#kept asking the same questions over n over which is. you know the basics. but it's truly so hard i used to talk to her for over two hours

[fadeintoyou1993]

visited my grandma at the care home today 🫶🏽 good to see her altho everytime i leave i have to think Don't borrow grief from the future over n over while she's here

[ditzybeee]

❥・Jason Todd — high school bf

❥・tags: jason todd blurb, jason todd is a loverboy, jason todd is a loser, high school sweethearts, gn!reader, no use of y/n, implied dialogue, loosely based on me and my bf :3

❥・word count: 636

❥・─────────────────────

Jason Todd is crushing hard.

The two of you met freshman year and he couldn't get you out of his head since.

He, of course, went through the painful process of friends-to-lovers. Because he'd rather make sure you liked him—a lot—before considering flirting.

Not that you'd know it.

He was bad at it. He was so, so bad at it.

Stupid lines from his stupid novels. Did you even read Jane Austen?

Never mind that you thought it was cute—you thought he was cute—lucky him.

When Jason asked you out, it couldn't be less cheesy. Full bouquet of flowers—which he didn't burden you with holding for the school day—and a bunch of your favorite snacks, which you promptly shoved into your bag before your teachers questioned them.

Newly dating and he was so excited. Nervous and sweaty palmed holding your hand in his, smiling ear to ear.

He'd walk you to class, even if it's across campus.

Sure, a few tardies would damage his perfect record, but he can't afford you missing your classes.

Dates with Jason were something else. Bruce had Dick chaperone the first few—either that or the dates were at the manor. Not that he didn't trust you, but he didn't trust Jason.

And he wanted to see his second son awkwardly maneuver speaking to his own partner.

Jason shared his first kiss with you on his first non-chaperoned date. A picnic some spring day in which he kept sneezing because of the pollen, mumbling about how badly he looked.

You stared at him in awe, giggling, and helping him wipe his face.

He was so, so in love with you that he whispered if he could kiss you, and quickly did when you accepted.

As high school continued, your relationship blossomed.

Both families trusted the other to keep their child safe when they slept over, to send the two of you to different cities and states for events, and to allow trips.

Jason first said "I love you" when he saw you in your dance attire. Sure, he's seen you in formal wear before. But this? This takes the cake.

He kissed you quickly, whispering the three words into your ear before Alfred made you two pose for pictures.

This same scenario repeated every time the two of you had a dance.

Every dance, every school event, every club meeting, you and Jason were there together.

It was about junior year when he told you about Robin and how he was thinking of changing it to Red Hood once you two graduated. He took your pointers for his new costume design—after a week-long argument about him being a vigilante and how dangerous it was.

He asked you to prom in a long-winded text message—multiple questions of whether you wanted a public promposal—it was obvious he used speech-to-text, and the message mirrored his speech patterns.

The dance was great. Dinner was delicious and the night was equal parts your boyfriend and equal parts your friends.

The days leading up to graduation were full of anxiety and joy.

You and Jason would stay out well past your curfews—which were basically obsolete, as both families didn't enforce it, as long as you were with each other—and just hang out.

You'd talk about your plans after high school—college, trade school, straight to work?

He'd mumble soft praises against your skin as you ramble about your ambitions, mirroring your energy when you asked about his vigilante plans.

Graduation—Jason's eyes hadn't been dry for a single second that day. He sobbed when you walked across the stage, when you cheered just as loudly for him, and when he saw you in your graduation gown all dressed up.

Jason loves the title "high school sweethearts".

❥・─────────────────────

❥・a/n: im feelin soft for my boy rn :( obvi no trauma au if he never DIED <3 more smut soon tho! i wont have internet the week after this coming week so ill try and get as much stuff out as possible!

❥・masterlist

[33forthew1n]

ੈ♡˳ in a good way ੈ♡˳

🏎️❣️ollie bearman x best friend!reader 🏎️❣️

written ff

synopsis: if you asked anyone at silverlake high school to describe yn in one word, it would be "loner". that was until her sophomore year when ollie bearman moved to rochester and became her classmate. suddenly, the tall teenager was stuck by her side. they're just friends..right?

WARNINGS: N/A

a/n: enjoy :) interact however you please!

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Yn had always kept to herself. It's just how she was. She couldn't really be bothered with people or socializing. A true introvert. She wasn't anti-social or bad to be around, Yn had just always enjoyed her own company more than anyone else's.

That is until her sophomore year of high school. On a random Tuesday in October, her class gets a new student. Oliver Bearman. Well, "Ollie" was what he asked the class to call him.

Honestly, she didn't pay much attention to him at all when he was introducing himself to the class. Which was very different from every other girl who was fawning over the "new cute guy". Maybe her clear lack of interest was what led him to choose a seat next to her.

When he sat down next to her, her eyes widened in suprise. She thought herself to be the last person Ollie would choose to sit next to, but she was clearly wrong.

As Ms. Whiteham went on with her daily lecture about some boring book, Ollie turned to Yn and stuck his hand out. "Ollie Bearman. Your name?"

Truthfully, Yn was paralyzed for a moment at his voice. Deep, smooth, and a lot more charming than she was used to from her male classmates. A good minute later, Yn remembered Ollie had spoken to her and quietly answered his question, "Yn Ln". "I'll remember that", he replied before turning back look at their teacher. In that moment, Yn felt that something in her life had greatly shifted yet she couldn't put a finger on as to why.

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Two years later, Yns life had taken a full 180 degree shift. She couldn't remember the last time she spent a day alone...and not thought of Ollie.

Ollie, her best friend. The guy who marched into her life and made a lasting impression on her.

Not one day passed where Ollie and Yn didn't sit together, eat lunch together, and hang out after classes together. Basically, the pair were inseperable.

Everyone around them believed that the two were dating and simply hadn't said anything because they didn't want to make a big deal out of it. In reality, the two were much more confused with what they were.

In Ollie's head the two were best friends who could be so much more. In Yn's head, Ollie was just a guy who she had a soft spot for. Nothing more and nothing less.

In class, Yn's head was down and she was starting to doze off to Mr. Young's robotic voice. She then felt a tap on her shoulder to which she slightly lifted her head to see who dared to bother her. Looking down at her was a smiling Ollie with two drinks in his hand. "Hello, sleepyhead. You look like you need a coffee", he muttered quietly while handing her her hyperspecific coffee order. Yn's heart began to beat loudly as she realized Ollie had memorized her coffee order. The same order even her own mom couldn't bare to memorize since it was "too long and too much" for her aging mind.

"Thanks, bub", she said gratefully.

Truthfully, every time Yn used that nickname for Ollie, he felt like he was given another reason to live. He wondered in that moment if she knew how much he cared for her.

Would she ever know that he keeps a list of all her favorites? He knew her favorite color was baby pink and that she hated days that were "excessively sunny". He knew that she couldn't handle spice and loved to bake. Yet, most of all he knew she would never feel the same way about him.

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Everybody in Ollie's life knew he was head over heels for Yn. His mom often asked him about her, his dad often reminded him to treat her gently as a girl should be treated, and his brother Thomas never stopped teasing him for his obvious crush on the girl.

Funnily enough, the same could be said for Yn. Two years ago, she scarcily socialized and was a much less smiley person. Her mother and sister had noticed that slowly Yn was becoming a different, much happier person. They never mentioned anything to her, not wanting her to overthink and question herself, but the change was like night and day.

Recently, Yn had invited Ollie over to bake cookies. They'd left school together to go to nearest grocery store and pick up the few ingredients they still needed. At the register, Ollie refused to let her pay and she joked, "You're gonna make everyone think we're dating, bub."

Under his breath Ollie said, "Would that be so bad?"

Once at her house, Ollie took off his shoes and tried to shake off the nerves of meeting her family. In that moment, he thought of the Yn he'd met years ago. She was cold and nothing like the girl he now knows. At least he could seek comfort in knowing he was someone that she relied on and enjoyed being around.

Once inside, Ollie greeted Yn's mother. "Ms. Ln, hello. I'm Ollie Bearman, Yn's, uh..friend from school."

"Oh, Ollie! Of course I know who you are! Yn talks about you all the time! (To this, yn blushes and looks down, seemingly embarassed) What a pleasure", Yn's mom said before going in for a hug with Ollie. "Isn't he handsome, Ally?", she asked Yn's younger sister, seemingly hellbent on embarassing Yn.

"Ooookaayy, mom. We're just gonna go right into the kitchen. Forgive her, Ollie, she's a little...crazy", Yn said, shuffling the pair into the kitchen.

The blushing teenage boy followed after Yn and started washing his hands.

Quickly, the two got into a smooth rhythym comprised of him getting ingredients and her measuring them out. Then, they mixed the dough together. That's when the pair realized just how messy they'd gotten, with flour all over their faces. Ollie leaned down and tapped Yn's nose that she had somehow gotten flour on which caused a giggle to ripple through her body.

As the pair were chowing down on their baked goods, Yn realized how content she was just simply being by Ollie's side. For a while now, she wondered if playing with the lines of friendship and something more was dangerous. So, in hopes of keeping her best friend she didn't make a move or get her hopes too high.

A few hours later, it was time for Ollie to go home and Yn walked him to her door. The both of them could sense a brewing tension that they would soon have to divulge. But, as for right now, everything was normal.

Ollie stooped down to Yn's height to hug her and Yn put her arms around her shoulders. "Goodnight, bubs. Thanks for spending time with me today", Yn said with something more than friendship festering behind her glimmering eyes. "I wouldn't want to be with anyone else, sunshine. Night", Ollie said as he backed out of her doorway into the sparkling night sky.

As Yn locked the front door, her younger sister spoke up,"So, when are you going to actually introduce him as your boyfriend? We're not dumb, Yn. It's soo obvious you two are dating."

Yn turned around so fast Ally thought she would get whiplash. "Ally, be quiet. We are not together; we're just best friends. Nothing more", Yn said, her eyes falling to the floor when she realized that she didn't want Ollie to be just her friend.

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The next few weeks Yn and Ollie went on all sorts of "friend dates". Movie theater, arcade, mall; you name it, they did it. Which makes their relationship all the more confusing not just to everyone outside it, but to themselves too.

Yet, the person who made the next step was none other than Ollie. Ollie who'd told himself for the past two years that he'd do anything but ruin their friendship. Ollie who'd grown ever so fond of Yn and saw how well they worked together. Ollie who was there through thick and thin.

After much deliberation, Ollie decided he'd confess the day of Valentine's Day. He went to a flower shop and got her a beautiful bouquet full of pink and white flowers. He got her cookies from her favorite bakery that was a town over the day before (which made him have to cancel his plans with Yn and did arise much suspicion from the girl). Yet, most importantly he wrote her a love letter.

Now, you may ask: why go through all that trouble of giving a grand confession? Well, Yn had spoken to Ollie at length about how she hopes her future boyfriend would be a big romantic and would treat her like she hung the stars in the night sky.

So on Valentine's Day, Ollie set everything up perfectly. He put the cookies in her locker with the bouquet right on top. Then, he placed a picture frame with a photograph of the two of them at the city fair front and center.

When Yn arrived, she was in shock. Ollie watched her piece everything together from around the corner. "Happy valentine's day, sunshine. I have one last thing for you before I ask you a question I've been meaning to ask you for a bit."

And so with that he handed her the letter that detailed how he felt for her to a tee.

"Dear, Yn. I'm not sure if you expected this at all, but there's no better time like the present to be honest. Before I met you, I wasn't sure love was real. That's probably because I hadn't met you yet.

A few months after we became friends, you told me I was the best thing to happen to you that year. I didn't tell you at the time, but in that moment you became the best thing that'd ever happen to me. Full-stop.

I didn't know that you were right in front of me. That the girl I loved was my best friend. But, then I looked out into your eyes and I fell in love all over again. I've never been much of a crier, but you make wanna cry in a good way. In the best way. In the happiest way. Maybe because I know that you showed me how to be in love. You care hard but you love so much harder.

Yn Ln, will you be my Valentine?

Sincerely, Your Ollie"

By the time Yn had finished reading the letter, tears were threating to escape from her eyes.

Ollie looked at her with slight fear in his own eyes. Yet, once she looked up he knew he had no reason to be afraid.

"I would love to be your Valentine, bubs. Oh-", she said before a single tear escaped.

"Are you crying in a good way, love?"

She giggled before he asked her the real question, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, you just want me to turn into a puddle, huh. Yes!"

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Exams are over and techincally Ollie and Yn have completed high school.

The obvious next step is decorating their graduation caps which they decided to do at Ollie's house.

Ollie's family had already met Yn and had come to truly love her like their own. In fact, every Sunday Yn would come over for family lunch. This tradition had come to mean the world to Yn and made Ollie incredibly happy to see her enjoy.

Now on his living room floor, their shared memories had suddenly washed over Yn.

She asked Ollie, "Do you think we'll make it through college together, bubs?"

He paused and looked at her for a second. The short flash of nervousness that passed through her gaze made him stop in his tracks. Sometimes he forgot just how tender Yn made him feel, but in moments like this one it couldn't be questioned.

"Even if you are oceans away, I'd still think of you day and night. What's made you think of this?", he asked her gently.

"Everything's changing...it's like my world's been taken away from right under my feet. I don't want you to change, too", she replied, with tears in her voice.

"We won't change, sunshine. I can't promise you anything but that", he said as he scooted over and wrapped his arms around.

As he kissed her forhead, he realized no one will ever make him feel so much emotion in a good way.

