship with Kaiser, but somehow what Isagi said is kinda true, since he does have a flirty and cocky attitude, but you weren't there to judge him, you were happy to have a friend. Isagi didn't like it at first, but at some point he laid low, he's only observing Kaiser. If he does something below the belt, then that's the time he'll punch the shit out of him.

The game was intense as it was Bastard Mūnchen and PXG, and at some point you admired Rin. You've been keeping an eye on Rin, every single move he makes, you observed it crucially.

Koyuki, on the other hand, had her eyes laid on Aiku. She was head over heels over him ever since they had the opportunity to visit Blue Lock.

You were confused where to cheer from, since both of the teams has your favourites.

Kaiser noticed you always staring at Rin. Somehow, he felt something.. Something desirous.

"Kaiser! Now!!" Isagi yelled, Kaiser went back to his senses and took over the ball. Rin was after him, and as he saw Rin, he felt his blood boiling, not because of the game, but something else.

"Get the fuck out of my way." Kaiser sternly said and scored the goal. Bastard Mūnchen won.

"GOAL!" The team cheered. You felt happy for Isagi, and Kaiser's team, but you saw Rin frustrated. You wanted to approach him but you couldn't, he was too intimidating. You simply sighed.

"We won, schatz" You turned to see Kaiser taking off his jersey and placing in on your back "Ew! Sweat alert!"

"Don't be so dramatic, you're lucky I gave you my jersey fresh" He proudly spoke. But you didn't realized you were staring at his tattoo. "Wow.." "What? Like the view?"

"What—? Ew no! I was just admiring your tattoo, that's all." You defended. "Only my tattoo? Liebe gotta be better than that"

"Why are you calling me names?" You raised a brow, "Why not?"

You were about to reply but you froze as you saw Rin approaching towards your direction "Hey Kaiser, you had the guts to speak to me like that?" Kaiser took his extra shirt from the side and wore it "Why not? Bothered?" He smirked "You are so mad at me, why? Is it because I almost took your spot?" Rin added.

"Look kid, don't sprout your attitude towards me like that, why so mad? I only said you're in my way. Unless..." Rin was about to pounce at Kaiser when you and Isagi broke the fight before it even started.

"Hey enough, it was a good game. No hard feelings" You advised "It was NOT a good game to start with." Rin scoffed as he walked away, you felt offended from what he said. Kaiser, on the other hand felt pissed "He's fucking lucky to be praised yet he gave a cocky attitude in return, tch" He said and walked away.

You were confused, trying to figure out what he meant.

— Time Skip —

When you visited again, you noticed Kaiser leaning from the main door, waiting for you.

"Kaiser! Waiting for someone?" You asked "Yeah, you." "Me?" Without hesitation he grabbed your wrist and brought you to a place somewhere from the area.

You felt awed when you saw how beautiful the view was, "Kaiser.. This is beautiful.."

He sat down in the green grassy field, tapping the spot next to him. You sat beside him, and went silent for a while, just adoring the heavenly view.

Kaiser suddenly clears his throat to break the silence between you two.

"You like Rin huh?" He playfully scoffed "Rin? Oh, he's a cool guy" You replied. "Cool? How so-?" He asked.

"The way he plays, he has potential. His face card too, insane" Kaiser just responded with a hum. "Why'd you ask?" You raised a brow.

"So you like LIKE Rin?" "Hey I was asking the question!" He went silent. You soon noticed the vibe. You chuckled, his face was covered by his long hair, as you tucked his hair in his ear, you spoke "Why would they think you're a walking black flag?"

He suddenly looked at you "I mean look at me.. What do you expect? Tsk. Kinda understand why you prefer Rin"

You laughed so hard "My oh my... Michael.. I cannot fathom your words at all! Please don't assume. Actually... I like someone else.."

"Pardon? Is he not from blue lock?" "No? He is here." His face looking confused "Here? Where?"

"Right in front of me" You smiled.

He went silent for a moment "Wait, me?" You laughed "Yes, you" "WAIT, ME?"

"YES, YOU DUMMY!"

"But, I thought—" "Yes, I like Rin, but not romantically silly, just adoring his skills on-field" You explained "What about my skills? I'm better than him" He smugged. "I adore more than your skills." His eyes glimmered.

