#it started out with interesting points but then it got repetitive

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Hey I was re-reading ECM and I noticed how awesome your the writing style was and wanted to know if you'd be willing to share how you write like that?

(I've got exams and have to really work on my english lmao)

Thank-you very much! I'm glad you've enjoyed my writing so much!

(I want to preface any notes here by saying I started seriously writing when I was 12 and I am now... not that. So I have almost 20 years of writing under my belt)

I've actually done a post about writing that gives a few pointers so I won't re-hash those points, but will add a few extras about crafting 💖💖

I know I said I wouldn't re-hash things, but this point always bears merit in saying: the first thing you write is the worst thing you write. It's called a first draft for a reason and you shouldn't be precious about it. That means don't go stressing about getting your phrasing perfect. Rewriting your draft can do wonders (and that doesn't mean you have to completely change things on the rewrite!), especially if you're not a confident writer.

Vary the start of your sentences. It's a very easy habit to fall into (I still do it all the dang time); you write sentence after sentence starting the the subject ('It was...'; 'Peter did...'; 'She saw...' etc). It makes your writing feel repetitive. We fall into patterns in our writing and forcing yourself to think about how you can change up the way your sentences begin within a paragraph is an invaluable challenge. Consider your paragraphs too: when I'm on my first edit, I pay close attention to how they start to ensure they don't all begin the same way. That doesn't mean every sentence has to start differently, but keeping things mixed up adds variety.

Avoid info-dumping. Exposition (where you give relevant background information) is a useful feature but it slows the pace of your story significantly. What I see a lot of fanfic writers do is freeze time (quite often at the very start of the story) to give us 500+ words of information that could have been drip fed over the chapter (or several chapters). I'm absolutely not saying I'm innocent of this - I do it all the time, including the opening to ECM! - but something that I find can help is to a) make it interesting by setting up a mystery that the exposition doesn't answer, b) intersperse exposition with description to keep up the pace or c) try to make your exposition feel as authentic as possible to your narrator.

Be decisive: avoid phrases like 'seemed to' and 'felt like' etc. Instead of, "She seemed to glow with happiness' make it 'She glowed with happiness'. Simple changes like this just make you seem more sure of yourself as a writer because you're committing to the image. Again, this kind of indefinite phrasing is an easy habit to fall into but it's a very easy fix! Very often, the sentence will still make perfect sense if you simply delete these phrases (although sometimes it will need a few minor tweaks).

Metaphors, not similes. Honestly this is just a continuation of the previous rule! Rather than, 'It looked like an ocean of silver', 'An ocean of silver swelled before them' is much more interesting and committed to the bit! Again, that's not to say you can't use similes at all! They're great, but you should ask yourself if a metaphor would be better.

Don't be afraid to extend your metaphors. Extended metaphors are such fun. Consider my earlier example : 'An ocean of silver swelled before them'. If I was to extend this, I'd think about other images associated with the ocean. Waves, tides, sea creatures, the scent and sound of the water. And since I've compared it to silver, I'd also consider things that are semantically connected: gold, copper, jewels like emeralds, sapphires, pearls etc. Then I'd start crafting additional clauses/sentences to build upon that original metaphor.

Brush up on a wider range of writer methods. Honestly, teaching English helped me out a bunch here, but here are a few of my faves: polysyndeton: this is where you list with the same coordinating conjunctions (and, but, so, for etc) rather than commas. If you look at my writing you'd see I do this all the damn time. Anaphora: in the typical form I use it, it's where the start of successive clauses begin with the same opening word/phrase (think like MLK's 'I have a dream speech). Best used in a group of three in my experience. Again I use this all the time. The opposite of this (where successive clauses end in the same word/phrase) is called epistrophe. Oxymoron: a fun one. It's a paradoxical phrase (e.g. burning cold, loving hate etc) Hyperbole: an over-exaggeration (e.g. It's boiling hot. I walked a million miles to get here!). Very fun to use with an unreliable narrator or you want to get across just how unbearable/significant something is (but the key here is that it's got to be obvious you're over-exaggerating!) Synaesthesia: where you mix different senses together (e.g. The lights sang in harmony; the room smelled cold).

Planning does wonders for your story structure. For the longest time I was a 'pantster' and would just throw myself in writing on vibes only, but now I find that knowing where I want to take my story makes it much easier to place critical themes and the much loved foreshadowing.

I hope at least some of these can be helpful to you! These are methods that have helped me over the years, but the beauty of writing is of course that all of us over time develop our own 'voice'! Just because I say these are things I do doesn't mean that's what everyone has to do!

Good luck on your exams too!! 💖

[smolstarthief]

Hmm... I kinda want to mention/discuss how Husk and Alastor have more in common than the fandom thinks and can even be interesting foils to each other but idk if you all ready for that tea yet... 👀

[keferon]

Interesting thing about the blurr death loop. There are a lot of time loops where what’s uncanny is the repetition. Living the same moment over and over again to the point the character knows the song on the radio before it comes on and the conversations that are going to happen before they even start. They start reacting to events before those events even take place.

Whereas, for blurr, everything’s different every time. Every universe is new. The people, the places — all new. Old friends might not talk the same, act the same, be the same. Streets and buildings and even whole planets wouldn’t have familiar landmarks (and how easily could he get lost then?). The deaths even are not the same.

The only constant — the arc each life follows, ending in death — is not tangible. It’s not something that can be marked by a specific time or place or event. No song on the radio or conversation or nearby friend to indicate even that when he wakes up yes, this is still the loop he’s trapped in. And so the uncanniness is not from the repetition, but from the lack there of. There are no anchors. No firm ground to stand upon.

Blurr has to keep moving. There is no anticipating how events will play out. Only the certainty that they will. (And how long before he would try and run from that too?)

YES Y E S THE DIFFICULTIES OF LIVING IN A TIME LOOP BUT WITHOUT ANY ADVANTAGES OF FAMILIARITY

The outcome is always the same but at the same time it isn’t. There’s no way to know beforehand. All those universes are similar just enough to somewhat recognise the “important protagonists” but the rules? The world building? In one universe Optimus is kind and gentle leader and in the other he is a supervillain. In one universe the rust plague takes some time to kill a mech and in the other it eats you alive in thirty seconds.

Any previous knowledge might be a powerful spoiler or a complete misinformation and there’s no way of knowing which option it is.

The dread of a regular time loop in you knowing exactly what and how is going to happen. While Blurr gets to feel the dread of knowing that something unknown but terrible is coming but he has no idea what it is.

Also imagine if IDW was the universe that gave him the most hope? He got there he did all the usual things and then he heroically used his super speed when he saw that Swindle is about to get killed by Astrotrain. But then Swindle saved him from death back and Blurr got SO surprised when he woke up in the SAME universe even though he was supposed to be dead by now???

And for a good while after that he thinks he did it. He broke the loop. Or..well…Swindle broke the loop?

Blurr has a lot of good time in IDW. Runs the bar and participates in racing events and makes friends and actually remembers his regulars. Maybe him and Swindle start to date?? There’s a lot of dangerous shit going on around but he lives through it. He survives it. Persists. And he is so happy to finally have a place he can call home.

But then Unicron arrives. And Cybertron blows up. And Blurr can’t just stand there and let all those people die with their planet so instead of simply running away he stays and he tries to save as much bots as he can and it doesn’t matter how hard he tries he isn’t fast enough to save himself too.

He wakes up in a new body. In a completely different world. Alone again and just as doomed to die as he always was

[bandgie]

On Your Knees

ONE | TWO

incel!Seungmin x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)

2.7k words

The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.

You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever. 

"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."

Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you. 

Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't not like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking. 

"Never eaten pussy."

"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"

Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."

"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort. 

The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."

"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange. 

To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking. 

"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."

It's worse than you could have imagined. 

The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man. 

"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"

Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."

Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."

The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer. 

"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."

Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.

A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.

"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice. 

"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today." 

This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."

If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave. 

But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."

Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him. 

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."

You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.

"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?" 

You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.

His Adam apple bobs.

"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."

For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.

"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining." 

His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against. 

You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.

Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine. 

"Shut up," he mumbles. 

You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.

"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?" 

Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.

It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt. 

The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it. 

Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"

Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.

"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.

You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."

Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.

Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.

His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"

Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue. 

To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-

"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."

And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?

Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face. 

It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.

"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"

Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him. 

Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head. 

You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."

He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively. 

Fuck, you taste even better inside. 

Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.

You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.

"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground. 

He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.

Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"

a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!

[zeroseuniverse]

so i read your skz figuring out their partner got a singing voice and i ate it up, but what about rapping. like rap god, nissan altima type rap or if your feeling spunky denial is a river conversational rap shit. and like, the reader BODIES the song, bar for bar, literally knows it like they made the song themselves

obviously i 110% understand if you wouldn’t want to do this due to its repetitive nature with the singing prompt, but idk im js more into flowy rap music instead of belty songs and i was js pondering

Stray Kids Reacting to Their S/O Secretly Being an Insane Rapper

Bang Chan

Chan’s working on a beat in the studio, absentmindedly humming when you suddenly start rapping along to a song at full speed. He stops everything. The track is still playing, but he’s just staring at you, mouth slightly open. "Hold on. HOLD ON. Since when—HELLO?" He rewinds the beat, pointing at you. "Do it again. I need to confirm that wasn’t a fluke." Once you go off again, he’s convinced. Immediate producer mode activated. He’s already layering adlibs in his head. "We’re making a song. This is non-negotiable."

Lee Know

Minho’s driving when you absentmindedly start rapping, barely paying attention to how flawlessly you’re hitting every syllable. He, however, nearly forgets how to operate the vehicle. "You’re joking." He looks at you, then back at the road, then back at you, blinking in disbelief. "Am I dating a rapper and I didn’t know?" Plays it cool but is secretly so impressed that he’s replaying the song just to hear you go off again. Later, you catch him trying to match your flow when he thinks you're not listening.

Changbin

You’re both hyping each other up to a rap song when you suddenly go off—full speed, no stumbles, perfect delivery. Changbin, mid-rhyme, chokes on air. "WAIT. TIME OUT." He physically grabs your arm, eyes wide. "WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU COULD RAP LIKE THAT?!" Suddenly, he’s throwing instrumentals at you, demanding you try different beats. He’s hyping you up so hard, it’s basically a rap cypher now. "You and me? Rap duo. Think about it."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin’s scrolling on his phone when you casually spit a full-speed verse, no mistakes. He glances up slowly, eyebrows furrowed. "...Excuse me?" Then it clicks, and he gasps. "WHY WAS THAT SO HOT?!" Grabs his phone and immediately starts recording. He’s losing it, acting like he just discovered a hidden gem. "Can you do that again? Wait—say my name in the rap voice." This is now his favorite thing about you.