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Every emotion a girl could feel, Yn went through on Graduation Day.

Worry, fear, happiness, and sadness to name a few.

Once she arrived at her school's stadium, she immediately looked around for Ollie.

"He can't be that hard to find..he's six feet tall, for Heaven's sake", she whispered to herself.

As she turned to look in another direction, she felt hands hover over her eyes.

"Guess who?", the owner of those hands asked her.

"Hm...Pedro Pascal, is that you?", Yn asked, with false enthusiasm in her voice.

Ollie took away his hands and immediately began tickling her.

Yn wildly giggled in response and managed to say, "S-stop. I'm sorry!!"

"You're breaking my heart, sunshine", Ollie said with smiling eyes.

And so they sat down and two hours later they were high school graduates.

Once the ceremony was over, Yn's mom and sister came over to take pictures of Yn.

Ollie offered to take her pictures and grabbed her camera.

As Yn was posing and smiling from cheesy jokes Ollie was making, her mother whispered to Ollie, "You know, Oliver. Keep making her happy. You've been doing a great job ever since you met her. Ally and I feel so much better knowing she has you".

After she said that, Ollie thanked her and tried to keep his tears away. Nothing made him happier than knowing he was making the love of his life a happier person.

After they took their pictures, Yn and Ollie left to their favorite diner nearby.

As Yn got comfortable in the passenger's seat, Ollie handed her the pink rose he'd hidden in his car.

And in that moment, the dam finally broke and she shed her first tear of the day. As Ollie reached over to hold her hand, it hit her. She hadn't realized it back then but she was incredibly fortunate to have been Ollie's seat partner that day.

Because ever since that day, Ollie had been right in front of her and nothing would ever change that.

[caoimhewritesfics]

Riley's Road To Oklahoma

(Undying Ground pt5)

Tags/CW: Post apocalyptic world, mentions of loss/grief

WC: 2.1k

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader. Reluctant allies to lovers

Series Masterlist → here

A/N: Will Simon and Reader ever just be normal with each other??? no. Very dialogue heavy chapter, exposition yayyy

G

Another living thing was not what he wanted in his house. Putting up with your attitude on the daily was already enough for him. He was new to this whole allies thing after all. Sure he worked with other people in the military all the time, made a couple friends even, but having someone who was basically a stranger living in his house and filling it up with pets wasn't exactly something he had experience with.

But, he couldn't deny that Riley was cute, and your smile when he happily trotted over to you was... well he liked it. Why? He didn't know. All he did know was that he wanted to see it again, whether he was willing to admit that to himself or not. Ghost did always like dogs. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad for him.

"Isn't he cute?" You asked with a beaming smile that made his stomach churn.

No, no. It was just that burnt squirrel he ate this morning making his stomach upset. Yeah? Yeah.

"Yeah, he is," Ghost sighs, gloved hand ruffling Riley's ears. "Weird for a dog to be out here alone," he mutters, almost thoughtlessly.

Your voice comes out sharp and worried, "you think there's someone else here?"

He hesitates, thinking over the possibility, "It's not impossible."

A frown creases your brow, "but you said the river and the highway keep people out."

"Must you question everything I say?" He asks as he turns to look at you, eyes narrowing in mild frustration

"Yes actually I do," you tease, a grin curling your lips.

He tilts his head back and sighs, "Ridiculous."

"Hey, you question everything I say. It's only fair," you throw your hands up in surrender.

Why you couldn't go five seconds without doing everything in your power to annoy him, he will never know. He always let it slide, though. Part of him found you... entertaining. He hadn't had anyone interesting around since Johnny.

He's snapped out of his thoughts as Riley turns, finding a pile of paper to chew on.

"Hey, Boy. What you got there, huh?" Your voice carries softly, moving towards Riley and his paper snack.

He watches you kneel down, taking the paper gently. "Hey, look at this." Your voice is urgent as you wave him over.

"What is it?" He’s immediately on alert, the tension in your voice putting him on edge.

Holding out the map to him, your fingers brush and Ghost stares at the paper, avoiding your eyes. "What's so important about this? it's just-" the words die in his throat when he sees it

SAFE ZONE.

SAFE ZONE.

"Safe zone?" His voice comes out as a whisper, like leaves rustled by a light breeze. The words tease him as they lay on the page.

You nod, finger tapping the dot on the map, "Mooreland, Oklahoma. Safe zone.”

---

R

You didn't speak of it for days. Safe zones aren't real, you knew that. Ghost did too. No one cares enough to make them real. This world was every man for himself, trying to change that would be a waste of time.

You tried to distract yourself with Riley and what you snagged from the town. You should have listened to Ghost about that soda. It had you out of commission for a solid 24 hours which he relished in reminding you of his warning.

Laying on the floor... again unfortunately gave you plenty of time to think even with Riley licking your face every five minutes.

Mooreland, Oklahoma

Nothing good could come from dwelling on it, but you couldn't help yourself. Not when Ghost kept the map out on the table, the words "Safe Zone" mocking the both of you. Mooreland was a thousand miles away. Running towards a dream of safety, no matter how far was stupid. You had tried with Vivienne, only to be met with the teeth of a hundred infected and a painful loss. You knew better than to try again, tempting as it was. 

Ghost seemed to feel the same, despite his reluctance to toss the stupid map away. He was the kind of man who’s seen too much loss. It oozes from his body like water creeping into a sinking ship. 

“Ghost. Toss that thing already,” you say, voice cutting through the brittle silence.

His voice is distracted, eyes glued to the map except for you for once, “no. Could be useful.” 

You scoff, voice hardening as you brush hair from your eyes, “useful? We both know it’s useless junk.”

“I don’t know.” His fingers trace the ink lines almost longingly.

“You don’t know? Ghost, there are no safe zones. It’s a fantasy drawn up by someone desperate enough to believe it.”

He turned to you, brown eyes narrowed, “there you go.”

You frown, “what?”

“Doubting me again.”

Anger flares in your chest and you take a step towards him, socks brushing against the wooden floor, “we aren’t going to Oklahoma.”

“Stay then.” His words were icy, dismissive. 

Your breath catches in your throat, “stay? You want me to stay? You’re the one who insisted on me being your “ally”, now you’re more than ready to ditch me for some town in Oklahoma?”

His eyes stare into yours with a burning intensity, “if this is real, it’s worth it.”

“It’s not real!” You shout, anger boiling over like water left too long on the stove. You’re almost pleading with him to see reason.

“How do you know that?” He snapped, “maybe it’s bullshit, maybe it’s not. If it is real, we can actually have lives again. No more scavenging, no more hunting, no more fighting those… things.” His voice cracks on the last word, almost imperceptible, but you hear it nonetheless. 

You pause. He’s not wrong. If it is real. A life that’s more than running from infected is all you’ve wanted since the world fell apart. Not a second has gone by where the yearning ceases. You run your tongue over your lips and let out a sigh. Dying trying is better than dying stuck in Ghost’s old cabin alone. 

“Okay. I’ll go. On one condition.”

“Which would be?” His hands tighten on the map ever so slightly.

You cross your arms, grounding yourself, “what’s your name? Your actual name.”

His shoulders tense and he lets the silence stretch a moment too long, “that’s none of your-”

“Just tell me. You’ve nothing to lose at this point.”

Another few moments pass in a painful silence. His eyes shift slightly before he meets your gaze again.

“Simon.”

It was a silly question, even to you. But, you had to know. Calling this grown man “Ghost” felt ridiculous, whether it fit him or not. Now Simon, well that rolled off your tongue much better. Simon. Simon. Simon. 

You just stared at him for a moment, only looking away when Riley lets out a shrill bark, nipping at your ankles. You clear your throat as you both break eye contact. “Riley’s uhhh hungry.”

He huffs and runs a hand over his masked face, “Yeah… yeah.”

You try to ignore Ghos- no, Simon’s stare as you feed Riley. Simon was always staring, usually at you, but it was always laced with distrust and apprehension. This… feels different. Putting your finger on why was like driving blindfolded. Reading a person just by their eyes was a tricky thing. If only you could see his face. Would his feelings and secrets finally be barred to you? 

"We should leave soon. Maybe two days."

"I don't like this." Your voice is soft, almost scared.

He shrugs, "you agreed to it."

"Doesn't mean I like it." There it goes again. Your voice betraying your fear.

He stands, striding toward you with heavy steps. He stops before you, close. Very close. His hand wraps around your forearm, but he's gentle. There's no malice or danger in his hold. "We'll be fine."

"You don't know-"

He cuts you off quickly, "no, I don't. But, we're going to be fine. Trust me"

The words catch in your throat, coming out shakey "well... I don't."

"Then don't. It's okay." His voice is gentle, his thumb brushing your wrist as his hand drops away. Your stomach flips, making you feel sick. His touch is warm and soft, everything he's not, but you would be lying if you said you wanted him to stop.

---

The furnace-like heat was dissolving into a bitter, biting cold. Your feet drag against the dirt and stones of the path under you. You, Simon, and Riley had left for Oklahoma two days ago, and autumn was on its way and coming fast. The coat you had gotten from Vivienne wasn't doing much to keep you warm, especially when night crept up on you and the cold tried to sink into your bones.

Simon, stoic as always trudged along with determination. How he was able to pack up his life, leave where you had assumed he'd been for the past five years and toss himself into danger and uncertainty remained a mystery. Though he seemed like the kind of man to have experience with that. Cozying up and living a happy farm life wasn't the norm for a man who called himself Ghost.

"Simon?" you called out, tentatively, watching his back.

He didn't slow his stride. "Don't call me that."

You frown, "It's your name."

He glanced at you over his shoulder, gaze locked onto yours, "Doesn't mean you can call me that. I told you because you asked, not so you could use it."

You quickened your pace to match his, breath puffing in the cool air. "You're awfully dramatic, you know that?"

He scoffs dryly, "And that's coming from you?"

"You're so mean, Simon." you tease him, smirking proudly.

He stopped abruptly, turning toward you with a glare sharp enough to cut. "Call me Simon again and I'll knock you out and go to Mooreville on my own."

You crossed your arms. "Fine with me."

A beat of silence. "...And I'll take the dog."

You tilt your chin up in defiance, "Now you've gone too far."

He laughs. Genuinely laughs. A sound you've never heard from him. It’s soft and unguarded. It echoed through the empty woods like a sound that didn’t belong.

"You were going to ask me something?" He prompts you with a nudge to your arm.

The question feels like it's suffocating you, curling up and making home in your throat. You two had your fair share of playful banter, something not quite friendship but certainly not acquaintances, but never had you asked him about himself, nothing about his past or who he was.

“How did you end up… here? Not really common for a guy like you to be in the middle of nowhere Georgia.” 

“Was stationed down here before everything. Found the cabin a year after Atlanta was overrun.” He spoke like it was nothing. For a man who refused the use of his own name, his honesty surprised you. You expected a shut up or mind your business, not an honest answer. 

Tension lays over the both of you like a thick, heavy blanket. How far could you go before you asked something too personal and he shut down? 

“And what about you, North Carolina? How did you get down here, hmm?” He asks, a slight edge to his tone.

You keep your eyes facing forward so as not to meet his steady gaze. “Don’t know exactly. Started walking and didn’t stop, I guess.”

He scoffs, “it doesn’t take five years to walk from North Carolina to Georgia.”

You shrug, the motion small. “Yeah well… Stopped off a few times.”

He tilts his head slightly, sharp now. “With Vivienne?”

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto his, “I already told you, she’s none of your business.” The words come out colder than you intended.

“You also said you were friends.” His tone is flat, testing. He’s fishing, but for what—you can’t tell.

You exhale through your nose, jaw tightening. “Fine. I met her six months after the start and we were allies until…” You trail off, the weight of the memory pressing down like fingers on a bruise. 

“Hmm. Right. Infected.” His tone carries no sympathy, but no coldness either. He states it like a fact. You suppose that’s exactly what it is. Vivienne was infected. No way around it.

Opting to break the tension as best you can, you give a small teasing grin, “she was a lot more fun than you.”

He leans in slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but you don't miss the way the fabric of his mask shifts over his lips and how his eyes crinkle… he’s smirking. “I can be even less fun if you want.”

You glance at him, one brow arched, “I don’t think that’s physically possible.”

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid @lostintransist @nicolebarnes @vybzwithjaz @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jimihendrixenthusiast76

[riitales]

Breakups Hurt | choi su-bong

Chapter 1 | you shut me out, but I'm still here

"Choi Su-bong, 1.19 billion won."

Your eyes narrowed as you looked through the crowd of players for him, but you could not find him.

Seriously? This is where you meet your ex, of all places?

Pairing: Choi Su-bong x female!reader

Genre: squid game au! exes to lovers!

warnings: cussing ig. su-bong is mean to mc! hurt/no-comfort, su-bong doesn't have his drug locket. no use of y/n. there's mostly thanos's real name is used. I guess that's it.

Note: this will have some parts but I'm not really sure how many, for now.

Play: Don't know what to do by blackpink

YOUR EYES FLUTTER OPEN. Your gaze is drawn to the strange environment in which you find yourself. You sit up in a mild state of panic. You looked around, and there were so many people. Some of them have the same confused expression as you. Some people were speaking or simply waking up. You notice their clothing—a green tracksuit. You looked down at yourself and were unsurprised to see that you were wearing the same tracksuit. But wait –

Who changed you?

You remember nothing except that someone told you to wait in a specific location and that you got into their car, but that is it.