"The first time when you interrupted my reading session.. I was shocked to hear someone German at that moment, and I looked up seeing you, I was mesmerized, I never thought I would see another German in Japan somehow" You chuckled.

"But didn't you listen to them? I am a "Black Flag" yet you still—" "And so what? You may look like one, but you aren't one."

Kaiser's eyes widened, it was his first time hearing those words from someone "I know you had tragic times back in the past, I can see it through your eyes" His haughty look soon softened.

"Everytime I see you on-field, I was like "My oh my.. What a man.." You thought I was only looking at Rin? Think again."

Without hesitation, he kissed you. It was sudden but ardent. "No need, I was reassuring before I would throw these feelings away." He snickered. You went speechless.

"Hello? Schatz? Wait- can I finally call you that?" You were still in shock, yet you managed to reply through a nod.

Kaiser was jumping for joy in the field, his cocky, and arrogant aura, gone. The blue lock boys were eavesdropping from afar.

"Since when does Kaiser act like this?" Kunigami coldly asked "His inner child finally came out" Ness smiled.

Isagi was looking at you, observing. But him seeing you happy, made him happy too "Out of all men my cousin would end up with, Kaiser was the least on my list, but- here we are." He scoffed.

Kaiser carried you and spun you around "Danke, dass du mich liebst" [ Thank you, for loving me ] You simply smiled "No, thank YOU, for approaching me." You both laughed.

You sighed. "My oh my, my micha.. It was always you since day one. Ich liebe dich.."

Fin

[no2ticonderoga]

So, you make New Year's resolutions and say this year, I finish XYZ. Then, like two weeks later, you get a new idea and it completely derails you.

I don't know what if anything I'm going to do with this new brain worm that I've developed, so, in the spirit of sharing new AUs that seems to be going around, I'm going to inflict this on share this with you.

--

1943

“C’mon!” Piper pulled at Annabeth’s arm. “Let’s go!”

Annabeth sighed and let herself be dragged across the street toward the cacophony of the USO dance hall. Swing music blared out the doors, audible over the roar of the packed crowd. 

“Piper!” Annabeth complained. Damn these shoes…she thought. She’d never liked this particular pair of heels but Piper had insisted because they matched her blue dress. “Slow down, I’m going to…” She tripped. “Oh sh…” She fell directly into something tall, and blue with gold buttons. “Oof!”

“Well, that wasn’t very lady-like,” a laughing voice said. “Are you all right, Miss?” 

Annabeth looked up at her erstwhile rescuer, his mouth quirked up at the corners, and green eyes sparkling, black hair falling over his forehead in a way that was barely regulation. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically.

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “I’m not used to women throwing themselves at me though.”

Piper backtracked to her. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” Annabeth replied, absently, staring at the stranger. A navy officer…an ensign, according to his insignia. His hat was askew, probably knocked that way when she crashed into him. He didn’t look much older than she was. He was handsome, and he was staring at her oddly, and Annabeth blushed. 

Piper glanced between them. “Hi!” she said brightly. “I’m Piper, this is Annabeth,” she said. 

The ensign gave her a quick grin before returning his eyes to Annabeth. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss…?” he held out his hand. 

“Chase,” She said. “But, yes, I’m Annabeth.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Annabeth Chase,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m Percy Jackson.”

“Nice to meet you,” Annabeth replied.

“Great!” Piper said brightly. “I’ll just leave you two then! Annabeth, don’t stay out all night!” Piper declared.

“Piper!” Annabeth protested, the spell broken at the realization that her friend was ruthlessly abandoning her. “What, no, wait!” But all Annabeth saw was the swirl of Piper’s retreating white and pink polka dotted party dress as she disappeared into the mob around the entrance. She turned helplessly back to Percy.

He was watching her, a faint smile on his face, but his eyes were laughing. “So, are you free this evening, Miss Annabeth Chase?” he asked. 

“I…uh,” she said. “I guess so,” she said, suddenly feeling very exposed. She felt her cheeks warm, and she broke the eye contact, ducking her head and tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 

“Well, are you really here for the dancing, or would you care to accompany me on a whirlwind tour of my favorite places in New York before I leave tomorrow?” he asked.