Han

Han’s rapping dramatically, adding sound effects and adlibs, when you suddenly match his energy and destroy the verse. He freezes mid-word, hands on his head. "YO, YO, YO—WHAT??" Looks personally offended, like you just out-rapped him in his own house. "Where did THAT come from?! Have you been hiding this?!" Forces you to do a rap battle immediately. He’s not even mad—just shook and so entertained. "We need a duo name. Right now."

Felix

Felix is driving peacefully, enjoying the music, when you start rapping perfectly—every word, every pause, every switch-up. He grips the wheel tighter. "...Huh?" Looks over at you, then back at the road, then back at you. "I think I just fell in love again." His deep laugh fills the car as he starts replaying the track just to hear you do it again. Now he needs you to rap every song you know.

Seungmin

Seungmin’s jamming along, vibing, when you suddenly annihilate a verse at high speed. He stops moving. Just stares. "……Interesting." When you finish, he raises a brow. "So, you’ve been sitting on this talent while I embarrass myself at karaoke?" Acts unimpressed, but later, you catch him playing that song again just to see if you’ll do it. And when you do? Smirks and nods. "Yeah. That’s my partner."

I.N

Jeongin’s messing around, rapping with exaggerated confidence, when you casually jump in and outperform him completely. He stops, hands gripping the wheel. "...No way." He’s laughing in shock, shaking his head. "YOU CAN RAP?! SINCE WHEN?!" Won’t let it go. Will bring it up at dinner. At practice. To the members. "Did you guys know my partner is a rapper? A WHOLE rapper?!"

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ jake pulls you into a kissing booth

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader genre: fluff words: 1.8k notes: my first jake fic! honestly wanted to write about him for a long time because he's one of the first guys i saw from enha ... he just has that hot popular kid vibe ... i HAD to make this ... AAAAA ALSO SHOUOUT TO @kaiyunsim! THIS ONE'S FOR YA BRUH

Your days at school began like any other student's. Each day was a repetitive cycle of subjects you had to endure until the semester ended. You had memorized these lessons long ago, yet still found yourself sitting in class, trying to absorb the material. It was exhausting, but deep down, you loved the thrill of academics. School was a place of peace for you, a welcome escape from home, which felt far away. It was a place you cherished, filled with the laughter of friends and the buzz of youthful dreams.

However, if you could choose to be anywhere else, it certainly wouldn't be your school, especially not during the school's founding celebration fair. To make matters worse, your friend had signed you up to help out at your class's assigned booth — the kissing booth.

You rested your head against your hand, manning the busy booth with an aloof gaze. It wasn't that you disliked helping; it was just that you hadn’t volunteered for this. You watched the chaos unfold around you, the energy of the fair buzzing like a live wire. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing, playing games, and enjoying the festivities. But here you were, stationed at the kissing booth, a reluctant participant in this social spectacle.

"Thanks again for helping out!" a classmate chimed in, trying to lift your spirits. His bright smile was infectious, but you only managed a half-hearted nod.

"Ugh... it’s not like I had a choice. Joey signed me up before I could protest," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Joey did? She's a riot!" your classmate laughed nervously, glancing at you. Your glare silenced him. "Oh! I mean... she's just so... um, enthusiastic, right?"

"It’s for fun!" Joey interjected, crashing into the conversation, her energy palpable. The other student bolted away as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Aren't you allowed to have fun, Mr. President?" Joey turned her gaze to you as she held her hands onto your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Making friends in high school was challenging enough, but when people clung to you like they were your lifeline, things got complicated. Joey had always stuck to you like glue. As you grew to tolerate her presence, she introduced you to 'normal high school things'—experiences you had only read about in books or seen in movies. You felt like you could only refuse her so many times before she'd throw a tantrum.

"Again, it's ACTING president. I've only been called that since the new semester started, okay?" you corrected her, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Yeah, right. You'll definitely win again if you ever run. It’s your calling!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"That’s why I can't be here," you said, standing up, feeling the weight of tiredness settling on your shoulders.

Joey grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. You knew this would happen, but it never hurt to try and escape, right?

"Hey! Not again!" she sighed, exasperated. "You've only been here for two hours! I promised you food, right? Just help out at the booth."

You shot her a glare but couldn't keep the corners of your mouth from twitching upward. "Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t try to escape again. It’s exhausting watching people come in and out of this booth."

Joey looked where you pointed, a smirk growing on her face. "Why? Curious about what happens there?"

You shot her an incredulous look, but she only saw the red flush creeping across your cheeks.

"What?" she defended, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ding ding ding?"

"No one’s interested!" you exclaimed, covering your face in embarrassment. Joey just laughed, the sound ringing like music in the chaos around you.

"Sure! It isn’t a big deal. Not at all~" she sang, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at her playful attitude.

As you chatted with Joey, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a wave of cheers.

"Aahh! It's the soccer team!"

"The boys! The boys!"

The crowd erupted as the campus soccer team made their entrance, radiating an undeniable charm. With their impressive recent state champion title win for the nth time, and their unrealistic and striking looks, they were the stars of the event. You could see the excitement in the air, students gushing over their favorite players, the thrill of being close to someone so admired.

One of them, clearly the leader, locked eyes with you and bit his lip. "Hey~" he called out, confidence radiating like a warm sun on a cold day, having brushed his hair back, a gesture that seemed to send the crowd into a frenzy.

You blinked, looking to your side. "Uh... who are you talking to?" You felt your heart race, unsure if he was really addressing you. "Me?"

The guy grinned, stepping closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Oh definitely. You're really adorable up close, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, convinced this must be one of those pranks online. But he didn’t back down; instead, he moved closer to your ticket table, his presence both thrilling and intimidating.

"Ahem ... To purchase a ticket for the booth, please ensure you have your partner with you. All pairs come first," you stated, reading the fine print from the paper in your hands, trying to maintain your composure.

"Good then." He flashed you his ID. "Jake Sim."

"Jake Sim," you repeated, scribbling his name down. "Who would you be taking to the kissing booth?"

You looked behind him as his members stood still. "One of them?" You snickered.

"Kissing booth?" Jake's eyes widened in surprise, who seemingly haven't heard you talk for that second. "This isn't just a regular dating booth?"

You sighed, feeling an exasperated laugh bubble up. Of course, it isn't. The dating booth idea was scrapped due to budget constraints, leaving this more intimate alternative. There wasn't anything you can do at that point, even though you were the council's ACTING president.

"Yes."

"Shoot..." Jake checked his breath, a sudden look of concern washing over his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden panic.

You laughed lightly. "Mint?"

He shot you a look, as if to say don’t look at me right now.

"Huh? I'm good!" he declared, spraying some fresh mist into his mouth. "See? Nothing happened." he smirked, spreading his arms wide, clearly trying to charm you.

"I still can't give you a ticket," you replied firmly, crossing your arms.

"Why?" he pressed, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"You have no partner—"

"I can take you with me, can't I?" he cut in, blunt and straightforward, his eagerness palpable.

It felt as if time had frozen. He looked at you with eager anticipation, and you could only respond with confusion, your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"Me?" you stammered, flustered. "You can't possibly think of me as—"

Suddenly, you heard a whirlwind of chaos behind you, like a storm brewing in your booth.

"Two dollars, and he's yours!" Joey shouted, tossing you toward Jake with a mischievous grin.

"That's more like it!" Jake said, handing over the bills to Joey and waving goodbye as he led you toward the booth.

"Thank you for the donation!" Joey called after you, her voice fading as you felt your heart racing faster than ever.

"Two dollars?!" you exclaimed, shooting a death glare at Joey, who simply smiled and waved goodbye, leaving you feeling wronged yet slightly amused.

"Trust me! You’re worth more than that!" she whispered dramatically, retreating into the crowd.

You felt your blood boil at the suddenness of it all, yet something else stopped you in your tracks. It was as if time had paused again, leaving only the two of you in this moment filled with tension and unspoken words.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled, avoiding Jake's gaze. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you wiped them away with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up.

Jake laughed, drawing closer, his presence overwhelming and oddly comforting.

"What?" You looked at him.

"I'm just trying to understand why you don’t want me kissing you," he said with that playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, everybody wants a piece of me."

So bold?! You rolled your eyes at his audacity. "What an airhead you are..."

Airhead? I thought people liked confident guys. Jake pondered, trying to maintain his charming facade.

"Heh. Am I an airhead?" he scoffed, a playful smirk on his face. "Isn’t it just because I know what I like?"

"Ugh." You mimicked your friend's signature sassy move. "Do NOT tell me that."

Am I already screwing this up? Jake’s mind raced, unable to keep up with his facade crumbling under the pressure.

"Can’t we just enjoy this moment between us, babe?" Jake said, leaning in and pressing his hands beside your head. Your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

That's it, look flustered… please? Jake thought desperately, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his bravado.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. He was already making a move with something as cringeworthy as this? And calling you by such a boring pet name? You couldn't even imagine the other ridiculous things he might do. Maybe he would—

KISS YOU?! In a blink, his lips met yours, soft as a cloud brushing against your skin.

In that instant, something snapped within you. You tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, and you felt something strange sliding between your mouths.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"What—"

"A tongue?!" you gasped, staring at him, bewildered. Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? I’m not doing anything," he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You snuck that devilish tip of your tongue into my mouth!" you accused, covering your face as heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your senses.

"Oh come on, you liked it," Jake teased, his confidence unwavering.

Did you? He wondered, feeling a mix of hope and doubt.

"That’s it! You had your time!" you declared, storming away, embarrassed and flustered. "Enjoy, then get lost!"

As you walked away, you shot one last glance over your shoulder, throwing out something Jake never thought he’d hear directed at him.

"Weirdo..." you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, a mixture of confusion and exhilaration swirling inside you.

Jake stood there, feeling like a lost puppy searching for its owner. The thrill of the kiss lingered on his lips, but the sting of embarrassment washed over him.

Somewhere on campus, you could almost hear his loud screams of agony.

His friends rushed over, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, Jake!" a couple of teammates called, finding their captain lying on the ground, kicking his feet in shame.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Jake screamed again, all his efforts feeling wasted, his face buried in his hands as if he could hide from the world.

"Oh my god, he’s breaking down..." Joey remarked, stepping into the booth. She quickly closed the curtains, glancing at the curious onlookers, knowing too well the rumors that would fly around.

"Shh! People will get the wrong idea about our booth! This is NOT a screamo booth; the main stage is down by the garden pavilion."

Jake grabbed one of his larger teammates, his eyes wide with despair. "He looked at me like I was DIRTY!!!" he cried, trying to wipe away his tears, but failing miserably.

"Are you ... crying?!" Joey exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, I’m crying!" Jake declared, wiping his face in a panic, his emotions spilling over.

"Captain, your image—"

"Who cares!" Jake slumped back down, defeated. "He probably thinks I’m a loser at this point... What gives?"

A heavy silence blanketed the booth, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"It’s not like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get, you know cap?" one teammate said, trying to console him, though the words felt hollow in the air.