You took a step down from your bed but remained near it. Your gaze moves throughout your surroundings.

Damn! There were a lot of people.

A sudden noise from the front door opening jolted you out of your reverie. A few people stepped inside, and the door closed behind them. They were wearing strange masks, with the front one wearing a square mask, and their clothes were all pink.

"I would like to extend a heartfelt welcome to you all."

They go on to explain how all players will compete in six games, with the winner receiving a large sum of money. Hm! Interesting!

Are they expecting you to believe everything they say? Hell no. You do not really trust them. Who in this world full of greedy people could possibly give you money just by playing games?

No, you are not believing it's that simple.

Someone from behind asks why, if that is the case, they basically kidnapped you all. How can anyone trust them anymore?

That is exactly what I was thinking about!

The square mask claimed it was a necessary precaution to protect their privacy or something.

Some players also questioned them, either suspiciously or curiously. They kept asking questions, but you were not paying attention because you think they were not asking important questions like what the games will be or when you could leave but instead they were more concern about who changed them or where their phone was.

You pay close attention when The Square Masked starts a video of the players and announces how much debt they have. A specific name immediately drew your attention.

"Choi Su-bong, 1.19 billion won."

Your eyes narrowed as you looked through the crowd of players for him, but you could not find him.

Seriously? This is where you meet your ex, of all places?

"woah, woah. Time out, time out." Su-bong was second way from beating the shit out player 333 when nam-gyu jumped in and stopped him. "There are so many people. You wouldn't wanna end up on news." He rationalizes. Fortunately, Su-bong listened.

He backs away from player 333. He looks around, his chest heaving slightly.

"You better get rich here." He warns the former YouTuber. "I want my money once this is all over." He said this before walking away, and Nam-gyu followed suit. Nam-gyu continue walking ahead of Su-bong, unconcerned about the world.

However, Su-bong's steps are halted when he comes face to face with—

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked incredulously, his eyes widening slightly with surprise.

You did not respond and instead continued to stare at him. You certainly saw the way he was ready to beat the player 333 up, he thought. Your expression makes it clear. He assumed you would not answer, so he continued—

"Don't tell me now you're following me." He accused you.

Your lips parted slightly. "Are you serious?"

"Then why are you here?" He questioned.

You soon found yourself in a less crowded area with him.

"I need money" you answered the question he asked you. Your arms folded across your chest, facing the stairs when he sat, manspread.

"For what? The last time I remember you were making just fine with that 9-5 job." He commented, raising his eyebrows in an inquisitive manner.

You sigh before answering, "Well, I needed more money."

"for what?" He reiterates his previous question. When you met his gaze, he said, "Well, nevermind. It's not like it is any of my business." He shrugged and stood up to leave, as if the conversation had ended.

You remain in the same position. Just as he brushes by you. Despite your better judgment, you couldn't help but sigh in frustration and hurt, You could not help yourself from asking—

"Why are you being like this." He paused, but did not turn around.

Seeing him here brought all of your emotions back. You were seeing him after almost three weeks, you believe, when he made a point of avoiding you.

God, I miss him so much.

"Like what?"

"I'm serious su-bong. We can work it out If you could just open up.. just— just tell me what's wrong.." You turn around to face him, but, as expected, he has his back to you. Your gaze was drawn to his new hair color, purple, of all colors. That's so him.

"You don't get It, do you?" You can practically hear the eyes roll in his voice. He huffed, "I don't think we are good." I am not good for you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if you had tired him.

"Beside, i actually come here so i could take a break from you— but- of course—" He snorted his own words and shook his head before leaving you behind.

You stepped onto the open field, where the first game would take place. You do not know what lies ahead for you. Your mind was not on it either. Your thoughts unintentionally drifted to him.

Why he's being like this?

Why he want you to leave him alone?

Why he can't just tell you what's wrong?

What did i do wrong?

masterlist | next

tip me on ko-fi? ☕

© riitales, 2025, Do not repost or copy in any way.

NOTES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

[lyubovsdiary]

Confessions

a.aretas x best friend!reader

summary: your best friend armando has been by your side through every disappointing date, relationship and talking stage. but one fateful night he says something which will alter your friendship forever. the question is: will it be for better or for worse?

prompt: #2853 by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

"I just want to fall in love!" She sobbed into her hands. "Why won't it happen?"

"What about the last person you saw?"

"I try. I actively try to like them.”

go check out their prompts if you’re interested, they’re amazing!!

a/n: jordan and cole are based off of my experiences with men, just with changed names. they made me lose all hope in men. also the feelings of having to fit in and feeling like you’re always the problem when meeting someone new were self-indulgent, as well as being kinda romantic to friends but then switching up, because it sadly is something i do very often. also english isn’t my first language, so please ignore any mistakes. enjoy!!

Turning the key in the lock of your apartment door, you walked in with hunched shoulders and a disappointed expression. The date you were on today had been disastrous. Justin, a guy you had met through a colleague, had been so boring, that you had had to make up a bullshit excuse about your sister needing someone to drive her to a doctor’s appointment. You didn’t even have a sister.

Walking further into the apartment, you noticed Armando, your best friend since you were kids, sitting lazily on your couch. He was in your apartment practically every day, so you weren’t too surprised to see him here. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon and evening with him sounded ten times better than spending even five minutes with your date.

“Hey, how’d your date go? Any luck with this Jordan guy?” Armando asked between bites of what seemed to be your leftover lasagna.

“His name’s Justin, but no. How can someone talk about his first driving lesson which happened three years ago for forty-five minutes? Nothing happened! It was a completely normal experience, except for the fact that he still remembers the colour of the house he parked next to for the first time,” you ranted as you took off your purse and shoes and went to wash your hands. Once you were in the bathroom, you also changed into more comfortable home clothes. Armando wasn’t someone you felt like you had to dress up for. He complimented you even when your hair looked like it had never been touched by a brush.

Armando never made you feel ugly or as less than. No matter what you looked like, he always treated you the same, which was like a breath of fresh air, when you considered how the majority of the men you had met acted like. The sweet thing was that he made sure to not only compliment your looks but your personality as well. You didn’t know how he kept finding things to point out, but it was amazing to have someone understand you like that.

“Was he the tarado that asked you not to wear leggings or joggers on the first date?” Armando asked while laughing.

You sat down next to him in the couch and put your head on his shoulder. You felt his arm going over your shoulders and your body instantly relaxed. Being in Armando’s vicinity always had this effect on you. All of your worries disappeared and you got to truly relax. You were lucky to have such a connection with your friend.

“No, that was Cole. Besides that part, he was actually really nice,” you sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I can’t make a relationship work.”

“It’s not your fault, mi querida. The men you go out with are the problem. Your taste is very…interesting,” Armando tried to soothe you. He also said something in Spanish, but only knew the basics of the language and some insults Armando taught you a couple years back. You just hoped the names he called you weren’t too nasty.

“It can’t be only their fault though. It takes two to make or break a relationship. And it seems that everyone but me has managed to do it. Happy couples, people in love are all around me, but I can never seem to be one of them. I just want to fall in love,” you groaned into your hands, which had come up to your face to hide your frustration. "Why won't it happen? Why can’t it be as easy as befriending people and feeling love for them?"

“What about your last boyfriend? You were in love with him, weren’t you?” Armando asked in a tone you couldn’t place.

Yet his words made you think of your ex, who you had had a complicated and difficult relationship with. Love wasn’t supposed to be complicated. It wasn’t supposed to make you overthink every word you said, it wasn’t supposed to make you change your personality to fit better into someone else’s life. A lover was supposed to love you despite and because of your flaws and not nitpick every single move of yours until you felt like a painting in a museum full of cruel critics.

But you had never shared those details with Armando. In fact, your ex had tried to isolate you from him and all your other friends, so to avoid any more fights, you had agreed with his ‘rules’.

Now you knew that what you had felt in your last relationship wasn’t love. It was desperation to fit in with your peers. Desperation to have finally found the most wonderful feeling a human being can experience: love. And everybody knows that love and desparation go hand in hand. That’s where you had messed up.

“No. I tried-I actively tried to like him and all the other guys I’ve gone out with, but it just doesn’t work. I either try too hard and seem too eager or I can’t force myself to care and lose interest before barely knowing more about the guy than what is needed in a police description,” you explained the conclusion you had come to while analysing your behaviour one sleepless night.

You then started tracing patterns on Armando’s arm while it served as a substitute for your sketchbook. Your hands needed to be occupied with a task or you’d be restless. “I also seem to always compare the guys to you, of all people. They either aren’t as charming, as funny or as pleasant to be around.”

Your words made Armando stiff as a board next to you. The reason why his evergrowing feelings never faltered or died out, was because you always said shit like that. One moment you could be making fun of Armando’s “funny eyebrows“ as you called them, and in the next you’d be telling him how his presence alone makes you feel at home.

But it wasn’t just your words that rattled Armando. The gentle feeling of your soft fingers imitating drawing on his skin made the familiar warm feeling in his chest bubble up again and caused his brain to short-circuit. Armando loved feeling like your personal canvas, taking whatever you had to offer without complaints.

It was up ahead in his all-time favourite things to ever happen along with the cuddling you enjoyed so much. Every year when winter came around, Armando was almost giddy at the thought of you positioning your body as close to his as humanly possible, because you got cold quickly and he ran hot.

Still, it was all becoming too much all at once. Armando’s unwavering feelings towards you, your careless behaviour with him, making him think he may actually have a shot, when he just doesn’t know anymore. You were the first person in a long time to make him feel unconditionally loved, but then you went ahead and went on a date with another man. You told him how no one could ever take his place in your life and then told him how he was the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

That was what frustrated Armando the most. He didn’t just want to be your friend anymore. He wasn’t sure that he had ever wanted that. Armando wanted to feel your lips against his. He wanted to sleep wrapped around you every night. As a matter of fact he wanted to be around you every second of every day, spending as much time together as your lifestyles allowed. Armando wanted to talk and talk and talk with you, getting to know every single one of your most intimate thoughts, opinions and memories. He wanted to know you better than he knew himself. Your soul was already connected to his own, but he wanted them to be intertwined so fiercely that one couldn‘t tell where one started and the other ended.

Armando knew that the change from a friendship to a relationship wouldn’t be that drastic, after all, the two are pretty similar, at least in your case. But he still wanted the feeling of belonging which came with a relationship. The knowledge that you were his and he was yours. It was not only a guarantee for him that you would never leave, but also a sign to others that you were taken now. No one would allow himself to come near you if they knew you were with him.

Due to his confusing thoughts and wandering mind, he couldn’t control his tongue very well. “Be with me then,” he tried to joke, but it came out wrong. It sounded more like a plea, begging to be taken seriously. As soon as the words were out, Armando froze. The fear that this would make him lose you hit him at full force. As hard as he tried to play it off, he just couldn’t be the non-caring, hardly fazed person he was around others when he was around you. Everything about you made Armando’s resolve crumble and his heart melt.

Your laugh died in your throat as Armando jumped up and went to the conjoined kitchen of your apartment. You quickly went after him, noticing the change in his behaviour.

“Wait- Were you serious?” you asked him unbelievingly. You had never seen Armando like this before. He was usually the most composed person you knew and great at improvisation, skills which combined with your impeccable flirting made you two able to get out of every type of trouble.

Right now though, Armando was fiddling with the glass in his hands which he was trying to fill with water.

“No, no, of course not,” he said. He sounded defeated and you didn’t want your favourite person to feel like that, especially because of something you said.

“Armando, tell me what’s wrong. I promise you, I’m gonna be here and listen no matter what. You’re my best friend, you can tell me anything,” you told him, trying to get the truth out of him. You meant every word of what you said, but you weren’t sure if Armando was going to believe them and/or actually listen.

As if to prove your point, the man before you rolled his eyes and turned away from you.

“You can’t help me with this, maravillosa niña. I appreciate the thought, really. But mi amor para ti isn’t exactly something I can talk to you about,” Armando remarked wistfully. His hands were grasping the glass so hard, his knuckles were white. This only made you worry more, since this was behaviour not normally seen from Armando.

“Armando, I promise you, you can. There’s nothing you could tell me that would change anything between us. I know you. I know you have a good heart, as hard as you try to convince others that it isn’t true. So whatever is on your mind and affecting you this bad, I promise you can share it with me, so you’re at least not the only one carrying its burden,” you expressed, conveying as much love as you could in your words. Armando was very important to you and you made sure to tell him that in different forms every once in a while.

“You ask what’s affecting me? ¿No es obvio? You are. The fact that I crave your company when you’re not around, the fact that I want to be the first person you call when anything happens or when you just want to talk! You have made me addicted to you and it’s not an addiction one can ever overcome. I love you. Every cell in my body yearns for your touch, every thought in my mind is devoted to you. llevo años volviéndome loco,” Armando finally blurted out. He hadn’t meant to confess his feelings for you in this way. He actually hadn’t meant to confess them at all, but they had just come out.

Armando’s words stunned you into silence. You had truly never expected to hear these words, but after overcoming the initial shock, there was something like … relief flooding your veins and takings its place right between your ribs. Armando was an amazing person who you admired deeply. The fact that he loved you made you feel happy in a very specific way.

Your mind was running a thousand miles an hour, processing every word Armando had said. If you imagined those words coming out of one of your other friend’s mouth, you wouldn’t be as overjoyed as you are right now. You would be flattered, but not excited as you were right now.