She looked up. “You’re leaving tomorrow?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Can’t say where, of course,” he added. “Mum’s the word and all that. But I’ve just realized that I’d much rather visit my city instead of try and squeeze myself into that mob.” He gestured to the dance hall, and then offered her his arm.

“I…” she took his arm automatically. “I don’t think I can walk all over the city in these shoes,” she said.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that,” Percy said, as he led her away from the Dance Hall.”

The next thing Annabeth knew, Percy was leading her through Macy’s to women’s shoes. 

“I don’t have money to buy shoes,” Annabeth protested.

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy assured her. “I’ve got it. I’m not going to need much cash where I’m headed.” 

“But!”

“Just trust me,” Percy said with a smile. 

“What do I do with these?” she asked, gesturing at her heels.

“I’ll carry them,” Percy offered. “I don’t mind.”

“You can’t carry them all night!” she protested.

“Then we’ll find a bus station locker and tuck them away safely,” he shrugged. “They’ll be fine.” 

Annabeth felt like she was losing control as Percy directed her to find a pair of low walking shoes, and then paid the tab. “So,” he said as they hit the street again. “Where to first?”

“Isn’t this your night?” she asked. 

“I’ve lived here all my life,” he said. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here, so you tell me, what haven’t you seen yet?” 

“I’m from Boston,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve been here three years…you could still tell?” she asked, they turned down the street.

“I can always tell,” he said, a bit smugly. “How about we start with some cheesecake from Lindy’s, and we can talk about our plan while we eat?”

And talk they did…over the cheesecake. While they strolled through Central Park. When they went to the Battery to look out at Lady Liberty, still just visible in the twilight of the evening. They talked, and they laughed, and throughout the night Annabeth found herself pressing closer and closer to him as they strolled…first arm in arm, but as the evening went on, with his arm around her shoulders. 

She felt like she was in some kind of mad dream. She had to keep reminding herself that this was it.This was all it could be. He was leaving tomorrow for who knew what. 

She told him about her studies at school, and her life in the dorms with Piper. She even shared her dream of finishing her degree (“Oh, a wise girl, I see”) and getting a job as an architect. He told her about growing up in the city, and his love of the sea, which led him to join the Navy. 

“So what do you do in the navy?” she asked, as they walked close together along Fifth Avenue. 

“I’m in minesweeping,” he said, a note of pride in his voice.

Annabeth felt herself give a shiver and was suddenly irrationally scared for him. “Isn’t that really, really dangerous?” she asked.

She felt his shrug. “It’s a job,” he said. “Volunteers only, you know.”

“You volunteered for it?” she said. “You must have seaweed for brains.” 

He laughed. “Maybe I do. But it’s a job that needs doing.”

“I hope you don’t get yourself blown up,” she commented. 

He glanced down at her. “You sound worried.”

“Well, I mean,” Annabeth replied, getting a little flustered. “I just…you…” she spluttered.

“It’s okay Wise Girl, I know your secret. I’ve got one too, so it’s all even stevens,” he said. 

“What secret is that?” she asked, her heart hammering.

“I think I’ll tell you later. How’d you like to go up to the top of the Empire State Building with me? The observation deck should still be open, and I want to see the skyline, one more time.”

“Isn’t it getting late?” she asked. She wasn’t wearing her watch with her party dress. 

“Just before 11,” he replied. “I have to be back by midnight.”

“Me too,” she said. “We have a dorm curfew.” 

“Then we’d better hurry,” he replied. 

They made it there just after 11. It was busy, with lots of servicemen and their girls. Annabeth felt very odd and strange, and out of place. Was this really happening to her? 

They stood and looked down Manhattan toward the harbor. Here and there a light blinked despite the blackout…a door opening on a ship, a porthole briefly open. One of those ships would take Percy away tomorrow. She was standing in front of him, his hands were resting lightly on her hips as they looked out over the dim city. New York didn’t have a true blackout…but the lights were dimmed on all the streets, and no lights were permitted in the upper stories, to prevent the city from silhouetting ships in the harbor. 

“So,” Percy said his voice right next to her ear. “I suppose I should have asked earlier. But is there anyone in your life?” 

“Like…a man?” she replied, voice shaking a bit.

“Yeah, like a man,” he said.

“N..No,” she answered. “I’ve never…I mean…I’m not.” She was starting to babble.

“Shhh,” Percy soothed her. “It’s okay.”

