#it's just. it means so much to me. it and the people i play it with.

[retrosabers]

𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a little bit of everything. some relationship fluff, a bit of angst (mentions of death and past trauma), very flirty and filthy logan, 18+ CONTENT AT THE BOTTOM. MINORS DNI (body worship, praise kink, pain kink, dirty talk to the nines.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: not me posting something for the first time in a) over a month and b) in 2025 😍😍

it’s been ROUGH in the brain and writing department for me, and this is the best i could come up with right now. i hope i can get back in my real groove soon, i miss writing real bad.

in the mean time, please enjoy my wolvie brain dump. feel free to share any of your own personal hcs in the comments or reblogs!!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

he’s secret tea drinker. always drinks coffee (no cream no sugar; nasty ass) in the morning but also drinks tea at night. though nothing can fully calm him down in the evening, the tea does relax him in some capacity, and logan takes whatever reprieve he can get. plus it was one of the first things you started doing together, so it’s become a part of his routine he can’t be without.

typically the first person up, and the last person in bed. you’d think logan wouldn’t be a morning person, but he’s surprisingly at ease in the early hours. as relaxed as someone like him could get, anyways.

likes to read a lot. he was in complete awe of the mansion’s library the first time he saw it. will often sneak in when no one’s around and read for an hour or two by the window if he’s got the time. when you discover he’s a secret bookworm, you start to leave a book on his desk that you think he’ll enjoy every once in a while. it’s a small gesture logan holds very near and dear to his heart.

can’t remember people’s birthdays or important dates to save his life BUT can recall something minor in a fleeting conversation from a long time ago. also remembers very random useless facts that have actually come in handy on more than one occasion.

if and when logan sleeps, he snores. so. fucking. LOUD, to the point where it can wake people up depending on how close quarters are. he denies it constantly.

likes to make sure his deodorant and cologne have the same general scent (i just know he smells like a sexy ass manly man URGH).

a lot of people hc him as a history professor but i have a hot take: gym teacher logan. not in the typical “let’s run laps and play dodgeball” way, but in the sense that he teaches the kids how to control and utilize their mutations to their advantage (with help from the rest of the xmen of course), and maybe even some light sparring to practice self defense. i personally just don’t see the history teacher thing working out because i fear he would subconsciously be reliving a LOT of trauma.

gets really anxious whenever someone is sick or injured. he’s been gravely reminded before that not everyone is indestructible like he is, and it scares him to see others get hurt in any capacity, because he’s terrified of losing them. the first time you get seriously wounded on a mission? logan damn near wears his boots down to the sole from pacing back and forth outside the medbay so much. he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t focus on anything other than you. time stops for him; and won’t resume until he’s certain you’re going to be okay.

legitimately purrs like a cat if you scratch his head just the right way. he will once again deny this until the end of time, but with less resistance and a much more flushed complexion.

“whatever,” he mumbles into your stomach, while guiding your nails back to his scalp.

hates ANY music made after the year 2000, but anything before that he’s pretty keen on. he’s got his preferences for sure (a little country, some rock, and maybe a bit of bluegrass), but isn’t above admitting that a pop tune is a little catchy from time to time.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

you better not even THINK about ever opening a door for yourself ever again because if you do he’s taking personal offense to it.

he may be a slut in the sheets but he’s a near perfect gentlemen in the streets. i’m talking walking on the outside of the sidewalk at all times, always helping you out of the car even if you don’t need it, carrying your jacket or shoes after a night out, making sure you’re obscured from view if you need to adjust a revealing top; any chivalrous boyfriend thing you can think of, and he’s done it. with suaveness, might i add.

“here honey, gimme that, i got it.”

“hold on a second sweetheart, your strap’s all twisted.”

the definition of “you fell first but he fell harder.”

makes it a point to take you on a “real date” outside the mansion once or twice a month because he knows how much you enjoy getting dressed up for different occasions. whether that be dinner, dancing (yes, if you beg hard enough he’ll go dancing with you), and maybe even a trip to the museum or planetarium.

both the big and little spoon, it depends on the day, but he’s an insane cuddler either way. a human teddy bear for you and only you. this? he won’t deny, not for a second. and he’ll tell anyone who cares to tease him about it to fuck off.

always touching you in some capacity. a gentle caress on the back of your neck, or cold palms sliding underneath your sweater, logan has no qualms about being a bit handsy.

“if your girl looked like this, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either.”

his favorite (and yours too secretly) is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans. there’s something equally sweet and sultry about it that makes your stomach flutter every time. a slightly possessive gesture, that when coupled with a cocky smirk and a shameless squeeze, never fails to drive you wild.

you thought he was a worry wart about your safety before you were dating? it amplifies by a million when you’re together, almost to the point of annoyance because he’s adamant on not letting you out of his sight. eventually after a few arguments and a scolding from charles, you remind him that you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and yes, sometimes he does need to look out for you, just in case.

SMUT:

handsy logan = body worship logan. this man will make it his life mission to appreciate every single inch of your body. he doesn’t care if you’re tangled in between sheets for hours on end. you’re not leaving the bed until you know just how much he’s smitten with every part of you.

pain kink king who will cum significantly faster if you break skin with your nails raking down arms or back. gets an immediate hard on when you slap him in the middle of a dangerously intense argument, and implores you to do it again in a dark, lust driven tone.

to make up for the fact that you can’t mark your territory, with logan’s regenerative capabilities and all, he goes above and beyond to mark his. this man leaves hickies everywhere, and i mean everywhere. your hip bones, your navel, damn near the entirety of your sternum, your neck essentially a human canvas that he gladly paints in brilliant hues of lavender.

he may be a man of few words with most, but with you? logan can never shut the fuck up about how good you make him feel.

“look at you. doin’ so good for me honey.” “y’feel like fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” “my perfect girl. made just for me.”

cannot handle when you return the favor. immediately shoves his flushed face into whatever part of your body he can find and picks up the pace. praise is another surefire way to get logan to blow his load in record time. he thinks it’s a little embarrassing but you think it’s SO HOT.

loves a good tummy bulge OOP who said that

really enjoys sex in the shower or bath. there’s an additional layer of intimacy with it that makes logan particularly warm in the chest. will often suggest round two in the bathroom so he not only has the pleasure of ruining you again, but helping gently put you back together with a tenderness reserved only for you.

the ceo of teasing. loves to watch you get all flustered and squirmy so you best believe he’s teasing the fuck out of you any chance he gets. logan’s got wandering hands and a filthy mouth and that he uses to his advantage both in and out of the bedroom.

“what if i bent you over this desk, right here right now, hm? would you like that?”

“your skirt’s real pretty baby. think it would look a lot better on the floor of my room.”

“been thinkin’ about you all day. gonna let me fuck you real good later?”

aftercare is a learning curve. he’s not completely careless the first time you have sex, but he’s not as caring and attentive as he knows he probably should be. logan was used to quick one night stands, not getting intimate with someone he had romantic feelings for. once he realizes how in-deep he is with you, he takes the time to learn the ins and outs of true aftercare.

* for more smut headcanons, check out my logan nsfw alphabet here*

thanks for reading! <3

[heartsforjh]

I shall break my Quinn strike and ask for my favorite Hughes

Gimme Luke with “i thought you hated when people touch you?” he needs a black cat girlfriend for his golden retriever vibe😔🙏

this one was suspiciously easy for me to write so if it’s actually bad i’m VERY sorry… i knew something was up. 🙏

“Mom! Luke won’t stop making me upset!” your best friend, Jack, calls out.

“Luke, quit messing with your brother!” Ellen says, sorting through old family photos.

“I’m not messing with him! I’m messing with Y/n!” the younger boy whines.

“Your brother and his friend don’t want to play with you right now. You can play with Y/n when Jack has to go back to school,” Ellen explains.

“And he won’t stop touching her, Mom! He knows she doesn’t like it, but he keeps grabbing her hand and pulling her!” Jack continues to snitch.

“Alright, Jack. I’m handling it.”

“Okay, just making sure. Come on, Y/n. We don’t have to play with him,” Jack says, ushering you out of the living room. You feel bad, looking back at Luke as Jack pushes you out of the room without actually putting his hands on you. You give a little wave to Luke before disappearing from sight.

“Are you guys excited to start middle school?” Quinn, the oldest Hughes brother, asks as you and Luke sit at the dinner table.

“Well, I guess I am. I’m kind of nervous because I know it’ll be so different,” you admit before taking a bite of your food.

“It’s a good thing you have Luke! I’m glad the two of you get to start these milestones together!” the boys’ mom says.

“Yeah, Y/n! We have each other! It’s gonna be fun. We can sit next to each other at lunch and everything,” Luke says excitedly. He gets carried away while talking and starts messing with some strands of your hair, which Jack immediately notices.

Jack is quick to slap Luke’s hand away from your hair. “She doesn’t like you touching her! And she doesn’t need you. I already started middle school a year ago. I can tell her everything she needs to know.”

“Fine. I won’t touch her. It was an accident,” Luke says, feeling bad for forgetting again that people touching you makes you uncomfortable.

“How do you accidentally touch someone?! That doesn’t just happen! You—” Jack starts, only to be cut off by his dad stepping in with a stern, “Boys!”

It would be a lie to say that the rest of the dinner was ruined. This happens a lot, and everyone is used to it. Luke gets to talking, becomes excited, and, being a touchy person, accidentally does something to make Jack upset. It repeats like clockwork.

You got in. You really got in! The University of Michigan has accepted you as a student, and you couldn’t be happier. Of course, Luke is going too. You’re not mad about it at all. You expected it and, honestly, you’re glad. While you’re closest with Jack, having Luke complete all the same milestones with you has always been comforting.

You’re at the small party your family and the Hughes family put together to celebrate you and Luke. After finishing a conversation with one of their cousins, you head into the kitchen for a drink. Luke is already there at the counter, grabbing a drink for himself. When he turns around and sees you, he smiles.

“Hey!” he says, his eyes lighting up. You walk over to stand next to him and grab a cup.

“Hey. This is a cool party, right?” you ask, looking up at him and trying to make conversation.

He nods and grabs your favorite tea, pouring it into your cup for you. “Oh for sure. It’s great they did this for us. You ready to go to UMich?”

You smile a little nervously, looking at him. “I mean, I guess. I’m kind of nervous. You’re not?”

“No way! I’ve wanted to go to this school forever. So have you! You should be ecstatic. What’s the matter?” he asks, concerned.

“Well… y’know, it’s gonna be so different,” you confess, the nerves clear in your tone.

“It’s a good thing we’ll have each other, then. I’m not just gonna let you fall on your face, Y/n. I love you too much for that,” he says, his face full of emotion.

For the first time since the whole college mess, you feel relieved. “Really? Thanks, Lukey. I love you too.”

You close the space between the two of you and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. However, Luke freezes.

You frown a little and tilt your head to look up at him, your chin still resting on his chest. “Uh… Y/n? Is this, like… on purpose?” he asks, looking stressed.

You laugh, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought you hated when people touch you?” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

You think about it for a moment before responding. “I suppose I do. But not you.”

“Not me? I get yelled at every time I so much as look at you!” he says, surprised.

You pat his stomach and shake your head. “Lukey, that’s all Jack. Take it up with him. I like you�� a lot. I always have.”

“You’ve liked me back this whole time and Jack’s ruined it?!” he asks, shocked.

You smile and nod. “Yeah! To be fair, I don’t think he knew. He just thought you were annoying me.”

“Whatever. He’s not here to ruin it now,” Luke says, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight.

In the next room, Ellen turns to her oldest son, beaming. “It worked!”

Quinn smiles. “I told you they’d figure it out, and all it took was distracting Jack a little.”

tags: @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86

join the taglist here! :)

[margeoww]

Hi Mar, idk if u write AUs but if u do, would u write one with mafia!max Verstappen where he is like super ruthless and like feared, but he’s a simp for reader? Like idk he would do anything for her and loves her so much!! Thxxx

Kings Obsession

back to my masterlist

pairing: mafia!max verstappen x reader

summary: feared by all, Max Verstappen is ruthless—except when it comes to you, his only weakness and greatest obsession.

The room was silent, the kind of silence that weighed heavy and suffocating, broken only by the faint ticking of the ornate clock on the wall. A man sat tied to a chair in the center, his face bloodied and bruised, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Around him, Max’s men stood like statues, their gazes locked on the dark figure leaning casually against the desk.

Max Verstappen.

The man’s name alone had sent shivers down the spines of countless rivals. Now, in person, he was even more terrifying. His sharp blue eyes bore into the captive, a cold smirk playing on his lips. In his tailored black suit, he exuded an air of effortless power, his very presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure.

—You thought you could steal from me. —Max said, his voice smooth but laced with steel. —And then what? Disappear into thin air?

The man whimpered, struggling to speak through the blood pooling in his mouth. —I… I didn’t mean…

Max raised a hand, silencing him instantly. —No. — he interrupted, his tone icy. —You didn’t think. That’s the problem. You took something that belongs to me, and now you think begging will save you?

The room tensed as Max pushed off the desk, his steps slow and deliberate as he circled the man. —Do you know what happens to people who cross me? —He paused behind the captive, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down everyone’s spines. —They disappear. No one remembers them. No one cares.

The man’s muffled sobs filled the room. Max’s smirk widened. He didn’t need to raise his voice to assert his dominance; his presence alone was enough.

But then, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Everyone watched as Max pulled it out, his expression unreadable. The moment he glanced at the screen, his entire demeanor shifted. The coldness in his eyes softened, his lips curving into a small, almost tender smile.

—Clean this up. —he ordered his men, tossing the phone onto the desk as he walked toward the door. —And make sure he understands my generosity is not infinite.

Without sparing another glance at the trembling man, Max strode out, his mind already consumed by thoughts of you.

The moment Max stepped through the door of your shared penthouse, the weight of his world seemed to lift. The chaos and violence of his empire faded, replaced by the warmth and light you brought into his life.

You were curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized sweaters, a book in your hands. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated your features, and Max felt his chest tighten at the sight of you. You were his everything, the one person who made him feel human in a world that demanded he be a monster.

—You’re home. —you said, looking up with a smile that could melt glaciers.

Max crossed the room in a few long strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. He cupped your face gently, as if you were the most fragile thing in his world, and pressed his forehead to yours.

—I missed you. —he murmured, his voice a stark contrast to the cold authority he wielded just an hour ago.

You placed your hands over his, your thumbs brushing over the faint scars on his knuckles. —Tough day?

His eyes closed briefly, the weight of his decisions momentarily forgotten in your presence. —It doesn’t matter now. —he said softly, opening his eyes to meet yours. —You’re all I care about. kg

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him. It was slow and sweet, a reminder that no matter how dark his world was, there was always light waiting for him here.

But as much as you loved him, you couldn’t ignore the growing fear in your heart. Max’s world was dangerous, and no matter how much he tried to shield you from it, you knew it was only a matter of time before it came for you.

—I worry about you. —you admitted quietly, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Max’s jaw tightened. —You don’t need to. —he said firmly, his hands sliding down to grip your waist. —I’ll protect you. Always.

You wanted to believe him, to trust that his power could keep you safe. But deep down, you knew love wasn’t always enough to fend off the darkness.

And Max, for all his promises, was willing to risk everything to keep you by his side, even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.

[oraltraditionfiction]

Us | QH43

Quinn Hughes x f! reader (angst)

Summary: Snippets of you and Quinn's secret relationship, and the aftermath.

Warnings: angst, hurt with no comfort, ambiguous ending, sad Quinn, anxious reader etc

WC: 1.8k

Author's Note: !!! This is fully inspired by us by Gracie Abrams (which has been on repeat for like. 4 days now. absolute banger.) This is pretty angsty 😭 I apologize in advance I think I was just really in the mood for some pain.

This has an ambiguous ending (for the most part) but I do have an idea for a part 2 if anyone is interested! Anyways, enjoy! - 🐇

(I'd also like to note that the italicized poetry is taken from Crush by Richard Siken, and Leaping Poetry by Robert Bly!)

I know your ghost, I see her through the smoke, She'll play her show

And you'll be watchin'

He caught himself watching you again. It had been habit for so long now. Checking on her from the corner of his eye. He had learned to act in such a way that it was hard to tell he was stealing a glance at her. Her. He needed to snap out of it. 

He looked straight ahead, steadfast in his resolution to break old patterns. He could hear her from the end of the hall. She was briefing one of his teammates on the video they were about to film.

“I know this is hard but please try not to swear, at least not too much. The timbre of her laugh, echoing down the hall. Quinn  knew without looking at her that she was checking her phone. Her disorganized notes app, full of spare ideas for videos and poems that came to her during the twilight hours. “Oh! I know this is obvious but, try not to talk about anything personal that you or a teammate wouldn’t want 400 teenagers online to know.”  He watched from lowered lids as she brushed past him, a slight hesitation in her steps as her shoulder brushed against him. “That stuff’s just hard to edit out-“ her voice trailed off as they turned a corner. The reverb of her warm murmur echoing back to him, taunting him. He just knew she was reminding Brock not to talk about anything personal because of him. 