Which led you to only one conclusion.

Darting forward, you wrapped your arms around Armando. One went to his face and cupped his cheek while the other went to his side. You spared a quick look to his eyes, finding confusion, hope and lust in them, but then focused on his lips. They were just as beautiful as every other part of him, now also slightly parted as his soft breaths were hitting your collarbone.

‘Fuck it,’ you thought and connected your lips to his. He immediately kissed back and you could feel his hands coming up to your waist to hold you even closer. You moved your hand from his cheek to his hair and buried it in his soft curls. The two of you stood there intertwined for a long time, lips moving in a steady rhythm, until you broke the kiss to get some air.

“Was that okay?” you gasped out, trying to put air in your lungs again. The grin you sent in Armando’s direction earned you a crooked smile.

“Perfect,” was the only warning you got before his lips crashed against yours once more.

Smiling while your lips were still pressed together, you mumbled out a “Told you I could help.” and resumed making out with your handsome best friend.

Translations:

tarado - moron

mi querida - my dearest

maravillosa niña - wonderful girl

mi amor para ti - my love for you

¿No es obvio? - Isn’t it obvious?

llevo años volviéndome loco - I’ve been going crazy for years

[greenxgloss]

I love you and your blog, but I also want drama! What do you think of fuckboy!yoongi and some very ordinary, modest OC. Maybe he bet on it, or any other situation from basic teen movies.

Thank you.... (*´∀｀*)ﾉ

A/n: so so sorry this took so long wow life's been unexpectedly busy for the last few months. i hope you loved this! sorry about any inconsistencies or repetitions I tried my best. i liked this concept a lot so if anyone wants a part two lmk!

Color-Coded Chaos (MYG)

Summary: You never believed in people like Min Yoongi—beautiful, dangerous, and born to break hearts—until he swaggered into your life pretending to need tutoring, only to crack your carefully ordered world wide open. What started as a dare slowly unraveled into something real, and after betrayal, heartbreak, and a quiet apology in a lecture hall, you both found your way back to each other—hand in hand, maybe even starting over.

Word Count: 3.1k Themes: Angst, fluff, slight Emotional manipulation / betrayal, slight Toxic masculinity / objectification, Smoking references, Opposites attract, Power of emotional intimacy over physical

You didn’t believe in people like Min Yoongi.

The kind who strutted through life like it was a runway and everyone else just got in the way. The kind who smelled like expensive cologne and bad decisions, who laughed like they’d never been hurt and looked at you like they could ruin you for fun.

And maybe they could.

Everyone on campus knew Yoongi. Not for his grades or attendance, but for the trail of broken hearts he left in his wake. He was charming—too charming—and never stuck around long enough for anyone to call it love. You’d overheard girls whispering about him in the library, their voices equal parts giddy and bitter. Rumor had it, if Yoongi smiled at you in the hallway, you’d fall. And if he kissed you, you’d disappear from his life like you’d never mattered in the first place.

You, on the other hand, folded laundry on Sunday nights and used the same grocery list every week. You didn’t chase chaos—you color-coded it, shelved it, and prayed it didn’t follow you home.

So naturally, Min Yoongi showed up at your door on a Thursday.

“Hey,” he drawled, leaning against your doorframe like it owed him something. His hoodie was half-zipped, revealing just enough inked skin and collarbone to make your mouth dry. “You tutor, right? English?”

You blinked.

“…Yes?”

He smiled. Slow. Crooked. Dangerous.

“Perfect. I’m failing, and apparently, you’re my last hope.”

And just like that, your quiet little world cracked open—one smug smirk at a time.

For the next few weeks, Yoongi started showing up at your place every Friday for tutoring. Which would’ve made more sense if you hadn’t distinctly remembered him being at the top of the class when you last checked the leaderboard. A near-perfect score on the last midterm, too. You weren’t stupid—you knew he didn’t need your help. But he kept showing up, and you kept letting him.

Maybe it was the way he’d sit across from you, half-sprawled in the chair like it personally offended him, eyes heavy-lidded and bored—until you’d ask a question and suddenly he was all attention, staring at you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. His glances stretched a little too long. His fingers brushed yours a little too often when you passed him notes. And last session, he barely touched the textbook, instead asking you out of nowhere what your favorite color was, then laughed like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You didn’t know what his game was, but you didn’t hate it.

Which is why, now—4:00 p.m. on the dot—you were checking the clock again and tapping your pen against your notebook with increasing impatience.

He was late.

Not fashionably late, not “I’ll be there in five” late. Just… nothing. No text, no call. It was unlike him. For all his flirtatious nonsense and fake academic helplessness, Yoongi was weirdly punctual. Always five minutes early, actually. Always with that smug little smirk and some sarcastic comment about your doorbell. But today? Silence.

Your stomach twisted with something you didn’t want to name. Not worry, exactly. Not disappointment, either. But it lingered in your chest anyway, tightening every time you refreshed your messages and saw nothing new.

And maybe the worst part was that you actually missed him. Missed his stupid smirks. Missed the way he tapped his pen against his bottom lip while pretending to struggle with a problem you both knew he could solve in his sleep. Missed the way his energy changed last session—more distant, weirdly quiet, eyes darting around like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. It stuck with you longer than it should’ve.

So when the knock finally came—4:22, not that you were counting—you jumped.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to yell at him for making you wait…

Or ask what the hell was going on with him.

“You’re late,” you said, the second you opened the door. No greeting, no smile. Just those two clipped words, sharp as the little sting in your chest.

Yoongi breezed past you like he owned the place—like he hadn’t just kept you waiting for almost half an hour with no explanation and no message. He smelled like cigarettes and something faintly minty, like he’d just popped a gum in, maybe to cover the former.

“Something came up, sorry,” he muttered, barely looking at you as he settled into the usual spot across from your desk, dropping his bag down with a heavy thud. He cleared his throat and leaned back like nothing was wrong.

“You could’ve texted me.” The words came out more anxious than angry, and you immediately regretted how fragile they sounded. You hated that it exposed how much you cared. You hated it even more when Yoongi finally looked at you and smirked.

His tongue flicked across his cupid’s bow as his eyes roamed up and down, slow and unreadable. “I’m sorry, doll,” he said, voice low, almost teasing. “Didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I promise I’ll let you know next time.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming under his messy fringe. “Did you miss me?”

You tried not to physically recoil from the impact of those three words, but your throat tightened like it didn’t want you to answer. You crossed your arms instead, feigning composure, even as your pulse betrayed you. “What’s up with you lately?” you asked, and it came out breathier than you’d intended. “You’ve been… weird.”

Yoongi grinned, cocky and unbothered. “Weird?” he repeated. “Or charming in a way that’s finally working?”

You scoffed, but he was already pulling the textbook toward him with one hand while opening his laptop with the other, eyes never really leaving you. “Playing coy this far in?” he asked. “Cute.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming down your spine when he said it. The way he looked at you right now, like he saw straight through your defenses, like he was daring you to keep pretending you didn’t like the attention—it was dangerous.

He pushed the laptop aside without even logging in, fingers drumming against the table as he leaned forward again, closing the space between you by a few inches. His knee brushed against yours, and neither of you moved away.

“I think we both know why I’m really here,” he murmured, voice all syrup and suggestion. “And it’s not for help with English.”

You swallowed hard. “I already know you’re at the top of your class. You’re not exactly subtle, Yoongi. ”

“Don’t need to be. Not with you.”

It hung in the air between you like a held breath, thick and slow and inevitable. His eyes dropped to your lips just as yours did the same, and the tension coiled so tightly in your chest you could barely hold it together.

You were leaning forward before you even realized. So was he.

Then buzz.

Your eyes dropped to his phone, lighting up just beside the edge of the textbook.

A name flashed across the screen you didn’t recognize.

“Have you fucked her yet? Time’s ticking on that bet, Yoongi.”

Your heart dropped—fast and brutal—like a trapdoor opening beneath your chest.

Yoongi noticed the shift in your expression right away. The way your shoulders pulled back, the blood draining from your face, the stiff way you leaned back like you were suddenly too close to something dirty.

His smirk faltered. “Shit,” he muttered, snatching the phone off the table and flipping it screen-down, like that could erase the message you very clearly read. Like you didn’t just catch him red-handed.

But it was too late.

You sat back slowly, pulse roaring in your ears, your stomach knotted so tight it ached.

“Guess English is the least complicated thing about you,” you said flatly, the words sharper than you expected. But you couldn’t stop the way they cut through the air. Couldn’t stop the crack forming in your chest from widening.

Yoongi blinked, stunned quiet. And for once, he didn’t have a comeback ready on his tongue. No cocky remark. No lazy grin.

He swallowed thickly, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Wait—wait, it’s not what it looks like.”

You laughed bitterly, eyes narrowing. “Really? Because it looks exactly like some asshole making a bet with his friends about a girl stupid enough to let him into her space.”

“No,” he said quickly, voice firmer now, desperate. “That’s not what it was about. That was—fuck—it was a joke that got out of hand. It wasn’t like that, not really.”

You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms so tight you nearly folded in on yourself. “You’re seriously going to try to explain that message away?”

Yoongi leaned forward, his tone more raw than you’d ever heard it. “It was a dare. Weeks ago. It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

“Oh, great,” you scoffed. “So you meant to use me casually, but accidentally started showing up too much and now what—guilt?”

“No,” he said again, louder this time, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to feel like—like anything. But then I actually started enjoying coming here. I liked talking to you. I do.”

Your silence weighed heavy between you.

You didn’t trust your voice, not when your throat was tight and your heartbeat was pressing against your ribs like it wanted out. The words hit harder than you expected, like they were scraping past the parts of you that had hoped he cared—even after everything. Even after the message. After the humiliation.

And still… you wanted to believe him.

You looked at him—really looked. There was no smirk on his face, no playful deflection. Just a slight flush in his cheeks and the tiniest tremble in his fingers as they curled around the edge of the desk.

He meant it.

And that was the worst part. Because it would’ve been easier if he didn’t.

You pressed your palms to your thighs, grounding yourself. You hated how warm your chest felt, how much your body wanted to move toward him even though your brain screamed don’t be stupid.

Still, your voice came out quieter than you'd intended. “You hurt me.”

Yoongi’s shoulders dropped, and for the first time since you met him, he looked small.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I’ll keep showing you that I didn’t want to.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t forgive him—not yet—but something in you softened. The part that had spent weeks laughing with him, catching his glances when he thought you weren’t looking. The part that felt like falling every time he said your name like it meant something.

So you said nothing. Just breathed slowly, still trying to figure out if your heart was breaking again or trying to start over.

Either way, you didn’t move away when he leaned just slightly closer. And he didn’t push. The silence between you stayed, but it wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was waiting.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, his confidence completely gone now—replaced with something messy, anxious. Real.

“I know I’m not the guy you’re into,” he continued quietly. “I know I’m... not the type who deserves the kind of attention you give when you’re reading. Like the world could fall apart and you wouldn’t notice.” He looked up at you then, his eyes darker now, softer. “But I noticed you. Way before the dare. I was just too much of a coward to talk to you without something stupid pushing me. We both know you’d never go for a guy like me on a regular day. And im sure your reservations are completely valid.”

You looked at him, jaw tight, throat tight, everything tight. And despite the words—despite the pleading in his voice—you still didn’t know what was worse. That you had let your guard down for someone like him… or that part of you still wanted to believe him.

“Then prove it,” you said finally, voice quiet but sharp. “Tell your friends whatever game you were playing is over. And don’t come back unless you mean it.”

Yoongi stared at you for a long second. Then nodded once—slowly. “I will,” he said. “I swear. Just… don’t write me off yet.” He stood, stuffing his phone in his pocket without looking at it again. You didn’t watch him walk to the door. You just listened to it shut behind him, and finally let yourself exhale.

But the ache in your chest didn’t go anywhere.

Not yet.

-

The lecture hall was colder than usual, or maybe it was just you.

You sat in your usual seat near the middle, notebook open but untouched, pen resting between your fingers while Professor Han droned on about the symbolism of decay in The Picture of Dorian Gray. It should’ve been interesting—Oscar Wilde always was—but your mind was elsewhere.

On the boy who hadn’t texted.

On the boy who almost kissed you.

On the boy who made you feel like a fool, and then like maybe—maybe—you weren’t.

The door creaked open behind you.

You didn’t turn, but you didn’t need to.

A quiet shuffle. A familiar cologne. A light exhale before the weight of someone sat beside you. Yoongi.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat close—closer than usual—and let the silence stretch until it nearly broke.

Then softly, “Hey.”

You didn’t respond, eyes still on your notebook. But you didn’t move away either.

“I told them,” he said next, voice barely above a whisper. “Group chat’s gone. I told them it was over. That it was a shitty thing to do. That I wasn’t going through with it. I should’ve done it way earlier.”

You finally glanced at him.

His eyes were already on you. No smirk. No lazy confidence. Just Yoongi, with his heart in his throat and something real in his gaze.

“And?” you said, barely audible, but he heard you.

“And I meant what I said yesterday. I liked coming over. I liked being around you. It wasn’t just for a joke.” He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “I think I just used it as an excuse to get close. And that was a coward move.”

You swallowed, turning back to the front of the room for a second.

Professor Han was still talking. Pages were turning. The world kept spinning.

But when Yoongi’s pinky brushed yours on the shared desk, you didn’t pull away.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off easy,” you murmured.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “You’re still annoying.”

