#really adding fuel to the fire here

[mouse-doubleo100]

me after catching up on all the current dream drama thats just happened:

[sylvieserene]

Something weird I have noticed in the CRK fandom when it comes to ships ESPECIALLY Purelily

I recently saw a tweet on twitter talking about Elderlily and ShadowVanilla on how people should give new ships a shot instead of shooting down them down instantly which IS a valid point BUT the problem starts when they assert the fact that these two ships hold more "merit" and "intimacy" than "other ships" (which in comment section they directly agree it's aimed at Purelily)

This is a HUGE problem I see both in the Elderlily fanbase + ShadowVanilla fanbase. The sheer hate for Purelily.

Like have a look:

Pure Hatred and unwillingness to accept that opinions can co-exist.

Unwilling to see reason when tried to be shown. Only answering in hatred.

Further more...

From starting with generalising Purelily shippers to accusing all Purelily shippers to misinterpret/misrepresent/mischaracterisation PV and WL to accusations of the entire fanbase being bigoted, homophobic, misogynistic or accusing the entire fanbase of being bad including whataboutism posts stating "oh yeah? I wonder which shipper base sent actual death threats and doxxed someone?"

For the record, Im gonna say yes, a few people from specifically the purelily base have done these BUT generalising the entire shipping community as bad and labelling them as problematic is NOT okay.

THE ACTIONS OF ONE HORRIBLE PERSON DOESN'T DEFINE THE ENTIRE FANBASE!

Misrepresentation/Mischaracterisation/Misinterpretation of characters have happened in ALL of CRK shipping communities. That very much includes ShadowVanilla and Elderlily.

So accusing one fanbase of doing those and pretending that it doesn't exist in your space is kinda hypocritical I believe?

No fanbase is exempt from controversy. Every shipping space has had atleast ONE problematic individual (Eg: N*zi ShadowVanilla controversy from Twitter) but now if I start saying "*gasp* I wonder which base drew those horrific things?" Would it make any sense? No. Cuz one person doesn't define an entire fanbase.

So let's make one thing clear, none of the shipping communities are "pure" or "innocent" of anything. All of them have problems and individuals with issues depending on how far you're willing to dig.

So accusing a single shipping community of being horrible while saying others are not is not okay.

Not all ShadowVanilla and Elderlily shippers are good people, same as Purelily shippers.

Which brings me to the point, "It's 2025, grow tf up and stop shipping purelily" mentality which also brings me to my original point lol

These were sent to a purelily artist on Twitter (redbeanyearnin).

Their crime? Shipping purelily.

Look at the civility, ladies and gentlemen! /s

This is also a side of shippers who actually aren't purelily shippers 😊 how naive and innocent messages 😍❤️ /j

But this is the great evidence on how all of these shippers aren't angels. They are the same people accusing Purelily shippers and the ship itself as being horrible.

Im not gonna comment more on this.

But this just proves my point on how no shipping base is angelic. All of them have screwed up individuals.

Anw...

What does year/time have anything to say about what you ship? I see this comment thrown across very frequently in the fandom which does confuse me quite a lot but seriously um why? Is there some sort of subscription that's getting over in these recent years which denies me the right to enjoy something niche? Or I MUST ship what the popular ship is atm?

Just why....? Where does this mentality come from?

More importantly, why does one ship has to be "superior" or have to had more "merit" than the other?

Just why?

Why can't we simply accept our differences in preferences and move on?

Like...I personally don't ship mutual ShadowVanilla, I find the one sided part more compelling but that doesn't mean I will say it's "better" than the mutual one. I can appreciate the mutual one too. Same for Elderlily. I see it as platonic, a familial sort of relationship between a Mentor and Mentee or yes I'm gonna say it Father Daughter.

Personally, I find their age difference extremely uncomfortable which is why the moment I learnt this guy was older than her ancestor's ancestors, I shipped it as platonic. Same for ShadowVanilla cuz age is a factor for me personally but I won't blame others who look past it cuz firstly these are fictional characters and secondly, all of them are immortals so I can understand it although I find it uncomfortable myself.