Annabeth had never felt anything like the way she felt. Her stomach felt like it was doing continuous somersaults, and her legs were like jelly. This couldn’t be happening to her. Not like this. But she had to face it. “What…what about you?” she bravely asked in return.

“Nah,” he said. “Never any time.” 

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. 

They were silent another moment. “So what was that secret you think I have?” Annabeth said finally.

“Oh, that?” Percy chuckled. “That’s easy.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You like me.”

She turned in his arms and was facing him. “I do?” she asked, trying for challenging, but her heart was hammering so hard, she was sure it came out more like a plea. 

“Yeah, Wise Girl. But that’s okay,” he said, and he reached a hand up to brush her cheek. She felt her pulse jump in her throat as he did so. “Because I like you too.”

And then he leaned in and kissed her. Annabeth had never been kissed before, and she was absolutely lost in the taste of his lips, the smell of his aftershave, the sharp smell of his freshly issued uniform jacket. She put her arms around his neck, and his hands tightened on her waist, drawing her closer to him. 

Annabeth couldn’t have told anyone how long they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, but she knew she was breathless when they broke apart. 

“Wow,” Percy breathed, eyes wide, looking as shocked as she felt. 

It made Annabeth laugh a little, tension flowing out of her. Some part of her had worried that she was being played by some kind of Don Juan, an experienced seducer. But the wildness around his eyes couldn’t be faked.  “Wow,” she agreed.

“Annabeth, I…” Percy licked his lips. “Can I write to you?” 

“Yes,” Annabeth said. “I would love that.”

“I’ll write you once I get where I’m going,” he promised. “So you can write back.” 

“Okay,” she breathed, and then she kissed him again.

Eventually, they had to go…Percy insisted on walking her back to her dorm, even though his consequences for being late were bound to be worse than his own. 

Annabeth felt tears pricking her eyes as she kissed him one last time on the sidewalk. “Goodbye, Percy,” she said, when they broke apart. 

“See you soon, Wise Girl,” Percy said, reluctantly releasing her hand. 

“Stay safe, Seaweed Brain,” she told him. 

He gave her that lopsided grin that made her heart flip. “I’ll be fine. You wait here, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“It’s a deal,” he said. 

He turned and started down the street. Annabeth stood on the steps of the dormitory and watched him go. He turned the corner.

It was the last time she saw him.

[anon-sect]

Picture source and story requested by @mavin1227

Spencer was given the task of picking up the cake for a surprise birthday party for his friend, Zachary. Zachary was being kept away from the house by a group of their friends to make sure he didn't find out. He had gotten to the bakery and recieved the cake that was specially ordered.

On the way back, Spencer had hit a few bumps in the road and realized that he didn't secure the cake well enough as the box with the cake in it turned over from the seat on the the floor. Once he got to a red light, he lifted the box up to see the cake was totally ruined. He drove back to Zachary's house upset about the cake. He didn't know how to fix this since the suprise birtday party was in thirty minutes.

As he brought the box in and revealed the ruined cake, he saw the upset look on Zander's face. Zander was Zachary's twin brother. He was the one who ordered the cake.

"What happened to it?" Zander asked, all upset since his twin brother would be back to the house in thirty minutes.

"I thought I had it secured in the seat well enough. One bad bump made it fall to the floor. I am really sorry about that." Spencer explained. "I wish I could fix this problem." He added feeling remorse over the ruined cake.

Zander had the perfect idea of how to fix things before Zachary got back with the group. "There is a way, actually. I need you to just sit here on the table for a brief moment." He spoke to his twin brother's friend.

Spencer didn't know how that would help, but he sat on the table.

Zander put in the specfics of the ordered cake in the app and hit flash. Spencer was gone and in his place was a replacement cake just like the one he ordered. He put the box with the ruined cake in the trash and placed the new cake on a plate. "Nice, I think my brother will like the cake I ordered for him." He pasued ss he licked his lips looking at the cake. "I wonder how you will taste, I so can't wait for Zachary to slice into you." He laughed as he went to join the others waiting for the birthday boy to come home.

Spencer came into distress as he realized what Zander had just told him. He was turned into a replacement cake. Zackary had at least twenty people coming to his surprise party. He was about to be eaten, completely unaware of the other guest. He couldn't move or speak his protest. He never thought he would literally be the cake at his friend's party. He just sat there waiting for what would happen next.