“Totally fair.” He leaned in, a little too smug now. “But you missed me.”

You rolled your eyes—but your smile gave you away.

When the lecture ended, neither of you moved at first. Just sat there while the room emptied around you. Then Yoongi stood and held out his hand.

You looked at it. Hesitated for just a beat.

Then slid your hand into his.

Warm. Steady. No games.

And the second your fingers laced together, something in your chest settled.

As you walked out of the lecture hall hand in hand, Yoongi glanced sideways at you.

“So… tutoring tonight? Just tutoring,” he added quickly, though his grin said maybe not just.

You snorted, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. “We’ll see. You don’t even need a tutor.”

A small smirk tugged at his mouth. He tilted his head, eyes shining with amusement. “Which means?” He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Maybe. Or maybe I just really like being around you.”

Your steps slowed.

He glanced away, then back at you through thick lashes, still grinning—but there was something softer underneath it now, something almost nervous. “And if I said that, like... this whole tutoring thing was just an excuse to get close to you?”

You blinked. “Oh… OH—oh my god.”

He laughed at your expression, tugging gently at your hand to keep you walking. “Took you long enough to catch on.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning, but you didn’t pull away from him. You couldn’t. Not when his thumb was brushing softly over the back of your hand, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like he wanted to memorize the feel of you.

And you both kept walking, sunlight catching on your joined hands like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it had always been meant to happen this way.

“Wait,” you said after a beat, stopping at the edge of the path beneath a tree just before the student lot.

Yoongi turned, brows lifting. “Yeah?”

You looked at him—really looked at him. Not just at the way his hair curled slightly at the ends from the humidity, or the smudge of sleep still lingering in the corners of his eyes. You looked at the boy who had bulldozed his way into your carefully constructed, quiet little life. The one who had barged in with crooked smirks and infuriating charm, who sent late-night texts that made your heart stutter and your stomach flip even when you told yourself they didn’t mean anything.

You remembered how it all started—how something as stupid as a bet turned into study sessions, pretending and silences that said more than words ever could. An accidental bet, he’d called it. A joke. But here you were, standing still in the gravity of him, and nothing about this felt like a joke anymore.

Your chest tightened.

And before you could think twice, before logic or fear or self-preservation could kick in, you leaned in and kissed him.

He froze, just for a second. Just long enough for doubt to flicker across your thoughts like a match ready to burn. But then—then his lips curved softly against yours, like he’d been waiting for this, hoping for it, maybe even needing it as much as you did.

His hand came up, cupping your jaw with a gentleness that made your breath catch, and he kissed you back—slow and warm and sure. The kind of kiss that felt like it unraveled something inside you. Like he was pulling you closer without tugging, like the universe had shifted half an inch and you were finally where you were supposed to be.

And when he deepened the kiss, just a little, just enough to make your head spin, your knees went loose beneath you. Not from surprise. Not from nerves. But from the undeniable truth that this—whatever this was—had already started to mean something a long time ago.

You just hadn’t let yourself see it. Until now.

When you pulled away, you were breathless. So was he.

“…So, tutoring?” you whispered, voice unsteady.

Yoongi grinned, lips still brushing yours. “Definitely not just.”

➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Kpop Masterlist ➽ G Dragon Masterlist ➽ Buy Me a Coffee

[mantizimus]

Now hear me out on this one, how about a Zuko x Wife! Female! Reader one shot? It's set after he became the fire lord, basically reader met him in s1 and was basically this absolute badass, no filter and brutal girl who always showed clear disgust at the thought of intercourse or pregnancy, while also disliking kids and feeling like she won't be a good mother because she didn't have a good one either, but after a while into the marriage thought it over and at how Zuko needed an heir so one day while they're just doing their things she just randomly say : "You know I thought about it and I may tolerate a kid or two."

I hope I hadn't botched it.

Kids

Zuko

One of the things that Zuko would never forget was the first time he met you. And honestly, who could blame him? You were strong, tough, and fierce, with no filter. He was absolutely fascinated by you, even though he hid it until the last minute, because he knew you could use it. And imagine his surprise when he later found out that you loved him too. During the time you were together, the prince of the Fire Nation had talked to you about your future more than once. For the most part, you were more than happy to discuss it with him, except for one cute little detail. Kids. You had a less than ideal childhood, which left its mark on your psyche. You were afraid that you would be a terrible mother, which is why you decided to never have children. To be honest, Zuko himself had caught himself thinking the same thing a few times, but he preferred to ignore it or push it into the back of his mind. The Firebender knew that sooner or later you would have to discuss this, but unfortunately, he never got the chance to do so. And when he did, he had no idea how to start the conversation. "What are you thinking about?" you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Oh, nothing," the prince began to evade the question, but deflated when he noticed your gaze. "Zuko," you sighed, "You do realize that if the situation requires it, I will always listen to you, right?" "I understand. There is just one topic that I have always wanted to discuss with you, but I do not know how." "Is it kids?" at times like these, Zuko could swear that you could read minds. "Yes," he replied. Without giving you time to say a word, he continued, "Look, I understand that you're nervous about this and afraid of ending up just like your parents," the Firebender pulled you close, "But I promise you, Y/N: I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't end up like that." "And how do you know it will work?" your voice wavered, but only for a split second, which didn't go unnoticed. "Because I believe it. And that you'll be a good mother," there was silence. A sticky, unnerving silence. "I need to think about it," you muttered, slowly moving away from him. He only nodded in understanding.

---

You didn't bring it up for the rest of the day, but the black-haired man decided to give you as much time as you needed. He didn't want you to make a decision under pressure. However, by the time the two of you went to bed, the thought had completely left his head… but not yours.

You spent the entire day thinking. On the one hand, your phobia kept rearing its ugly head, reminding you of your parents' mistakes. On the other hand, you knew that your husband was telling the truth and that he would help you no matter what. Finally, it was time for bed. Before you fell into the arms of Morpheus, you smiled. The decision was made.

---

"You know, I thought about it, and I may tolerate a kid or two," if your husband had been drinking something at the time, he would have spat it out right away. "What?" Zuko asked you, confused. "I agree," you explained. He looked at you in complete confusion for the first few seconds before remembering your conversation last night. "Okay," he told you. "And thank you." "For what?" "For letting him know you'll always be there for me," and with that, you pulled him in for a kiss.

[midnightshindig]

Can you do familial hc’s/a drabble for the viltrumite reader trying to indoctrinate Oliver with the viltrumite mindset? Maybe Debbie finds out and tells Mark and he ends ups fighting the reader, you’re the best ✌️

Oliver & Viltrumite!Reader

Ooooooo you guys are angsty, I love it.

Fair warning, I hate writing fight scenes, so this is mostly just gonna be angst.

Tw for viltrumite ideology- which is like lowkey fascist and evil as hell. In today's political climate where we're like lowkey being ruled by Viltrumites, I urge you to take the necessary steps to interact with this work in a healthy manner, or not at all, however, is the best for your mental health <3 Remember to drink water and keep on keeping on.

As always, fic under the cut!

You had been living with the Graysons since you crashed onto the earth, with Nolan recognizing your clothing and insisting you stay with them.

Of course, he doesn't tell Debbie you're a Viltrumite but rather that you're an alien from a planet he once saved and that he wants to sponsor your citizenship on Earth.

Before this, however, he takes you aside and explains the situation: You cannot blow his cover no matter what, and you will be subordinate to him.

And you're quite young for a Viltrumite—not even a hundred years old yet, hovering in your 80s or 90s. Physically, you were barely in your mid to late teens.

So you're introduced into the family! Debbie takes a shine to you, excited to have another person to dote on when she isn't busy with work.

Mark is OBSESSED with you, in a cool "wow I'm a younger sibling now" kind of way

He's barely nine when you land, so he's got nine more years to get used to your presence.

before Nolan goes awol.

It's a year later and you're still staying with the Graysons

You'd been invited to join the Guardians but that meant blood tests and Cecil finding out what you were

a loyal Viltrumite preparing the Earth for colonization in Nolan's stead.

You couldn't wrap your head around why he freaked out like he did, but you're not surprised Mark rejected joining him.

No... Mark was a lost cause

It would be sad, but he would have to see the error of his ways.... or die...

The thought saddened you greatly. And you'd already made arrangements to have Debbie kept somewhere.

Yes, it was a little inhumane, but at least she could be kept, Mark couldn't...

But those weren't the only people in the household, you'd recently gained a new addition to your happy little family.

Another alien, a purple baby, Oliver, as Debbie calls him, half-Viltrumite and half-Thraxan.

You, unlike Debbie and Mark, understand that his viltrumite blood will dominate the rest of his DNA

this baby is basically full Viltrumite.

Maybe there's hope after all.

Indoctrination-- education, as you call it-- is slow

Mainly pointed children's book lessons during story time

Things come to a head when Oliver ages into his elementary school years

"Y/n, why can't Dad come back?"

He asks you on day, fist gripping the fabric of your pants as he looks up at you with bleary eyes

It's a question he knows he shouldn't ask, and one he's too scared to ask his mother or Mark

but you've never been rude or quiet about him, you were the only person he felt he could talk to about such things

You picked him up, resting him on your hip, and poking the middle of his chest playfully

"Oliver- you know he's stuck in space jail! He's essentially in time out, for not following directions and being super mean to the people of Earth!" You smile candidly, eliciting a smaller smile from Oliver

"But-" he starts, looking around "What did he do that was so bad? Mark and Mom say that he killed a lot of people, and that he wanted to take over the world!!" He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis, but the gravity of his question was sincere

You thought for a minute before continuing "Well... Oliver... Your dad, and my dad are from the same place. I'm actually part Viltrumite, like you!" You smiled, this was a lie, you were full Viltrumite, but he didn't need to know you'd been fully lying to his family.

"And Viltrumites are a lot like your Mom, when she says to do something, you gotta listen, or else there'll be bad consequences" You nodded sagely "The Viltrumites's told your Dad to help Earth, and get it ready, and keep it safe so when the Viltrumites got here, they could keep it safe and make everything better!"

You heard a soft, stifled gasp, and looked to the doorway

It was Debbie, who had dropped the bags of groceries she and Mark had been out getting.

I guess they were back.

Standing behind her was Mark, wide eyed and confused, you'd never seen him so conflicted.

And you looked over at Oliver, still perched on your hip, staring with you at the rest of your family

Like a kid who'd been caught hearing a bad secret.

"You're... the whole time-" Debbie placed a hand on her forehead to support herself, looking between you and the carpet "You never told us."

A pang of guilt. You may be the superior life form, but she'd fed and protected you since you came to Earth. You didn't want her to be upset with you.

"Debbie I-" you started, before Mark-- entirely too wound up by the last year of his life-- cut you off

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?! YOU can't- Oliver come here." He took a step towards you, and Oliver flew in front of you, throwing his arms open to protect you

The room went quiet as everyone stared at Oliver, protecting you from Mark, in his own sad, too big for his body way

Mark calmed down a bit, approaching still

"Oliver, I need to have a grown-up conversation with Y/n. Go with Mom-"

"Mark!" Debbie hissed, not wanting to leave the conversation

But the look of pleading Mark gave her caused her to reconsider

She sighed, and held a hand out to Oliver

Oliver, in turn, looked at you with his big, puppy dog eyes

"Are we in trouble?"

oof. You ruffled his hair "You go with your Mom, now, okay? And listen to her, but remember what I told you."

Oliver nodded slowly, before joining his Mother and being led into the living room.

Mark exploded, throwing his arms in the air like a frustrated kid

"You were a viltrumite this whole time?! You lied to me- you lied to all of us!"

"Not Nolan." you corrected pointedly "And it's not your business, I don't owe you anything!"

"You do when you take advantage of us, of my mom! And when you spread your awful world view to a CHILD." He got closer, pointing his finger into your sternum

"Mark. I am not a child in need of scolding." You hovered above him, raising yourself above him "I know you don't see the point in what me and your father tried to accomplish, and the mission I inherited when he left, but you're not the boss."

He glared at you, still hurt and confused

"and what about me and mom? Are we like pets to you too?" You had just become a vicious enemy, and he could only think of the betrayal he felt

You were his older sibling. You'd taught him how to drive (after Nolan had taught you, it was a very similar process to driving your spacecraft on Viltrum)

You were the one who drove him to his first school dance- you helped him with his homework- you helped him with his powers after Nolan left-

...

Mark, in all his confusion and distress, could taste peanut butter in the roof of his mouth, fondly remembering all the days you and him were left to your own devices while his mom and dad went somewhere fancy for lunch, and you'd make him a pb&j

at first it was because you didn't know how to make anything else- they weren't big on individuals knowing how to cook on your home planet

but it had become a treasured memory.

"Did being my sibling mean nothing?"

His words softened you as your soles hit the carpet, reaching forward to put a hand on his shoulder

"Mark... of course not. I love you, and I love Debbie just as much as I do my own mother." you remembered your mother, a faceless vague woman who you hadn't seen since you were a small child Oliver's age "Probably more than my mother, in fact."

You sighed, pinching your nose "Nolan wanted you to see the way of things, but he's too harsh. He wants to be good at his job, he's one of the best soldiers Viltrum had, and for good reason. But he gets carried away, and fails to see the room for compromise."

You paused, folding your arms "Yes, we're going to take over Earth, and yes, a lot of people will die in resisting their betterment, but- Mark, those people will die anyways. In wars of their own or in enslavement of their own or global warming or any number of things."