He scuffed his covered skate against the worn floor. Tilting his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, and imagined that he was waiting for her to walk with him, instead of someone else.

Wonder if you regret the secret

Of us, us

He could remember the first wrong turn.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell anyone?” He had asked, confused, thumb stroking against her pulse point soothingly as she cradled his face. 

“Quinn…” she had sighed, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable sitting on her old patterned couch. He kissed her palm, a small comfort.

“I mean, you’ve seen the weird shit people can comment about the wags.” He nodded. “Imagine just seeing that all day. All that negativity. And it’s just your job to navigate that and delete it. I’ve seen awful things about some of these women.” She swallowed, slipping her hand away from his cheek. He missed the warmth immediately, absently leaning into her orbit to make up for it. “I just,.. I don’t know what I would do. Knowing that people were saying those things about me.”

Quinn understood. Honestly the thought of seeing those kinds of things said about her…

Yeah. He could keep a secret for a few more months.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Quinn said, folding her into his arms. “We can keep it quiet for a little bit longer. Just until you’re comfortable.” He could feel her melt into him, relaxing at his agreement. Once she was more comfortable with the idea of them, he thought she wouldn’t mind what people would say.

It felt like what I've known

You're twenty-nine years old

So how can you be cold when I open my home?

Quinn  placed the last box on the bedroom floor, lovingly labeled “poetry <3”. As he gingerly cut through the packing tape, he heard a gentle knock on the door. 

“You don’t need to knock,” he laughed, turning his head so he could look at her. 

“I mean, it’s your house still-“ she said, anxiously shifting her weight from side to side. Quinn stood, fondly shaking his head as he approached her.

“Your house too now, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping his arms around his girl, and swaying from side to side. 

“I just don’t want it to be too soon Quinn. It’s only been like, a year.” Shesaid, tense in his arms. 

“Mi casa es tu casa, right?” he said jokingly, trying to get the woman in his arms to relax. 

She laughed, encapsulating the room in warmth again. They melted into each other, the tension evaporating. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, Quinny.” Murmured softly into his shoulder.

Quinn hugged her tighter, trying to forge them together, “you could never make me uncomfortable,” he said as he placed his cheek atop her head. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” And as he said that to her, he knew it to be true. This love was different, quiet— almost sacred.

And if history's clear, the flames always end up in ashes

And what seemed like fate

Give it ten months and you'll be past it (you'll be past it)

He knew it had to move at some point. Every morning it confronted him, like a ghoul living in his sock drawer. Quinn reached for the intruder, thumb brushing against delicate blue velvet as he withdrew the small ring box from its hiding place. The man sighed as he flipped it open once again. The light reflecting off of the diamond and shining small, nebulous glimmers of light across his tired face. 

A click as he closed the box, the sound of a sharp thump. The little blue box landed somewhere amongst the debris on your abandoned side of the closet. It had been nearly 10 months. Out of sight, out of mind.

That night you were talkin'

False prophets and profits

They make in the margins

Of poetry sonnets

Quinn watched, transfixed as you read aloud to him. His head sat heavily on her thighs, savoring the feeling of her hand touching his hair absentmindedly. The words nearly escaped him, too immersed in the way her sweet lips shaped the words. Nectar falling from her mouth as she kept the meter.

“I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.

You said Tell me about your books, your visions made of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube... We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said-“

“Marry me.”

It was spoken on the breath of a sigh. Nearly inaudible. Still, the room seemed to lose some of its color. 

“What?” You whispered, hand withdrawing from his hair, leaving an inexplicable dread lingering around his heart.

Quinn sat up, nose brushing hers. “I meant it.” He reached for her hand, shaking and limp in her lap. “Marry me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He breathed out as he looked into her eyes earnestly. 

“I-“

“I know you’re scared. And I know you don’t want anyone to know about us.” The man said, placing her hand on his heart, cradling it gently. “But I don’t care! I would marry you right this second if I could.” He leaned his forehead against her temple, murmuring “just you and me, baby. No one has to know. I would marry you in secret, as long as it means you’re  mine.” Quinn was rambling now, but he’d do anything to convince her. “I already have a ring and-“

His hand landed unceremoniously in his lap. 

Before he could reach out, before he could even breathe, she slipped out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry.”

And Quinn felt like he would never breathe again, staring across the room at his sock drawer and the now open door to what was once their bedroom.

Robert Bly on my nightstand

Gifts from you, how ironic

Three drinks in, and Quinn was conquering his fears. There was 11 months of dust buildup on the slim book, still clinging to the paperback cover. He thumbed it open, nearly caving in and going back for another drink as he glimpsed the tail end of the note you had left for him underneath the title page. 

“- hoping these poems will remind you of me when we’re apart.

Love you lots,

Yours-“

He flipped to another page, hoping to find something he hated enough that he could find the strength to finally throw this book out.

“Longing to find her in a phrase, and be close-“

Quinn closed the book.

Mistaken for strangers, the way it

Was, was

The moment he was  dreading was here. You approached him after practice, quietly waiting for the rest of the team to file past. You toyed with your phone anxiously, “Is it alright if I grab you for a quick video?” She looked as tired as he felt these days. He just stood, gazing at her, responding with a  slow nod. She smiled, relieved. Quinn had almost forgotten what it looked like in person. Still a such a sweet sight. 

He leaned in slightly, irresistant to the gravity of your presence. As you opened your mouth to speak, lips quirked up into a private grin, a voice came from behind him.

One of the new girls on the social media team. She smiled as she approached. “I didn't realise you two were close! Guess it’s something to look forward to, huh?”

You forced a laugh saying, “Well, when you work with someone for two years, you get about as close as coworkers can get.”

Quinn’s spine straightened, in no mood for media duties now. He thought of the ring box, and all the photos he still had yet to delete. The stolen kisses in supply closets, the notes you left him in the margins of your favorite poetry books, highlighting secret code in between the stanzas 

(“O love,  where are you leading me now?”). The words of her favorite poem echoed in his head, “As close as coworkers can get” 

He mumbled something about putting his gear away as he brushed past you, no longer recognizing the foreign way your shoulder bumped against his.

Do you miss us, us? (Us, us, us)

The best kind, well, sometimes

Do you miss us?

He stood, leaning against his counter, trying to decide the best way to respond to this text. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the cardboard box full of miscellaneous objects to donate, the creased cover of a poetry book peaking out.

He made his decision.

A blind date sounds great! Is she free Friday?

[nitadllyss]

Just Like It All Began

Bangchan Idol x Female Reader

Genre: Romantic, Angst, Slow burn romance, Fluff, Smut, Basically a bit of everything.

Warnings: NSFW, angst, heartbreak, alcohol use, mature themes, fluff, emotional distress.

Blurb: Chan and you are in love, in a relationship full of passion, but when problems arise, everything starts to unravel. Distance and stress take over, while nostalgia and memories resurface, bringing a spark of hope.

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

There you were, kissing the man you promised to forget. But somehow, each kiss made you feel like the spark might never have left…

---

You were getting ready for a dinner invited by a friend, Felix. You knew there would be more people, specifically members of his group. You were nervous and excited to have a fun night and meet new people. You only knew them by sight, that’s all.

The dinner had already started. Everyone was enjoying themselves, chatting with one another. It was interesting to see how the atmosphere developed: everyone was so warm and kind. While talking about wanting to plan a vacation, you heard a member you hadn’t interacted much with.

“I definitely recommend Australia,” he said, smiling, very excited about his recommendation as he looked at you. “It’s really beautiful, and I’m planning to visit my family there, I could give you a tour.”

You felt your body heat up and your heart beat a little faster. Was he that... cute? You didn’t know how to express it. His smile made you feel happy, and those dimples that accompanied it made everything seem more harmonious: that prominent and straight nose that made him look strong, those small eyes that smiled along with his dimples. Damn, you had fallen.

“Really? Well, if you say so, I’ll have to consider it. I’ve heard a lot about how beautiful it is there thanks to Lix,” you returned the smile, trying to hide your state.

The others were talking amongst themselves, not noticing the interaction that wasn’t as casual as it seemed.

“Are you Y/N, right? Sorry, I’m a little shy, and I didn’t have the courage to talk before,” he said, a bit flushed. His voice tone showed his shyness.

“That’s right,” you smiled at him, trying to make him feel comfortable. “You’re Bangchan, right?” You looked at him closely, hoping you weren’t mistaken.

“Yes, but call me Chris.”

The rest of the dinner was amazing. Sometimes your heel would accidentally hit his shoe, making you both blush. When your laughs mixed, you both felt butterflies in your stomach.

---

You started seeing each other for a while, of course, with the other members, whom you also got close to easily.

Group hangouts were comfortable and fun. You really had a bond with everyone.

But with him, it was different. When his hand brushed against yours, he would play it off with a “Oops,” and smile while winking at you, probably aware of your warm cheeks and your shaky responses.

He brought your favorite snacks, suggested your favorite movies and outings. God, this man was going to kill you with his love.

“Did you remember?” you said, happy and excited to see that he brought your favorite chips and put on your favorite Disney movie.

“I just want you to feel comfortable,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. When the others teased him about his obvious flirtatious attitude, he would just say:

“I MEAN, I want all of us to feel comfortable!” This made you laugh.

Things escalated a step further when he offered to help you with the shopping. You were alone, and somehow it ended in a sweet kiss.

---

After that, coffee dates, dinners, movies, walks, and other activities became very frequent.

Being alone with him made you nervous, and your cheeks ached from smiling so much while with him. When you got home, you’d only think about how cute he looked that day and how much you couldn’t wait to see him again.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chat with “Chris💕”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chris: Are you busy next Saturday?😊

I was thinking of having a sleepover…😉🫣

We could order pizza and watch a drama.

Y/N: Sure!🙂‍↕️

It’s on my schedule, Mr. Bang.📝💗

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

After several sleepovers, came the first time you slept together.

“Y/N...” he said, a bit uncomfortable because of his stiff posture in bed, afraid to touch you too much and make you feel uncomfortable. “Do you mind if... I hug you?” His ears were bright red, and his hands started to sweat.

“It’s okay, feel comfortable, Chris,” you said, a little surprised by his proposal but happy it was him who said it.

That night, you slept comfortably with each other’s warmth. After that, he needed your head on his chest to sleep in peace, and you couldn’t rest without his caresses on your back. You both slept soundly, accompanied by the melody of each other’s heartbeat.

---

The room was a mess of moans and gasps. Some growls escaped his mouth, blending with the sound of the moisture of your skin touching.

“You feel so good,” he said, lost in how your walls squeezed around him. He couldn’t help but hold your hands above your head, applying pressure to push himself deeper.

You only responded with babbling and broken sighs, trying to form sentences like:

“It feels so big… You’re opening me up so well…”

“Come on, baby… Fuck,” he said, setting a harder and deeper pace. “Cum for me.” He kissed your neck, biting and licking it in the process.

Your body couldn’t resist anymore, and your screams of pleasure grew louder. When he whispered, “Beg for it. If you really want it, beg for it.”

“Please,” you begged with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris... Let me cum.”

His smile became evident, and after a while, you both reached your climax, sharing the pleasure and love in an orgasm.

They both felt an overwhelming desire for each other. The love between them grew stronger, and the need to be physically united pushed them to act irrationally, losing themselves in the heat of the moment.

---

You missed him so much. The comeback season was horrible for you. You missed his scent in bed, his good morning and good night kisses. You felt cold sleeping there alone, and don’t even get started on how much it broke your heart to eat alone at that table. Your days felt endless.

He regretted not being able to spend more time with you, to the point where he didn’t hear your voice for weeks. It was slowly killing him, but he knew his job had its place.

When you did see each other, you tried to make up for it by loving each other intensely during the days and weeks you couldn’t be together. Everything changed when he had his first tour.

“I miss you so much, baby,” Chris said, nostalgic, during a video call.

“I can’t wait to kiss you and hold you,” you said, also nostalgic.

But over time, even the video calls became less frequent. He was exhausted, and his schedules didn’t always match yours.

One day, you simply couldn’t bear it anymore. When you finally had a video call after two months, you saw him turn on the camera, and when he saw you in tears, Chris knew exactly what was about to happen.

“You know I love you, and that will never change,” you said, barely able to articulate each word between sobs. “But I need some time… You don’t know how much it hurts not having you here with me.”

He accepted, broken inside, but understanding it wasn’t fair to either of you. It hurt that he didn’t fight for you both.

---

When Chris returned, you saw each other and tried to fix things. For a while, it worked. But then, he came back late again, disappearing for weeks. You understood that you couldn’t take the place his career had in his life, and that was okay with you. You loved him too much to pressure him.

The definitive breakup was inevitable.

“I love you,” Chris said, tears streaming down his face as he hugged you tightly.

“I love you so much, Chris. Thank you for everything,” you said, looking at him with all the love you felt for him, knowing this would be your last goodbye.

You shared one last kiss, full of love and pain. Then, you each took a different path, without looking back.

---

Almost a year later, at another group meeting organized by Felix, you saw him again.

You both tried to keep your distance, but your eyes met several times during the night. You didn’t talk deeply, but you both knew you understood each other. There was something in the air, a calm despite the distance that now existed between you.

You were happy to see he was doing well. He, for his part, felt relief knowing you were okay, eating well, and getting enough sleep. You both were happy for each other’s happiness, whether together or not.

---

Now, you were at the bar you used to visit with him, spending what would have been your anniversary. Looking at your phone, the photo album reminded you of a picture of both of you smiling and hugging. The nostalgia hit you like a cold bucket of water.

You didn’t know why, but the drinks started to feel like water, and with each sip, you remembered something more: the way he laughed, his face when he woke up, his kisses before bed, and his warm voice when he sang.

“Y/N...” you felt your blood pressure drop as you heard that voice, still stirring the deepest feelings in you.

You turned quickly and saw him. He, probably slightly tipsy, was looking at you with a light smile on his face.

“Chris?” You looked at him, and it felt like time hadn’t passed.

You caught up on your lives. You were both still single. When you heard this, you felt an unexpected relief, and it gave him a bit of hope. You touched on the topic of your relationship, and at that moment, your heel brushed his shoe, causing a shared laugh over the memories of the past.

Now, you were there, face to face, kissing. Each kiss, every heartbeat shared, and the laughter that arose between your caresses made you feel that the spark was still there, waiting to not give up.

The spark might never have left…

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

I don’t know, but I loved this, to be honest 🤭

Christopher Bang 😩😩😩

I hope you all liked this piece!

English isn't my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know. 💕

[ellatehe]

sidelines

pairing - rafe cameron x fishermandaughter!pouge!reader

summary - rafe and reader meet again at a kook party kiara dragged reader to.

warnings - none

part 1!

the sun is setting, casting a warm orange and pink hue over the horizon, and despite my reluctance to be here, i find myself standing at the entrance of the country club, the sound of music and laughter leaking out from inside. kiara dragged me to this kook party, her usual carefree attitude shown as she pulled me along. "it's just dinner, we'll survive. plus, if i have to suffer through it, so do you."

"yeah," i mutter under my breath, following her as she walked up the steps.

we head inside, and the instant i step through the door, i glace around, feeling out of place immediately. everything looks too perfect. the guests, their outfits, the food; all of it screams money.

kiara, though, is putting on a good show. she greets people with easy smiles, but there's a tightness to her expression. "i'm just gonna grab something to drink, you good?" she asks, her tone casual.

"yeah, i'll be fine," i say, giving her a small smile. "go do your thing."

kiara nods and disappears into the crowd, and i'm left standing there, pretending i know how to mingle with people who all seem to have some secret code i don't understand.

i make my way to the corner, trying to avoid awkward eye contact with anyone, when i spot him. rafe.

of course.

i knew it was only a matter of time before i ran into him again. it's not like he's just anyone, hes rafe cameron.

i freeze for a second, suddenly aware of just how much this party is not my thing. i glace around the room and realize that everyone here is just pretending. pretending to have a good time, pretending they're not as uncomfortable as i feel, but rafe... he's different. he's standing near the bar with a small group of people, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. he looks like he belongs, and i'd be lying if i said it didn't piss me off a little.

i shift my weight, considering leaving the room wholly, when kiara calls out for me, voice loud enough to break my focus. i turn to see her waving me over to a table with some of her family and friends, and as i take a step forward, i bump into someone.

"watch where you're going," he says, his voice low, but the words are almost playful. rafe.

his eyes meet mine, and for a second, it's like the entire room drops away. his gaze is heavy, intense, and it feels like i'm caught in something i don't understand. i force myself to look away, my heart suddenly racing.