But even with that, I would NEVER say that Purelily is "superior", has "more merit", better "intimate writing" than said ships irrespective of if they are popular/canon or not.

If you ask for respect towards your shipping preferences, the least you can do is GIVE that respect to others as well. If you don't, then how come you keep the expectation that your opinion will get respected when you can't peacefully co-exist with another part of the fandom who may hold different views than you?

In simpler words, I kinda find it highly disrespectful and hypocritical that some people out here can't keep themselves from attacking others for shipping things differently than them? Like...why?

Why can't we all ship whatever we want instead of shooting down each other's ships and calling one more superior/inferior than the other?

Like for me as an example, I don't like a lot of ships but I either don't share my opinion on it or tend to ignore it instead of going "omg MY ship better! HUH HOW DARE YOU SAY MY SHIP IS BAD"

At the end, Shipping is subjective and we're all here to have fun so instead of playing the blame game on who is worse, who has done more horrible things, why can't we simply focus on the positives?

All ships have merits and demerits. All of them have issues. Heck, even the characters aren't perfect and they also have a plethora of issues.

WL isnt a perfect person, she's morally grey and a highly complex character. PV isn't a baby or a simp who gets jealous everytime someone breaths in WL's direction. EF isn't obsessed with WL as people in the fanbase make him to be. Just like PV, he chose his job over following WL and even when he knew he had a choice to revive her, He didn't instead he kept guarding the tree. SM isn't a good person and has caused several wars, genocides, torture and murder.

NONE of them are as perfect as people make them to be. NONE of the fanbases if considered in majority truly get them.

So it really makes zero sense when ppl say "PV should stay the hell away from WL", "WL is getting between them!"

People really need to stop objectifying these characters just cuz they don't fit their shipping preferences/agendas.

All of these characters and their ships have certain merits and demerits to them so why must we say that one is better than the other?

Why can't we all enjoy what we simply like?

Why can't we just agree to disagree instead of shitting on other's tastes?

Why must ONE particular shipping fandom get the brunt of it?

So tldr, I just wanna say, While it is true, people shouldn't shoot down new things without even giving it a shot but that doesn't mean the new thing is "superior" than the old thing suddenly just cuz one likes it more. If you find it great, that's fine but Idt anyone has the right to say that one thing is more inferior than the other.

Please give the respect to others that you expect. If you get insanely defensive about your own ship but shit on other's shipping preferences then expect to get that back.

You can't be like "Nooooooo don't say bad about my ship! You're a hater" and then be like "damn your taste in shipping SUCKS. This ship is so trash. MY ship is SOOOOO much better :)"

Sorry for this rant. I just find the entire situation of the fandom highly frustrating.

[hauntingblue]

Rewatching act 2.... yeah ISHA WATCH OUT FOR THE CYCLE ISHA!!!!! NOOOOO

[mainfaggot]

how do you cut someone off

[ysaefinn]

Pairing: Dilf!Satoru Gojo x gn!reader x Dilf!Suguru Geto

Synopsis: you try being sneaky behind your boyfriends' backs. But they're dead set on pampering you.

Good riddance.

You feel like ripping your hair out. The Zoom meeting has been going on for what feels like forever now. You've already told the interviewer everything he needed to know, your educational detaile, your degree, your previous experiences in the work force, and even your living arrangement for whatever fucking reason. So why on earth is he still running his mouth?? The ache in your cheeks from holding that tight smile makes you begin to regret applying for the job in the first place.

"You know you don't have to do this." And you do know,"we take care of you just fine, don't we?" And they do,"please, you stress yourself enough with school. You have enough on your plate already." And you do "Awe baby, just let us take care of you." and you should, but you just wouldn't fucking listen huh?

Your married boyfriends hate to see you like this. Don't get it twisted, they find it endearing the way you just don't seem to be able to sit still, how you just have to be doing something to contribute. But you just love taking it too far, working yourself to the bone, burning yourself out. Something the two middle aged men just can't have. And so, Suguru and Satoru have taken it as their mission to turn you into their spoiled little baby, a tiny little kitty in their palm, ever since they lured you into their marital home with charming smiles and hot meals.