"But..." Jake murmured, his confidence wavering.

Another teammate stood up, raising his fist in determination. "You’re Jake Sim, our all-powerful soccer team captain! You can do anything!"

Jake slowly lifted his gaze, intrigued by their words, the fire within him beginning to reignite.

"And you can make up for it!" his teammates urged. "Then you’ll get that chance!"

He considered his situation. If he could somehow make up for what he did with you, it would earn him some serious brownie points, right? Maybe then he'd finally get the chance to ask you out.

"Okay!" Jake declared, standing tall and raising his fist triumphantly. "I’ll try better this time!"

"That’s the spirit, Captain Jake!" his teammates cheered, ending with a loud burst of laughter, their camaraderie lifting his spirits.

"Ugh... you guys are hopeless." Joey facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to suppress a smile. "Whatever... that’s not my business..."

As the fair continued around them, Jake felt a newfound determination swell within him. He couldn't let this moment define him; he had to make things right. With a deep breath, he plotted his next move, ready to win you over, one awkward attempt at a time.

I really wanted to make Jake someone who tries too hard to get someone's attention, only making himself a pitiful sack of potatoes by the end of the ordeal. DONT WORRY he should be able to get the guy right ...right?!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

[moonmunson]

electric touch - eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie hasn't had much luck with dates - not until you.

warnings: ppl being mean to eddie (only for a little bit!) and some discussion on eddie's penchant for kinda being used by the popular girls but there's so much fluff and some kissing at the end

word count: 2.8k

a/n: i started this when speak now tv came out and then completely abandoned it but she's my little brain child

When Eddie was in eighth grade, he spent a week rehearsing the best way to ask a girl out on a date. He practiced in the mirror every day, making sure to sound hopeful, but not desperate, eager, but not pushy. He’d almost given up and asked his Uncle for advice, but in case it didn’t go the way he wanted it to, he didn’t want Wayne to be waiting for an update. 

There was a new horror movie premiering in the theater downtown, and he’d heard that scary movies were the best to bring a girl to - because if she got scared, Eddie could put his arm around her and protect her from the fictional monsters. 

He never even got the chance to ask her. He’d tried, to be sure. Monday morning of the next week, when he’d worked up enough nerve, he walked up to the group of cheerleaders she was a part of, and didn’t even open his mouth before the group of girls ganged up on him - asking him what he wanted, calling him a freak, telling him to get away from them. Later, the girl he’d been pining after approached him - sans clique - and apologized on behalf of her friends. She didn’t feel the same as them, but she couldn’t ruin her “reputation.” They saw each other in secret for half a year before she got a boyfriend on the basketball team. Typical. It hurt Eddie more than he was comfortable admitting. 

Eddie doesn’t love referring to himself as a cynic, but the repetitive cycle of being used by popular girls for a night of fun - fulfilling their dream of sleeping with the town’s resident bad boy before never speaking to him again, exhausted Eddie to the point of declaring that true love was a capitalistic ruse created to sell laboratory made diamonds. It would never work out for him, and he convinced himself that he was okay with that. 

For the remainder of high school, Eddie continued to play the part. Rich kids invited him to ragers and tried to weasel their way out of paying full price for his weed, even though they were buying with daddy’s money, not their own. He hooked up with random popular girl after random popular girl, always leaving immediately and feeling like shit after. But at least he was getting laid, right?

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Now, Eddie is sitting on the couch in his living room, meticulously arranging and rearranging Wayne’s automobile magazines that live untouched on the coffee table. Has there always been this much dust on them? He wasn’t sure, and the thought only offered a momentary distraction before the nerves swept him back into the electric current of anxiety running through his body.  

He’d already spent most of the past hour making sure there was no visible trash laying out in the open for you to see. He’d even gone so far as to make his room slightly presentable in case you wanted to go in. He wasn’t expecting anything - quite the opposite, actually. He was sure that you’d see the place he lives, turn around and walk out without giving him a chance, and never speak to him again. 

Logically, he knows that this won’t be the case. He knows that Dustin wouldn’t lie to him about your reciprocated interest. He’d spent the entire drive back to Eddie’s trailer for their Hellfire meeting trying to convince him that he saw how giddy his sister had been when she opened the door and saw him standing there. She’d known Eddie was coming to pick her younger brother up, and she’d put on mascara to greet him - as if Eddie truly knows enough about girls to take that as a surefire sign that you were excited to see him. Dustin hears you talking over the phone to your friends about him all the time, and he only shares with Eddie that what you say is positive - not wanting to disclose the nitty gritty. It’s not your fault that the walls of your adjoined rooms are thin, and your friends are loud. 

Still, Eddie is nervous. When he gave you his phone number under the assumption that you might want to call to check up on Dustin, he was shocked that you called days after the Hellfire meeting had ended, and Dustin had returned home. So shocked, in fact, that he wasn’t even the one who had answered the phone - Wayne was. When he’d heard the sweet lilt of your voice on the other side of the line, he’d practically shoved his uncle to grab hold of the phone. You sounded unsure saying hello to him - nervous and breathy and a little bit quiet, but not unenthusiastic - and Eddie knew that Dustin had been telling the truth. 

Eddie spoke to you for an hour that night before he worked up the nerve to ask if you might want to come over to watch a movie. “No funny business, just the sweet sight of David Bowie in tights that no other man would ever be able to pull off.” You’d giggled - a sound Eddie was determined to hear again - and asked how he knew that Labyrinth was your favorite movie. The truth was that he’d overheard Dustin complaining about how you chose it every time it was your turn to pick for family movie night, but he brushed off the question and said that he just “Had a feeling.” 

The sudden appearance of headlights beaming through the trailer window brings Eddie out of his reverie long enough to remember to wipe the dust from his hands onto his jeans. The sound of your car door opening and closing, and the crunch that your shoes make on the gravel pulls Eddie like a siren song from the couch to his trailer door, and the creaking of the wooden steps leading up to said door, has him pulling it open faster than he means to. 

You’re a vision of comfort. Of soft things. Of light wash jeans with no rips in them, of cardigans and sweaters and rose perfume. Your fist is raised in the air like you were about to knock, and for a moment, Eddie thinks this whole thing was a mistake. 

“Oh-”

“Sorry, I-”

There’s a beat of silence. The energy between the two of you is almost palpable - eyes wide and palms clammy - before he breaks the connection and moves out of the way for you to come in. He knows he can turn on the charm once you’re settled, but this has been the part he’s been dreading the most.

It doesn’t matter to his friends that he lives in a trailer. It doesn’t matter when there are beer bottles on the coffee table or old socks on the couch, he knows the guys won’t care. But as you step in, and your eyes begin to sweep over the small living room, the reality of his economic status has never felt bigger, or made him feel smaller. 

As he looks at you though, he notices the soft smile on your face. Taking stock of the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls, of the throw blanket laid over the top of the recliner. 

“The uh, the hats and stuff are my Uncle’s.”

“They’re really cool,” his eyes trace your movements as you walk along the edges of the room, arms at your sides, reading the puns and state names embroidered on them. “has he always collected them?”

Eddie makes his way to the couch, and sits - trying to direct his line of sight to the same ones you’re looking at. Trying to put himself in your shoes and guess what you might be thinking, but coming up short. 

“Wayne was a trucker for a few years,” you turn to look at him, to pay attention to what he’s saying. Eddie does a lot of stupid shit to get people to look at him, he knows that. It doesn’t matter that the expressions he receives the most often are sneers or ones of annoyance. Exasperation. But you look genuinely interested in what he has to say, and it throws him for a loop. “And then he got stuck with me, so he doesn’t really get to buy new ones anymore.”

“Stuck with you?”  

“I mean, yeah, kind of. It’s a long boring story,” Eddie claps his hands together and launches himself up and off of the couch, and you know to stop pushing. “Want the grand tour?” 

“Absolutely,” you nod. 

“Well, my lady,” you watch from your position by the recliner as he struts to the middle of the living room, puts his arms out horizontally at his sides, and bows deeply, “welcome to Castle Munson. The maid did actually remember to show up tonight.” 

“Oh yeah? She did an excellent job,” you huff out a laugh, and Eddie snaps back up to a vertical, a smile on his face that showcases the lines around his mouth. 

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

After giving you a short but enthusiastic tour of the main parts of the trailer and presenting you with the array of snacks he'd gotten for the movie, you both settled on the small couch in the living room. You'd had to resist the urge to curl up into his side, and instead curled up into the arm of the couch.

“Anything, sweets. Go for it.”

“How did you really know this was my favorite movie?”

“I’m psychic,” He taps his index finger to his temple a few times. “I didn’t tell you that?”

“Eddie.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” He matches your raised pitch - teasing, but not condescending - and you almost raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but you don’t know if you’ve reached that level of familiarity yet. 

“You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I’m not weirded out or anything - just curious. Honestly, I’m kind of like, flattered, I guess? I don’t know.” 

Had you overstepped? Eddie’s eyes flit over different things in the room in rapid succession, and he exhales - you can almost see the cogs turning in his head - like he doesn’t know whether to keep joking or offer a moment of true vulnerability. You don’t think the latter comes naturally to him. 

“I heard Dustin complaining to Wheeler that you always pick it for family movie night. It seems like the kind of thing you’d like. Very dreamy and hazy, that kinda thing.” Eddie shrugs and looks off to the side, trying and failing to put on an air of nonchalance, but his tinted cheeks suggest otherwise.

“Is that how you think of me? Dreamy and hazy?” You duck your head to try and meet his gaze, and when he turns to look at you, you think it’s the first time you’ve ever truly seen him. The boyish, innocent version of him that he doesn’t allow to rise to the surface all that often. His charm is still there, and bright as ever, but you can see the uncertainty in the way he struggles to keep his eyes on yours. 

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” The smile that graces your features is so easy and genuine that Eddie has no choice but to beam his own right back at you. 

You settle into an easier silence for the remainder of the movie, save for the comments the both of you share. You think it’s especially funny when Eddie compares The Fireys playing volleyball with their own heads to a “Muppet snuff film on acid.” When it’s over, he grabs a few Dr. Peppers from the fridge and asks if you want to smoke with him before you head back home. You decline, because driving while high makes you nervous, but you don’t mind sitting with him for a bit longer. 

“Plus, there’s one more room I haven’t given you the tour for, if you’re interested…”

“I get to see the King’s quarters?”

“More like the dungeon,” he gestures to himself, still clad in his Hellfire shirt, “but yeah, totally.”

“Lead the way then, dungeon master.” 

He looks behind himself to see if you’re following, and extends his hand back so you can hold onto it. It’s not like you’re gonna get lost - the hallway is less than ten feet, but it gives you an excuse to finally touch without overthinking it. Eddie doesn't care to ask whether the jolt of static he feels when your hands meet for the first time is because of your shuffling socks on the carpet or the nervous current running between the two of you. Guessing by the way you suck in a soft breath - one he could barely hear - he doesn’t think you care either. 