"sorry," i mumble, trying to step around him, but of course, he isn't moving. he's just standing there, like he knows exactly what just happened, like he's waiting for me to trip over myself.

"didn't expect to see you here," he says, tone light, with an underlying sharpness to it.

i glace at kie, who's distracted by conversation, completely oblivious to the fact that i'm face to face with one of the kooks i've been trying to avoid. "yeah, kie dragged me along," i say, shrugging, trying to act casual, as if his presence doesn't have some weird effect on me.

rafe smirks. "of course she did." he takes a slow sip from his glass, not taking his eyes off me. "what's your excuse for putting up with this?"

i blink, caught off guard by his question. "excuse?"

he shrugs, "yeah, you don't seem like the dinner party type," he explains, looking me up and down.

"just here for kiara," i reply.

rafe raises an eyebrow, and his lips twitch like he's about to laugh at my awkwardness. "sure." what is with him and that word?

before i can say anything else, a voice cuts in from behind us, and i feel a strange sense of relief. it's jj, dragging me away with an exaggerated apology. "don't mean to interrupt here but, kiara needs you for the... thing. you know. the thing."

i glace at rafe one last time, catching the smirk still playing at his lips, it's like he's got me figured out, like he knows exactly how out of place i feel.

i force a smile and walk off with jj, but all i can think about is how effortlessly rafe can make everything feel uncomfortable. and i can't help but wonder if i'm going to run into him again tonight.

[unluckilyimnot]

Hihi!!^^ Could you please make a bllk and/or bonten hc where she has a friend who always tries to one-up her to get her bf?

You can include all the characters you like and if you do, have fun writing it!!^^

Friend trying to win your bf over/talking shit behind your back

Characters: rindou, ran, mikey, chifuyu, wakasa,

Note : Hiii! Thank you sm for this request! I hope I did it well and you'll like it ! I did both bllk and tr but I'll do it for more fandom I write for bc I like it lslsls like genshin and windbreaker

Tell me if anyone want one with a character in particular (hc / one shot...)

Bllk ver.

m.list | rules

Rindou

Acts sarcastic around her all the time

Fake being interested then stop listening and ignore her

"Is that so ?" With a eyebrow lift and his face unbothered

He wants her to feel bad and like shit, seek attention she'll never have because he's more busy with anything else than her

He wants to feel 10 time worse than what she tried to make you feel

He's mean about it, giving her false hopes

But he never hides it from you, you know it all and honestly you're the one feeling bad for her

He has to remind you himself the shitty friend she is and that she deserves it

Ran

He's not that mean, he knows you like her dearly and does his best to not sighs when she talks

No needs to say that from the start he doesn't really like her

But when she starts talking shit about you behind your back, with him around ? He really got that she was on another planet

It got worse when she speaks to him directly, how she put herself above you, with a fake empathic smile

"Weird way to flirt with a taken guy, talking shit about his girlfriend"

He sounds unbothered but his eyes are cold while he drinks

He probably drink it in one shot and move back to you and tells you

Wakasa

Younger Wakasa would've probably killed her on spot

Older him is more composed, but not without thinking the same

He feels you tensed when she starts speaking about your common dance class, his arm tighten around your shoulders, as if he was asking what's up

His eyes turn cold when she ask him how bad you were at it after he came once

"Excuse me ?"

She sits up straight and, sadly, couldn't turn her gaze away from her when she wishes she had

"I think you're the only one remembering it that way."

He's not joking around when it comes to you, and she for sure regretting it when everyone stopped listening to her around the table

Chifuyu

He's silly and kind, it's good to be around him you get that and all your friends feel safe around him for this reason

But you never expect to one of them to turned it against you when he's just nice and making sure they're safe

You're choked the first time you heard her talking like this about you while you were go for a few minutes, with him sitting next to her

"I've never noticed though, I have no idea what you're talking about"

He plays dumb but you can tell in his voice is not joking around anymore

She's doesn't insist when you came back, but he makes sure to mention it so you can defend yourself

And when everyone take your side you felt slightly better, even more with him taking your defense without hesitation

Mikey

That's the worst idea anyone can have

Mikey thinks so highly about you, maybe a bit too much but that makes him your number one supporter

Looking down on you to try to win him over is the dumbest thing to do

He's quick to react, the second she pushed you down to her up, his eyes are on her and he's moving closer

"Talk shit about my gf one more time, I dare you"

He doesn't do anything else, doesn't touch her but that's because he respects woman and don't fight people who can't defend themselves

Or else he would've hit her in the face

"Get out while I'm still being friendly"

No need to say you never heard of her again

[nothingelsetodobutfight]

It may be out of our hands, even Schindler could only do so much. Just want to put this out there - World War II wasn't stopped by German citizens. It was stopped by the United States because Japan (who fought alongside Germany and Soviet Russia) bombed us like a bunch of idiots and honestly if the USA hadn't stopped the war because our toes got crushed Idek if the world would be the same. but anyway. German citizens avoided being drafted and lived on the brink of survival. German citizens housed their neighbors, lied to their cops, and feigned the support of their furer. they had to, to survive. Just... .survive. help others do so. I don't want you to think you have to save the planet, that someone is waiting on you. Your journey is one of discovery and understanding, with the incredible potential for more than you can imagine. Do what calls to you. Do you want to quit your job and live out of your car, finding people to help like a hero vigilante? I mean, you could, and live in homeless shelters and eat at soup kitchens.... but then suddenly you're one of the people who need help rather than being able to give help. Working a job and getting by is the same as standing at attention for the soldiers who would literally shoot you if you didn't. You can't expect yourself to uproot your entire life for no promise of tomorrow. But let me ask you this, if the neighborhood militia was looking for people to recruit for a raid, would you be fit enough to join? Your body is your tool, your weapon, your greatest asset. Stay healthy, and play the game just long enough to get the most out of it and helping every single person that you can achievably make a difference for.

One thousand, four hundred, and sixty one days.

Four years.

I wanted a reminder so that way when things seem like they're going completely off the rails- this is not forever. We can fight them every step of the way. We can help out our neighbors and take every win we can.

One day at a time. I have to believe that we can get through this and build something better in the process. One fucking day at a time.

[starvingnarcissistmusic]

I should really make a non music blog so that people who like my music don’t get bombarded by random unrelated stuff but this is like tangentially related sort of so whatever

God I just love Mal Du Pays. I am always a sucker for “the enemy is you / the enemy is a manifestation of some part of you” trope in any media but MDP has by far gotta be one of the best applications of it I’ve ever seen.

I mean even just the design of it is brilliant. Obviously inverting a characters colors to get the evil / darker version isn’t anything new for this trope, but ISAT is unique in that you have quite literally been STARING AT MDP THE WHOLE GAME, every single time you die and every single time you loop back. Turning the non diegetic game over screen into a diegetic encounter is incredibly clever and immediately gives MDP that sense of crushing pressure that makes it so memorable.

Also literally any game where the game over music is later established as the motif of a character automatically just wins me over by default. It’s such an effective tool in immediately conveying just what MDP is, even before any of the dialogue starts. It’s the end of this journey. It’s the pain of a home you’ve never known. It’s an entire universe collapsing in on you at once. It’s the end. It’s the end. It’s the end.

And I think, it’s a little Fucked Up, that Siffrin’s sadness looks identical to him. Every other sadness we see in the game is very distinctly not human in appearance, incredibly abstract and inhuman pretty much all around the board. But Mal Du Pays? The sadness of our main character? Pretty much the same. Literally a color swap. I think that’s incredibly telling. A being born of Siffrin’s grief and pain and agony, and the form it takes is his own silhouette.

Thematically, it’s very On The Nose that Siffrin’s worst enemy is simply himself, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you expect. I remember getting to MDP for the first time, seeing Siffrin walk through the void and just… knowing what would come next. Of course it would be another him. For Siffrin, his hell is himself. This nightmarish half-life, devoid of a past and with nothing but a quickly collapsing future, his worst impulses and fears and agonies and pains personified, and all it looks like is his shadow. Of course, what else could be here, at his lowest of lows, but a reflection? Of course there would be nothing here but you. It’s always only ever been you. Mal Du Pays is a mirror. A mirror that hates you like you do, that loathes you like you loathe yourself. In the worst, most monstrous way possible, it tells you exactly what you’ve been telling yourself your whole journey. And so you believe it, let it sink its words into your skin and bury you in the misery. Because maybe then, maybe when you finally give in, it won’t hurt anymore.

(A cold comfort is still, however little it may be, a comfort.)

And then you’re saved. The King is defeated, your friends came back for you, you manage to come up for air again. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Everything is still coming to an end. You’re still going to be all alone. And so, you sink again.

Notice how Bigfrin doesn’t have a face in this panel? This is Siffrin at their most self destructive, most desperate, lower than lower than low. And in a way, I think that by quite literally looking like the Sadness they nearly created, they’re symbolically drawing a parallel there. Siffrin fully embraces what Mal Du Pays represented, to the point that their new form looks just like it. Even if they didn’t manifest MDP, they are just as horrible. After all, the mirror goes both ways. Mal Du Pays looks just like Siffrin, but that also means that Siffrin looks just like Mal Du Pays. And maybe, in Siffrin’s head, they’re one and the same. Maybe they’ve always been.

Oh god it’s 1 in the morning. I did not mean to make this that long lmao w h o o p s

uhhhhhh in summary tldr mdp is very good isat is also very good play isat

(also if you want more MDP content, I sort of wrote a whole song about it. So listen to that if you’d like. Im goin to bed)

[gottencents]

Causal Pt.2 - Yu Jimin

part one.

pairing. mean girl!karina x star soccer player!reader

synopsis. at Changryeo University, Yu Jimin or just Karina is the ultimate “mean rich girl” — popular, wealthy, and always seeking ways to stay on top. After setting her sights on Sunghoon, the charming soccer captain, Karina shifts her focus to Y/N, an up-and-coming soccer star with an unexpected breakout season. Unlike the polished Sunghoon, Y/N is more of an outsider who got by on talent but doesn’t fit the typical college elite mold. Realizing that Y/N is the only one who doesn’t care about the social hierarchy, Karina proposes a deal: they’ll fake date so Karina can boost her popularity, while Y/N gets protection from relentless attention. Reluctantly, Y/N agrees, and the two navigate a world of social manipulation, only to find that their fake relationship might lead to something more real than either expected.

Life didn’t slow down after the gala. If anything, it picked up.

Y/N had never cared much for gossip, but now she was at the center of it. Whispers followed her everywhere—on the soccer field, in the hallways, even in her own dorm. She couldn’t go a full hour without hearing Karina’s name mentioned in some capacity.

“Did you see the way Karina was looking at her?”

“They actually look good together, I won’t lie.”

“I heard Karina ditched someone else at the gala just to be with Y/N.”

None of it made sense. Y/N didn’t do the whole socialite thing—she played soccer, went to class, and tried not to overcomplicate her life. But now, she was part of a spectacle. And the worst part? Karina didn’t seem fazed by it at all.

If anything, she leaned into it.

Y/N had expected the whole PR relationship to be something manageable—occasional public interactions, staged appearances, nothing too deep. But Karina was relentless. She found excuses to be around Y/N at every opportunity.

She’d slip into the seat next to her at lunch, steal bites of her food like they were an old married couple, casually wrap an arm around her shoulder in the middle of campus as if it were second nature.

Y/N, for her part, didn’t know how to handle it.

One afternoon, she was heading to the library when Karina materialized beside her.

“Where are we going?” Karina asked, as if she had been part of the plan all along.

Y/N sighed. “We are not going anywhere. I’m going to study.”

Karina hummed, unfazed. “I’ll join.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning to face her. “Do you even need to study?”

Karina smirked. “I don’t, but you’re far more entertaining than my usual plans.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“It is now,” Karina said, looping her arm through Y/N’s with a victorious gleam in her eyes. “C’mon, humor me.”

Y/N let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t pull away.

It was the same every day. Karina inserting herself into Y/N’s life with ease, chipping away at the space Y/N had carefully built around herself.

The worst part? It wasn’t as annoying as it should’ve been.

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the soft tapping of fingers against laptop keyboards. Y/N sat at a corner table, deep in her notes, trying to ignore the weight of Karina’s gaze on her.

“Why are you staring at me?” Y/N muttered without looking up.

Karina, seated across from her, rested her chin on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. “Just thinking.”

Y/N glanced up warily. “Thinking about what?”

Karina tilted her head slightly. “How different we are.”

Y/N scoffed. “Wow. That deep, huh?”

Karina chuckled, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. “No, but really. You don’t like attention, and I live in it. You keep people at arm’s length, and I let them think they know me. You run from things, and I run straight into them.”

Y/N paused, twirling her pen between her fingers. “That was poetic.”

Karina smirked. “I have my moments.”

Y/N looked down at her notes, trying to focus, but her mind was elsewhere. There was something about the way Karina said things—like she was peeling back layers one at a time, seeing more than she let on.

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

It became a pattern. Karina showing up unannounced. Y/N pretending to be annoyed. Karina staying anyway.

One night, Y/N had barely kicked off her cleats after a late practice when a knock came at her door.

She sighed, already knowing who it was.

“Karina, it’s almost midnight,” Y/N groaned as she opened the door.

Karina, looking effortlessly put together as always, leaned against the doorframe with an easy smile. “And?”

Y/N sighed, stepping aside. “Just get in.”

Karina walked in like she belonged there, settling on Y/N’s bed.

Y/N leaned against her desk, arms crossed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Karina shrugged. “I was bored.”

Y/N raised a brow. “So your solution was to bother me?”

“Obviously.” Karina smirked before patting the spot beside her. “Sit.”

Y/N hesitated but eventually relented, sitting on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, there was silence. A rare, comfortable kind.

Then Karina spoke, her voice softer than usual. “Does it bother you?”

Y/N glanced at her. “What?”

Karina looked at her then, something unreadable in her expression. “That everyone thinks this is real.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it. She hadn’t really thought about it like that.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s weird, sure. But… it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

Karina hummed, watching her carefully. “Not as bad, huh?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Karina chuckled but didn’t push. Instead, she leaned back, stretching out on the bed like she had all the time in the world.

“You know,” Karina mused, “for someone who claims to hate this arrangement, you don’t push me away.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose. “Maybe I’m just getting used to you.”

Karina’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Good.”

Y/N turned away, hoping Karina didn’t notice the warmth creeping up her neck.

Because the truth was—she didn’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, Karina Yu had stopped feeling like just an obligation.

And that realization was dangerous.

It wasn’t obvious at first.

Not in the way Karina always found her in a crowded room.

Not in the way Y/N started looking for Karina before realizing it.

Not in the way Karina’s teasing had softened, or the way Y/N had stopped resisting when Karina pulled her closer in public.

But it was there.

A shift.

A quiet, undeniable shift in whatever this was.

And Y/N didn’t know what scared her more—the fact that she noticed it, or the fact that she didn’t mind.

Days turned into weeks, and whatever this thing was between Y/N and Karina—it wasn’t fading. If anything, it was intensifying.

It was in the way Karina’s eyes always found Y/N in a crowded room, lingering just a little too long before she looked away. The way their casual touches never really felt casual, fingers brushing a second longer than necessary, an arm draped over Y/N’s shoulder with a grip that felt possessive rather than playful.

And it was in the way Karina had started showing up more.

At first, Y/N thought it was just part of the act—maintaining their public image, reinforcing their “relationship” so people kept talking. But Karina was there even when there was no audience to perform for. When Y/N left soccer practice exhausted, Karina would be waiting, leaning against the fence with a smug smirk and an iced coffee she’d pretend was a thoughtful gift rather than a blatant bribe.

When Y/N studied in the library, Karina found her, sitting across from her without a word, pretending to read but spending more time kicking Y/N’s foot under the table.

And the worst part?

Y/N didn’t mind.

Not really.

She told herself it was fine. That she was used to Karina’s presence now, used to the way she inserted herself into Y/N’s life like she belonged there. But then there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—where Y/N caught herself looking at Karina too long, where she caught herself waiting for Karina’s next move.

And she wasn’t sure what scared her more: that Karina seemed to be doing the same thing, or that Y/N was starting to want her to.

The café was warm, filled with the low hum of conversation and the rhythmic tapping of rain against the windows. Y/N had claimed a seat by the window, her textbook open in front of her, though she wasn’t actually reading. Her mind had drifted somewhere else, too preoccupied to focus on the words in front of her.

Across from her, Karina was scrolling through her phone, chin propped on her hand. They had been sitting like this for almost an hour, saying nothing, just existing in the same space. It was easy now—this quiet thing between them.

Then, without looking up, Karina spoke.

“My mom called earlier.”

Y/N glanced up from her book, arching a brow. “Yeah?”

Karina hummed. “She saw the gala pictures.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, turning a page she hadn’t actually read. “And?”

Karina finally looked up, a small smirk playing on her lips. “She said you look good next to me.”