"We take things over to ultimately make the world a better place, as opposed to what? Cecil? Who would trade human lives for a greater good any day, or what- The first supervillain to figure out how to take you all down? Would you subject Oliver to a world in which Doc Seismic runs things? As opposed to my people? Our people?"

Your words stung, and Mark had nothing to say to it but to keep staring at you with indignation and hurt

"And Oliver.. Mark- the boy is purple. And on earth that's a problem, Debbie spends so much money and time painting him just so she can take him to the grocery store. He's not socialized, he's not disciplined, he isn't happy. That's why he asks about his Dad so often. On Viltrum, he wouldn't be ostracized, he'd be studied and tested, and befriended by Viltrum children he could grow with and push to become stronger. he'd have a rigorous education and an incredible life, don't you want that for him? For yourself?"

You smiled coyly "The women on Viltrum tend to be quite gorgeous, a rarity. BUT, they only go out with other VIltrumites, so you've got a good shot."

Your attempt to lighten the mood failed, and Mark twitched in his inability to do anything

What was he going to do? punch you through the wall of your room? Throw your body through the corkboard of family photos taken over the years, maybe smash you through the desk littered in your small artistic creations, the little paper puppets you made for him and now made for Oliver? The scrapbook children's books you had made to tell stories of far-off places?

No. No he couldn't do that. He didn't have it in him. He felt just like how his dad had felt, knowing he needed to do something, but he couldn't kill you. He just. Couldn't.

You felt much the same about him, you knew you were stronger than him, but he was your baby brother.

You always knew he was going to have to get real or die, but you never thought it'd be you doing it.

"I... I...."

Mark watched you intensely, waiting for anything to happen.

"I'm gonna go."

Before Mark could say anything, you pushed open your window and flew off, with Mark too stunned to follow you.

Moments later, Debbie and Oliver came back into the room

"where's Y/n?" Oliver asked, picking up a puppet dragon from your desk and fidgeting with it

Debbie looked at Mark, her eyes begging the same question

"They're uh...." He didn't know what to say, because he didn't know "They're going away for a while. Probably."

The house felt so much emptier now.

Too big for a three person family meant to be a five person family.

[luvjunie]

— headcanons. what life is like for miles!42

a/n: i honestly didn’t mean for these to get so angsty oopsies!! i kept adding on so they’re also very lengthy wc: 1,751

contains: mentions of grief

Everyone thinks he’s rude and impossible to approach—but that’s a common misconception. In reality, he’s actually quite shy and simply prefers to keep to himself. His quiet nature often causes him to come off ill-mannered, which is completely unintentional on his end and partially the fault of those who assume what he’s like instead of actually getting to know him.

He used to be open to making friends and spending time with peers, but after everyone found out his dad died— which was impossible to prevent considering the man who used to drive him to school now had a giant mural made in his honor— he began receiving a ridiculous amount of pitied stares in the halls, began hearing hushed whispers about how hard things must be for him at home now. And even though they were, he hated that he was being treated differently by those he once kept close to him, like a charity case. As if he were fragile and would break— like he often did when he was alone.

His old friends were supposed to be his distraction, something to take his mind off how he now had to grow up faster than he’d liked. Something to remind him that his trauma hadn’t aged him as much as he feared; that he truly was still a kid at heart. But instead, they served as a constant reminder of the worst thing he’d ever had to live through— skated around him like he’d blow up the second they said the wrong thing; responded with heartfelt condolences instead of laughing with him whenever he’d tell a funny story about his dad. So eventually, he drifted away from them and began keeping to himself all together.

Don’t put him in a box because of his prowler side hustle, this boy is smart as hell!! Especially with one parent now being gone and his mom struggling to pay the bills? He takes his academics very seriously, he has no choice. He has to get it out the mud somehow and he doesn’t have the privilege of skipping classes as much as 1610-miles does. He’s working two years above his grade level in AP Calculus and AP physics, and has been accused of cheating on his tests a couple times due to how fast he completes them, as well as the fact that he has never once asked a question from the seat he chose in the back of the room.

It’s not something anyone would expect, but he enjoys baking a lot and he’s damn good at it too. When he was younger, he’d spent one summer with his Mamá Lena (Rio’s mother), who had him in the kitchen helping her cook and bake almost everyday and it just stuck. It’s a secret talent of his that never really comes up in conversation, and that you wouldn’t know about unless you’ve seen him doing it. His banana bread muffins using a recipe he took months to perfect taste like the gods themselves made them, and he’ll slip one into his mom’s work lunch whenever he makes them because he knows they’re her favorite.

He’s a lover boy at heart, if you were to look into his playlist, the songs you’d find in there probably wouldn’t be what you’d expect. Listens to bobby bland, which was heavily influenced by his uncle, old school rap, and he really likes love songs from the 90s because they make him feel calm, and allow him to imagine what his life would be like if he could have something like what they’re singing about. He’s terrified he’ll never be able to experience that due to his inability to open up to others. And often, he doesn’t even try to express the emotions that are tough to swallow, a firm believer in the saying that ‘once you’re down, it’s hard to get back up.’

Keeps his room pretty clean. It’s probably the one and only thing he has control over in his life, a constant for him. His room is his safe-haven so he treats it as such. It’s basically the same as 1610’s, just with a more matured look, a lot less color and less expression. He unfortunately lost that spark for a lot of his interests, so you won’t see more than a small punching bag, some boxing gloves hanging from the doorknob and few stragglers in the form of posters he didn’t feel like taking down.

He doesn’t like to argue, at all. He hates fighting with anyone he loves and he’s very quick to forgive them or squash the disagreement all together now that his dad is no longer here. When Jeff died, they were still on rocky terms from their previous dispute and even while years have passed, Miles still has yet to forgive himself for that. So now, he usually lets bygones be bygones, and never lets a conversation end on a bad note.

Continued growing his hair out once he realized it was a way for him to bond and spend more time with his mom. Within the little availability they do have, between her working doubles at the hospital, him being pulled in every direction now that he’s the ‘man of the house’—uncle Aaron’s words— and having to do things he’s not proud of to assist her while still going to school during the day, they make the time. Miles only gets it braided by her, and he enjoys the talks they have when he’s sat on the floor between her legs with his back to her. And when she’s done, regardless of how ridiculously embarrassing it is, and how he’s now over a head taller than her, he always lets her pinch his cheeks and call him her ‘handsome little man’. He hasn’t looked at a pair of hair shears since.

On that note, he is very, very defensive when it comes to his mother. Miles is not the kind to go around beating people up just for kicks; mostly because he’s not that kind of person, but also because even if he wanted to— he can’t.

In preparation for stepping into the prowler role Uncle Aaron put Miles into boxing/m.m.a classes when he turned fourteen, and he took to the skill very quickly. So well, in fact, that his hands can now technically be considered deadly weapons in the eye of the law due to his extensive training— which means he could get slapped with a ridiculous assault charge that would have him doing some time in a juvenile correction facility over a simple fist fight. (if he’s not masked as the prowler obviously).

But, some kid in his history class thought it’d be funny to make a slick comment about how Mrs. Morales was ‘single’ and ‘up for grabs’ now that his dad had passed, and the situation ended with Miles suspended for a week after he’d basically thrown his desk over to get to the kid, his knuckles bruised, and a tirade of complaints from the boy’s mother about his now-rearranged nose. However, after hearing the disgusting comment he had made about Miles’ mom, she was kind enough to not press charges and forced her son to apologize to the both of them.

That woman is his saving grace, literally. She stepped up in ways he didn’t even know were possible after his dad died, barely taking time for herself to grieve because she wanted to make sure her little boy didn’t fall apart. He doesn’t let anyone disrespect her and that’s always made known by him. He’s a mama’s boy.

They kind of have a titfortat thing going on, him and his mom. Like how she always stops in to ask him how his day was, if school is going well or if he needs anything, even if the time isn’t ideal and she’s talking to a sleepy Miles at 1am in the morning who can barely keep his eyes open. Or how his uniform is always freshly ironed and laid out for him in the morning, regardless of how exhausted she is and how badly she wants to crawl into bed after her shift. Or how when he’s sick, she’ll drive all the way across town to one of the only fresh markets that sells yuca root and white yautia so she can make him sancocho (a traditional puerto rican dish). It’s the one thing she knows always makes him feel better.

And Miles does nice things for her, too. Like draping a blanket over her sleeping form when she dozes off on the couch in front of the TV. Or making sure her phone is plugged in, so her alarm goes off in the morning, because sometimes she knocks out before she can bring herself to do it. He even goes as far as to secretly slip some extra cash he’s made from a recent job into the ‘RENT’ jar she keeps on her dresser— dropping a hundred in every now and then when she’s not there to see him do it. She’s never once asked him for help, but the one time he took it upon himself to offer it, he was shot down in seconds, and was made to promise her that he wouldn’t worry about it ever again. Her exact words being “You’re too young to worry about something like this mijo, okay? You take all the money you make from your after school job, every single penny, and you save it. Mama’s got this.”

But sometimes, she doesn’t. And Miles knows that she wants to be strong for him. For them. But it takes two, he knows that as well, so he helps out anyway.

And with prayers that they’re not short— Rio counts everything in the rent jar towards the end of the month, and a string of celebratory whoops and hollers will always sound from her room when she realizes they surprisingly have some extra cash that’ll allow her to take some days off and relax for once, and maybe even do something fun together. He’ll listen from his room with a knowing smile, more than happy to let his contributions remain undisclosed to affirm her efforts of providing for them the best she can. With her energy so depleted from how demanding her job is, she’s never suspected it was him discreetly assisting, and chalked it up to her forgetting how much she’d mindlessly dropped in there after each paycheck.

[paucubarsisimp]

HEY BABES!!!

I'd love to be ur first joao request SO HEAR ME OUT.

how about a date with joao in one fancy restaurant in Milan and it's so funny because joao doesn't know much italian and they're both left trying to understand what the water is telling them.

I LOVE YOUR FICS SM KEEP IT UP 💗💗

spaghetti struggles

pairing: joão felix x reader

summary: basically the request 😭

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @httpsdana, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: first time writing for joão!

you and joão had only been in milan for a few weeks now, and while settling into a new city, a new life together, and preparing for the upcoming season felt like a lot, one thing you were both especially excited about was food. you were in italy, after all—land of pasta, pizza, and all things delicious.

tonight, joão had decided to take you out for a special dinner. you hadn’t yet figured out how to speak italian (and honestly, you weren’t even trying that hard yet), so you’d been relying on google translate and gesturing wildly to get by. but tonight, joão was determined. he was going to show you the “real” milan, which meant going to a local, slightly fancy italian restaurant.

as you both entered, a waiter in a crisp white shirt greeted you in rapid-fire italian. you glanced at joão, who had the same wide-eyed, panicked expression that you did.

“uh… hi,” you said hesitantly, smiling like an awkward tourist.

the waiter continued to speak quickly, gesturing to the menu and then to your table. neither of you had a clue what he was saying.

“yeah, um… we’re just—” joão started, but his voice trailed off as the waiter kept going, seemingly undeterred by your lack of understanding.

“i think he’s asking if we want a table?” you whispered to joão, but he looked at you with a blank stare.

“i have no idea,” joão muttered, his accent still heavy as he tried to catch up. “just… just nod, yeah?”

so, you both nodded. the waiter smiled and ushered you to a table, still speaking italian as he placed two menus down in front of you.

you both sat down, exchanged a confused look, and picked up the menus, pretending like you knew what was going on.

“okay,” you said, squinting at the italian menu. “what does this say?” you pointed to something that looked vaguely like the word “pizza,” but with extra letters in it.

“uh, i think it’s pizza,” joão said, also scanning the menu. “but… it could also be ‘pasta’? or ‘frittata’? i’m not sure.” he flipped the menu around and squinted at it. “i’m getting a headache just looking at this.”

the waiter returned, asking something with a question at the end, and you both froze. you had no idea what he was saying.

“uh, sorry, we don’t… speak italian,” you said, wincing as you tried to communicate. “do you have… english?”

the waiter just nodded enthusiastically and said something that sounded like a confirmation, before walking off to speak with another table.

“okay, well, that went well,” you said, exhaling.

joão was already scrolling through google translate on his phone. “let’s just look up what’s on the menu. give me a second.”

he held the phone out to you and you typed in ‘pasta’. the result was a giant list of words you couldn’t even pronounce, let alone understand.

“i’m sorry,” you said, squinting at the phone. “i still don’t know what half of this means. can we just point to the menu when he comes back and hope for the best?”

joão sighed. “yeah, that sounds like the best plan. i think we should just order like we’re on a game show.”

soon enough, the waiter returned, looking at you expectantly. joão smiled nervously, still holding his phone like a lifeline.

“uh, we’ll just have, um…” he trailed off, his finger hovering over the menu. he pointed to something that had “spaghetti” written in a smaller font underneath. “this?”

the waiter looked at him, then at you, then back at him. his eyes narrowed in thought. “spaghettiiiii,” he said slowly, then gave a thumbs-up and disappeared.

“i think we’ve ordered spaghetti?” you said, your voice half-questioning. “but we could be in for a surprise.”

joão just chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “it’s fine. whatever happens, we’ll laugh about it later.”

the waiter came back soon with drinks—thankfully, they were the right ones—and then disappeared again. you both sat in awkward silence, occasionally giggling at the absurdity of the situation.

when the food finally arrived, it was… not what you expected. you both stared down at the plates, unsure of what you were looking at. joão had ordered a plate that looked like a huge pile of something green, and you were staring at a dish that appeared to be… some kind of lasagna? but it didn’t look like anything you’d ever seen before.