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“All I’m saying is Jareth’s a weirdo for wanting a whiny sixteen year old to be his queen.” Eddie is laying on his stomach, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed in the air. When you’d entered his room, he’d shown you his favorite things before quickly ushering you to get comfortable on the bed. He said that he needed to have an in depth conversation about the movie you’d just watched. 

“The age gap is bad for sure, and she is whiny, I totally get what you’re saying, but-” You’re sitting across from him, elbows resting on your criss-crossed legs. 

“But? Y/n. Are you about to defend him?”  

“Let me finish!” You giggle and Eddie swears that he can feel it in his chest - another spark. 

“I cannot let you finish if you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say. Morally. Ethically. I cannot let you finish.” In true dramatic Munson fashion, he sweeps his hands in front of him, palm facing out for you to see. He’s almost pouting, lips folded in and corners turned down.  

“What I’m trying to say,” you look pointedly at him to see if he’s going to interrupt again, “is that I think that his proposition isn’t so bad when you really think about it.”

“Well now I have to hear your reasoning behind this.” 

“Think about it. He’s offering her literally anything she could possibly desire, and all she has to do is love him back.” 

“Oh that’s all? I think you’re forgetting the part where he says she has to obey his every whim or whatever the fuck.” Eddie fights the urge to change his tone from teasing to serious - his heart twinging at the idea of making you uncomfortable. 

“You don’t think that love is enough? Or that maybe all love has a level of devotion attached to it?”

“I think my idea of love is too fucked to give you a real answer.” He’s refusing to look at you - gaze directed towards his ringed hands fiddling with the metal tab of the soda can, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I could fix that, if you wanted - make it all dreamy and hazy for you.” 

Eddie can feel the wires in his brain short circuit. In the back of his mind somewhere, he knows that he only has a few seconds to respond before you start to think that maybe you said something wrong, but he can’t seem to reconnect in time. All he manages is an out of breath - 

“Yeah?” 

“If you wanted, yeah,” you nod, like you’ve decided something, and slowly reach to pull his hand from the soda can - taking it with you and setting it down on the crowded bedside table. “I think you deserve it.” 

“Really?” He’s looking at your joined hands, but he doesn’t wrap his fingers around yours. Not yet. 

“Yeah, Eddie. Really.” 

His fingers finally wrap around yours as you pull him from his position on his stomach to lean over you - rising onto his knees and walking on them before planting his arms on either side of your torso. He can feel your breath, soft against his cheeks as he leans in and connects his lips to yours - once, twice, three times. 

That same sparky feeling that Eddie has been getting in his chest all night finally rumbles to life. Like a car being hotwired, he can practically feel your hands pulling wires he thought were long dead and breathing life back into them - rubbing them together until the spark catches and the engine starts. 

“That was-” You pull away slightly to look up at him, lovesick and dopey. 

“Dreamy? Hazy? I think those are two words I would definitely-”

You laugh, already pulling his face back towards yours. 

“Shut up and kiss me again, Munson.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

a/n: ahh! thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog i would appreciate it endlessly !!!

[roanniom]

King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

-

—

—-

——

——-

Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog and comment to let me know!

Read Part 2

[sleepypanda01]

hm....

hmm...

hmmm...

hmmmmm......

hmmmmmmmm....🧐

Nox in the main story has been tied to the theme of trust and recently, loyalty, which if you think about it, trust and loyalty are two values that are connected to each other. Throughout the main story, it is heavily implied that Nox has been used by someone to the point he has developed trust issues that make it hard for him to be vulnerable around others and put his trust in them.

Nox has been warming up to Chase since the beach boys arc, and even in Cinderfella arc he showed subtle signs of kindness by providing guidance to Chase on how to follow the story and letting him know that fairy tale food is safe for him to consume. It is not though until the honour among thieves arc that he expresses his gratitude for the snacks and apologises to Chase for calling him underhanded all this time. Even if Nox was already forming some sort of attachment toward Chase, he still was not trusting him fully (which is understandable). Despite him sleeping in Chase's hoodie the night before returning it, that same night he went through what he thought was Chase's notebook in order to conclude whether Chase was actually trustworthy or not. It is not until the Requiem of the blood arc that he shows his trust toward Chase and it is in the same arc that he gets hurt after deciding to start opening up his heart to someone. Despite him being hurt by Chase's actions, we see that he was thinking of giving him the benefit of the doubt and he stayed with him in the damaged book until the end, showcasing his loyal nature, but even after all that, he still has not revealed his name to Chase, which could be the ultimate sign of trust that Nox can offer since it provides crucial info about him and his circumstances.

The reveal in the hiatus of his habit of putting others first and the fact that he is the protector of loyalty not only reinforce my theory that he was betrayed by someone close to him,but is also on par with his traits in the main story, where he displays his caring nature by not running away from a dangerous situation and actually staying to help someone he has come to care about, even if he is not ready to fully trust Chase yet. It is interesting though, that despite Nox's self-sacrificing tendencies and his kind and loyal nature, the first time Chase asks him to help someone else, he is confused as to why he should do that. At first, it might look like the concept of helping someone is foreign to him and can't quite grasp it,yet in that arc he had been following Chase around to make sure he is okay as if it was second nature to him. This leads me to believe that the idea of helping others might not have been confusing, but it rather was tied to a bad experience that involved helping someone out and resulting in something bad.

As I have suggested in other posts, taking his name into consideration and how unique it sounds,it is possible that someone took him in with the objective to use him later and gave him the name ''Nox'' cause he was always supposed to replace a key, unless he has forgotten his human name. However, his self-sacrificing tendencies also hint on that he might have tried to protect someone and that is how he ended up in the situation he is. What if someone else was supposed to be turned into a key and Nox took their place and got stabbed in the back by that person, leaving him alone to this fate? I am gonna get repetitive, but in the official art featuring Nox, where one of the cookies is in a perfect shape while the other is broken, feels like it symbolises his broken trust caused by the betrayal he experienced, he lent a hand only to lose an arm, and his cup is empty because he sacrificed so much,that now he himself is empty, while the person who most likely betrayed him did not suffer any damage. It is clear that whatever happened to him, left a deep scar within him.

This theory about Nox kind of reminds me of Meg from the Disney movie ''Hercules''. I think their circumstances might be similar. She tried to save her lover by selling her soul to Hades only to be left behind,just like Nox could have tried to protect someone by sacrificing himself, only to be abandoned. Then Meg uses Hercules to earn her freedom, just like Nox might be using Chase by possibly stealing his narratonin to turn human again.However, Meg ended up falling in love and self-sacrificing once again, only that this time her loyalty got returned and she was saved. Nox has fallen in love too and we have seen him putting himself in danger by staying in the damaged book to help Chase, and I can see him doing something similar again in the future if it is for Chase,only this time, instead of being betrayed,his sense of loyalty and commitment will be returned because this time it is Chase.

[milliesfishes]

hihihi !! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests but i was wondering if you could write something with either young!president!coryo or academy!coryo helping reader with nighttime anxiety fall asleep? just soothing, gentle words filled with fluff and love. LOVE U MILLIE!❤️

LOVE YOU MWAH I'm so sorry I took forever to do this hehe

౨ৎ꣑ৎcoriolanus when you have nighttime anxiety౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

The pink silken strap of your nightdress kept falling off your shoulder, and at this point you didn't even bother to fix it. Staring at yourself in the clean gold rimmed mirror, you tried to breathe in. There were no windows in this closet, but you knew it was dark out. Coriolanus would have drawn the curtains in the bedroom by now, and it would only ease you a little bit.

For years now you'd dreaded earth after dark, something about the day's end propelling you into a world of worry that you could hardly escape. Crawling on your belly, you tried to outrun it. But the more you struggled, the worse it became.

"Darling?"

You turned your head at Coriolanus' call, swallowing and breathing in softly. Maybe it would be better tonight. Maybe you'd be able to slide under the covers with nary a feeling other than your husband's arms around you. Smoothing your pretty nightdress one more time, an attempt to get excited for bed, you gave yourself one last glance in the mirror. It would have to do.

Making your way into the next room, you tiptoed across the plush carpet, making your way into the waiting cradle of his arms. He pressed on your back, settling you into his body. "Just relax."

It had been a hard thing to hide from your husband- your night-caused fear. He'd crept within you the way ivy crawled up a garden wall. You made no move to trim it.

Coriolanus' chin rested atop your head, and he breathed in. The tension in his body seemed to diffuse, and you nuzzled into him, rubbing his chest. "How was your day today?"

"Fine." He brushed it off, seeming more interested in smoothing down your hair. "Long. Busy. How was yours, sweetheart?"

"I read a little bit," you mused, the conversation distracting you. The knot in your stomach began to unravel. "And...I went shopping.'

"Did you get this?" he murmured, pinching the soft material of your nightdress.

"Uh huh." It had been his suggestion. That maybe if you had something new, going to bed would seem nicer. It seemed there was no end to the money Coriolanus was willing to spend to help you get better.

He kissed your forehead. "I like it."

"Mhm." You slid your hand under his sleep shirt, splaying fingers out over his bare skin. The feeling soothed your thumping heart, and You shut your eyes, going limp over his chest.

Always attentive, Coriolanus guided your head so one ear rested over his heart. He raked his fingers gently through your hair, and you felt the press of his nose to your temple. "I've got you." He secured his free arm over your waist. "Whatever you're worrying about, I can make it go away."

You did feel invincible there, in his arms. Terror gripped you like a vice, and suddenly he was swooping in, an angel backlit by fear's tight fingers around your neck. He pried each one away, nursing the awful red marks they left. One look into his eyes told you how safe it was here. That everything horrible that dared darken your doorstep would cower once his shadow loomed over it. That was his power. But even if he had nothing, penniless with not a title to his name, you would feel just as protected.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" he breathed, and you could hear that he was half-asleep.

"Are you going to be home?" you asked, feeling yourself start to drift off. it was a sensation you welcomed, and in Coriolanus' hold all the negatives that came with it dissolved in the net of the bubble around you both.

"Yes," he affirmed, lovingly stroking your hair, the repetition lulling your mind. His voice was soft, words pushed together. Whenever he got like this it always made you smile. The cold-hearted president of Panem, sleepy and refusing to let go of his wife. You loved him this way. You loved him every way. "It's been too long since we've had a day together, I think. What would you like to do?"

Smoothing a hand up his side, you shifted your head on his chest, the corners of your lips turning up as you thought. "The rose gardens are in bloom. I want to take a walk."

He kissed the top of your head. "Done."

Daydreams filled your head, of walking through the sea of roses, mostly red, with a great deal of pink he'd had planted specifically for you. And before you knew it, your eyes were growing heavy. Your last thought before you drifted off was the realization that he'd tricked you. Sleep was creeping up your spine when you hadn't wanted it to.