Zachary truly was surprised when he got back home. I really enjoyed his surprise party. He was even more surpised when Zander showed him his birthday cake. He loved it. He took a quick picture in front of it before getting the knife to slice into his cake.

Spencer was mentally pleading for anyone to hear him. Everyone was enjoying the moment, including his friend as he was given the knife to slice the cake. He was powerless to stop what was about to happen next, as Zachary sliced into him with ease. The sharpe knife hurt so badly. He felt the knife slice into him again. He thought his agony couldn't get worse. He found that to be wrong. As a piece of him was place on a paper plate and handed to Zachary. A plastic fork cut into that piece and went into his friend's mouth. He could feel his friend chew on him and enjoying it.

"This cake is just perfert. Thanks, Zander." Zachary spoke as he continued to eat his slice of cake.

"You welcome, bro." Zander answered back and just smiled.

"By the way, I thought Spencer had come to my party. Someone said he was here earlier." Zachary asked, wondering where he could be.

"He was here. He said an emergency came up and he had to leave. He didn't tell me what it was, just that he would see you later on." Zander explained, hiding his twist grin. Spencer was still here. It was just that everyone was eating a piece of him.

Spencer was in agony as multiple mouths were chomping on him at the same time. It was horrible as each of them swallowed pieces of himself down into their stomachs. He felt his own existence completely go away as the last of him was swallowed by a party guest and dissolving in their stomach.

Zander was pleased that everyone loved the cake. Not a single piece was left of Spencer. Spencer would soon be a missing person who they will never find. But he did make a delicous cake, he had to agree with himself.

[ashleyreyland]

On You They Bloom

[How'd your finals go?]

It had been two weeks since Tim had met up with Danny at the coffee shop and they had been texting almost constantly since then. Danny, Tim discovered, was not only good looking, but smart and funny and charming which really was just incredibly unfair all things considered.

[I want to die. Again]

Tim couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the response he got. He was also dramatic and often used the fact that he'd legally been dead once as the punchline of a lot of jokes.

[At least they're over. You want to grab dinner?]

The three dots that showed typing appeared and disappeared for a few moments. Tim felt his anxiety spike.

[I uh, don't exactly have the funds for that]

[On me]

Tim chewed his lip as he watched Danny type a response. He knew that Danny was on the Wayne Grant and likely was just getting by, but Tim had more than enough for the both of them. And it was normal for one person to pay for a date anyways.

[You sure?]

[Positive, what do you like to eat?]

There was another pause where Danny seemed to hesitate to answer and Tim got anxious all over again. This was ridiculous; they'd been talking for weeks at this point and they were soulmates. What did he have to be so anxious about?

[Thai?]

[I'll pick you up at the dorms]

Tim closed his laptop and packed it up before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and heading out of the office. Tam looked at him in obvious surprise as he walked by and he offered her a wave.

"You're leaving? On time?" She asked, looking confused.

"I uh," Tim could feel himself blushing, dammit, "Have a date."

Tam grinned a bit in response, "Well then don't let me stop you."

Tim huffed at her and continued on his way out of the office. He made it down to the parking garage and his car, tossing the laptop into the trunk and got into the driver's seat. He took a steady pace to the Gotham U dorms, pulling into a short term parking space in front of them before grabbing his phone.

[Here]

A moment later the door to one of the dorm buildings opened and Danny walked out. He looked around and Tim waved from the car. Danny headed over, getting into the passenger seat and looking around.

"Nice car."

"Thanks," Tim replied before turning his attention to the road, pulling out of the parking spot, "Is there a specific Thai place you were thinking of or…?"

"Oh uh, no, not really. I'm not super familiar with places around Gotham."

"I know a good spot," Tim said changed lanes to get them to the place he had in mind.

It didn't take long for Tim to park in front of the restaurant in question and get out of the car. Danny got out as well and followed Tim. Tim offered him a smile and opened the door, holding it open for him. Danny stepped inside and looked around before looking back at Tim with his own smile.

God he was so attractive.

The hostess was quick to seat them, getting quickly flustered once she realized that it was Timothy Drake-Wayne who was standing in front of her station. Once she dropped the menus on the table and made her way back to the hostess station, Danny raised an eyebrow.