The interviewer's words fade into the background as more and more doubt begins to cloud your mind. Realistically speaking, you really aren't in nee-

"Oh? what do we have here?"

You freeze.

But a pair of strong muscular arms wrap around your own, warming you right back up, you recognize that teasing tilt of tone anywhere. Lost in your own thoughts, you haven't been able to catch Satoru make his way into the room you swear you locked, and pull you into his embrace, your back pushed against hid soft plush chest.

"We talked about this didn't we? I can't believe you would go behind our backs like this? Im so disappointed~"

And usually, you'd laugh, kiss his cheek, tell him to stop being so dramatic, or even play along if he's lucky. But not when you've been caught red-handed, not when you've promised them time and time again that you'd take better care of yourself, and not when you've been pushing this interview around for when they both would be at work, and definitely not with your camera still on.

"U-uh satoru..." Said man responds with a hum against the back of your head in between gentle feather-light kisses.

"I'm uhm...in the middle of something....as you can see"

A second then two pass before he takes his face off of your hair. You can feel his piercing blue gaze burn the back of your head before he bursts into laughter. You shrink and curl back into him further.

"Awh sweets, the audaci-"

"Easy, Satoru. No use in being mean, you know our little angel just can't help it"

Your stomach drops to you ass once you register your other boyfriend (who's also your other boyfriend's husband)'s voice. Satoru rests his chin on your shoulder before pouting childishly.

Once again, your camera is very much still recording.

Suguru is leaning against the frame of the wide open door, a fond little smile on his face. And all hope is thrown to the wind. You may have had a chance at escape with Satoru, but definitely not with his husband. The feeling of hopelessness intensifies when the long haired man stands up straight and makes his way to you with purpose.

Suguru carries himself with the same elegance that caught your eye the first day you've met, a select few gray strands catch the sunlight making his black locks almost seem bejeweled. His hand comes down to ruffle his husband's hair and then to pinch your cheek affectionately before taking your unoccupied side. Effectively adding more fuel to the fire. Your hands fly to hide your flaming hot face, and your men share a look of amusement.

"Aww sweetie, come here." And of course. he wouldn't be Suguru if he didn't jump at the chance to coddle you in his own arms. "i know, i know... all of this work business must be stressing you out to no end," he noses at your temple, then moves to smear a long chast kiss on your cheek.

Maybe it's out of consideration for your rapidly beating heart. Maybe he thinks it's something only you should have the privilege to hear, either why you're thankful the next words came in the form of a whisper againt your cheek.

"But that's why you have us, right? We'll handle everything. You can just be our little one, wouldn't that be nice?"

And you nod, you actually nod. Can you believe that? That's all it took. Being sandwiched between the couple, a few kisses here and there a gentle whisper and you're once again swept off your feet.

"Why do you have to be this waaaayyy..." your muffled whining only serves to endear them, a big hand travels under your shirt to rub soothing circles on your back.

"It's for your own good" Suguru is yet to drop the soft cooing.

"And you do it to yourself!" Satoru is yet to drop the teasing.

You're reminded of two big happy cats when they start rubbing their cheeks on either side of your face, it's pretty impressive how synchronized they can be sometimes, yet again, you suppose it just comes naturally after a decade of marriage.

"..excuse m-" "You're excused!" Satoru quickly shuts your laptop. Effectively interrupting the interviewer, almost out of fear of an impromptu change of mind from your end, you can be quite stubborn, something they're working on correcting as well.

The embarrassment doesn't get a chance to sink in before Suguru scoops you up in his arms, eager to mother you as per usual.

"You've barely eaten anything for breakfast, you must be starving.. our poor baby..."

And your brain is melting again.

Maybe another day of unemployment wouldn't kill you.

[backtothefanfiction]

First Impressions | Joaquin Torres

Summary: the first time Sam introduces you to Joaquin

Warnings: flirting, fluff, playful banter

A/N: I fell in love with this man during Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Completely forgot about him until I watched the new Cap the other night. So here’s this little before going to sleep drabble. As you will quickly be able to tell I love the idea of a Carol Danvers niece reader given the whole air force thing. Hope people enjoy. May write some more in the future.