But you didn't mind one bit.

[ak319]

i hope this one is different so you dont think it's repetitive... arthur become jealous whenever (teen?) reader show affection/politeness to the members of van der linde gang!! she is so kind and caring, it's like arthur gave all of his positive emotions to her.

i hope you're not too overwhelmed <3

(AN: It was fun to write this, lmao, and I'm good, thanks for asking! <3<3)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, fluff

Arthur stretched, savoring the cool evening breeze as he woke from his afternoon nap. Rubbing his eyes, he scanned the camp, noticing some of the boys lounging around, and then his gaze fell on you. You were nestled beside Hosea, who was explaining something, gesturing with a worn book in hand. The two of you looked deep in conversation, and Arthur’s jaw tightened just a touch.

Of course. You and Hosea with those endless stories.

Arthur strolled over, trying to keep his voice casual. “(Y/n)... my coffee?”

You looked up, blinking as if you’d just noticed him. “It’s in the pot.”

“So?”

“So… go get it?” You turned back to Hosea without a second thought, the two of you picking up right where you left off, as if Arthur wasn’t even there.

Arthur’s mouth opened in slight disbelief. So he’s gotta get it himself now? Is that how it is? He clearly saw you serving one to Hosea before he went to nap.

He stomped over to the coffee pot, pouring a little too forcefully, spilling half of it over the side. Huffing, he took a bitter sip, casting a sidelong glare at you and Hosea. You were still engrossed, nodding eagerly as Hosea continued his storytelling, clearly delighted by the attention.

You, Hosea, and those books. Why didn’t you tell him stories like that, like when you were little, always rambling on about what you’d read or about anything? He couldn’t help thinking, Maybe if he’d acted interested back then…Even now, both of you barely chatted ever since settling here.

Determined to stake his claim, he grabbed a chair, dragging it loudly across the ground until he was right in front of you both. He plopped down with his coffee, not budging.

You and Hosea paused, exchanging a look as Arthur sat there, arms crossed, expression defiant. He took a loud sip, smirking a bit. “What? Go on, I’m only listenin’. ”

Hosea chuckled, giving you a gentle nudge to continue, but Arthur’s smirk softened as he watched you. He wasn’t about to let anyone else claim his spot as the one you looked up to, even if he had to work for it sometimes.

⋆⋆⋆

“Charles, here, I bought it,” you said, holding out a small glass bottle.

Charles put down his dagger, inspecting the vial with a pleased nod. “Hm, thanks, (Y/n). This’ll be really helpful. I'll be sure to use it.”

Before Charles could say much else, Arthur’s gun clattered down onto the table, his gaze zeroed in on the bottle in his hand. “Woah, woah, what is that?”

You folded your arms, already anticipating his reaction. “It’s rosemary oil. It’s good for hair, you know? I use it too, and Charles was complaining about hair fall. You should use it too Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyebrow shot up, his lips pressing together as he rolled his eyes and resumed cleaning his gun. Hair oil? Really? He bit back a scoff, the faint irritation simmering in his expression. The things you’d done for Charles lately, you were really taking him being your 'other brother' thing too seriously, acting like he was the camp’s best friend and personal confidant. More like 'other better brother' at this point.

"My hair's fine." He pouted which was subtle enough for both of you to miss.

Maybe you thought Charles was better than him somehow. Was it because of his hair? Arthur’s eyes flicked over to Charles’s neatly braided locks and he bristled, pushing away that little jab of jealousy. Those braids were another evidence of your craft and experiments on him.

“By the way, Charles-" you started.

Arthur snapped up, feigning nonchalance as he muttered, “What’re you askin’ him now, huh? Got another herbal concoction to fuss over or a new hairstyle?”

“Actually,” you continued, ignoring his tone, “I was thinking Charles could teach me some tracking. Thought it’d be useful when you sometimes take me to hunt.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened slightly. He tried to play it cool, returning to his gun, but not before muttering, “Right… and just let me know when you’re done with all that ‘learnin’. Don’t need you forgettin’ your real chores now, got it?” You huffed slightly in reply, embarrassed and stomped away. He seemed to love bringing up your damn chores.

⋆⋆⋆

You peeked through the tent flap, hesitating slightly before stepping in. Arthur lay back on his cot, one knee propped up as he casually read through his journal. The sight of him looking so calm made your stomach twist just a bit, this wasn’t the look of someone who called you in for a friendly chat.

“Arthur… you called?” you asked cautiously, stepping inside.

He didn’t even look up, but you could sense the tension in his posture. “What is up with what I heard?”

You chuckled nervously, playing innocent. “Heard what?”

Finally, he glanced at you, setting his journal aside. "Feeding Kieran. An O’Driscoll, for God’s sake, and a captive one at that. You think that’s a good idea? Are you nuts?!”

You folded your arms, barely batting an eye. “What, we’re just gonna starve him to death in camp? That’s a great plan,” you said, throwing a glance toward Dutch’s tent with an exaggerated scowl.

Arthur caught the look, his gaze hardening. "Hey, don’t go blaming Dutch for making sense. You think Kieran’s just some stray dog? He’s a danger, and feeding him, treating him like… like one of us, it just ain’t wise.”

"But Mary- Beth did it too, why didn't-"

"I don't care what she did! I am talkin' to you right now! Also, she only gave him water while you served a damn feast to his ass. So, you...listen to me. Got it?" Not your fault that you cooked well and wanted everyone to have a taste. Poor guy was dying out there just from the smell of it.

“But why?” you retorted, the fire in your voice undeniable. “You’re all acting like he’s gonna break loose and take us all down with a spoon. He’s tied up. He's a person, Arthur, not a monster. And maybe, just maybe, if everyone here wasn’t so fast to turn people into enemies, half of this mess wouldn’t even exist! This isn't what mother taught us, Arthur.”

Arthur’s expression shifted from anger to something deeper, like a storm passing over. “Don't bring her into this! This is a different life from what we came from, why do you keep insisting upon those memories?” His voice softened but kept its edge. “And that big heart of yours? It’ll get you hurt if you’re not careful. I don’t want to be pulling you outta trouble because you’re tryin’ to see the good in a damn O’Driscoll. Now, are we clear?”

You stared back at him, the defiance slipping just a little as you noticed the strain in his eyes. Beneath his anger was worry, and for a moment, you softened too.

“Fine, fine, I made a mistake, apparently, and I’ll stay clear of him,” you mumbled. Being human here seems to be a crime.

⋆⋆⋆

You walked into the camp’s small, makeshift office, the familiar smell of paper and ink in the air. Strauss was hunched over a pile of bills and coins, his glasses perched precariously on his nose as he jotted down figures. His furrowed brow and concentration didn’t go unnoticed.

"Hey, Strauss," you called out softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, adjusting his glasses as a small smile appeared on his face. “Ah, (Y/n), good to see you. Just trying to get these numbers in order, but it’s a bit too much for one pair of hands.”

You moved closer, casually offering your assistance. “Mind if I help?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’d be willing to help count all this?”

“Sure,” you replied, already rolling up your sleeves. “Looks like you’ve got a lot on your hands.”

Strauss chuckled softly, clearly appreciative. “I suppose that’s why I always need help with these things. It’s too much to do alone, even for someone as meticulous as me.”

You settled next to him, carefully picking up a stack of bills and sorting them by denomination. The coins came next, their jingling noise filling the air as you organized them into neat little piles. Strauss watched, impressed by how quickly and efficiently you worked, and before long, everything was sorted and ready to be counted.

“By my word, (Y/n), you’ve done this faster than I could’ve hoped,” he said, adjusting his glasses again, his tone warm with praise. “It’s quite clear you have an eye for details.”

You smiled, grateful for the compliment. “I’ve had some practice.”

Strauss leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. Then, with a slight flourish, he pulled a few bills from the pile and handed them to you. “As a token of my appreciation, take this,” he said, his voice warm. “A few dollars for your help. I think you’ve earned it.”

"No, no , please, no need for this. Thank you, though."

"C'mon, kid, like I said you earned it or just think of it as a gift."

You kept politely declining him but he forced the cash in your hand and the flap of the tent suddenly opened, and Arthur stepped inside, his boots thudding loudly against the floor as his eyes immediately narrowed at the scene.

Ugh.

"You givin' her a loan or something, Strauss?" He threw you a sharp look. You were well aware that he didn't appreciate you asking others for things.

"It’s not like that!" you snapped, already feeling your frustration building. “I helped him, that’s all. I didn’t ask for anything, Arthur. I wasn’t even about to take it!”

Arthur’s expression didn’t soften. In one swift motion, he turned back to the desk, and without a second thought, he placed the money you had been holding, still in your hand, back onto the table. He dropped it with a bit more force than necessary, the sound of it clinking harshly against the wood "Well, like I said, no need," he muttered, his voice polite but edged with an authority that suggested he just wanted to end the conversation. “Let’s go.”

You stumbled slightly as he nudged you toward the door. "You takin' handouts from him? Don't I give you enough pocket money already?" Arthur’s voice was tight with disapproval as he guided you out of the small room, his fingers almost too firm on your arm.

You shook your head, refusing to let the tension get the best of you. "Oh my God, he was just being nice, you damn well know I am not like that!" you muttered, glancing back at Strauss, who had returned to his work, probably already regretting offering you anything at all. "I didn’t ask for anything."

Arthur huffed, his mood sour. “And never do. I don’t trust that man with money.” He gave you a quick, pointed look as he nudged you forward, his steps quick and purposeful. “Go do somethin' else. Get out of here, kid. I don’t want to see you dealin’ with him.”

You bit back the sharp retort that formed on your lips. Instead, you let out a sigh, recognizing the stubbornness in your brother’s tone. “Fine. I’m going. Jeez,” you muttered, feeling a little put out as you walked away, already knowing this conversation wasn’t going to be the last of it.

⋆⋆⋆

Arthur nearly choked as he took another bite of the stew, his throat burning with the intense heat. He quickly grabbed his canteen, taking a few desperate gulps, trying to quench the fiery sensation that was assaulting him. What the hell was this? He wiped his mouth, glaring at the bowl like it personally offended him. What the fuck…

His hand slammed the canteen back down onto the table, and he stomped over to Pearson’s cooking station, frustration bubbling up inside him. “Why the hell is this so spicy?!”

Pearson looked up with a nonchalant grin, clearly unbothered by Arthur’s indignation. “It is? I think it’s scrumptious. Plus, (Y/N) cooked it, some Mexican recipe. Javier was feeling a little down today, so I thought I’d let her make it for him...cheer him up a bit.”

Javier, huh? Arthur’s blood began to simmer with something far more heated than the stew he just choked down. His jaw tightened as he turned on his heel and stormed towards you, who was happily swinging under the tree, carefree and unaware of the storm brewing in your brother’s chest.