“uh, is this… is this how italian food looks?” you asked, poking your fork into the green thing on joão’s plate.

“i don’t know,” joão muttered, taking a bite. “but it’s good. actually, it’s amazing.” he looked at you with wide eyes. “you have to try this.”

you took a hesitant bite of your own dish and nodded. “okay, this… this actually tastes incredible. but i still have no idea what it is.”

joão took out his phone again. “okay, google says… ‘torta verde’? that’s not even a word. what’s a torta?”

you both burst out laughing.

“i don’t know,” you said, clutching your stomach. “but i think we’re eating mystery food in italy. it’s like an episode of ‘man vs food,’ except there’s no one to tell us what we’re eating.”

“this is definitely the most confusing dinner of my life,” joão admitted, still grinning.

just as you were getting comfortable with your “mystery food,” the waiter returned. he started speaking italian at full speed again, gesturing at your plates.

“he’s asking if we’re enjoying it,” you said, giving joão an apologetic look. you smiled at the waiter. “sì! molto bene!” you said, hoping that was at least the right thing to say.

the waiter beamed. “ah! molto bene!” he said, clapping his hands. “enjoy, enjoy!”

and with that, he disappeared. you both stared at each other in disbelief.

“he definitely didn’t understand us, did he?” you asked, taking another bite of your strange dish.

“nope,” joão agreed, shaking his head. “but we’re surviving. we’re surviving by the power of spaghetti and mystery lasagna.”

as you ate, you tried your best to enjoy the evening despite the language barrier. it was frustrating, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but laugh. it was a mess, but it was your mess. and as the night went on, you realized that no matter how many times you tried to navigate the language, the food, or the confusion—you wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything.

don’t forget to leave a request!

[twasmayfield]

the cd dilemma.

description: working behind the counter at a record store tends to be boring, but your boredom disappeared when andrew walked in.

a/n: this is from my very inactive blog ( @waldenpond ) and i decided to just copy paste it from there to here because why not

If you walk down the street from the Shaffer Conservatory and turn the corner near a bustling coffee shop, there’s an old record store that you’ll either see on the first glance or just walk past it like most people.

Record stores were not that uncommon in New York City—you could easily walk a few blocks and find some shop that catered to your needs. Some stores were over the top, extravagant, and bright to bring in more customers while others were small, kept to themselves, and had regulars coming in and out their doors. There were apparently many layers to owning a business that most people owned too.

The store you worked at was small and quaint. Nothing really happened there and you basically sat behind the counter, either staring out the window or counting down the hours until it’s the end of your shift. You couldn’t really ask for a better job- plus the owner was really sweet. She prided herself on selling and opening the door to new genres for her customers, treating them like family members rather than customers.

Today was the same as yesterday and the day before that you felt like you were in purgatory—or a time loop—being forced to relive the same day over and over again. I mean, it wasn’t that bad, the shift just felt monotonous in a way. You'd look up every once in a while to see if someone entered the store and you'd go back to scrolling on your phone when you saw no one. It was two pm on a Tuesday, who was going to wander into a record store?

Some deity above must have read your mind and you cursed at yourself for speaking—well, in this case, thinking—it into existence because some random hand—with multiple band-aids wrapped around the fingers—knocked on the counter, making you snap out of the trance that Candy Crush got you sucked in.

“Yeah?” You questioned, looking up to see the guy who seemed to be around your age- and you recognized him as the guy your co-worker was complaining about last week. You gave him a faint smile, turning your phone off and laced your fingers together as you waited for him to continue the conversation. According to your co-worker, the guy was a hard-ass, but you shrugged it off because it was New York. At least half of the people you saw on a daily basis were hard-asses.

“Do you have any Buddy Rich CDs in stock?” Andrew asked, staring at you wide eyed as he stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. You grabbed the clipboard from under the counter, eyes scanning the shipment dates and what was in stock. Today may have been his lucky day because the CDs were in stock and you pointed to an aisle that was near a corner. “Yeah, they’re in that aisle over there.”

Andrew nodded and made his way to the aisle, accidentally bumping into a cardboard cutout of some musician you didn’t know. You tried to stifle a laugh at that and you almost succeeded, but it was like the guy had super sonic hearing or something and he turned his head back at you. You flashed him a grin and a small wave of your hand that he replied with a scowl, grabbing two CDs from the shelf to compare the two. You stared at him for a few minutes, somehow being mesmerized at how he grumbled at the two CDs.

“Which one do you think is good?” Andrew shouted from across the room, holding up the CDs. You raised an eyebrow at his sudden question, squinting to see what he was holding up. You waved him back to the counter when the squinting didn’t work.

“I mean, you seem to know a lot more about the guy than I do,” You quipped, picking up a CD. Andrew looked at you expectedly, fidgeting with his fingers slightly. “Yeah, but I can’t decide. They both have their own pros and cons-” You listened on intently as he went on a long spiel that ended right back where the two of you started: unable to decide on a damn CD.

“Why not get them both?”

“I only have money for one.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged, stacking the cases together.

You watched him stare down the CDs, almost audibly hearing the sound of gears turning in his head as he mulled over them. You yawned, blinking slowly and seeing Andrew’s eyes on you. “What?”

“Glad to know my problem’s boring you,” owch, biting sarcasm.

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “Look, man,” you started. “Just buy one and if you don’t like it, return it and I’ll give you a refund.”

“What if I do like it?”

“Then don’t… return it?”

Andrew thought about it for a moment before he nodded, pushing one of the jewel cases towards you. Great, he finally decided on one. Plus if he didn’t like it, you get to see the guy again. A win all around. You rang him up and he handed you a few crumpled up bills.

“Andrew,” he stated after you handed him the CD, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. “My name. It’s Andrew.”

“Oh cool,” you replied, giving him your name and pointed to the name tag on your shirt as you did. You listened as he repeated your name back to you, almost like he was committing it to memory. He wasn’t that much of a hard-ass like your co-worker had described him to be. He was interesting, to say the least.

“I’ll, uh, give this a listen,” Andrew held up his newly purchased CD and you gave him a thumbs up. You watched him through the store’s window as he walked out the door, pushing past strangers on the sidewalk.

You shook your head in amusement, going back to Candy Crush. He’ll be back—either to buy another CD or to get a refund, who knows? You hoped to see him again. Maybe you will, or was that just wishful thinking?

[shinynewboots]

Listen to your Heart: Adam x pregnant!reader

AN: Lol I enjoyed writing this wonderful prompt for @madmiriam! I wasn't sure exactly what direction I wanted to take with this but fluff felt the most appropriate (lol all it takes is one comment though for me to write a pt 2 with smut bc I lowkey can see the vision now). I hope y'all enjoy! The prompt kept getting away from me so I tried to reel it in as much as I could so please bear with me lol

Warnings/tags: Pregnancy, reader's death/graphic details (backstory), cursing, guilt, sickeningly sweet fluff, slice of life, no beta we die like Adam

Note: S1 and S2 refer to the heart sounds heard in a normal cardiac cycle (think lub, dub).

Part 2 (18+)

You had never given much thought to how your second "life" would turn out. Avoiding exorcists on extermination day? Sure, that was to be expected. Working the same job you had worked when you were alive? Eh, that made sense, the hospital you worked at when you were alive was basically hell on earth most days.

Falling pregnant with a fallen angel's baby? Absolutely not.

You had freaked out a bit at first when you found out. You had been a doctor for fuck's sake. You should have been smarter. Except for the whole "being dead thing", which you assumed meant reproduction was off the table. Which it was, in most cases. Except for—

"Angelic Sperm," Adam said when you told him you were pregnant.

"What?" Of all the things you had expected him to say, this was not it. You had expected him to grow angry or childish, as you had known him prone to doing.

"Angelic Sperm." He repeated again, giving you a curious look.

"Adam you can repeat that all you want but that doesn't mean I know what you're talking about."

"Angelic Sperm. I think that's the only way for a sinner to get pregnant in hell. I mean, think about it, Princess of Hell is technically half-angel, half-sinner. And you've got sinners fucking all the time without getting knocked up. Come on, Y/N, weren't you a doctor?"

Adam scratched his head in contemplation, taking in this new information. You looked over at him in anger.

"I tell you I'm pregnant and all you can talk about is sperm?"

Adam looks over at you, a calm look on his face. He takes you into his arms, more gently than he ever had, and pulled you close to him. He kissed the top of your heard, his lips lingering far longer than they normally would.

"I'm so fucking excited, Y/N."

And so now you found yourself 5 months pregnant in Hell. You had begun to wear baggy clothes to not show your swollen stomach. You couldn't imagine what some sinners or overlords would do if they found out there was actually a way to get pregnant in an otherwise barren wasteland.

Adam had been very attentive to you in your pregnant state. You still had to work at the local hospital, trying to get in as many shifts as possible before the birth. When you'd gotten of work, Adam would always have some kind of food craving awaiting you, and together you would rot on the couch until it was time for bed and the day to start all over again.

There was one such time of rotting that you had found yourself lying on the couch beside Adam, on of his hands dropped across your waist and a hand lightly holding your baby. Baby, which Adam had begun to affectionately call "Little Hellion", was kicking happily in against your bladder.

You grimaced at the sensation, your body tensing against Adam. Sensing your discomfort, he kissed your forehead and pulled you tight. "Living up to your name, Hellion."

"They get it from their dad," You replied, your breath becoming more even as Hellion decided to turn their kicking attention elsewhere. Adam rubbed circles around your stomach, which seemed to appease Hellion.

"What are we going to do about after? I can't even imagine trying to raise a child in Hell, constantly on edge even more than usual." You finally asked, a question burning in the pit of your stomach for months. Hell was no place for a child. Would the baby even age? Sinners stopped aging from the moment they died. The Princess of Hell aged, though slower than a human would, but you didn't know what that meant for your baby. And other sinners would notice if they aged. Questions would be asked...questions that would be dangerous to answer.

Adam sighed and ran a hand through his soft, brown hair. "I've been thinking about that too. I think we need to go to the hotel."

You turned to look at him, your brow furrowed. "The Hazbin Hotel? Where you got fucking murdered?"

Adam laughed without humor. "Fucking insane right? And it's such a lame-ass place. But, I have to think about my family. You and Hellion are my family now, Y/N."

Warmth spread throughout your chest, Adam's confession taking you by surprise. He was rarely so vulnerable with you, mostly choosing to hide behind his mask of bravado and masculinity. You smiled at him. Hellion seemed to approve of his words as well because you received a sharp kick in your side.

"I think we should try and see if Hell Princess' redemption plans are even worth a shit. And even if they aren't, she, or Hell forbid fucking Lucifer, might have a better shot at getting in contact with Heaven than I do."

"Heaven? You want us to try and get into Heaven?" You shivered at the thought. You felt...dirty. Unclean. Unworthy of redemption. You had been sent to Hell for a reason and felt you would always serve your sentence.

"We have to try everything, Y/N. I...I have to try everything." Adam looked desperate, his golden eyes shimmering in a way you had never seen.

Adam kissed your forehead and continued rubbing circles around your stomach. He began to softly sing a Rolling Stones song you couldn't remember the name of.

And that was how you found yourself at the front door of the Hazbin Hotel, face-to-face with Lucifer of all people.

"Ooh, not sure if there are any rooms left in the inn. Might have you stay in the stables. I'm sure we have a manger or two for your convenience."

"I'm sorry, are you seriously making a Jesus joke right now?" You deadpanned as you stared at the King of Hell with an unamused expression. You had a hand on your stomach and you could feel Adam tense beside you.

"Get the fuck out of our way, Morningstar, your kid told us she would meet us here."

"Daddd!" Charlie yelled, running closer to the group at the front door. "I told you to let me answer the door!"

Lucifer at least had the grace to look sheepish. He moved behind Charlie, who happily welcomed you and Adam inside.

She grinned at you as she led you both to your room. "Congratulations by the way! So sorry about my dad, he always likes to try and push Adam's buttons."

"Fucking pussy," Adam muttered. You shot him a glare. "Stay away from him as much as you can."

"And ugh, Congratulations by the way! Adam told me all about it when he came to meet with me about you both joining the hotel! This is so exciting! And we have so many crafts and exercises and —"

"Hey, one fucking step at at time, Princess." Adam interrupted, sensing you tense at Charlie's words.

Charlie nodded and looked at you apologetically. "Sorry, I just get a little over-excited! We are so happy to have you here."

You smiled up at her softly. "We really appreciate you for letting us come to the hotel."

*

That night, you both lay in bed in your new home as you began your paths of redemption. Your head was on Adam's chest and you listened to the constant beat of his heart. Listening to the beat of the heart or pulse had always had a calming effect on you, even when alive. S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

"Adam what if you get redeemed, and I—I don't. And I ruin everything. I don't deserve to be in Heaven."

"Why would fucking think that, Y/N. You deserve it more than anyone I know." He asked, his voice full of surprise.

"Because I killed someone!" You exclaimed, tears rolling down your eyes. "I was stupid and I killed someone and now I am meant to rot in Hell for all eternity. And I've damned our kid to this."

Adam wiped one of the tears that had begun to roll down your cheek. "And you don't think I have? Do you know how many sinners I've killed? Happily?"

"Adam, it's different."

"Try me."