Joaquin was smitten the second you walked into his house. When Sam said he was headed over with “some new recruit” he hadn’t expected you. A roughed up baseball cap on top of your head, faded baseball jersey, baggy oversized jeans and sneakers, dripping from head to toe and almost shivering.

“What happened?” Joaquin asked Sam as you tentatively stepped through the sliding door, not wanting to drip too much on this strangers carpet.

“He dropped me in the lake.” Your voice blurted out, completely unamused, shooting daggers at the still newly appointed Captain America.

“Yeah, well, still better that than a 40ft drop onto hard ground.” Sam retorted.

“Or you could have just not dropped me at all?!” You stressed, hands raised in the air, still in complete disbelief over this turn of events. “That’s the last time I’m ever flying with you.” You muttered and you saw Joaquin let out a little chuckle over the situation.

That’s when you really took him in. The guy who Sam sung the praises of. His supposedly best recruit, not that he would actually tell him that.

“Come on, I’ll get you a towel.” Joaquin said, leading you upstairs and to the bathroom.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything I could change into, do you?” You asked him, as he handed you a couple towels.

“Umm, yeah, of course, I’ll just go find you something.”

You didn’t wait for him to return before you whipped off your clothes and immediately jumped in the shower to wash the murky lake water off of you. You were grateful that it was an old tub and shower curtain situation and not one of those see through glass cabinet shower situations, not that it didn’t stop Joaquin from blushing when he came back into the bathroom a few minutes later with some clothes in hand.

“Oh, sorry- I didn’t realise you were- I’ll just leave these- uh- yeah.” He rushed out before quickly shutting the door again.

He hesitated a moment as he stood with his back to the door, his brain fixated on the small glimpse he got of your naked back from behind the shower curtain. He could feel the flush in his cheeks. The smile that threatened his lips. He fought to hide it as he went back down to Sam in the kitchen.

“So who is she?” Joaquin asked as he grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and passed it to Sam before picking up his own previously discarded mug to finish.

“She’s a Danvers.” Sam said, as if the surname alone held a lot of weight, but Joaquin still didn’t bite. “As in Carol Danvers… Captain Marvel.” Sam said, walking him through it slowly until Joaquin’s face began to flicker with recognition. “Carol’s her aunt. Before she became Captain Marvel she was one heck of an Air Force Pilot. Kid saw what her aunt did and decided to pick up the mantle.”

“And she’s good?” Joaquin fished, a flame for the woman upstairs really taking hold as Sam kept adding more fuel to the fire.

“Yeah, she’s fucking great. Best female pilot I’ve ever seen.”

“So you looking to set her up with a pair of wings?” Joaquin asked, even though he had a hint of jealousy to his tone. He enjoyed being the only person other than Sam who had access to the now not so secret military wings, but he also couldn’t deny the new found need to go flying with you on a sunny afternoon and treat you to a picnic on the top of a mountain or something.

“We’ll see.” Sam said sceptically, but Joaquin knew from the way Sam had even brought you to meet him he thought you had what it takes.

“What are you two girls talking about?” You asked as you came striding back into the kitchen in a pair of Joaquin’s joggers and his old air force T-shirt. You were using a towel to squeeze out your hair and Joaquin couldn’t deny you looked right at home in his house, wearing his clothes.

“Lover boy here was grilling me about you.” Sam joked, taking in the way Joaquin looked at you.

“Was he now?” You asked feigning interest and playing up to the little bit in order to embarrass him, but as you sat across from him at the table and really took him in for the first time, you couldn’t deny he was handsome- and if the T-shirt he gave you had anything to say, you definitely had a lot in common to bond over.

“Uh- um- no- I-“ Joaquin began to stutter bashfully.

“It’s all cool dude,” you reassured. “I know he’s just messing. You really shouldn’t let him rile you up like that.”

Joaquin sighed before he leaned in closer to you, “How do you stay so calm around him?” He asked as if Sam wasn’t there and you had all the secrets.

“Eh, when you grew up being told about your badass aunt with actual super powers, some guy in a read white and blue bird costume is nothing.” You joked.