Y/N snorted. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

Karina tilted her head slightly, watching Y/N with that unreadable gaze of hers. “It means she approves.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Of the fake relationship?”

Karina’s smirk didn’t waver. “Of you.”

Y/N felt something stir in her chest, something unfamiliar and dangerous. She looked down at her book, trying to push it away.

Karina had a way of saying things like they meant nothing when they felt like everything.

And Y/N didn’t know how to deal with that.

The sun had long since set, casting the soccer field in a dim glow from the overhead lights. Most of the team had already left, but Y/N had lingered, taking a few extra shots on goal, running a few more drills until she was exhausted.

By the time she stepped out of the locker room, her body ached in that familiar way that came after pushing herself too hard. She was rolling her shoulders, trying to ease the tension, when she spotted a figure leaning against the fence.

Karina.

Y/N sighed, approaching her. “You know, you don’t have to meet me after practice.”

Karina smiled lazily, completely unbothered. “I know.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Then why are you here?”

Karina tilted her head slightly, like she was debating how much to say. Then she shrugged. “Maybe I like seeing you in your element.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Karina grinned. “And yet, here you are, talking to me instead of running away.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Karina stepped closer then, reaching out. Without thinking, Y/N let her.

Karina’s fingers brushed against Y/N’s jaw, her touch light, fleeting. “You have dirt on your face,” she murmured before wiping it away with her thumb.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her pulse suddenly too loud in her ears.

Karina didn’t move back.

She was close—too close. Close enough that Y/N could see the way her smirk had softened into something else. Something almost unsure.

And for the first time, Y/N wondered—was she just as scared of this as Y/N was?

“Y/N,” Karina said quietly.

Y/N swallowed. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence. Then Karina shook her head, stepping back with an easy smile, as if the moment hadn’t just happened.

“Nothing,” she said. “Walk me back?”

Y/N hesitated but eventually fell into step beside her.

And as they walked, neither of them mentioned how, for a split second, something almost happened.

Something real.

And neither of them knew what to do about it.

The thing about slow changes is that you don’t always notice them as they happen.

Y/N wasn’t sure when exactly it started—when Karina’s presence in her life stopped feeling like an invasion and started feeling like… something else. Something expected. Something constant.

Maybe it was the way Karina always seemed to find her, even when she wasn’t looking. Or the way Y/N had started instinctively saving her a seat at lunch, despite grumbling about it every time Karina smugly took it.

Maybe it was the way Karina’s teasing had softened, how the smirks weren’t always accompanied by sharp words anymore. How sometimes, when she looked at Y/N, she wasn’t performing for an audience.

Or maybe it was Y/N herself—how she had stopped questioning why Karina was around so much and started wondering what it would feel like if she wasn’t.

But then again, acknowledging that thought would mean acknowledging everything else—the way Y/N had started noticing Karina in ways she wasn’t supposed to.

And that? That was dangerous.

The university library was nearly empty at this hour, save for a few overworked students huddled in the corners. Y/N sat at a table in the back, her laptop open but untouched, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the wood. She was supposed to be working on an assignment, but focus was a lost cause tonight.

A chair scraped against the floor, and Y/N didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“You know,” Karina said, setting her bag down, “for someone who claims to hate studying, you spend an awful lot of time here.”

Y/N glanced at her, unimpressed. “What are you doing here?”

Karina smirked. “Maybe I missed you.”

Y/N snorted. “Right.”

Karina leaned in, her voice dropping slightly. “Maybe I did.”

Y/N stilled, fingers curling into her hoodie sleeves. It was so easy for Karina to say things like that—to flirt like it was second nature. But sometimes, when no one else was around, Y/N caught glimpses of something different.

Like now.

She looked at Karina, really looked at her, and for once, Karina didn’t look away.

Y/N exhaled, turning her attention back to her laptop. “You’re distracting.”

“I know,” Karina said easily, resting her chin on her hand.

Y/N fought the smile threatening to form. “Not a compliment.”

Karina grinned. “I’ll take it anyway.”

And just like that, the moment passed. But Y/N felt it—something shifting, something lingering.

And she didn’t know if she wanted to stop it.

It had started as a casual hangout, nothing more.

Minjeong had suggested a movie night at her dorm, and somehow, Y/N found herself squished onto a couch between Karina and an armrest, the warmth of Karina’s body too close, too present.

“You’re hogging all the space,” Y/N muttered, shifting slightly.

Karina smirked, not moving an inch. “I’m comfortable.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t push her away.

The movie played on, but Y/N wasn’t really watching. Not when Karina’s thigh was pressed against hers, not when Karina shifted slightly and their shoulders brushed, not when Y/N became hyperaware of the way Karina’s fingers were tapping lightly against her own knee—a barely-there touch, like a question waiting to be answered.

Y/N didn’t move.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

Halfway through the movie, Karina leaned in, her voice soft against Y/N’s ear.

“You okay?”

Y/N turned to look at her, and suddenly, Karina was close. Too close. Close enough that Y/N could see the way her lips parted slightly, the way her breath hitched when Y/N didn’t immediately pull away.

Y/N swallowed. “Yeah.”

Karina didn’t move back. If anything, she seemed to be waiting—for what, Y/N wasn’t sure.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, Karina pulled away, her usual smirk sliding back into place like a shield.

“Good,” she murmured, eyes flickering back to the screen.

But Y/N knew.

Karina had almost kissed her.

And Y/N had almost let her.

Y/N didn’t bring it up, and neither did Karina.

But things weren’t the same after that night.

Karina was still Karina—still smug, still teasing, still showing up unannounced like she belonged wherever Y/N was. But the space between them felt charged now, like they were both aware of something neither of them wanted to name.

Y/N caught Karina looking at her more often, caught herself doing the same. Their touches lingered, their words carried weight, and yet… neither of them said anything.

And maybe that was the problem.

Maybe Y/N was waiting.

Waiting for Karina to stop hiding behind her smirks and half-truths.

Waiting for herself to stop pretending she wasn’t already in too deep.

Or maybe—just maybe—Karina was waiting, too.

The thing about pretending for too long is that eventually, the lines between what’s real and what’s not start to blur.

For weeks, Y/N had told herself that this was all a game. A strategic move. A PR stunt meant to keep Karina’s reputation polished and Y/N’s own image from spiraling any further.

And yet—

It didn’t feel like a game anymore.

Not when Karina looked at her like that. Not when her fingers brushed against Y/N’s wrist a second too long. Not when Y/N found herself waiting for her messages, for her presence, for something she shouldn’t be waiting for.

And especially not when Karina started looking at her like she was waiting for something too.

But Y/N didn’t push.

Because pushing meant acknowledging, and acknowledging meant risking everything.

And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

It had been Minjeong’s idea.

“A small get-together,” she had said. “Nothing crazy.”

Which, of course, was a lie.

By the time Y/N arrived at the off-campus house, the place was packed, music thrumming against the walls, and people were already too deep into their drinks to care about much else.

Y/N wasn’t even sure why she had come. Maybe to clear her head. Maybe because Karina had been acting weird the past few days—texting less, lingering more, her teasing still there but with an edge that felt too sharp.

Or maybe, Y/N realized with a sinking feeling, she had come because she wanted to see her.

She found Karina easily.

She always did.

Across the room, Karina stood surrounded by people, her usual effortless charm on full display. She was laughing at something someone had said, but her eyes—her eyes flickered toward Y/N the moment she stepped in.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Karina excused herself and walked straight toward her.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“What are you doing here?” Karina asked, stopping just close enough that their shoes nearly touched.

Y/N shrugged, trying to act casual. “Minjeong invited me.”

Karina’s lips quirked, but there was something in her expression—something unreadable.

“You don’t like parties.”

“I never said that.”

Karina tilted her head. “You don’t like most people.”

“That’s fair.”

A beat of silence.

Then Karina’s gaze flickered over Y/N’s face, her voice softer now. “Then why did you come?”

Y/N swallowed. She wasn’t sure she had an answer that wouldn’t ruin everything.

So instead, she deflected. “Why are you acting weird?”

Karina’s smirk faltered, just for a second. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Karina’s eyes searched hers, something unspoken hanging between them. “And if I was?”

Y/N hesitated.

Then—

“Karina!”

The moment shattered as someone grabbed Karina’s wrist, pulling her away.

And just like that, the distance was back.

Y/N watched as Karina was dragged into another conversation, another crowd, another moment where she was untouchable

And for the first time, Y/N hated it.

Because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend that this was just a game.

And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend she wasn’t already losing.

Y/N left early. She hadn’t meant to, but something about watching Karina slip so easily into the world she belonged to—a world Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever fit into—made her stomach twist.

The cool night air was a relief as she walked back to campus, her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets, her mind racing.

She was halfway back when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Running away?”

Y/N didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

She sighed. “What are you doing?”

Karina fell into step beside her. “Walking you home.”

Y/N glanced at her. “You didn’t have to.”

Karina shrugged. “I wanted to.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… charged. Heavy.

After a moment, Karina spoke, her voice quieter than before. “Did I do something?”

Y/N frowned. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N exhaled, looking ahead. “I haven’t.”

“You have.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Karina stopped walking, and when Y/N realized, she turned back, only to see Karina watching her with an expression that was dangerously close to vulnerable.

“Y/N.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “What do you want me to say?”

Karina’s eyes flickered, something unreadable in them. “The truth.”

Y/N hesitated.

And for a split second, she thought—maybe, just maybe—she could give it to her.

But then Karina stepped closer, and Y/N’s breath hitched, and the world felt too small, and suddenly, it was too much.

So she did what she always did.

She deflected.

“You’re annoying.”

Karina blinked. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.

It wasn’t her usual, practiced laugh. It was real. Soft.

Y/N hated how much she liked it.

“Come on,” Karina said, nudging her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

And as they walked side by side through the quiet streets, Y/N knew.

She was already in too deep.

And there was no getting out now.

Mornings were supposed to be Y/N’s time to herself. The crisp air, the rhythmic thud of a soccer ball against the grass, the steady burn in her muscles—it was the one part of the day where she didn’t have to think.

But Karina had a habit of showing up when Y/N least expected it.

Like now.

Y/N was mid-drill, her teammates spread across the field, when she spotted Karina lingering near the bleachers. Dressed in a perfectly coordinated outfit, steaming coffee in hand, she was clearly not here for the sport.

“Dude, your girlfriend’s here again,” her teammate, Jisoo, teased, nudging her as they jogged across the field.

“She’s not my—” Y/N cut herself off.

Because at this point, what was the point?

Jisoo just laughed. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Y/N shook her head, refocusing on the drill. But every time she glanced up, Karina was still there, watching, waiting.

And maybe—just maybe—Y/N started playing a little harder because of it.

By the time practice ended, sweat clung to Y/N’s skin, her breaths steady but heavy. She grabbed her water bottle and made her way toward the bleachers, knowing there was no avoiding Karina now.

“You’re making a habit of this,” Y/N said, wiping her face with a towel.

Karina smirked. “Of what?”

“Showing up. Watching me.”

Karina shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe I just like the view.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth creeping up her neck. “You should get a hobby.”

Karina leaned in just slightly, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Maybe you are my hobby.”

Y/N huffed, taking a long sip from her water bottle before turning toward the locker room. “You need better taste in hobbies.”

But even as she walked away, she could feel Karina’s gaze following her.

And Y/N hated the way it made her heart race.

Later that evening, Y/N found herself in the library, trying—and failing—to focus.

Her econ textbook blurred in front of her, words merging together in a way that made her want to slam her head against the desk.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. Maybe she needed a break.

And just as she thought that, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Are you always this studious, or are you just pretending?”

Y/N looked up, unsurprised to find Karina sliding into the seat across from her, looking as effortlessly put together as ever.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Y/N muttered, flipping a page.

Karina smirked. “I prefer to study people rather than books.”

Y/N snorted. “Sounds like a terrible academic strategy.”

Karina rested her chin on her hand, watching her with a level of attention that made Y/N squirm. “Maybe, but it’s working just fine for me.”

Y/N shook her head, trying—failing—to ignore the way Karina’s gaze made her feel. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

Karina tilted her head, her expression shifting just slightly. “Do you want me to?”

And that—well, that threw Y/N off more than she’d like to admit.

Because she should say yes. She should tell Karina to stop playing this game.

But the truth sat heavy on her tongue, unspoken.

Karina took her silence as an answer, a knowing look flashing in her eyes before she leaned back, stretching. “Relax, Y/N. I’m just keeping things interesting.”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “You exhaust me.”

Karina smirked. “And yet, you still put up with me.”

And that—well, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It was late by the time they left the library, the campus quiet, the air cool against Y/N’s skin.

They walked side by side, Karina’s presence strangely comfortable despite everything.

Then, without thinking, Y/N reached up, adjusting the strap of Karina’s bag where it had slipped off her shoulder.

It was instinct. A small, thoughtless gesture.

But the moment her fingers brushed against Karina’s shoulder, Karina stilled.

Y/N froze too, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were, of the way Karina’s breath hitched just slightly.

It was nothing. It was barely a touch.

But it felt like something.

Karina’s eyes flickered to hers, something unreadable behind them.

Y/N should step back. She should make a joke, break the moment, do anything but stand there like an idiot.

But she didn’t.

And neither did Karina.

For the first time, the game didn’t feel like a game.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was standing at the edge of something dangerous.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to step back.

Y/n spent the next few days doing the one thing she was good at—running.

Not just on the soccer field, but from Karina. From the way her presence lingered in Y/N’s mind long after they’d parted ways, from the way her touch—brief, fleeting—still burned against her skin.

So Y/N kept herself busy.

She threw herself into practice, pushed harder in drills, spent extra hours at the gym until her legs ached and her mind was too exhausted to wander. It was easier this way. Easier than acknowledging the shift in the air between her and Karina.

But avoidance only worked for so long.

Because Karina wasn’t the kind of person you could ignore.

She made sure of that.

Y/N barely had a moment to breathe between classes before Karina found her again, sliding into the seat next to her in the lecture hall like she belonged there.

“You’re avoiding me,” Karina said casually, setting down her coffee.

Y/N didn’t even glance at her. “I’m busy.”

Karina hummed, unconvinced. “Busy pretending I don’t exist?”

Y/N exhaled through her nose, gripping her pen a little tighter. “Busy focusing on things that actually matter.”

At that, Karina let out a soft chuckle, amused rather than offended. “Ouch. And here I thought I mattered to you.”

Y/N turned her head sharply, meeting Karina’s gaze. She was smirking—of course she was—but there was something else lurking beneath it. Something almost… expectant.

Y/N swallowed. “You don’t.”

The words came out too fast, too forced.

And Karina? She caught it immediately.

Her smirk widened, but her eyes softened, like she saw right through Y/N’s pathetic attempt at indifference.

“Okay,” Karina murmured, tilting her head slightly. “If you say so.”

And just like that, she turned her attention back to the professor, acting as if they hadn’t just played a dangerous game of push and pull in the span of thirty seconds.

Y/N stared at her, jaw clenched, stomach twisting.

Because Karina knew.

She knew that Y/N was lying.

And she was just waiting for her to admit it.

It wasn’t Y/N’s idea to go out that night.

Minjeong had all but dragged her to the frat house, insisting she needed to “relax and act like a normal college student for once.”

So Y/N went. And if she was being honest, she needed the distraction.

The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and cheap cologne. Y/N stuck to the kitchen, nursing a beer, nodding along to conversations she wasn’t really listening to.

And then—of course—Karina walked in.

Y/N felt her before she saw her.

Felt the way the energy in the room shifted, the way heads turned as Karina Yu made her entrance like she owned the place. She wore something sleek, something effortlessly put together, like she hadn’t even tried and still managed to be the most captivating person in the room.

And the worst part? She wasn’t alone.

Some guy—tall, objectively attractive—was trailing behind her, laughing at something she said. Karina turned her head, smiling at him, and something bitter curled in Y/N’s chest.

She hated it.

She hated that she cared.

“Dude,” Minjeong nudged her, leaning against the counter. “You’re staring.”

Y/N snapped out of it, clearing her throat. “I’m not.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay.”

But Y/N wasn’t staring.

At least, not anymore.

Because Karina had noticed her.

Even through the sea of people, even with that guy still talking in her ear, Karina’s gaze locked onto Y/N’s like a magnet.

And then, like she was making a point, Karina leaned in closer to him, her fingers grazing his arm as she laughed at something he said.

Y/N took a sip of her drink, forcing herself to look away.

This wasn’t her problem. Karina could do whatever she wanted.

But then, before she could stop herself, she was moving.

She weaved through the crowd, past drunken conversations and sweaty bodies, until she reached Karina.

“Can I talk to you?” Y/N said, voice steady, betraying nothing.

Karina blinked, looking up at her with the faintest trace of surprise—just for a second—before recovering.

She turned to the guy. “Give me a sec.”