"You uh, get that a lot?"

Tim shrugged a little, "Only when people realize who I am."

"Oh so I have that to look forward to for the rest of forever," there was a teasing smile on Danny's lips that assured Tim that he didn't mean it.

Tim's heart still skipped a beat at the thought of this being a forever thing.

"You get used to it," Tim said, taking a sip of his water, "But uh, yeah, you're likely going to be mobbed by the press once they realize who you are and you'll probably get the same treatment."

"Boy you make this entire situation sound better and better by the second," Danny replied as he looked over the menu.

"I don't know if you saw the press coverage of my tattoo from four years ago."

"No, I didn't really pay much attention back then."

"Yeah, well, everyone was obsessed with figuring out who had a scar that matched."

"Joke's on them; lichtenberg scars fade."

Tim frowned a little at the reminder of just what had given Danny the scar that had killed him. He had explained how his parents had created a portal that went into another reality that was connected to theirs and how they, for some inexplicable reason decided to put the 'On' switch on the inside of the machine. How he, as a stupid teenager, had gone inside the machine for a picture his friend was taking and ended up accidentally hitting the switch.

How he had died from the amount of electricity that had run through him when the portal opened.

He hadn't explained just how he had come back to life, but Tim could only imagine the panic that had set in and the mad dash to the hospital or maybe calling an ambulance that had happened. Maybe his parents had medical equipment in the lab just in case of emergency. All Tim knew was that Danny had somehow survived the horrific ordeal.

"Yes, well, that's going to cause them to ask all kinds of questions that I'm telling you right now, you don't have to answer," Tim said as he looked over his own menu.

"They'd never believe me if I told the truth anyway," Danny quipped, setting his menu down.

Tim eyed him for a moment, "Did you tell me the truth?"

Tim knew that he did. Danny hadn't shown any of the classic signs of lying and Tim was pretty well versed in them at this point. He trusted that Danny hadn't made up any of that story.

"Of course. Do you not believe me?"

"No, I do, but I can understand how others might not."

"It's a pretty wild story," Danny agreed, playing idly with his fork, "And it just gets more wild from there?"

"Oh?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danny just grinned at him before turning his attention to the waitress that had just walked over to them. They placed their orders and Tim sipped his water again, wondering what Danny could possibly mean by that. He seemed a little nervous about it, whatever it was.

"I don't really want to explain here," Danny admitted after a long silence and Tim gave a nod in response.

"Yeah, there are things that are best kept out of public spaces."

"It sounds like someone has a secret."

Tim bit his lip. He had a lot of secrets, and he technically had Bruce's permission to tell them. It was just a matter of when and how.

"Are you busy after this?"

"No, why?"