"If he’s sad, does that mean you get to give me an ulcer?!" Arthur’s voice cracked like thunder, cutting through the air. “What, did you pour the whole damn bottle of chilies in this thing?”

You rolled your eyes without missing a beat and kept swinging like a kid, not even bothering to look at him as you kicked your legs lazily, enjoying the gentle breeze. “You’re being dramatic. Everyone licked their fingers clean. Even Molly liked it."

Arthur’s face contorted with disbelief as he approached you, the irritation in his veins flaring up like wildfire. Everyone? Of course. Everyone loved what you made. How could they not? You were sweet, and everything you did, even if it caused chaos, seemed to be met with nothing but approval. It’s a strange cycle, really, if you think about it. You’ve got this sweetness about you that makes it impossible for anyone to complain, even when you’re walking all over boundaries, like cooking up some wild, fiery dish for Javier. No one says a word, not even when you turn the camp upside down, because they’re all too afraid of making you upset, or worse, 'messing with Arthur's sister'.

And that’s when it gets tricky for him. All this unspoken leniency has slowly given you free rein, a field to roam in, and it’s hurting him in ways he can’t even explain. It's like you've unknowingly got the upper hand, and every little thing you do chips away at his patience, even when you’re just being you.

His lips curled into a hard, annoyed frown, and he leaned in close, voice low and harsh. “You listen here, brat," he growled, irritation lacing every word. "I’ve had a long day, and I damn well deserve a proper meal when I come back.”

Before you could even respond, Javier appeared from behind, sensing the rising tension between you two. He flashed a grin and confidently strolled over, his voice smooth and cheerful as he clapped his hands together. “Ah, but hermano Arthur,” Javier teased in his thick accent, completely unfazed by the tension. “Maybe it is not the food that is the problem, hmm? Maybe it’s your taste buds that need some...adjusting.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, his temper threatening to snap. He was about to retaliate when Javier continued, his voice warm and inviting.

“No no,” Javier continued, ignoring Arthur’s scowl entirely. “(Y/N)'s cooking is the best here. Nobody can do it quite like she can.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, but part of you could feel the tension between them rise, even if it wasn’t entirely apparent to you, "Oh , it's nothing really."

As Arthur glared at you, his frustration mounting with every word that left your mouth, Javier, ever the peacekeeper and always with a grin on his face, flashed his usual cheeky smile, and before either of you could say anything, he burst into song, his deep voice carrying through the air with effortless charm. The dulcet tone of the guitar was sweet to you, yet bitter to Arthur.

“Oh, (Y/N), who brings the light,

To the fire, and to the night,

His voice was smooth, almost theatrical as he continued, completely ignoring the scowl Arthur was throwing his way.

“The stew you make, so full of spice,

Turns every frown to something nice,

And though it burns, we can’t resist,

The magic in your tender twist...”

Arthur muttered under his breath. "You better stop singing before I lose my damn mind," he grumbled, but his voice was laced with an unmistakable irritation that he couldn’t quite hide, even if he tried.

Javier finished his song with a flourish, giving you a playful wink as he stepped back, clearly proud of his impromptu performance. “And that, mi amiga, is a little song of thanks,” he said, his grin wide, while he sauntered away while Arthur bore daggers at his back.

Arthur turned back to you, arms folded tightly over his chest as he narrowed his eyes. “Was that all a silly prank of yours or something?” he asked, his tone stiff with a mix of irritation and jealousy.

You, however, couldn’t hold back the laughter. The ridiculousness of it all was just too much. You burst into a guffaw, your shoulders shaking with amusement, and the sound was enough to disarm Arthur, just a little.

You looked up at him, barely able to contain your grin. “Depends…” you teased, still giggling, making it worse for Arthur.

Arthur’s scowl deepened, but only for a moment. When he saw that sparkle in your eyes and how you couldn’t stop smiling, he felt a soft tug at his heart. "Kid, you’re a menace for real," he muttered, the words half-hearted, even though he was secretly relieved to see you happy in this new life.

[valardohaeriss]

Picture you (1) - C.S

Hello! As promised, I am starting this modern au.

Yes all of my works are named after songs.

warnings: none?

Pairing: Modern au! Cregan Stark x Reader

enjoy!!!!

------------------------------------

It wasn't that Cregan wasn't smart, it's that this class was hard. Unfortunately, he needed to pass this class to be deemed a senior. He was ready to be out of university, he's been here for far too long. You can only study environmental science for too long. What else was there for him to learn? He was at the point where everything was starting to feel repetitive.

Cregan found his seat somewhere towards the back, the man was tall. If he even tried to sit in the front, nobody would be able to see over his stature. Students started shuffling through and Cregan paid no attention until his thoughts were interrupted by a question. "Is anyone sitting here?" you asked grabbing the chair.

He looked up and shook his head. "no, it's all yours." You took the seat and grabbed everything you needed. Pens, notebooks, ETC.... Cregan felt so underprepared next to you. He had nothing but his usual pencil and composition notebook. It got him through four years already, it never failed him. He was on the simpler side of studying and school work, but compared to you, he had nothing.

"Do you always bring this much to class? How does this work for you?" he asked you. You shrugged. You didn't know why you needed so much, but it made you feel completed and organized. "I think it makes me feel organized. But truth be told, I probably don't need it. I think it's just the structure that feels good about it." you rambled on. You realized you were rambling and quickly trailed off into silence.

He was honestly taking a mental note. Anything to help him stay organized would probably help him. "So what do you study?" He asked. You didn't know why he was holding such conversation with you, but you weren't complaining. He seemed nice. You told him your major and that you too were due to graduate soon.

Class went on and your professor was very monotone. You peeked out of the corner of your eye to see Cregan starting to zone out. You nudged him with your elbow and pointed to the professor with your pen. "Sorry." he whispered. He then realized, he was lost in the lecture. What were you guys even discussing? It was too late though, class was being dismissed.

You started to pack your things and threw your bag over your shoulder. "Hey, I hate to ask you this, but you wouldn't mind like refreshing me on what we talked about today? You can't help but to fall asleep at the sound of his voice." He didn't know where you were walking, he just followed. "Yeah that's fine, I mean how do you want the notes? Email, text, shared?" you offered all of the options.

You saw his eyebrows furrow and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I was actually wondering if you could like verbally tell me what we spoke about and I can then write the notes? I'm just an auditory learner." he explained. An auditory learner who fell asleep at the sound of the professor's voice. What an interesting conundrum, however you agreed.

"What's a good time for you? and where?" you ask. "Tonight? just so I can keep it fresh on the brain? I don't want to fall too far behind. And either my place or yours, wherever is comfortable for you?" He suggested. It sounded like an okay plan, except for one thing...you didn't know each other's names.

You reached your hand out to shake his and smiled "I realized that we didn't know each others names. Before I invited you to my home, I figured we should know who each other is. I'm y/n." you introduced yourself. He smiled and shook your hand in return. "Cregan, right, so, here's my contact information just in case things change. But just let me know. I'll see you later, yeah?" He reassured himself after introductions. You confirmed and went about your way for the day.

-------

7:30 rolled around and you heard a knock at your door. You wore some casual clothes, not really caring what you looked like in the comfort of your own home. You opened the door to find Cregan at the door with his backpack and some food. "I hope you like curry." he says as you let him in. He had his hair pulled back all the way, save a couple of strands in the front. You hadn't seen all of his face like this, he may have been a stranger, but you weren't complaining.

"are you a eat on the couch person or at the table person?" he asks aimlessly holding food and books in his hands. "The couch is fine. Mi casa es tu casa." he furrowed his brows and then it hit him. You wondered what his grade was in Spanish... or if he took another language. You grabbed some utensils and plates for the food and your phone. "So where shall we begin?" you ask prompting the studies, but you couldn't even get an answer by how much Cregan stuffed his face.

You stifled a giggle and watched the tv and ate as Cregan did. Obviously finishing much faster than you, he washed his face and hands and returned back to the couch. "Sorry, I was starved." He said and subconsciously rubbed his belly. You shrugged it off and set the rest of your food to the side. "You're fine, eat, your brain needs it. Actually it's good you brought food, certain foods are brain food."

"Is curry brain food?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged not knowing, but you did let him know that peppermint and salmon was a great option too.

Hours went by and you actually got to see how smart he actually was. He was engaged in the studying, questioning every other topic almost. Organizing his notes like you showed him. He didn't really need you, he just needed organization. He started to pack up his things and you went to your room for a second. Coming back with a notebook separated by sections, you handed it to him. "it's good to have things separated by subject. You'll need this."

He smiled taking it from you and putting it into his own bag. "Hey, thanks for tonight. I really needed it. I'll see you in class." He said before leaving. It felt good to help someone, something told you you'd be seeing him more often.

----

Weeks went by, you always sat in your normal seat next to Cregan, also to make sure that he was paying attention as well. In class, your phone kept vibrating, text after text came through. Cregan couldn't help but avert his attention to the text on your phone "who are you taking to formal?" he smirked and looked at you from the side of his eyes. "Who are you taking to formal?" he asks as your class dismissed?

"hmm? oh nobody, I'm probably not even going to go. Baela keeps asking me because Jace is going. You guys are friends too, right?" it was true, he and Jace had known each other and we're pretty close. "Yeah, but he and Baela are going. So, who's the guy you're going with?" he asks.

lie, just lie

You didn't want to tell him that you had grown feelings for him over these weeks. You didn't want to tell him that it was him that you wished would ask you. So you wouldn't.

"He doesn't feel the same way, so, it's fine. I'll just stay home." Cregan halted you. "no way, you feel this way about him...then we're gonna help him see you at this formal. I'll be your wingman." he offered with a proud smile.

What mess did you just get yourself into?

[signedkoko]

Hi again~! Your first batch of valentines are super cute, you did a great job! Also, I would be honored to be 💙 Anon if you’d like! Sorry for responding late, but I didn’t want to clog up your inbox! Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to come off anon. 😂

I have a fresh request for you too, I hope you’ll like it! Would you please do romantic headcanons or a little oneshot (I’ll let you decide which you feel like!) for Vox and f!reader going out dancing? I got the idea in my head recently and it won’t go away! Like just imagine him taking reader to one of those 1950s style nightclubs with the big ol’ dance floors for a night out—I think it’d be so cute! 😊

Thank you as always for all your hard work!

-💙

Rum Punch [Romantic]

In which on one random boring night you bring up how you miss dancing at clubs, and Vox only wants to make you happy. Reader is female.

Song - Don't Start Now x Hung Up Remix

There was nothing peculiar going on for you or your husband tonight; just normal days highlighted by seeing one another. There was nothing wrong with repetition, of course, you were both comfortable and happy as you were most nights.

But tonight, you couldn't help but feel inspired by the various songs switching as Vox scrolled through sinstagram. 

"If you like staring at me so much, why not take a picture?" The voice blurted from your phone, and when you looked down at it, Vox's head had taken over the screen. 