The guy looked between them, then gave a slow nod, stepping away.

Karina turned back to Y/N, arms crossing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “Can we not do this?”

Karina tilted her head. “Do what?”

Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “The whole ‘let’s see who can push who further’ game.”

Karina was quiet for a beat. Then, she stepped closer—too close.

Y/N could smell her perfume, the faint trace of whatever drink she’d been nursing.

“You don’t like it?” Karina murmured, voice lower now.

Y/N held her ground. “No.”

Karina studied her, gaze flickering between Y/N’s eyes, searching for something.

And then, to Y/N’s surprise, Karina sighed.

“Fine,” Karina said, stepping back, tension shifting just slightly. “No more games.”

Y/N didn’t believe her. “Just like that?”

Karina gave her a small, unreadable smile. “Just like that.”

And then, before Y/N could say anything else, Karina walked away.

Y/N stood there, fists clenched at her sides, heart pounding in her ears.

Because somehow, that felt worse.

Somehow, Y/N realized, she didn’t want Karina to stop playing.

And that scared her more than anything.

Y/N told herself that after the party, things would go back to normal.

She could shake this off—shake Karina off—and everything would settle.

But the problem with telling yourself something over and over again is that, eventually, you start realizing it’s a lie.

Karina was everywhere.

Not in the obvious ways—she wasn’t texting Y/N, wasn’t suddenly showing up at her dorm unannounced like she used to. If anything, Karina had pulled back.

And that was the problem.

Because now Y/N was the one noticing her.

Noticing the way Karina still sat near her in class, but never directly next to her. Noticing how their eyes would meet across the cafeteria, but Karina would always be the first to look away. Noticing how, during passing periods, Karina’s shoulder would nearly brush against Y/N’s before she’d shift slightly at the last second, putting just enough space between them.

And for some reason, it was driving Y/N insane.

It was like Karina had figured out exactly how to get under her skin—by giving her the distance Y/N had pretended to want.

And now, Y/N hated it.

Soccer was supposed to be Y/N’s escape.

The one place where things made sense, where the only thing that mattered was the ball at her feet and the goal ahead.

But even that had started to feel different.

Practice was tense. Not because of the drills or the upcoming matches, but because Minjeong—who always seemed to have a sixth sense for Y/N’s moods—had noticed something was off.

“You’re playing like someone who has unresolved feelings,” Minjeong remarked after practice, tossing Y/N a water bottle.

Y/N scowled. “I’m playing like someone who wants to win.”

Minjeong smirked. “Right. And totally not like someone who’s mad that Karina Yu is suddenly treating her like a stranger.”

Y/N nearly choked on her water. “I—what?”

Minjeong crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Come on, dude. You think I haven’t noticed?”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it. Because what was she supposed to say? That she was fine? That Karina’s distance wasn’t bothering her?

Because that would be another lie.

And Minjeong would see right through it.

Instead, Y/N just sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s complicated.”

Minjeong hummed. “Complicated because you like her?”

Y/N stiffened. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Minjeong clapped a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, far too amused. “Just saying, if you wanna keep lying to yourself, that’s cool. But maybe stop pretending you don’t care when it’s obvious you do.”

Y/N groaned. “You’re the worst.”

Minjeong grinned. “I know.”

But as she walked off, leaving Y/N alone on the field, the words stuck.

Because maybe Minjeong wasn’t wrong.

Maybe Y/N had been lying to herself this whole time.

Y/N hadn’t planned to run into Karina that night.

She’d gone to the library late, hoping to cram in some studying before crashing. The campus was quiet at this hour, only a few students lingering in the study rooms, the distant hum of conversation filling the space.

She was halfway through highlighting a passage when she sensed someone sit across from her.

She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Her hands tightened around her pen. “Didn’t think you studied this late.”

Karina’s voice was smooth, a little too casual. “Didn’t think you cared.”

Y/N exhaled, finally looking up.

Karina looked… calm. Not smirking, not teasing—just studying Y/N with that unreadable expression she’d perfected.

It was infuriating.

“Is this some new strategy?” Y/N muttered. “Ignoring me until I crack?”

Karina tilted her head slightly. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, really? Because last week, you wouldn’t leave me alone, and now I barely exist to you.”

Karina was quiet for a second.

Then, in a softer voice, she said, “You told me you didn’t want to play the game anymore.”

Y/N faltered.

Because… hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she told Karina she was done with whatever this back-and-forth was?

And yet, here she was.

Karina leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “I gave you space, Y/N. You just didn’t like it as much as you thought you would.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “That’s not—”

But she stopped herself.

Because Karina was right.

Y/N swallowed hard, fingers tightening around her pen. “I just…” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what this is.”

Karina’s gaze softened just slightly. “Neither do I.”

That admission caught Y/N off guard.

Because Karina always acted like she had the upper hand, always seemed so sure of herself. But now, in this quiet corner of the library, she wasn’t playing games.

She was just being honest.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Karina let out a small breath, tapping her fingers against the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

Y/N frowned. “Where?”

Karina shrugged. “Anywhere that’s not this library.”

Y/N hesitated.

She shouldn’t say yes.

But against all logic, she found herself nodding.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Okay.”

And as Karina stood, waiting for her, Y/N realized that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t run from this.

From Karina.

Because Karina was the one thing Y/N couldn’t escape.

And maybe, deep down, she didn’t want to.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she agreed to leave the library with Karina.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was Minjeong’s words still bouncing around in her head. Or maybe it was the way Karina had looked at her—not with smugness, not with teasing, but with something real.

Either way, they ended up walking through campus side by side, the cool night air settling over them in silence.

For once, Karina didn’t try to fill the quiet.

She walked at Y/N’s pace, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, gaze flickering up at the dimly lit buildings around them.

It was strange—almost unsettling—to be next to Karina without the usual push and pull.

No cameras. No spectators. Just them.

After a while, Y/N exhaled and shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket. “So, are you gonna tell me where we’re going, or is this some elaborate plan to murder me?”

Karina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “As tempting as that is, no.” She glanced at Y/N with a small smirk. “Relax. I figured we could just walk.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? Just walking? Without some grand scheme?”

Karina sighed dramatically. “I’m capable of normal human activities, you know.”

“Debatable.”

Karina nudged her playfully, and Y/N bit back a smile.

They ended up near the soccer field—empty at this hour, save for the faint glow of the campus lights reflecting off the damp grass.

Karina strolled toward the bleachers and sat down, gesturing for Y/N to join her.

Y/N hesitated but eventually sat beside her, the cool metal of the bleachers pressing against her legs.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, though.

If anything, it was… easy.

Which was dangerous.

Because Y/N knew Karina thrived in chaos, in the tension of their usual banter, in the thrill of whatever game they’d been playing since the beginning.

But tonight, there was none of that.

And Y/N didn’t know what to do with it.

Karina exhaled, tilting her head back to look at the stars. “You know,” she murmured, “I don’t think I ever really stop moving.”

Y/N glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

Karina’s lips curved, but it wasn’t her usual smirk. “I mean, I’m always doing something. Going somewhere. Talking to someone. It’s… exhausting, sometimes.”

Y/N frowned. She’d never heard Karina admit anything like that before.

“I guess I just don’t like slowing down,” Karina continued, voice quieter now. “Because when I do, I start thinking too much.”

Y/N shifted slightly, studying her.

There was something vulnerable in the way Karina was speaking.

Like she wasn’t just saying things to be heard.

Like she actually wanted Y/N to understand.

“You ever feel like that?” Karina asked, turning to her.

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

She didn’t elaborate, but Karina didn’t push.

Instead, Karina let out a soft chuckle. “Look at us. Having an actual conversation.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Miracle of the century.”

Karina smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Y/N wanted to ask more. She wanted to press, to understand this side of Karina she was just now seeing.

But she didn’t.

Because if she asked, that meant acknowledging that she cared.

And Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

They sat in silence for a while longer, the night air cool but not unpleasant.

At some point, Y/N stretched her legs out, her knee barely brushing against Karina’s.

She expected Karina to pull away—to put that usual distance between them.

But she didn’t.

She stayed still.

The warmth of her presence was almost unnerving.

Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie, suddenly feeling too aware of how close they were.

Karina must have noticed.

Because when she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

“You know…” Karina exhaled, tilting her head slightly toward Y/N. “I didn’t expect you to matter this much.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

She turned her head slowly, finding Karina already looking at her.

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t teasing.

It was real.

The weight of Karina’s words settled between them, heavy and unspoken.

Y/N swallowed hard. “Karina…”

Karina’s gaze flickered down—just briefly—to Y/N’s lips.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

And for a moment—a terrifying, fleeting moment—she thought Karina might actually kiss her.

She thought she might let her.

But then Karina pulled back slightly, her expression unreadable once more.

She exhaled through her nose, as if amused at herself. “See?” she murmured. “Thinking too much.”

Y/N blinked, still caught in whatever spell had just been cast between them.

But Karina was already standing, brushing imaginary dust off her coat.

“Come on,” Karina said lightly, her usual smirk returning. “I’ll walk you back.”

Y/N hesitated before standing as well.

As they made their way back through campus, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

That, maybe, whatever space had been between them before… was smaller now.

Something had changed.

Y/N felt it in the way Karina looked at her—like she was expecting something.

She felt it in the way their conversations lingered just a little too long, in the way Karina found excuses to touch her—an arm brushing against hers, fingers catching her wrist, a knee bumping against her under the table.

It was in the way Karina invaded her space, in the way she seemed to think she had a right to it now.

And Y/N was letting her.

That was the problem.

Because despite all her instincts, all her warnings to herself, she wasn’t pushing Karina away anymore.

She was letting Karina pull her closer.

And she didn’t know how to stop.

It happened on a Friday night.

The soccer team had won another game, and the celebrations had spilled out onto campus, the dorms buzzing with energy. But Y/N wasn’t in the mood to party.

She had barely made it inside her dorm before Karina was there—waiting, as if she had been expecting her.

“You’re avoiding me,” Karina said, arms crossed.

Y/N sighed, dropping her bag onto the floor. “I’m not.”

Karina gave her a look. “You are.”

Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I just needed some space.”

Karina didn’t move. “From me?”

Y/N hesitated.

Because yes. Yes, she needed space. She needed distance before she did something stupid, before she let herself believe that whatever this was—whatever Karina was doing—meant something more.

But Karina was looking at her with something raw in her expression, something that made Y/N’s resolve waver.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Y/N admitted, voice quiet.

Karina stared at her, something unreadable flashing across her face. “I don’t know either.”

Y/N swallowed. “Then what are we doing?”

Karina stepped closer, and Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“We don’t have to name it,” Karina murmured. “We just have to let it be.”

Y/N hated how much she wanted to believe her.

She hated how much she wanted to close the distance between them.

She hated how Karina made her feel—like a thread being pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

And Karina must have seen something in her eyes, because her voice softened.

“Tell me to stop,” Karina whispered.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Karina was so close now, close enough that Y/N could see the flicker of uncertainty in her usually unreadable eyes.

Close enough that Y/N could feel her warmth.

And for a second, Y/N thought she might not stop her.

For a second, she thought she might let herself fall.

But then—

A knock at the door.

They jolted apart like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Y/N turned, exhaling sharply, while Karina took a step back, hands clenched at her sides.

The moment was gone.

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

Y/N didn’t sleep that night.

She kept replaying the moment over and over, feeling the ghost of Karina’s presence beside her, the warmth she had almost leaned into.

The next morning, she expected Karina to pretend like nothing had happened.

That was how Karina worked, after all.

She played games. She knew when to push and when to pull back.

But Karina didn’t pretend.

Instead, for the first time since their arrangement had started, she was the one avoiding Y/N.

And that was how Y/N knew—

Whatever they were doing, whatever lines they had been dancing around—

They had finally, finally started to blur.

It had been three days since the night in Y/N’s dorm. Three days of silence.

It was like a wall had gone up between them, and Y/N felt it every time she saw Karina—at practice, in the hallways, even in the cafeteria. Karina didn’t make eye contact anymore. She didn’t offer that sly smile or the playful teasing that had become so familiar.

And Y/N… she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

At first, she thought she was relieved. She had told herself she needed space, that things had gotten too close, too fast. But as the days went on, that relief slowly turned into something else—something like… loneliness.

It was like they had been in their own world, one where the rules didn’t quite apply. And now, that world was slipping away, leaving Y/N with nothing but a dull ache.

She couldn’t quite understand it, couldn’t quite explain it.

But she missed Karina.

It was another Friday night, and Karina’s behavior had only gotten colder. Y/N couldn’t stand it. She found herself slipping into Karina’s favorite hangout spot on campus—an old, quiet study lounge where Karina had a habit of disappearing to when she wanted a break from the crowds.

The door creaked open, and there Karina was, sitting on one of the plush chairs by the window, her back to Y/N.

“Karina,” Y/N said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Karina didn’t turn around. “What are you doing here?” she asked, though the words didn’t have their usual bite.

Y/N hesitated, then stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. “I… I needed to talk to you.”

Karina didn’t respond. She just kept staring out the window, the dim light from the streetlights casting shadows on her face.

Y/N’s heart beat faster, but she couldn’t let it go. “I don’t like this,” she blurted out, before she could stop herself.

Karina’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn around. “Don’t like what?” she asked, though there was an edge to her voice now.

Y/N crossed the room, her footsteps quiet against the hardwood floor. She stopped just short of Karina’s chair. “The way you’ve been acting. The silence. The distance. It feels like I’m losing you.”

Karina finally looked at her, but her expression was unreadable. “You’ve always known how to keep me at arm’s length,” she said, her voice soft, but sharp all the same. “You’ve never let me get too close.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the words. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to what?” Karina interrupted, standing up now, her gaze intense. “You didn’t mean to push me away? Or you didn’t mean to let me in, only to turn around and close the door?”

Y/N’s breath caught. She hadn’t realized it until now, but maybe that was exactly what she had been doing. Keeping Karina at a distance, only to let her close, then push her away again.

“I’m not good at this,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, “I didn’t think you were.”

Y/N flinched at the words. They stung more than she cared to admit.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, her voice thick with regret.

Karina’s gaze softened just a little. “I know you didn’t,” she said quietly. “But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

Y/N swallowed, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know how to… how to be with you. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Karina’s lips parted, like she was going to say something, but instead, she just let out a soft sigh. She looked away, her expression turning inward. “I’m not asking for you to have it all figured out,” she said. “I’m just asking for you to try.”

Y/N stood there, frozen. “Try?”

Karina nodded, her gaze turning back to Y/N. “Yeah. Try. Because right now, it feels like you’re just running away.”

The silence between them stretched, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… real.

Y/N’s heart ached as she stared at Karina, her words lingering in the air. She wanted to say something—something that would make it all make sense, that would bridge the gap between them. But nothing came.

Instead, she just stepped closer.

And without thinking, without a single ounce of hesitation, she reached out and touched Karina’s arm.

Karina looked at her, and for the first time in days, there was no smirk, no teasing in her eyes. Only something deeper. Something softer.

Y/N’s breath caught, her hand trembling slightly as she moved it up to Karina’s shoulder.

“I’m not running away,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Karina didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away either. She just stood there, waiting.

And in that moment, everything between them felt clearer than it ever had. The tension, the uncertainty, the hesitation—it all melted away.

Y/N leaned forward, her heart hammering in her chest.

Karina didn’t move, didn’t shy away.

And then—without thinking—Y/N kissed her.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like they were both still figuring it out. But as Karina kissed her back, the world seemed to stop.

For a brief moment, there was no confusion. No fear. No doubt. Just the two of them, finally, truly, in sync.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Karina looked at Y/N with a new intensity.

“You’re not running anymore,” Karina said, her voice low and steady.

Y/N smiled, her chest full of warmth. “I think I’m finally learning how to stay.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N realized that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something real.

That week, everything between them shifted. It wasn’t an earth-shattering change, but it was enough to make Y/N feel like the ground was slightly less shaky under her feet. They spoke more, spent more time together, even if it was in small ways—Karina waiting for Y/N outside her next practice, or sitting with her at lunch, not really talking much, just existing in the same space.

There was something comforting about it.

But there was still a distance—an invisible line that neither of them had crossed. They didn’t talk about the kiss, not really. It was as though it had been a fleeting moment in time, one that neither of them had fully processed yet. But there was an unspoken understanding between them. They were both scared of what this might become. Neither of them had the answers.

And then, one Thursday afternoon, everything changed.

Y/N had just finished up her last class of the day, exhausted from the week’s grueling practices, when she received a message from Karina.

Karina: Meet me at the bench by the field? I want to talk.

Y/N hesitated, feeling that familiar flutter in her chest. She texted back quickly.

Y/N: Sure. Be there in 10.

The bench by the field was their unofficial meeting spot. It had become a place where, no matter how chaotic their days were, they could sit and talk without interruption. Y/N walked toward it, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement, heart pounding a little faster with every step.