You swallowed hard. "I was coming off of a 24-hour shift at the hospital. I was so tired. So fucking tired. And I knew better than to drive home. But my apartment was just 20 minutes away. And I thought it would be okay. I could have slept for an hour or two in the on-call room but I was so ready to get home."

Tears began streaming down your face at full force. Adam pulled you closer, surprisingly silent. "And then I fell asleep behind the wheel. I was only a mile from my house. I crashed into another car that had a mom and her kid in it. They died on impact. I was still alive, just barely, and bled out in my car before EMS could arrive."

"Y/N, you made a mistake. Fuck, I've made even more than that, definitely worse too."

"I just don't think I'm worthy of heaven."

Adam kissed your forehead and continued to hold you close. "Most of those fuckers who make it to Heaven aren't worth even half of you. You deserve Heaven. Shit, you owe it to yourself and Hellion to try."

"I'm just so scared Adam."

"I know. But we will take this one step at a time. Trust me, babe." He put a hand on your stomach. That had been one of his favorite things to do since the early days of your pregnancy. And Hellion seemed to know when their father was near, as you would get what you assumed were happy kicks in the direction of Adam's hand.

You nodded, cuddling in closer to him. One of his wings furled around you, creating a blanket for you and Hellion. You felt safe; warm. More so than you could remember feeling in a long time.

Everything would work itself out. And you and Adam would be redeemed just in time for Hellion to be born inside the pearly gates.

You found yourself focusing on Adam's heart once more.

S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

Everything would be okay. It had to be.

[judasgot-it]

Dr Ratio x Reader

Dr Ratio tries to teach y/n basic algebra (and cries doing so, they are just that stupid)

"You do what's in the parenthesis first,"

This was too hard.

With great regret, you had asked Dr. Ratio to help you with understanding algebra. You didn't even really care for the subject that much, but apparently you had to understand it in order to learn the cooler math. Which sucked - why couldn't you just do the interesting stuff first? This doesn't really seem related to anything, honestly.

But according to him, this was a basic foundation of mathematics.

Which sucked. It was so stupid. Why were there letters in this? You were pretty sure math is about numbers.

How does x even equal a number? You wouldn't know, because you were stuck on this problem for over twenty minutes now.

This was question 3 on the quiz he gave you. A simple one. He just wanted to go over the basics he had lectured you about. Which left you stuck in the same seat you had watched him lecture from, your ass already sore from sitting for so long. Unfortunately, freedom was far away as you got completely lost on how to solve any of these problems.

5(x+1)=2(x-5)-6

You tried to subtract the 1 out of the parenthesis, to bring it to the other side. This was how it's done, right?

Looking up, you saw his mask covering his face. So you didn't know if you were doing what you should be. So you just kept going.

Somehow you got 1/5.

That probably wasn't the right answer. But whatever.

Dr. Ratio was making weird noises at this point. He loomed over you, his abs almost hitting the top of your head as he watched - once in a while his thigh would hit the back of your chair, reminding you of whatever thought process he had. However he saw what you were doing from underneath that mask, you just knew he was judging you.

Carefully, you focused on the next problem.

The seething professor behind you hadn't allowed you to use a calculator - according to him, it was far too easy. Something one can easily do in their head.

It felt a little more embarassing to have to do the subtraction on the side. You don't remember 54-12 off of the top of your head, and you weren't a math god. So you had to do this each time. The side of your paper was riddled with lines that broke down or added numbers.

"That's not right."

He placed his hand on your shoulder, leaning down even further as he took his other hand and scrutinized the paper in front of him. The mask on his face brushed against your head, and it was unexpected - it didn't feel cold nor warm, simply just room temperature. It wasn't as hard as stone either.

"I thought the point of a quiz was for me to figure it out, not the teacher."

There was no point in arguing with him though. You were tired and your hand hurt.

"You can't even figure it out. At this point, this is a form of torture," The way he said that made it sound as if he was in more pain than you.

"Did you listen to anything that I had said?"

"Yeah." No the fuck you did not.

"None of your answers should be fractions. You also can't even follow the order of operations."

"I did the parenthesis like you said-"

"You just keep doing addition and subtraction. Not even well, since you make very simple mistakes."

You looked to where he was pointing; 39+42=71. That looked pretty correct to you.

"That's right though?"

"No. No, it's not. You missed an entire ten. It's 81," he sighed as he said this as if talking to a stupid child, curt but not able to truly express how he felt. Maybe he was justified in that response.

"Oh." You didn't know how he got that answer, but he was certainly right. Oops.

"You can't do algebra since you can't even do the basics. Do you even know how to multiply?"

"Yeah, I can-"

"Without a calculator. With double digits,"

He had taken off his mask, placing it to the side as he really started to scrutinize you; the hair on his forehead stuck to his skin slightly, having one bang that stubbornly clung to his nose and batting close to his eyelashes. The man even took a seat next to you, his eyes looking at yours and then back to the paper. As if he was in disbelief.

You could only shake your head. This was hard, and you could feel the frustration build up in your eyes as he only looked and scrutinized your paper further.

"You need to learn the basics again."

"This is the basics, right?"

"No. You can't even multiply or divide. That is elementary."

In shame, you put down your pencil and tried to hide your face behind your hands. You were never going to be able to do the cool math, were you? Like how to calculate the burger number. That's the cool math.

You heard the pencil be picked up by another hand, one that is a little too close to you - Dr. Ratio's shoulder brushed against yours, his bare and slutty arm taking up more than enough of your personal space.

"Let's go over this next problem. I'll explain it as you go along."

He was already giving you tips while you did the quiz, but that's fine. You have already dug yourself into a pit of shame and despair as you failed to do, apparently, basic math. So what would be one more embarrassing failure?

Taking the pen from his rather warm hand, you went back too it.

"So, how would you start this problem?"

At this point, his finger was just pointing at hieroglyphs. The letters with the numbers made it rather hard to comprehend what you were looking at.

"The parenthesis."

"There is no parenthesis in this," he frowned at you, continuing his streak of major disappointment. "Order of operations, PEMDAS, so what is your next step?"

"...multiply?"

"0 points. You do the exponents."

"So, the x with the little two."

You were sure that he blanked out on that one. His face had fallen into a strange expression, as if he had seen shadows move in his peripheral vision, as if he were followed by shadow people; a sort of pre-horror look.

"You do know what x squared means, correct?"

"How does x become a square? I still don't get that."

His face morphed into something else. Frustration, shock, agony. It could mean a lot of things, but his reaction was so strong you could taste it.

"You don't know what exponents are, do you?"

"...no."

You would think he would have understood this given how you were apparently bad at everything else. But it looked like you had slapped him and kicked his dog, from the look he gave you.

"By aeons what do you know!?"

"...1+1?"

He slammed his hands against the table. Your pencil rolled away from you from the shockwave, hitting the floor with a clatter as Ratio made loud facial expressions from underneath his hands. It looked as if he were a Shakespearian character who had been stabbed in the heart.

His breaths were heavy, his chest heaving with every attempt. One of his amber eyes peaked at you from underneath his slender fingers, staring at you as if you were a stubborn puzzle that did not wish to be solved.

There was something he wanted to say, but instead there was only a small noise that came from his throat. The stare he gave you could shatter glass.

"Are you okay, professor?"

He shook his head. The man turned to look at nothing, his face cradled in the palm of his hand.

"I have never met anyone like you."

That wasn't a compliment. But you were going to take it as one. That's the best you could do in this situation, honestly.

The man put his head down onto the table, one of his hands threading through his hair. You reached your hand out to his shoulder, patting him lightly in order to comfort.

You didn't see it, but there were tears pooling around his eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down.

Authors note: I don't know what this is, I'm just trying to grasp ratios character. If it's OOC then that's cause i haven't even gotten to penachony yet.

Also the burger number is real it's called whopper and was literally named after the burger King sandwich. The more you know.

[beelinx]

I don't know if you've done this yet, but can I request something for denki?? Yknow that black highlight thing on his hair lmao. What if his partner wants to match and asks him if he could help them dye it together 🥳

a/n: CUTEEEE 😭💕

honestly i over thought this a little bit and was thinking about what if the reader already has dark hair so like. if you have dark hair you can either pretend you don’t, or think of it as you dyeing the strand another color. maybe blonde like him??

honestly, the first time you saw denki’s highlight you thought it looked just about the cutest thing ever. kinda similar to a certain pokemon, like your friend had suggested. you had a small obsession with it, that quickly becoming one of your favorite traits of his. 

so, really, it was no shock that once you got together, your love for it definitely didn’t go away. in fact, you seemed to grow more and more in love with it as the days went by.

and that’s probably the reason why you’ve now shown up at his door with box dye, and an incredibly determined look on your face.

“are you sure this is how you do it?” denki questioned you, who was currently sitting in the bathroom, waiting for the dye to set.

“yes,” you exasperatedly replied, “i’ve watched like, a thousand videos of people doing this.”

“okayyyyy,” he dragged, “but what if your hair falls off?”

you rolled your eyes and giggled, “if it does, would you shave your head in solidarity?”

he gave you a cheeky grin, “of course i would babe. i would shave all of my body in solidarity for you.”

you sent him an incredibly disturbed look, “gross.” he laughed in turn and stuck his tongue out at you.

honestly, you were glad he didn’t think you were a sort of weirdo when you told him about your plan. quite the opposite, he was actually super happy, and he even kept going on and on about how honored he was that you wanted to dye your hair to be like him.

he also kept claiming how proud he was to be your ‘muse.’

kinda strange, but as long as he’s happy…

“ugh, it’s starting to itch,” you complained some time after, “i think it’s time to, like, wash it out.”

so you did, and though he may have gotten a probably unhealthy amount of water in your eyes, it ended up going smoothly. your hair did not fall off, a fact which you’ll surely remark to him. 

you forced denki to leave the bathroom while you started to dry your hair. you wished to see the final product more clearly, so he was forced to wait outside until you were done.

when you came out to ‘surprise’ denki with the final product, he was awestruck.

but seriously, his jaw actually dropped.

he closed and opened his mouth multiple times, utterly speechless. suddenly, he stood up and started kissing you all over your face. when you pushed him off to remind him that you needed air, he looked up, his eyes still gazed at you as if you were just about the most perfect person he’s ever seen, and chuckled.

“sorry,” he apologized, “you just look drop dead gorgeous.”

“denki,” you said, “you do know i only dyed a streak of my hair, right? i still look exactly the same.”

you rolled your eyes at him. he gave you a crooked smile, “maybe i just think you look drop dead gorgeous every day.”

“okay, weirdo,” you replied.

“you are the one who dyed your hair to look like me, so basically that makes you a weirdo too,” he retorted.

“yeah, yeah, whatever makes you feel better,” you paused, before adding, “weirdo.”

“hey!”

[citruslullabies]

Catnap X introverted ! Fox smiling critter! Reader

Though unlike catnap they take it to another means of extreme, it's not by any means that they're shy it's just they go by any means to isolate themselves because they're not used to such an outgoing environment.

I guess since both of them are introverted and won't make any means of initiation, let's say that both of them find themselves going to the same spot they use to hide from people not knowing the other uses it time by time.

They get used to each other (involuntarily) because it's the only hiding spot that none of the other critters are aware of, so they have to tolerate each others presence and what if catnap gets interested in reader because of how enigmatic they are and maybe even get a lil crush on them :3

Awh, cute!

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic: a lil bit of both

Requested by: anonymous :3

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Catnap x introverted!fox!reader

Word count: 440

Hiding From You, Only to Hide With You

Foxes were normally very outgoing, much like dogs or pet birds. But you were a bit different, being considered the ‘hidden smiling critter’ from your shyness. The others never saw you, maybe a glimpse but if they somehow remembered your name despite never seeing you and then try to talk to you, you'll run and hide.

You were laying down in your little hidey hole, it was small but big enough for at least three of you. It was cozy and warm, and isolated. It was your refuge from the world.. or, well was until you opened your eyes and saw a certain feline staring at you with confusion as he had one foot in as if he was going to get in with you. “What are you doing here? Uh..” he thought for a moment, trying to remember your name.

“I'm just hiding.” You mumbled, the words having lost all meaning through your barely parting lips while almost too quiet for him to hear. You noticed how he forgot your name and after some thought, you answered with the same amount of timidness if not more. “(Y/n)..”

He nodded and hummed, before getting in the hidey hole. “Well, scoot over.” He said before kneading the ground beneath him, purring as he loafed and prepared for a nap. You awkwardly stared at him and thought about if you should stay or if you should go, but ultimately decided to stay due to no other hiding spot being oblivious to the others.

And it just kept happening time and time again after that. After maybe the fifth repeat, you two finally started talking. With catnap initiating of course because he didn't like basically sleeping next to some person he didn't know. So he asked the basic questions and answered for himself, but he found it strange how shy you were.

On the seventh time, he was almost excited to see if you were there. Which you were. He crawled inside and happily snuggled up, purring and even nuzzling his head against the crook of your neck and head. His ears twitched and his tail gently swayed about. “Do you just like..

Live here?” He asked with curiosity, slightly joking but at the same time not.

You shook your head, speaking up softly. Your speech was still quiet but it felt like with every interaction it slowly grew louder. “Well, no.. but I like to lay here.. it's nice and cozy, and away from everybody..” you murmured, just slightly above a whisper but loud enough for him to hear. He thought about that and nodded with a smile.

“Well, not everybody.”

Thanks for requesting!