Rolling your eyes, you swiped the screen, which caused his visage to switch back to his main monitor. 

"Not you, though I know you just love the idea of being my only focal point." Your neutral expression shifted into a smile, enjoying your usual teasing. 

"I was just feeling..." As you trailed, the overlord leaned toward you expectantly. "Inspired?"

Reaching over, you pressed a button on the side of his screen, which immediately closed off his face and opened up his home screen. An angry grumbling came from your phone again, and you couldn't help but laugh as you used his monitor to look up the nearest club. 

He swatted your hands away once you finished typing, and his face came back with a look of annoyance. 

"Listen, if you want to party so bad, I'll take you to a party! Best of the best, every celebrity you could ever-"

"That's sweet and all, but I mean a real party—an old club with a big dance floor and shitty drinks!" You stood up, holding your hands far apart as you expressed the size of the dancefloor. Vox only sat back, sinking into the couch. 

He looked up to the sky as you jokingly showed off some disco moves to exaggerate your point, though he stopped you when he held up a hand. 

"Well, if my baby wants to party, then party we will! But I get to pick the place." 

. . .

Only an hour later, the two of you were dressed and on your way. You argued that you didn't want to draw any attention, so he begrudgingly called a cab instead of his usual driver. 

"So! Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Not even a hint?"

Vox only shook his head, though he laughed at your interest. Hell had a fuckton of bars, most shittier than the rest, so he made sure to pick a place he had minor ties to, that way he could ensure your safety.

Not that he would tell you that. He knew you liked the authenticity of being a stranger to others, but you should have thought of that before you said 'I do' to hell's most known man. 

When you arrived, Vox could see the excitement creep onto your face upon seeing the club. It was run down, certainly, but it had a full parking lot and the music was blaring. 

He seemed quite proud of himself, knowing he'd done a good job, but he quickly straightened himself out and offered a hand to you. In no time, the muffled music turned into a rhythm your heart could beat too, surrounded by friends and couples dancing together. 

This was certainly old school—older than you expected—it was tacky, but it was perfect. Everyone's heels tapped on the waxed pine floor, which made every step louder than it seemed and filled the room with the drum of dozens dancing. 

It looked to be some kind of tropical theme, with fake palm trees along the walls and many colourful cocktails with pineapple wedges or mini umbrellas. 

All the chairs were wicker, along with the tables, though those had glass slabs on top of them to protect from the likely hundreds of spills this place saw per night. The seating surrounded the dance floor, most tables had a few people who would take turns on the dance floor. While you were interested in the warm-toned string lights hanging around the ceiling, Vox was interested in grabbing a drink. 

"For the lady, a rum punch...and I'll go for the blue Hawaii." There were almost too many options, but you couldn't go wrong with the classics. 

You were still distracted taking in the scene as he leant against the bar, glancing at you with a chuckle. He was sure he could have picked anywhere and you'd have been happy, but he liked to think he did a good job. 

"You know, this sorta scene really reminds me of my startup in hell." A drink in each hand, Vox let you take a sip of both before handing you the one you enjoyed more. As always, you stared at him when he drank, probably still weirded out by how a monitor drank. Vox chose to ignore it as per usual. 

When your gaze never left him, he figured he might as well continue. 

"Val and I have known each other a long, long time. He got into business before me, and you know his thing. He'd go to every nightclub in the city, trying to find people who'd hear him out." Vox stiffed a laugh, seemingly amused, thinking of Valentino's struggle to fame. 

"He needed a cameraman, and I was better than nothing. But cameramen were easy to hire, so quickly I was moved to handling the website, and you know the rest from there." He turned his monitor to the dancefloor, his now mostly empty drink placed on the table you were standing by. 

"Places like these were all the hype. We went from scouting in them to blowing our paychecks in them to owning them." In his peripherals, he saw you down the last of your drink, sitting it next to his and pumping your first in the air. 

"Here's to the past! And how much better it feels looking back on it than being in it." You dropped a lighthearted comment to pull him back to the present, grabbing his hand to drag him into the mingling hot bodies dancing as if they were going to die tomorrow. 

He had to duck and squeeze between everyone, seeing as you were far smaller and could get through easier. But eventually, you were in the centre of the dance floor, facing each other. 

"Are you sure it's okay to dance after chugging a drink?" 

"I can't hear you! Just dance dumbass!" He could hear you just fine, but he shrugged it off with a grin, seeing you bust out the same moves you had in your living room just a few hours ago. 

Only this time, he grabbed one of your hands and joined in. 

Song after song, you two were never further than a few inches from each other. While Vox focused on keeping you close to him, you were busy singing out the lyrics to songs he didn't even know you knew. He made sure everyone saw that you were all over him, and he was just the same back, to make sure there were no incidents with stupid demons thinking they could take you away from him. 

Even in the heat of dancing, Vox would always be jealous enough to worry about others looking at you. 

But those thoughts were easily distracted when you'd pull him in for a kiss or push up against him, asking him to do a move with you. 

A few drinks later and the night was a blur shaped vaguely like you, something that danced around his head until, eventually, he could remember that you both had work the next day and needed to leave. 

When you left the building, there were only a few cars left in the parking lot, the building having mostly cleared during the handful of hours you'd both spent there. 

Vox was holding you in his arms, bridal style, while you held loosely onto the heels you really shouldn't have worn. 

This time, he called for his driver and let you comfortably lay in the back with your head in his lap, his claws carefully tracing through your hair and scratching your scalp. He could tell you were half asleep, but still coming down from the high of the club. 

"Vox."

"Mhmm?"

"Thank you for taking me out," You paused as if you had something else to add, but when the pause continued for what felt like minutes, Vox realized you'd passed out on his lap. 

For once, his grin was nothing but a careful smile, his hand leaving your head to rub circles into your shoulder. 

"Thank you for reminding me what it felt like to be human."

Author's Note - This was SO HARD TO WRITE but not because of the story 😭I was so excited for this prompt, but I had a 7hr exam right before I started this, and then I finished it at 8 am after being awoken by the window cleaners PRESSURE WASHING MY WINDOW. Scared the hell outta me!

Anyways im rambling, tysm for requesting blue anon! I am so glad we have an indicator for you now 🖤

Word Count - 1,432

[jiminjeonging]

Who else is up thinking about jm getting mj to be purely reliant on her, subtly getting her to ice everyone else out, making it so she HAS to get something from jm (whether that be praise, comfort, a place to stay), just bc jm wants to fuck her

okaay this is sunbae idol jm taking advantage of rookie mj<3<3

minjeong catches jimin's attention from the day her introduction photos gets posted on twitter. she never met this new girlgroup their company was about to debut and frankly, she wasn't interested in doing so, she already had enough on her plate but when she sees minjeong pictures and how her eyes seem to shine with innocence, she changes her mind. jimin has to have her.

it starts with a game she always plays. (jimin has been in the industry for far too long and when you reach to that point, you start to get bored with the repetitiveness of it so jimin made herself a game of conquering the new shiny thing the industry has to offer.) at first, it’s little things—pulling minjeong aside for extra training, showing her “tricks of the industry,” making her feel special for getting attention from a senior like her.

and whenever minjeong starts getting close to someone else, jimin is there.

“you should be careful around them. not everyone has good intentions.”

“unnie’s just looking out for you, okay?”

“why do you need them when you have me?”

it works, because minjeong trusts her.

suddenly, she’s turning down invites, ignoring texts, choosing jimin every time.

jimin makes herself irreplaceable. she offers advice no one else does, comfort no one else gives, attention that minjeong craves without even realizing it. she’s the one minjeong texts first when she’s overwhelmed, the one she seeks out in crowded rooms, the one she trusts without question.

jimin spoils her, but only just enough. just enough that minjeong starts to crave it. she praises her but also nitpicks stupid stuff like her hair so minjeong can try harder to get her approval.

if minjeong ever tries to be independent, jimin pulls away. she ignores her for a day, lets minjeong squirm, lets her realize how empty she feels without jimin’s presence.

minjeong starts changing without even realizing it.

her world shrinks.

her circle gets smaller.

her thoughts start with what would jimin unnie think?

she invites minjeong to her dressing room, talking to her half-naked and teases her when she blushes.

everything is going great.

the only problem is jimin is impatient. sweet innocent minjeong needs more time than she can give.

so when minjeong says she wants to experience more adult stuff like drinking, jimin offers her own place to try, insisting it’s safer.

there is wine and jimin's fingers grazing against hers when she is refilling her glass. her eyes keep on flickering down to minjeong's lips whenever she is talking, making her flustrated.

one thing leads to another and minjeong doesn’t remember how they got here.

one second, she was finishing her third glass of wine, giggling at something jimin said.

the next, jimin was above her, between her legs, kissing her so slow, so deep, so devastatingly patient that minjeong forgot how to breathe.

"you okay, baby?" jimin murmurs, tracing her fingers down minjeong’s thigh, watching her shiver. giggling when the girl blushes at the word baby.

minjeong nods, dazed, lips parted.

jimin smiles.

she takes her apart so easily. fingers, mouth, body pressing minjeong down into the sheets. soft praises, teasing whispers, watching minjeong squirm beneath her, overwhelmed but unable to stop chasing more.

"babydoll, you’re taking me so well, " jimin coos, watching the way minjeong’s body reacts to every touch eagerly. "you were made for this, weren’t you?"

minjeong moans, nods frantically, completely wrecked.

jimin just smirks, presses deeper, ruins her completely.

and when minjeong finally comes undone—shaking, whimpering, body burning from the inside out—

jimin just leans down, kisses her temple, and whispers,

"Good girl. Now, let’s get you home."

minjeong barely has time to catch her breath, to process what just happened, to realize that she gave jimin everything—

before jimin is handing her clothes back, pressing a glass of water into her hand, and dialing her manager.

"she had a little too much wine," jimin says smoothly over the phone, calm, composed, unaffected. "think you can come pick her up?"

minjeong blinks, still dizzy, still aching. "Unnie?"

jimin cups her chin, tilting her face up.

"You were so good for me, baby," she murmurs, brushing a thumb over minjeong’s kiss-swollen lips. "But you should go now."

minjeong stares.

confused. flushed. used.

jimin just smiles but her usually sweet eyes lacks emotion. "Go home, Minjeong."