"Why don't we go back to my place and we can talk about some things."

~~~~~~~~~~

Danny let out a low whistle as he looked around the penthouse, "If I didn't think you were telling the truth before, I certainly do now."

Tim snorted in response, hanging up his jacket and toeing off his shoes. Danny mimicked him quickly. Tim stepped into the apartment and gestured toward the couch in the living room, just off the entry way, "Make yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink?"

Danny shook his head in response and gracefully flopped down onto the couch with a small sigh. Tim followed him, sitting on the other end of the couch, sideways, pulling his legs up under him so he was facing Danny but they still had some breathing room.

"Where should we start?" Danny asked, knowing where he was going to start but uncertain if Tim wanted to go first.

"Do you want to start or…?"

"I can," Danny shrugs a bit, shifting so that he's turned more toward Tim, "I kind of already mentioned that I, well, died."

"Yeah, that came up briefly," Tim deadpanned in response and Danny chuckled a bit.

"Yeah, well, there was a bit more to it than that. It's kind of hard to explain… but long story short, I uh, was electrocuted and brought back to life over and over again. The thing that brought me back to life sort of gave me… powers?"

"You're a meta?" Tim breathed in surprise and Danny shook his head a bit.

"Not… technically. It's complicated?" Danny ran a hand through his hair in frustration, "But um, anyway, being that I suddenly had powers I uh, kind of took up a vigilante career when I was around 14. Which is why I get injured so often. Sorry, by the way, but you seem to give as good as you get so..."

Tim was staring at him with slightly wide eyes at the admission before he started laughing. Danny blinked in surprise, "What's so funny?"

"What vigilante are you?" Tim asked instead and Danny blinked again.

"Oh um, small time, you probably haven't heard of me. Phantom was my moniker."

Tim laughed again, covering his face with his hand and relaxing significantly, "Are you still doing the vigilante thing?"

"Not since coming to Gotham," he admitted, "I've been a little busy and Gotham seems mostly taken care of already so I don't usually feel the need to step in."

"Yeah, Gotham is taken care of," Tim agreed with an amused smile, "By me."

"…what?" Danny's brow furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I'm Red Robin."

There was dead silence for a moment before Danny started laughing, "You're kidding!"

Tim shook his head, "That's what I was going to tell you. I can't believe that you're a vigilante too."

Danny grinned in response, "So then… We're good."

"Yeah, we're really good," Tim said with a smile, "I was worried about how you'd take that…"

"Yeah, yeah me too. Can I um.."

"Hm?"

"Kiss you?"

"Yeah," Tim uncurled himself from his position and met Danny halfway.

[wisteria-lodge]

What are your thoughts on Lily Evans? For being the whole reason the books happen, she gets surprisingly little insight into her.

And I do think that's the point. For Harry, she is more of a cosmic force than a person. She's like gravity. Her sacrifice is this single huge thing that will always protect him and connect him to her, even though he never really learns everything about her. This lets Lily be the perfect, tragic everywoman, and lets Harry explore the tragedy of never really being able to know a parent.

(Like - I think it's very interesting that the *films* give us a lot more specific details about her than the books do. Slughorn's whole "Francis the Fish" anecdote, Lupin reminiscing about her, the detail that she was close with Lupin. Movie specific. The way the books treat Lily as this ever-present benevolent force is honestly pretty literary.)

But that means. That because Lily is purposefully vaguely written, she gets defined by her place in the narrative and her relationship with the people in her life. So Petunia, Severus, James. Which MEANS that people with strong opinions about those characters are going to characterize Lily to *fit.* Severus was a sad, manipulated woobie? Well, then Lily was too harsh to him and never should have married his bully. Severus is a obsessive stalkery incel? Lily is a girlboss who kicked him to the curb. James is a trashfire who you ship with Sirius or Regulus? Lily is a goddess who is too good for him. James is cute and snarky and Harry 2.0? Lily is... probably an author/reader insert. Hermione got hit (gets hit) with MAJOR reader insert syndrome, which I completely understand. She's the only central girl and a relatable conduit who can date... whoever you're into. Harry, Ron, Draco, Severus. I imagine that Lily gets that times a million, being the *only* central girl in the Marauder era. So you get Jilly, Lillypad, Jillypad. Do people ship her with Regulus?

If I were to write her... I think "model minority" vibes makes sense. She's a muggleborn, from a poor background (which is something we know her sister struggles with.) Slughorn (with his pro-pureblood prejudice) thinks she was fantastic. I think Lily probably felt the pressure to be EXTRA good, in a Hermione kind of way. She's also the "special one" in her family, which Petunia resents her for. So I'm thinking at home she's the Golden Child? Which is a ego-boosting, but also stressful place to be, because failure isn't really an option.

I don't think I'm meant to pair the Petunia/Vernon "marrying up" vibes with Lily/James, but if I'm getting all psychological about Lily, I probably would. James DOES represent wealth and security, after going from one situation where she's got shaky societal footing... to ANOTHER situation where she's got shaky societal footing. Only now she can make potions. Severus ingratiated himself with the Slytherin purebloods as a survival tactic, and Lily probably did the same thing with the Gryffindor purebloods. The difference is she's not willing to put up with as much bad behavior as Severus is (but like... she's willing to put up with *some.* The Marauders canonically got pretty brutal.)