When she arrived, Karina was already there, sitting with her legs crossed, looking at her phone. She looked up when Y/N approached, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey,” Karina said, voice casual, but there was a nervousness underneath, something Y/N hadn’t expected.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, her throat suddenly dry. “What’s up?”

Karina took a deep breath, setting her phone down on the bench next to her. “I’ve been thinking a lot, actually,” she began, her eyes meeting Y/N’s with surprising seriousness. “About… everything. About us. And what happens next.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Karina hesitated before speaking, the words coming slowly. “I’m not good at this,” she admitted. “I’ve spent so much of my life pretending, controlling everything around me, and now… I don’t know what to do with this. With you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at her honesty. She could see the vulnerability in Karina’s eyes, the same vulnerability she had always kept hidden beneath layers of confidence and charm. It made her want to reach out, to reassure her.

“Karina, I don’t know what to do either,” Y/N said quietly, her voice steady. “I’m just trying to figure it out, too.”

Karina looked down, biting her lip. When she looked back up, there was something different in her gaze—something softer, but more determined. “I don’t want to keep pretending. I don’t want us to be some weird, complicated… whatever this is. I want to figure it out. I want to take it slow, but I want to be real with you.”

Y/N felt her heart skip in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. This was it—the moment they had both been avoiding.

“I want that, too,” Y/N said, the words coming easily. “I don’t want to keep pretending either.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, the space between them feeling different. It wasn’t heavy anymore, just… open. Like they were both standing on the edge of something, unsure but ready.

And in that moment, Y/N realized that, no matter how slow they took it, no matter how many walls they had to break down, she wanted to be there. With Karina. She was finally ready to figure it out.

Together.

[14dayswithyou]

Good day😗

Is Ren a soft Yandere? He doesn't look like a regular Yandere I know, he just looks like a soft Yandere,

And one more question, how did the name [REDACTED] come about, does it have a hidden meaning? Sorry if I repeat the question

⌞♥⌝ Next time, I'd like to kindly ask that you read the pinned post and include the secret phrase. But because I get this question asked a lot, I'll answer it now.

I personally don't think Ren is a soft yandere by any means (barring when it comes to Angel), but I do think the reason why most people view him as such is because I barely receive any yandere-esque questions on Tumblr anymore, which has lead to this somewhat sanitised outlook on Ren ^^;

I typically receive very standard, mundane, and HR-appropriate asks (/pos, /nm) that don't encroach on that territory, so Ren's overall characterisation tends to end up being watered down into "generic, overly supportive boyfriend who's secretly obsessed with you". And while I genuinely have nothing against these family-friendly asks, they also don't really give me much room to talk about Ren in a more... morbid sense jhgjhsg

It's difficult for me to turn "How would Ren react to Angel owning a pet worm?", "Does Ren know how to make spaghetti?", "Can Ren play the saxophone?", etc, into something darker than it needs to be, but I also don't want to discourage folks from sending in these kinds of questions either. I know they're just curious and want to have their headcanons acknowledged, and again, I have nothing against these types of asks.

They're definitely fun to answer (/gen), but they just... don't give me much opportunity to take it a step further ;v;

Also! I'd like folks to be more aware of the fact that Ren is literally trying to come across like a normal person in the game, so I can't exactly showcase how far he's willing to take things without portraying him incorrectly or spoiling something. I know this is somewhat of a double-edged sword, but I've always been open to answering "what if" scenarios that take place in an AU/non-canon setting (such as how Ren would react if Angel wanted to part in his Red Room activities).

Anyways!! Enough of that >:3 You also asked about how [REDACTED] came about, and it's literally just the placeholder text Ren uses during the library scene in day 1 to hide his real name from the player!

Folks started speculating that it was Ren's real identity slipping through, so they started referring to him as "[REDACTED]". It's also my way of differentiating between Ren and [REDACTED] without having to reveal his real name.

[womenclature]

what makes you feel excited, and why? (a) Making art because I get to create something. Because moving paint around is fun. Because colors bring me joy. (b) Watching stunt or dancing videos because other people doing recreational physical activities likewise makes me want to get into my body, jump around, and play.

reflect on a time you faced a challenge. what did you learn from it? Preparation went a long way to help me face the challenge.

write about some media (book, movie, song) that has had a big impact on you. why did it make you feel this way?

think of a person or experience that has positively influenced you. how did they/it inspire you? My boyfriend because he has shown me unconditional love and care.

list three goals you want to achieve before this year ends. how can you take small steps towards them? (a) Less bloat / more defined waist / flatter stomach, achievable by stomach vaccuums each morning. (b) Exercise 3-5x weekly (already doing this) (c) Restraighten my teeth using my retainers (one retainer at a time, starting with just 10 minutes then working up to 30 minutes, and so on, each day) (d) Learn to play 1 piano piece (try practicing just 5 minutes each morning) (e) 10 minutes of Spanish TV daily

describe a time when you discovered something new that sparked your curiosity and inspiration. Well, this isn’t exactly a positive thing, but recently, I have had some interest in learning more about the rise of the USSR. I think I want to finish The Gulage Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. This is how my curiosity was piqued initially. Another thing is this “History in Maps” book I have, I think published by DK, and on each page (or couple of pages) there is a map demonstrating locations and movements across land during important historical events. For example, it covers the major world wars. I’m really excited to read this book. I bought it last year and have only leafed through a little. It’s a large and heavy hardcover book. It was around $30-$50 from Amazon.

write about a challenge you currently face. what can you do to overcome it? Challenge: I get sucked into the political side of social media and end up just very frustrated with how stupid and ignorant and mean people are. I end up wasting a lot of time on this. Overcome: By exploring more creative pursuits and other personal interests both online and offline (such as I am doing right now) to encourage self-discovery and deepen my understanding of other (non-political) areas.

what are some things in nature that inspire you? how do they make you feel, and why? Animals for sure. I love that they inhabit our world so directly. Sometimes I joke that all wild creatures are “homeless.” What’s so fascinating about them is that the outdoors is their home. They know it and understand it better than any human. I also love seeing the little parallels between their behavior and ours – The way the ducks care for their young little chicks (ducklets? hehe). I also think animal behavior is silly sometimes and they make me laugh, like how the iguanas will just toss their bodies into the canal to flee, or peacocks will cross the streets sooooo slowlyyy as if there aren’t 5 cars waiting for them to move. So oblivious and un-self-aware. It’s cute when animals do it – not so much when humans do it, I guess!

reflect on a time when you felt super proud of yourself. what did you achieve, and how did it make you feel? I think graduating from college and getting my degree was my number one proudest moment. I couldn’t stop smiling. I don’t honestly remember being very proud of myself before or after that. I can’t wait to have that feeling once again.

write a letter to your future self. what are some hopes and dreams you have? how can you work towards them? Future self, this letter is shorter than maybe it should be because I’m feeling impatient at the moment and I need to get to work. However, I want you to know I wish you the best. I hope you found a way to worry less and look forward to the future more. I hope you found a way to be brave and enjoy traveling alone (in situations where you have to travel alone because no one else is available). I hope you figured out how to connect with other people better, and if you didn’t yet, don’t be too hard on yourself. It would be enough if you just gained more self-knowledge. I hope you are more patient than me, and if you aren’t yet, that’s okay too. I hope you have learned to notice and praise yourself when you do good things. I hope you are beginning to feel that maybe, just maybe, you are allowed to think you actually met your own standards. Maybe you can feel proud of yourself more often. Maybe you can see more good in the world; maybe there are more people in your life who bring value to it. I don’t know how far in the future you are, but if it has been more than 3 or 4 years, I hope you now know the joy of motherhood. I hope you have help and I hope you are able to take breaks and take care of yourself. You deserve that. Maybe you have a good babysitter! I hope so. I know this has been pretty rambling so far, and I apologize. No matter what has or hasn’t happened yet, I wish you the best and I just want you to know that life isn’t over until it is literally over. Until then, anything is possible. Never say never. You may not feel like it in this moment, but you got this, and you will see more and do more and achieve more before the fat lady sings. - Past You

journal prompts: for when you're feeling unmotivated

what makes you feel excited, and why?

reflect on a time you faced a challenge. what did you learn from it?

write about some media (book, movie, song) that has had a big impact on you. why did it make you feel this way?

think of a person or experience that has positively influenced you. how did they/it inspire you?

list three goals you want to achieve before this year ends. how can you take small steps towards them?

describe a time when you discovered something new that sparked your curiosity and inspiration.

write about a challenge you currently face. what can you do to overcome it?

what are some things in nature that inspire you? how do they make you feel, and why?

reflect on a time when you felt super proud of yourself. what did you achieve, and how did it make you feel?

write a letter to your future self. what are some hopes and dreams you have? how can you work towards them?

(images are from pinterest)

[ecstarry]

"The Hunt" barty x monty x sirius

for @del-stars @moon-seas @velanavis & @star4daisy

“You pick.” Barty had been nursing the same glass for an hour. He was bored, horny, and at this point, desperate. It wasn’t even about finding someone to suck him off—he craved everything that came before that. He got off on the rush of the hunt.

Barty was a fucking town bicycle—everyone got a ride. He was a whore, but as soon as he’d burned through an entire bar’s clientele, the novelty wore off, and he’d find a new pool of people to entertain him.

Which had brought him here. A shitty bar with a hot bartender who, no matter how much Barty batted his eyelashes, wouldn’t so much as smirk.

“Why do you want me to pick? I’m not the one fucking them,” Sirius said, laughing.

Barty’s curiosity piqued. He leaned against the counter, meeting Sirius’ gaze. “I want to know who your type is.”

“Why?”

“Indulge me.”

“Fine.” Sirius put down the last glass he’d been cleaning and cracked open a beer for himself. “I like them older.”

Barty pointed at a guy who seemed to be in his mid-thirties.

“Come on, Barty.” Sirius took a sip of his drink.

“I mean actually older. Like ‘they know how to make you come quickly because they get tired after ten minutes of fucking you’ older.” Sirius’ pupils dilated as his gaze locked on someone across the bar.

A man—easily pushing fifty—emerged from the bathroom. He was tall, his button-down slightly unbuttoned to reveal a hint of collarbone and a gold necklace. Barty scanned him, taking particular interest in his hands. No wedding ring. A shame—Barty had a thing for corrupting married men.

“Okay,” Barty said with a grin.

“I don’t even know if he’s gay.”

Barty shot Sirius a mocking look.

“Fine. Of course, he’s gay,” Sirius muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the man. “But he’s not interested.”

Barty slid off his seat and walked toward the man, settling on the stool next to him.

“Buy me a drink,” Barty said, pushing his empty glass forward.

“I’m gonna need to see some ID, kid.”

Obedient as ever, Barty pulled out his ID, licked the back of the card, and pressed it to his forehead. He could feel Sirius’ heavy gaze from across the room—no doubt blushing, and under those loose jeans, probably sporting a growing bulge.

“Nice picture—” The man leaned in slightly, squinting at the card. “—Bartemius.”

“Barty,” he corrected.

“Junior,” the man added. “I’m Fleamont.”

“You know another one?”

Fleamont smirked. “Something like that.” He finished the last of his drink in one swallow. “What are you drinking, Barty?”

“Whatever the pretty boy over there wants,” Barty said, gesturing toward Sirius, who hadn’t taken his eyes off them for a second.

A glint sparked in Fleamont’s eye as he glanced at Sirius, clearly clocking how pink his cheeks had turned under the attention.

“What are we having?” Fleamont asked.

Sirius grabbed his drink and poured it down the sink. “I’m on the clock. I can’t drink.”

Fleamont smirked. “Good boy.”

As if summoned, Sirius began walking toward them. Barty was still horny and fucking desperate—but now, he wasn’t bored.

The rest of the night blurred into a haze. The last customers left, leaving just the three of them. Sirius was no longer behind the bar but sitting beside Barty.

“I think we should play spin the bottle,” Barty said. The suggestion earned a loud laugh from Fleamont and a sharp glare from Sirius.

“I know you’re probably someone’s daddy and have no idea how the game works, so let me show you.”

Barty spun the bottle. Without waiting for it to stop, he turned and yanked Sirius’ shirt, pulling their lips together. Sirius moaned into the kiss. His lips were soft, and Barty wanted to bite them, to open him up. Sirius’ hands slid to Barty’s thighs, gripping tightly. The more Barty pulled back, the closer Sirius leaned in, his mouth chasing him.

Barty tugged on Sirius’ hair, guiding his mouth to his neck. Fleamont’s dark eyes gleamed with lust as he watched. Sirius lost himself, shifting closer and closer until he was practically seated on Barty’s lap.

With one hand, Barty pulled Fleamont toward the other side of his neck. Slowly, he dropped his head back, letting their tongues, teeth, and hands explore him—and each other.

The high of the hunt was intoxicating, but sometimes, the prey tasted just as sweet.

[gotta-winwin]

(🐍) ... minghao x reader

⭐ starring: minghao

💌 genre/wc: angst, light fluff / 1.2k

💬 preview: you stumble across old records from a damaged diary that seems to hold the conversations between a student and a boy living within the pages.

tw/cw: slytherin!minghao x hufflepuff!reader, diary format, spoliers for the chamber of secrets, needs previous knowledge of hp lore, abstract death, tom riddle appearance

🪽fic rating: pg

☁️ masterlist & a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i'm putting it out in hopes of giving myself some time to work on other stuff hehe. this one's a bit experimental with the format but hope you all enjoy!

p.s thank you so much to @ylangelegy and @diamonddaze01 for beta reading !

hello. fifth year slytherin, here. i found this journal lying in one of the professor’s cupboards - long abandoned, it seems. it looks to contain the mad ramblings of two people, conversing through the pages. i cannot seem to figure out who this once belonged to, pages have been torn out and blurred by water - so i’m writing in hopes another student might. 

read it, and let me know if anything comes to mind. 

if i have to sit through another class with professor bins, i will avada myself. 

finally, something worth replying to. your class notes are utterly boring. 

WHAT THE FUCK THE BOOK SPEAKS

…yes, i speak. 

go away. you’re speaking over my class notes. 

they weren’t good notes anyways. barely competent. abysmally below average. 

i cannot believe i’m being insulted by a book right now.

i cannot believe my pristine pages are being vandalized by an incompetent student, yet here we are. 

mr. book, 

what. 

shut up.

mr. book,

what is it now, incompetent student? 

can you write my notes for me. pls pls pls i will owe you for life.

that is a very dangerous game to play. 

my hand hurts. and you keep saying you’re so smart. write my notes for me.

what house are you in?

hufflepuff. why? 

no. i will not write your notes for you. 

bro. 

what is a bro ?? 

you know what, never mind. i’ll write them myself. i hope the ink drowns you. 

incompetent student  hufflepuff girl y/n?? respond to me now. 

yes, book?

MY NAME IS NOT BOOK 

you refused to tell me your name so i’m sticking with book. mr. book. 

can you go to the dungeon bathroom and check one of the faucets for me. 

uh. why? 

because i said so. 

i’m going to waterboard your pages.

you’re quite snappy for a hufflepuff. just go check. 

say please.

no. 

i’m holding a cup of water above you right now.  hello? mr. book?

please. check the faucets. 

see? wasn’t so difficult. i’ll go now.

minghao. 

what? 

my name. stop calling me mr. book

MINGHAOOO

what. 

i’m bored. 

silly girl. and what am i supposed to do about that?

tell me about yourself. when were you at hogwarts? 

a long time ago. 

psh. of course i know that. 

professor bins was still alive when he taught me. just as boring, trust me. 

ooo what else? who were your friends? anyone famous? 

i wouldn’t know. i never graduated. 

what? 

the faucet. did you check? 

i did. there’s like a snake or something, but it didn’t do anything. 

oh. y/n? 

yeah? 

don’t go to that bathroom anymore. 

why?

just don’t. 

hao. people are saying there’s a snake in the walls. 

what do you mean?

there was blood on the walls too. talking about the chamber of secrets. 

fuck. 

minghao? do you know something? 

don’t go anywhere alone. promise me. stay with your friends. 

i’m scared

you should be.

stop that. 

what? hao? 

grown fond of your little friend, xu minghao? 

tom. stop.  i’m sorry, my heart. ignore him. 

who? hao, what is going on?

has he neglected to tell you? he isn’t the only inhabitant of this journal. and turns out, he isn’t strong enough to silence me.  keep hiding, y/n. i’ll find you soon enough. 

hao? 

i’m sorry.

i think i’m starting to go a bit crazy. 

is everything alright? are you safe? 

i’m fine, hao. you worry too much. 

i must admit that i’ve grown fond of you. 

even if i’m a hufflepuff? 

you’re the most tolerable hufflepuff i know. 