-

jimin shouldn’t care.

she’s done this before. taken plenty of first times, left plenty of girls behind. she doesn’t do attachments. she doesn’t look back.

but then there’s minjeong.

a rookie who looked at jimin like she was something holy that night, breathless and trembling, trusting her completely.

jimin had left her in her dorm’s parking lot, untouched by anyone else, but completely ruined by her.

she should’ve forgotten her.

but instead, she’s keeping tabs—watching her group’s comebacks, their music show wins, their first big interviews.

she never reaches out. never texts. never acknowledges the burning ache in her chest.

but then comes the Year-End Award Shows.

and suddenly, jimin is in the same room as minjeong again.

and suddenly, she can’t look away.

the girl looks different.

more confident, more self-assured—glowing under the stage lights, smiling like she belongs there.

jimin watches her closely.

watches as she accepts Rookie of the Year with her members, grinning, bowing, waving to the crowd.

she doesn’t look in jimin’s direction once.

jimin clenches her jaw.

she should be relieved. should be grateful that minjeong isn’t clinging to her, isn’t looking at her like she’s still waiting.

so why does it feel like a fucking punch to the gut?

and then comes the afterparty.

and then comes him.

a boy group member. one of those fresh-faced rookies with a fake polite smile and an arm a little too close to minjeong’s waist.

jimin doesn’t even think when moves towards them.

slides between them effortlessly, cutting off their conversation, her eyes locked onto minjeong.

"come drink with us." her voice is calm, collected, but minjeong isn’t fooled.

minjeong just blinks, tilting her head. "I think I’ll be okay with my boyfriend."

jimin stops breathing.

boyfriend?

something cold and ugly coils in her stomach, her fingers twitching at her sides.

the boy—the fucking idiot—smiles gently, placing a hand on minjeong’s back. "It’s okay, go be with your friends. I’ll see you later."

she doesn’t even have time to react before jimin is grabbing her wrist, dragging her away.

the bathroom door slams shut behind them and minjeong barely has time to catch her breath before jimin is on her, caging her against the sink, voice low and seething.

"are you out of your fucking mind?" jimin hisses, her grip tight on minjeong’s wrist. "getting a boyfriend during your first year? are you that fucking irresponsible?"

minjeong rolls her eyes. "It’s none of your business, sunbae."

jimin laughs—sharp, humorless. "sunbae?"

she leans in, crowding minjeong against the counter, her lips just barely brushing her ear.

"that’s cute, baby. real fucking cute. acting like I didn’t have you first."

Minjeong flinches, but doesn’t give in. she lifts her chin defiantly. "yeah, well. You left."

jimin’s jaw tightens.

because she did.

now minjeong is standing in front of her, trying to move on and she can't let that happen.

"you didn’t even let him touch you, did you?" jimin murmurs, gripping minjeong’s chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. "still playing pretend, baby? thinking anyone else can fuck you like I did?"

minjeong glares, but she’s already shaking. her eyes flicker down to the plumb lips she used to dream about and knows that if jimin touches her again, even once, she’ll fall apart.

jimin pushes her back into the stall, locks the door, presses her against the cold metal.

"I didn’t teach you to be a slut, minjeong." jimin’s voice is mocking, cruel. "guess I’ll have to remind you who you belong to."

jimin leans in, so close their noses brush. "you're mine" she whispers, lips ghosting over against hers.

minjeong's breath catches.

"say it." jimin’s fingers trail down to her waist, gripping firmly. "tell me who you belong to, baby."

minjeong should push back. should tell jimin she’s being ridiculous.

but jimin’s touch is too hot, her scent too intoxicating, her voice too commanding.

so minjeong just exhales shakily, tilts her head, and whispers—

"you, unnie. I’m yours."

jimin’s grip tightens.

and then she’s kissing minjeong like she’s trying to brand the words into her skin.

[willbyersabyss]

Will's Blood Transfusion Dilemma

Will is going to be injured and in need of a blood transfusion.

It's revealed in TFS that Henry's blood type changed after he got lost in Dimension X for 12 hours. His blood was then used to replicate his powers through blood transfusions. It's pretty clear that Will's blood type is also different because he went through an identical experience to Henry.

The Flayed were also given powers through Mind Flayer blood type changes, which looks very similar to Will's s1 predicament. Later, they have black blood flowing through their veins. That's the special power blood.

Alright so Will has the Flayed blood type that Henry also has. So what?

Well there are multiple signs about blood donations at the end of s4 which are likely foreshadowing someone needing a blood transfusion in s5. At the same time, they're going to have to introduce the concept of different blood types AND make Will aware that he has the special blood type. But there's a way to do all three at once.

Will is going to be severely injured.

In the blood donation screenshot, the arrow is pointing outside. Earlier on, we see the tent (red and white stripes) for blood donations and then it transitions directly to... Will. Along with the ominous caption of death toll numbers rising. Hm. Blood donations... death toll... Will.

The camera also pans to Mike after we see Will. Is this possibly foreshadowing Will sacrificing himself to save Mike?

There's another blaring blood donation sign in the hospital. "Be a hero, give blood." Will is practically shining in the spotlight in this scene. Everyone else, El, Mike, Lucas, even Max, are wearing blue clothes in a very blue hospital room. Will is wearing yellow. He stands out against blue because they're complimentary colors. We are meant to focus on him. The sign is yellow too. They're linked!

Will is also awkwardly lingering in the back of El and Lucas' hug for no apparent reason. In the second image, it looks like he's looking directly at the blood donation sign. Will’s general aura is off-putting in this scene. He's just standing there... MENACINGLY. So I feel like this strange behavior is linked to something hospital related.

Now into the grit of this theory. At some point in s5, Will is going to get hurt, likely in a self-sacrificial nature, and lose a lot of blood. This will pose a dilemma for our characters because he can't undergo a regular blood transfusion because he doesn't have normal blood. They'll have to find a way to get Will more of the special blood FAST to save his life. But how?

There are a few possibilities. The most interesting possibility, in my opinion, has to do with El. El has the special blood too. The lab gave her blood before starting NINA (see here). So El may need to donate her blood to Will.

The sign we see in the hospital has a pretty good hint at this. "Be a hero, give blood." El is constantly referred to as a hero. She could be the hero donating blood! This is hammered in as Lucas is describing how Max was brought back to life by a miracle, who we know was El. They practically zoom in towards the sign during these lines. She might need to bring someone back to life again.

This would be the quickest solution... but it may come at a cost. We know that the Mind Flayer sucked Henry's blood out of El in s3 and this made her lose her powers. It's possible that El donating her blood to Will could take her powers away. She'll have to make a choice between her powers and her brother's life.

This would cover all the bases. The different blood type, Will having said blood type, and the origin of the powers.

There is an issue with this part of the theory, though. El would need to get her powers back again. She'd have to venture back to the lab to get more of Henry's blood that I'm almost 100% certain they have stored. This would be repetitive considering she spent the entirety of s4 trying to get them back, and there's no way she's ending the show without her powers. That's just not what her arc is about.

BUT it's possible that El's blood transfusion won't take away her powers. El could still be the donator without sacrificing her own abilities. This would make El's donation foreshadowing work without being repetitive if she can give just enough to save him and her powers.

I'll still go over the other possibilities to be safe:

Instead of doing double El transfusions, they could go directly to the source. They get to the lab, find the blood, and save Will that way. But this would take too long. If Will is truly under dire circumstances, he won't have time to wait around for them to find more blood.

So... what if they go to the source source: the Mind Flayer slash Vecna. Let's say the injury occurs in the Upside Down. At that point, it may be faster to get it straight from the source instead of running around trying to find El.

We know the Mind Flayer/Vecna wants Will alive. So if Will intercepted an attack from one of them because they were going to hurt someone he cares about, it would ruin whatever plan Vecna has for Will. Vecna would be forced to give Will the blood himself to keep him alive.

Will needing an abnormal blood transfusion would also play into the AIDS metaphor that's very present in his storyline. If Will goes to the hospital before knowing about his special blood type, he may encounter the homophobic stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS because of his condition and the town's assumption of his sexuality. That would bring this narrative string from a metaphor to a literal commentary.

Oh and while I was typing this post there was an (apparent) casting call for a nurse with hematology experience. You know, the study of blood disorders. Well there you have it!

So yeah. Will seems like a big contender for the blood donation receiver that's foreshadowed at the end of s4. What kind of injury I’m not sure, but it has to be BIG and BLOODY. Good luck out there, son.

[cdroloisms]

always absolutely fucking hilarious when sbiers in their self-righteous need to assert themselves as better than everyone else in the same way they've done since 2020 even when they're apparently 'out of the fandom' and consider the whole thing cringe and dead (skill issue, methinks) go all um acktually no one cared abt any of the lore except for c!sbi. like well for one thing i don't know of a c!sbi personally speaking i'd like for you to point out to me where character sleepy boys inc ever like, existed, because it certainly wasn't in any dream smp i watched like is there even a single moment where the four of them interact together alone??? and secondly, it's always reeeeeeally obvious when they mean this as a diss on The Other Side Of The Fandom (read, dream team and co) when two-thirds of the dream team just did nawt have any interest in being part of the 'main characters' in the first place and would much rather do their own thing and roleplay in ways that wouldn't get picked apart for ages on twitter dot com, and the other member of the dream team played a character so integral to the lore that even c!inniters will often name him before they name their own goddamn guy because they cannot keep his name out of their mouths (see, the meme i saw like literally just yesterday that boiled down to me, after learning the dream smp lore: i need to kill c!dream). like bro yall are c!inniters you're not fooling anyone you think that the entire story revolves around this one teenager being abused and then completely ignore the months of abuse that was shown on screen for us before exile. "c!sbi" like cmon now guys the ao3 pages are like, right there, we all know who ends up being the villain for ur sbi fanfic that has its foundations in a dynamic that literally never existed in canon.

like "no one cared about anyone's lore except for wilbur and tommy--" well yes they were in fact some of the main fucking characters. imagine someone going up to you and going "well no one cared about the lore in the star wars original trilogy except for luke and leia" like damn really?? (now imagine this same person trying to convince you that darth vader's role was unimportant, actually.) like yeah the dream smp involved a lot of separate storylines and each of those storylines might've had their own "main cast" of characters but i'm also not blind bro, the story that started at the start of the fucking server and the start of the fucking lore was ABSOLUTELY the "wilbur-dream-tommy" triangle that is, in fact, the story that the l'manburg revolution was built on and the story that remains the throughline literally until tommy and dream have their confrontation with a nuke coming down over their heads, something that the characters themselves acknowledge with the repetition of the idea of tommy and tubbo against dream. LIKE ALKJSDFKJSADF yeah bro there were main characters in the tommy-dream-wilbur story an that's also the story that people tended to be invested in in the beginning, to the point where even other self-contained stories in the dream smp absolutely referenced and emulated it (cough cough, las nevadas). like, why are we acting like it's at all groundbreaking for people to be invested in THEEE fucking story the one that first started to exist because at the time basically no one else was part of The Roleplaying Trio and then slowly got padded out and developed as the server developed more and more into the lore server?

and it's the fact that none of these people, too, would deny that they care about ex. c!schlatt in manberg, right, or c!quackity in relation to c!wilbur's deal, etc etc whatever. like breaking news you gaf about The Story as a dream smp fan wow am i supposed to be like, surprised. do you want a medal. LIKE LKJASDJF