Also, Severus is kinda a snarky bastard, and so was Sirius. James was a bit more jock flavored, but she got along well with all of them. She herself probably has a bit of a wicked streak, I don't think any of those people would have hung out with someone who was just sweetness and light all the time. Also, we know how important it is to JKR to be "not like other girls" and like... Lily is her ideal girl, so...

I also 100% get sports couple vibes from Lily and James. I mean, baby Harry is flying around on a baby broomstick. Lily's 100% got a sports jersey that she wears around the house, and she and James make a big deal about Game Day. But really, there's not much specific about her I can extrapolate from the books.

(This meta also does a really nice job of going into how ultimately Lily is a mirror, in a fascinating kind of way.)

[jenosonlywife23]

Chasing Paradise

a\n; Hope you guys liked this, i tried to write it like the show but i just cant seem to get it right. This was so hard for me to write. Also imagine Haechan on singles inferno dang!!

The sun beat down on the sandy beach of Inferno as you adjusted your hat, trying to shield yourself from the blazing heat. You’d spent days preparing yourself for this experience, convincing yourself that auditioning for Single’s Inferno was your chance to break free from the tangled mess of feelings you harbored for Haechan. But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared you for the moment he stepped onto the island, grinning like he owned the place.

Your jaw had practically hit the floor as he sauntered toward the group of contestants. For a split second, you thought you were hallucinating. But no, it was really him. Lee Donghyuck—your best friend, the person you’d spent countless nights laughing and bickering with—was now standing in front of you.

“What… what are you doing here?” you stammered, your shock evident.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “What does it look like? I’m here to find love.”

The contestants exchanged curious glances, intrigued by your reaction. You barely noticed, your focus entirely on him. “You followed me, didn’t you?”

“Followed you?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I didn’t even know you auditioned.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Mark told you, didn’t he?”

His grin widened, and he shrugged. “Maybe. But can you blame me? What kind of best friend would I be if I just let you flirt with random guys on TV?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you huffed and turned away, ignoring the amused whispers from the other contestants.

The days in Inferno passed in a blur of challenges, mingling, and the occasional heated arguments between you and Haechan. He was everywhere—flirting with the other girls, cracking jokes during group meals, and somehow managing to steal your attention no matter how hard you tried to focus on anyone else.

One day, during a challenge where the contestants competed to win a night in Paradise, Haechan outperformed everyone, earning the coveted prize. When it came time to choose someone to join him, he didn’t hesitate.

“I choose **** ,” he announced, his eyes locking on yours.

You looked towards the contestants clearly surprised. You hesitated for a moment, but the soft, hopeful look in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.

Paradise was breathtaking—a luxurious escape from the harsh conditions of Inferno. The two of you lounged by the pool, sipping on drinks and enjoying the rare moments of peace.

“This is nice,” you admitted, glancing at him.

He smiled, his usual teasing demeanor replaced by something gentler. “Yeah. It’s not bad having you here with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “So, what’s your plan? Win me over with fancy dinners and sunsets?”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning closer. “Or maybe I’m just hoping you’ll realize I’m the only guy here who really knows you.”

His words sent a jolt through your chest, but before you could respond, he leaned back, his smirk returning. “Anyway, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

But not every day was like that.

A week later, after a heated argument over something trivial—you couldn’t even remember what started it—Haechan didn’t choose you during another challenge. Instead, he picked another contestant, leaving you fuming.

Fine. Two could play that game.

You found yourself spending more time with one of the other guys, a charming contestant named Jinyoung (def not talking abt dex lol)who was clearly interested in you. He was sweet, attentive, and always made sure you felt comfortable.

Haechan noticed.

Every time he saw you laughing with Jinyoung or sitting a little too close to him during meals, his jaw tightened, and his usual playful attitude became sharper, more biting.

“You’re really into this guy, huh?” he said one evening, cornering you near the fire pit.

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to rise to his bait. “What’s it to you?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing. Just thought you had better taste.”

“Oh, you mean like my taste in friends who audition for dating shows without telling me?” you shot back.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was suffocating, and you could feel the curious glances of the other contestants.

The final day arrived, and with it came the moment of truth. As the host explained the rules one last time, your heart pounded. Who would you leave with—if anyone?

You waited anxiously as the decisions unfolded, your mind racing with doubts and emotions. And then, it was Haechan’s turn.

He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on you.

“I came here because of you,” he began, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability. “I didn’t plan on confessing my feelings on TV, but… I couldn’t just sit back and watch you with someone else. You’ve always been the person I wanted. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he continued. “So, if you’ll have me… I want to leave here with you.”

The world seemed to blur as you stepped forward, your heart pounding. “You’re still an idiot for not telling me sooner.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Guess I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, then.”

As you walked off the beach together, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this crazy journey had been worth it after all.