:)  is the uh. tom guy still with us?

my magic suppresses him in short periods of time. we’re alone at the moment. 

i still don’t understand. both of you are…inside the book. 

tom was here first. the journal was given to me my fifth year, and i spoke to him - much like you right now. from what i’ve gathered, this journal holds a piece of his soul. and a piece of mine as well. 

how? why? 

[redacted] [redacted] 

you are beginning to care for the girl.

i admit she has grown on me.

no. you’ve grown to love her. our souls are intertwined whether you enjoy it or not. do not pretend i cannot feel your emotions. 

have mercy.  spare her. 

are you finally regretting your choice, xu minghao?  you once promised me a life in exchange for your life and access to your soulmate. so i spared you, and stored you here with me.

please. 

this is what greed gets you, my dear friend.  you promised me a life. and i choose hers.

please. 

finally. you learn to beg. 

she is innocent. 

she is your soulmate. the strongest magic our world has. and for that, she is valuable. 

my heart. 

hao? 

i need you to destroy this journal. now.  

what? why? 

tom must be stopped. i will not let him harm you. destroying the journal will destroy his soul too.

but you’re in the journal too.

yes. a small price to pay for your life. 

i won’t do it. 

you must.

no. i’m not killing you.

i’ve been dead for a long time, my heart. 

i won’t. you cannot make me. 

you’re wetting the pages with your tears. stop crying. 

hao…

do it. just because the journal is gone doesn’t mean i won’t be with you. every step of the way. 

how cute. 

note: 

> xu minghao: previous slytherin student, renowned potion student. his name is on one of the potion award plaques in the great hall. he died during the second opening of the chamber of secrets, an underground location rumoured to house the slytherin basilisk. 

> y/n: referred to as ‘my heart,’ there is no real indication of who she is. while there is a professor portrait in the headmaster’s office who shares the same name, i cannot be certain they are the same person. 

> tom: he can only be assumed as he-who-shall-not-be-named, a dark wizard who was killed by the-boy-who-lived years ago. 

note: 

> the pages are burnt at the edges, erasing most of the conversation that would allow this to make more sense. it is clear to me that someone destroyed this. 

note: 

> i found something when searching the bathroom mentioned in the first couple entries. i will clip it here. 

is he gone?

for now. i cannot contain him for much longer. you must hurry.

you cannot expect me to do this.

from the short time i’ve come to know you, i know that despite being a hufflepuff, you hold the courage of a gryffindor, the brains of ravenclaw, the wit of a slytherin.  do not be afraid. 

are you not afraid? this could kill you.

i have to admit a part of me still fears death after all this time.  but this is my price to pay. i love you, even in the short time we had. 

i love you. even if this version of you is only a figment of what you were. 

note: 

> a point i must bring up: minghao refers to y/n as ‘my heart.’ at first i thought it was just a term of endearment, but upon further research:  Soulmates are rare in the wizarding world, although not at all impossible. Soulmates share more than their magic, they share their hearts. One cannot die if the other is still alive -- making soulmates the most powerful form of magic to exist. It may be the only way to cheat death without the use of a horcrux.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Such a Good Boy, Knows How to Please

Billy Hargrove x Hopper!fem!reader

You convince yourself that you hate Billy, but after having nothing but dirty thoughts about him, you give him a proposition.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) mention of vomit/throwing up

The summer sun beats down on the pool that's filled with people swimming, splashing, and just generally just trying to soak up the last few days of summer before school starts again. It's so hot that you can feel your flesh burning underneath your many layers of sunscreen. You're there because you know you're really going to miss the pool when you go back to college next week.

Most of the other women, though, they're just there for him. Every day, you watch them fix themselves, touching up their hair and pulling down the tops of their swimsuits to show off their cleavage. And he eats out of the palm of their hands, always making conversation, pulling down his sunglasses as he not so subtly flirts with them.

You seem to be the only one who's not on the receiving end of the flirting and you're starting to think that maybe it's because he knows who your dad is. It would make sense that he wouldn't want to involved with the daughter of the chief of police. And it's not like you care, anyway. You've always hated Billy.

You honestly just don't get the hype, why pretty much every woman in Hawkins is throwing themselves at him. Why wives and mothers are willing to ruin their marriages for that pig. Sure, you can admit that he's hot, but any admiration you might have always goes out the window anytime he opens his mouth.

He just says those dirty things for shock value and you have no idea why anyone ever believes him. You're sure that he just has a notebook filled with lines that he uses instead of speaking from his heart. That's not his thing because all he cares about is getting women into bed and as soon as he's done with them, he kicks them to the curb. It's nothing you haven't seen before.

Billy exits the back room to start his shift and you roll your eyes, adjusting your sunglasses on your face as you collect your things to leave. You can't take another minute of watching everyone fawn all over him. And besides, you really think you need to be in some AC.

You're leaving just as Billy is passing your lounge chair and just when you think he's going to head to his chair, he stops right in front of you, preventing you from leaving. His arms are crossed over his chest and he's got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that always means that he's up to no good.

"Where ya goin', Hopper?" He asks and you pull your sunglasses down to show him just how unimpressed you are with him.

"Home, not that it isn't any of your business." Billy knows that you don't like him, but he just loves pisses you off. You're so hot when you're angry and the fact that it's aimed towards him makes it even more so.

"Aww, you can't play with me for a little longer?" He pouts and you just scoff. How do people actually fall for this shit? "I just got here."

"Afraid not," you shrug. Usually being short with people is a deterrent, but not with Billy. It only eggs him on. But you can't be bothered with making conversation with him.

"Our sisters are friends, why can't we be?" If Billy were a nice guy, you probably would have been friends with him, but he's not and the kind of friends he wants to be doesn't interest you.

"Because you don't have friends, Billy. And I really don't want to be whatever you do have so if you'll excuse me." You push past him and he watches you hurry towards the gate where you exit before disappearing from his view.

Once you're gone, he turns to head to his chair, but the sun reflects off something out of the corner of his eye. He heads over to the lounge chair where you had been lying and notices a book there. Billy picks it up and pulls down his sunglasses to get a better look at it. There's a man and woman on the cover. They're embracing and he's got his lips on her neck as she arches her back. He never would have expected you to read this kind of thing, but he supposes he doesn't know you very well.

He sticks the small book into the pocket of his swim trunks then makes the rounds of flirting with all of the MILFs before heading to his chair, pulling the book out once he's settled.

He flips to the first page and his eyes widen at how graphic it all is. It's not something he normally reads (he doesn't actually read at all) but he has to admit that he's intrigued. So much so that he does nothing but read until it's time for his break.

He's already halfway through when his shift is over and he makes sure to hide it in his bag so nobody can see it. Can't have people thinking he reads and especially not something like that. That would be too fucking embarrassing to actually admit it.

He hurries to his car to make sure no one will talk to him and is quick to peel out of the parking lot, driving faster than he definitely should have, but everyone is used to it by now. Well, they should be.

You arrive home just in time to make dinner. you head to El's room to tell her that you're back from the pool only to find her and Max on the floor, giggling while reading magazines. You're surprised to find someone who's not Mike, but you love that she actually has friend who's a girl. She definitely needs more female presences in her life and having one who's actually her age makes you nothing but happy for her.

"Oh, hello," you greet, still caught off guard by your guests.

"Hi," El responds, then gestures to the re4d head to the right of her. "This is Max. She's sleeping over."

"Did dad say this was okay?" You ask, suddenly taking on your older sister role as you put your hands on your hips.

"Yep," she nods, and you glare at her, staring into her eyes because you know how terrible of liar she is and she always cracks if you lean into her just a bit. Once you decide she's telling the truth, you ease up and go back to being her friend again.

You had met Max briefly over the years with giving El rides different places and such, but you've never actually been able to have a full-on conversation with her. Now you think you might have a chance. She actually seems normal compared to her gross step-brother.

"Hi," Max gives you a little wave.

"I'm y/n," you introduce yourself with a smile. "Well, dinner's ready if you guys are ready to eat." You leave the door open then head back towards the table.

The girls follow you and the three of you sit at the table, chewing on your waffles between conversation and your heart warms at hearing your sisters laughs. Just from what you've seen, you really like Max and the influence she has on El. That she's letting her be her own person which you've been so hard to do ever since she became your sister.

You really hope this friendship lasts, really hoping that doesn't mean that you have to talk to Billy. But anything for El. If her having a friend that actually cares about her interests means you have to actually speak to Billy Hargrove, then so be it.

After dinner, the three of you gather around the tv and watch some cartoons. The girls are giggling about something while whispering to each other and you hate that you're suddenly feeling left out, jealous. El would often call you her best friend and now you're just her older sister.

There's a knock on the door and you're grateful for something to distract you from your silly feelings. You excuse yourself and hurry to answer the door, not even thinking about who could be on the other side. You step back as Billy Hargrove comes into view. You're sure that this is all just a very vivid nightmare and hate that this man keeps taking over your thoughts. It isn't fair. It's your mind so you should have a say in what goes on in it, right?

You can't help but let your eyes rake over his body, taking in his very cropped tank top and very very short cut offs that have you feeling dizzy. How fucking dare he look so good when you're trying so hard to hate him?

"Hopper," he says with a smile and you feel gross that you actually like the way his last name sounds coming out of his mouth.

"Hargrove," you mutter, wanting him to get on with whatever he's going to say so he'll leave your property. You keep blinking and he's not going away. You even go as far pinching yourself just to be sure that this is real life.

"It's not a dream," he winks. "I'm actually here. I'm sure you've imagined this a lot, haven't you?"

"Not even once," you grimace at the thought. "Now what do you want? I'm kind of busy."

"Yeah, doing what? Getting off to the thought of me?" He's got on his signature smug smirk and you just so desperately want to smack him, but decide against it because you're sure that he would like it.

"Not even close. Now tell me what you're doing here before I grab my dad's shotgun." You're getting even more angry and Billy's feeling himself getting hard. He almost wants to say something even worse so you'll yell at him. That always makes him so fucking hard.

The girls are now off the couch, making their way to stand on either side of you, feeling the need to protect you from whoever you're threatening to shoot.

"What are you doing here?" Max asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, Maxine," he smiles, reaching into the back pocket of his shorts, pulling out the book that you left at the pool, so close to asking if you have another one he can borrow because now he's obsessed.

You snatch the book out of his hands and quickly flipping through the pages because there's no telling what he's done to it. Billy just stands there, amused by whatever you're doing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What are you doing there, Hopper?" He asks, trying his best to bite back a laugh.

"Making sure none of the pages are stuck together," you glare and hand the book to El once you've flipping through every page. Max giggles at your joke but El just stares at you in confusion. You then step out on the porch and give Billy a shove, which catches him off guard.

"Now get lost, Hargrove," you glare and he knows he's got to get out of there before you see his hard on. He turns on his heel and descends the stairs and you definitely do not check out his ass as he heads to his car.

Once he's speeding away, you slam the door and swipe the book from El's hands, storming off to your room, letting your anger the best of you. The girls invite themselves inside and the three of you sit on your bed, the two of them waiting for you to tell the story of why you hate Billy so much. Too bad there isn't one.

"I fucking hate your brother," you tell Max and she just laughs because it's very obvious just by the way you speak to him.

"Join the club," she sighs. "Did he-did he do something to you?" She asks, suddenly concerned about your wellbeing.

"No," you shake your head. "He's just a pig but what else is new?"

"So you haven't-" she doesn't even need to finish her sentence and you don't want her to because you're grimacing now, images of Billy on top of your naked body pounding into you flash across your mind and you're concerned that your waffles aren't climbing up your throat. That you maybe, kind of actually like what you're seeing?

"No," you reply quickly, shaking your head. "I mean, c'mon, Max. And no offense, but I don't want to be discussing my sex life with a couple of thirteen year olds."

"Fair enough," Max nods.

"Do you like him?" El asks and you turn to her, confused by her question. Did she not see how you were talking to him? That's not how you treat people you like.

"Yeah, do you?" Max asks, genuinely curious. "It's okay if you do. A lot of girls do."

"Absolutely not."

"But you were checking out his ass," Max points out and you hadn't realized you were that obvious about it.

"He has a nice ass, sue me. Alright, let's put it this way since you guys don't seem to understand. If Billy were on fire and I had a glass of water, I'd drink it."

"Noted. So who do you like?"

"Nobody," you reply, which is true. "I mean, I used to have a huge crush on Steve Harrington in high school, but there hasn't been anyone since."

"Steve's your best friend," El tells you, almost as if she's confused.

"Right," you nod. "But I don't have feelings for him anymore." and you don't. The two of you kissed once at a party and it was too weird so you just went back to being friends.

"Well, he's a lot better than Billy," Max points out. He's actually a guy that Hopper would approve of. Steve's the kind of guy you can take to meet your parents and Billy's the kind of guy who you sneak in through your window."

You really wish you were with Steve because maybe then you wouldn't still be thinking about Billy and his slutty outfit. Well, maybe you'd be thinking about it, but then you could just go and to Steve's where he'd fuck you until you forgot Billy's name.

"No offense, but I don't need my little sister and her friend setting me up. I can get a date by myself, thank you very much." It's not that El doesn't believe you, but she hasn't seen you go on a single date since she's known you. You've always been independent, but she can see that you're lonely, that you crave companionship like she has with Mike.

She doesn't know what you do when you're away at school, but she hopes that if you did have a boyfriend that you'd tell her about it. The two of you are close, you share everything with each other, so she really hopes that there's nothing that you're keeping from her.

"I just want you to be happy," she says, grabbing hold of your hand.

"I am happy," you reply, giving her hand a squeeze. "I've got you and dad and that's all I need. I don't need some stupid boy getting in my way."

Max watches the two of you with admiration. She loves that Eleven has you in her life, that she has you to guide her through life. It really makes her wish that she had a sister of her own and not her stupid brother who doesn't even seem to care about her in any way, shape, or form. Sure, she has her mom who she wouldn't trade for anything, but it's not the same.

You notice her looking at you and you hold out her hand for her to take. She's hesitant, but she eventually takes your hand and you give hers a squeeze with a warm smile.

"You're one of us now," you tell her and she decides that's exactly what she wants to be, finally feeling she's apart of a family.

You can't sleep. You're tossing and turning, constantly seeing the minutes pass by on the clock on your nightstand. You look over on the floor where the girls are sleeping in their sleeping bags because they insisted on staying the night in your room.

You can't seem to get the image of those damn shorts Billy was wearing out of your head and you really wished you had pulled him inside and had your way with him when you had the chance. You're convinced that he did it on purpose, offering up his best asset up on a platter and you almost took the bait.

If you had the option do it over, you would have pegged him the way that you were convinced that he was silently begging for. Why else would he have worn such short shorts for?

Or maybe you're just overthinking it. You have to be delusional because why the fuck would he have worn those for you? He should know that you wouldn't fuck him if he were the last man on earth, but do you kind of want to now?

Why do you suddenly want to see what the hype is about? You want to know if his dick is really as big as they say, to know if he's as good in bed as you've heard he is. You're just curious, you try to convince yourself. You're actually just wanting to see if they're right. If you'd like it. You're not attracted to him, no fucking way. This would purely be for research purposes.

You spend the rest of the night thinking about nothing but stupid Billy and his stupid great ass. You think about the two of you in all sorts of positions as you beg and plead for him to do more, to go harder, faster, and he listens, nothing but dirty words falling from his pretty lips as he pins you down to the counter in your kitchen. He's pressing your face into the countertop, thrusting in and out of your ass as one of his hands kneads your tit, making you moan so loud, but he's got your underwear stuffed into your mouth because he doesn't want you waking anyone up.

You wake up in disappointment, your dream so vivid that it almost felt real. You can't believe that you had sex dream about Billy of all people. and you liked it. How the fuck is it that just seeing him in those stupid shorts somehow rewired your brain and made you actually interested in him? You're pretty sure that you've actually gone mad.

You sit up in your bed and notice that the once occupied sleeping bags in the floor are now empty. You then look and see that it's already eleven in the morning. Even during the summer this is the latest you've slept in. You try to shake your thought from the night before and head out of your room to see your dad, El, and Max at the table, eating what looks like breakfast from McDonald's.

"Hey, sleepy head," Your dad greets you with a smile, pulling out the chair next to him that he's saved for you. You plop down and he shoves the bag over to you and upon opening it, you realize that it's your usual order.

"Sleep well?" He asks, reaching over to ruffle your hair and you slap his hand away. "Somebody's grumpy," he laughs then goes back to his biscuit.

"No, I didn't sleep well because somebody was snoring," you glare at El. It's not a total lie since she was snoring loudly, but you can't exactly tell your father of all people that you were thinking about Billy Hargrove in an inappropriate manner. In fact, you can't tell anyone at this table so you're just going to take it to the grave.

You're surprisingly quiet during the rest of breakfast and as soon as Jim and El leave to take Max home, you race to your room and grab your phone, feverishly dialing the number you know by heart as your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

You feel like your going to throw up as it rings for what feels like forever. You never call Steve about boy problems, but now you feel like you have to, to get confirmation that you're not actually going crazy. Steve is the person you feel like you can go to for anything, so why are you so nervous to tell him that you might be interested in Billy?

Maybe it's because you know he'll be grossed out or maybe it's because you're afraid he'll be jealous even though it's very clear that he's not even remotely interested in you romantically.

"Hello?" The familiar voice rings through the phone.

"Steve, hey," you greet. "Do you have time to talk?"

"Yeah, of course. What's up?" So you tell him everything and he listens like the great friend he is, only offering his opinion when he's asked for it. And that's why you always like talking to him. Because he genuinely listens and offers good advice and never judges you for what you have to say.

"You know how I said you can tell me anything?" He asks as soon as you finish speaking.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I changed my mind." Well, so much for him not judging you.

"I spared you the details."

"And thank god for that. So what exactly is the reason you're telling me all of this?"

"Because I want to know if I'm totally crazy for wanting to go for it."

"Why should my opinion matter? If you want to fuck Billy, y/n, then fuck Billy. What do I care?" He genuinely doesn't care about your sex life and just wants to do what you want to do. He doesn't know why you're asking his permission to fuck Billy Hargrove.

"So I'm not crazy?" You're feeling even more nervous even though calling Steve was supposed to calm you down.

"Look, I'm not blind. The guy's hot, alright? And I think if you want go for it, you should."

"Thanks Steve."

"Anytime. And if you do go for it, please, please spare me the details."

"Will do," you nod even though he can't see you then hang up. You then hurry out of the room and head out to your car, preparing to head to the pool where you know Billy will be. If you're going to make this proposition, you want to do it face to face.

Billy hasn't been able to stop thinking about you since he showed up at your house yesterday. Seeing you in that large t-shirt made his brain short circuit, immediately wondering what you've got going on under it.

He wants you so bad and the fact that you don’t want anything to do with him makes his want even stronger. He sees it as a challenge. He thinks needs to flirt with you just a little more to get you to crack. He saw the way you were checking him out and now he’s thinking of cutting the shorts even shorter to give you a little taste of what you seem to want so badly.

He ended up buying another “bodice ripper” as he found out the novels are called at the book store and he just can’t fucking put it down. He’s even more interested in the story now since he’s cast you and him as the leads.

Sebastian has got his hand up Juliette’s dress and Billy’s just imagining what it would be like to get his fingers inside you. He’d tease you about how wet you are then got to town, fucking you with his fingers, making you come over and over, until you’re begging for his massive cock.

He’s thinking about you so much that he swears that he sees you out of the corner of his eye, making your way over to him in a hurry. God, he’s really got to stop thinking with his dick.

But you’re calling his name, so it must be real, right? He looks down and from this angle, he’s got the perfect view of your cleavage. He’s so distracted by it that he’s not even paying attention to what you’re saying. He sees your lips moving-god, your lips. He doesn’t usually kiss during sex, but he suddenly wants to kiss you stupid. He wants to kiss you while he grinds against you, making you beg for his-

“Billy?” You ask and he finally snaps out of his dirty fantasy, his eyes snapping up to your face.

“Hm?”

“Can we talk for a second?” Is that code for you wanting to hook up? Whatever you want, he’s in. He climbs down the ladder then comes to meet you face to face.

“What is it, doll?” He asks, his voice so smug because he’s finally able to read you like a book. You’re nervous, guard completely down and he’s loving that he’s finally gotten through to you.

“Can we talk…in private?” You’re picking at the skin around your thumb nail and he’s wondering why you just won’t just come right out and ask him. Yeah, you definitely want his cock.

He blows his whistle and you cover your ears as checks his watch. It’s time for his break anyway so he calls for an adult swim before grabbing you by the hand and taking you into the locker room. This isn’t the first hookup he’s had during his break and it definitely won’t be the last.

He’s not going to give in right away, though. He wants you to beg. He wants you to be whining for him before he even lays a hand on you. He’s certain that he’s so powerful that he could make you come just with his words. And that’s exactly what he intends to do.

“So you finally want me to fuck you, huh, doll?” He asks as he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, removing one from the pack, then lighting up.

Normally, you find smoking to be disgusting, but when Billy does it, he’s so fucking hot that it’s unfair. The way he puts it between his lips-god, his pretty pink lips-and blows the smoke out like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

You don’t admit it like you were intending, you just take his hand and a pen from your purse before scribbling down an address then fleeing the locker room. He looks down at your pretty, neat handwriting and realizes that he recognizes the address. It’s the Motel 6 on Cornwallis where he was supposed to meet Karen Wheeler before she bailed.

He smiles to himself as he’s finally gotten another one then spends the rest of his break thinking about all the ways he’s going to make an absolute mess of you.

Billy is already at the motel when you get there. He’s leaning against the fence of the pool, with his back facing you, smoking yet another cigarette. He’s wearing the same outfit from when he showed up at your house, but this time, the shorts are even shorter. So short, in fact, that his ass is hanging out. God, what you would give to give it a squeeze. To use it as your personal stress ball as he fucks you. What you would give to give it a much needed spanking.

You approach him and pluck the cigarette from his lips, putting it between your own and taking a drag, only to cough immediately.

“Jesus, take it easy, Hopper,” he says as he takes the cigarette back from you.

You’re still coughing and Billy doesn’t know why he’s so worried, lightly patting your back to help you out, suddenly wishing he had some sort of beverage to make it all go away. He doesn't know when his hands started rubbing smooth circles along your back, but you’re stepping closer to him, feeling much more brave than he is. 

“I’m good, I’m good,” you tell him. “Sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” You actually don’t know why, but feel like you should.

“I don’t know. Now c’mon,” you lift the latch of the gate that leads to the pool and open it slowly before taking Billy by the hand, leading him through the gate. His fingers are rough but somehow soft and you can’t wait to have them roaming all over your body. 

The lights that are lining the inside of the pool somehow make the dingy coloring even more so, but the heat of the night is making it look inviting despite how gross it looks. You just want to dive right in and take a swim. You don’t care if it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years, you just need to feel the cool water against your skin. 

So, you begin to strip. It’s not by any means sexy like you wanted it to be as you’re just desperate to just get out of your clothes. And Billy doesn’t even seem to be phased by this, just checking you out as you pull off your shirt and shorts so you’re just left in your bra and panties. He barely even gets the chance to look at your body before diving into the water, just staring at you, confused as your head pops up from the water. 

Apparently Billy didn’t get the swimming memo since he’s still standing there, fully clothed. So, he’s quick to get down to his underwear and follow you, diving into the water, probably (definitely) not looking nearly as graceful as you. 

“Never pegged you for a bad girl Hopper,” he says as he surfaces, pushing his hair out of his face. You’re over by the shallow end, sitting on one of the steps, running your fingers through your hair, trying to get the knots out. 

“That just goes to show how little you know about me, Hargrove,” you reply as he sits next to you. The lights in the pool usually make people look not so great, but you look absolutely beautiful in the blue-green hue. He really wishes he had a camera so he could capture this moment, you looking at him with that sweet smile. 

You scoot closer to him, so that your bare thighs are touching. You wrap your arms around his neck, twirling a piece of his hair around your pointer finger. Your face is inching your face towards his. His hands wrap around his waist as his lips find yours in a gentle kiss. Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been this gentle with a woman, and just as he’s starting to enjoy it, you kick it up a notch, tilting your head to the side as your tongue slides into his mouth. He hasn’t kissed anyone in so long and it feels so good. 

Your lips are soft and you taste sweet, but he can’t quite make out what it is. He could do just this for hours and be satisfied. He doesn’t why he always denies this part of sex, but he thinks he’s just enjoying it because it’s you. He lets out a moan as you tug on his hair, now straddling his lap. 

“Fuck,” he whines into your mouth as your fingers wind into his hair, giving it a tug at his scalp as you bite down on his bottom lip. You’re now grinding against him and his nails dig into your hips, his head falling backwards, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss his neck. 

They start out soft and gentle, but then you’re using your tongue, licking and sucking on his skin, driving him absolutely crazy. He’s hard beyond belief and he swears he’s going to come right there just because of what you’re doing with your mouth, your wonderful talented mouth. 

He’s seeing stars, whining and moaning as you work on his neck, giving him a hickey. As nice as this is, as much as he’s enjoying it, he needs to get inside you because he’s about to bust. You bite down on the skin and he moans again, your name slipping from his lips. You’ve got him right where you want him and you’re sure that he’s ready now. 

Your lips find his again, desperate and hungry, still grinding against him and he’s getting harder by the second. His hip buck against yours and you move so he can get his underwear off and you remove your own before settling yourself onto his cock. 

“You’re so big,” you tell him and his eyes light up at your observation. He’s very well aware of this, but hearing it from you is a huge compliment. He loves seeing you like this, on top of him in nothing but your bra. This is something he could only dream about, something he has dreamed about even though he’d never admit it. 

You watch him come undone as you begin to ride him, eating up how quickly you were able to dominate him. It’s clear that you have the control here and he’s loving it. He’s always on top, but letting you take the lead is much more fun. He wants you to boss him around, to make him your bitch. 

“Yeah? You like that?” You ask and he nods, feeling fucked out already and you’ve barely even done anything. Maybe it’s because he never engages in foreplay so he has more energy for the main event. “Look at you. Already tired, baby?” God, he really wants you to call him that again. 

“No,” he replies through a deep breath, bucking his hips against yours. “Keep going.”

You continue, moving faster as his hands move up to remove your bra as he continues to buck his hips against yours, trying his best to keep up with you. As soon as your chest is bare, he can’t help but stare, watching your tits bounce up and down. And just when he thought you couldn’t get any hotter. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” you moan as you pick up your pace, and Billy’s pretty sure that it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard. You moan again and again as his hips buck against yours, wanting to make you feel as good as you’ve made him feel.

There’s no way he can fuck anyone else after this. It’s like someone mediocre going on stage to perform right after Prince. This is easily the best sex he’s ever had and it’s not even over. He’s got to have you every night for the rest of his life now. And if this night is all you’re wanting from him, then maybe he’ll just refrain from ever sleeping with anyone ever again. 

Although, he’d never admit any of this to you. His ego won’t allow it. He likes being complimented, but he’s never one to do so unless it directly benefits him. Well, except for him telling you how pretty you looked. That was just because he wanted to. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, doll,” he moans as he comes and you don’t even care if he pulls out. You just help him ride his high and you’re close, your eyes shut tight as his name rolls off your lips. And fuck does it feel good to hear you scream it. 

“Billy, oh my god. His name tumbles out of your mouth as you reach your peak reached and fuck does it feel good for him to hear you scream it. 

Once you’ve come down, you climb off him and hurry to retrieve your underwear, Billy quickly following behind even though he’s not as in a rush as you are. He wants to stay here for a little longer, just to hold you in his arms and shower you with compliments. He might even actually tell you that you’re the best he’s ever had. 

“If I’m not home by ten, I’m going to be dead,” you tell him and now he understands, because of course Jim Hopper would still have his daughter under curfew even though she’s an adult now. 

He doesn’t know what time it is, but doesn’t want to be the reason why you’re late so he lets you go, not getting dressed nearly as quickly as you, but he’s still trying to keep up. He’s wondering how you don’t completely hate the wet clothes against your skin and how you’re going to explain that to your dad, but he supposes that isn’t any of his business. 

So he watches you slip on your flip flops as he gets out of the pool with his underwear on. He’s pulling on his shorts which is proving to be a struggle, but he eventually gets them on and throws on his shirt as he’s hurrying to catch up with you, following you to your car. 

“Well, this was fun,” you tell him with a bright smile. “We should do it again sometime. You can get the house number from Max, right? I’m sure he has it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great. Don’t be a stranger, alright?” You ask, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek before you get into your car. You start it up and Billy watches you back out of the parking lot, knowing that he’s going to be giving you a call very soon.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

People have got to learn the difference between levels of headcanon, I think, all over again. It will make fandom so much more fun for everybody.

You see the thing is that the Jewish acronym PaRDeS works for all kinds of interpretive textual analysis, let me take y'all on a journey.

P is for peshat, the straightforward literal meaning of a text. "There was a red balloon on the table". The balloon was red and it was placed on the table.

R is for remez, a hint, not a hint as in an asmachta (what you would call a hint as in hee hee, think about what we just learned) but a hint as in an allusion — if a text already said something once, it might employ shorthand to say that again. Were there red balloons before? Why?

D is for Drash, interpretation - the scriptural equivalent of widely held fanon, but also the use of cultural and contextual details not stated by the text to make inferences about the text. When there were 99 red balloons in hit song 99 Red Balloons, what did that mean at that time, and does that mean the same thing now, with the balloons on the table? Did your mother put it there to teach you war is bad, or did she mean to leave you a red balloon to play with?

S is for Sod, esoteric or divine insight, or in fandom terms, random shit external to the media like tweets by the creator and secret material found only in the media Discord. This part of the process entails going back through the text and combing it for any random evidence that might make your point: maybe your mother left the red balloon on the table to teach you that war is bad. (Did she? You can only know if you ask, and if there's no answer you probably can't argue factually about it with your siblings, but if that's what taught you that war is bad, yasher koach!) Maybe your mother believes war is bad because in her childhood she was a Young Pioneer, and that's why the balloon is red. Maybe the balloon is red for blood, and she grew up without a father because of a war.

Why do you think that? Why or why not? Should you nudge her old traumas and ask her, and if not, should you proceed as if this is the case?

Applying this to a common Homestuck headcanon, let's say "Dave Strider is Jewish".

P – does he ever say so? (No, thus making this not explicitly canon on the first level, but he makes some evocative references and has only one place where he could have internalised these concepts and traditions from).

R – is there any evidence? (Yes, if I recall correctly there is a menorah in his house in one panel of this comic, and he occasionally talks about some evocative things, and there are some scenes in the epilogues if you regard them as canon but I consider them apocrypha of a kind so linsey-woolsey.)

D — there is a tradition that he is Jewish. If I cared to continue this bit I would go look up who originated it and what her reasoning was. It would also narratively kinda fuck if he was Jewish. You could talk to people who believe this based on elements of this text. The elements are there.

S — why would Huss do that? Because Gnostic webcomic, insert Gnosticism rant here, you get the idea. Do you want this in your fanon? Why or why not?

Taken together: this is widely held fanon with plausible textual roots, and can be safely discussed as such. It is your choice whether you subscribe, but as it is an established tradition, you should probably live and let live regarding it.

Taking another example, completely hypothetical: Thomas the Tank Engine is a trans woman.

P — fuck no? Thomas the Tank Engine is a train.

R — but he is gendered, and gender is an axis of oppression in real life. It is repeatedly shown that Sodor is a profoundly oppressive society, so it's not that odd that someone could project additional non-train related oppression on the trains, if they're already fucking weird enough to think this deeply about Thomas the Tank Engine.

D — there is... sigh... you know what, I'm not looking to see if there is a tradition and what its basis is. I would rather make soup out of toilet tank water. It is bad to assume, but I'm going to pull an overconfident rabbi with no travel opportunities and say there is not a tradition that Thomas the Tank Engine is a trans woman. There is also no textual basis within the original picture book "Thomas the Tank Engine" for such a tradition.

S — on the other hand, the Thomas The Tank Engine / My Neck My Back mashup. While not grounded in tradition it is commonly seen and memed (equivalent to a religious thing being commonly believed, such as the entire metaphysical system of Hasidism, which everyone who's not a hasid is broadly of the opinion probably evolved partly from local spirituality by itself, in the absence of any connection to the rest of development of Jewish thought), and if I asked the creator I'm sure she would say it came to her in a vision.

In conclusion, there is absolutely no evidence for this, but you could believe it for the sake of your addiction to the bit if you wanted to, as long as you did not try to pretend that any evidence existed outside the realm of mystic revelation, and try to fight people who don't agree about it.

People are not being transphobic by pointing out that there is absolutely no evidence for the Thomas the Tank Engine trans headcanon that you are still allowed to cherish, it's just that you received it from the akashic plane of pure knowledge in a bolt of lightning and not a soul else on this planet ever has. It is pure personal headcanon and will not be elevated to the level of fanon unless enough people in the fandom begin to believe it, which they probably won't but you never know.

You should probably not expect people to have your reaction to it, because it is mystically inspired and people who do not live in your material conditions could not necessarily arrive at it. If you are on the other end and you meet someone with this kind of headcanon, though, don't provoke them about it, what's it to you? They live in a world where it's true, and you can't afford a ticket there.

kinda really sick n tired of people making any and everyone in fandoms trans or kinda trans. like what's wrong with being a gnc woman? why is a woman who doesn't shave suddenly trans/an egg? obviously I don't own the character and neither do they but it's disheartening to see every slight deviation of 'being stereotypically female TM' as being trans or whatever. transmasc this, transfem that - please.