“Hey!” Sam pointed at you, “don’t you dare turn him against me or I’ll drop your ass in the lake again.”

“So you admit it! You did it on purpose.” You said, slamming your hand on the table animatedly.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. What are you gonna do about it?” He asked back, but you didn’t say anything more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You rolled your eyes at him before fixing them on Joaquin instead as Sam’s phone began to ring. You both turned your eyes on him as he checked the caller ID. “I need to take this.” He said, before getting up and dismissing himself, stepping out the back door to take the call outside.

“Would you like coffee?” Joaquin asked to break up the silence the two of you were left in.

“Umm, yes, that would be great.” You said with a smile and he got up to pour you a cup full from the pot.

“It looks good on you.” He said as he came back over a moment later and handed you the mug.

“What, now?” You said confused.

“Uh, my shirt,” he said with a shrug, as he committed to the statement. “It looks good on you.”

You couldn’t help but blush slightly under his gaze. He was cute and confident and oddly endearing. “Thanks.” You smiled, as he sat himself back down. “I guess I’ll keep it then.” You joked.

“The only way you’re keeping that thing is if you were my girlfriend.” He replied, half as a joke, half as a way of informing you just how much that shirt meant to him.

“Well I guess you better ask me on a date then.” You smirked playfully as he took a sip of his coffee and he almost choked as he spat it back into his cup. But before he could say anymore, Sam came back through the sliding door.

“Alright lovebirds, you can stop having your meet cute moment now, we gotta go,” he said to Joaquin.

“And what about me?” You said indignantly, feeling a little put out.

“He’ll be back in time to take you out on a proper date later.” Sam retorted, marching back through the house to get his shit from where he’d left it by the front door.

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” You asked, completely brushing over the rest of what he’d said. “I don’t even live anywhere near here!” You stressed. “You just brought me here and now you’re gonna up and leave me here!” You said indignantly.

Joaquin froze in the middle of the hallway next to you, looking from his mentor and back to you as he tried to keep up with what’s going on. He felt conflicted. “I mean, can’t she just come with us.” He offered. “I mean, you brought her out here because you wanted to see what she could do. So I say let her.”

Sam looked between the two of you slowly, before he conceded. “Uh, fine. But if anything happens with her it’s on your head.” He warned but you were both smiling.

“So, is this technically our first date?” You ribbed him as he began to usher you out the door so he could lock up.

“We’ll see. Depends if you like it or not.” He mused and you had to admit, his cheeky smile did make you swoon.

“And if I don’t?” You asked with a playful twinkle in your eye.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured you with just as equal playfulness and innuendo, “you will.”

[runecatwrites]

Let’s talk about Warriors and Wild

This was another “weird” pairing that came out of the latest update.

You’d think that the two with no dungeon experience should each be paired with someone more experienced, right? Well, Warriors isn’t really thinking about that. He has a different motive for choosing Wild to team up with, and no, it’s not because he’s “mad” at him. The reason actually reveals a lot about both of their characters, and displays a great deal of character growth on Warriors' part specifically.

Deep dive under the cut!

Okay first off, let’s get something out of the way. Just because Warriors and Wild have no traditional dungeon experience, that doesn’t make them ill-equipped. Warriors has tons of combat experience and is demonstrably very intelligent. And Wild? Sure he didn’t have traditional dungeons in BotW, but you know what he did have? Puzzles. A TON of puzzles. That guy can do puzzles in his sleep. I highly doubt that he’s gonna have trouble with dungeon puzzles once he figures out how to approach them (which won’t take long).

All right, now that we have that cleared up, moving on!

From the very beginning, Wars holds great respect for Wild:

Because at the start of the adventure, Warriors doesn't realize just how different he is from the others. He gets put with a bunch of guys who share his name and his spirit, so of course he thinks his experience isn’t unique. They’re all just like him, right?

Okay, uh, maybe not? But they still can’t be that different, Warriors thinks. Sky is also a knight, and he acts exactly the way Warriors expects a knight to act.

He catches onto plans immediately:

And follows through flawlessly:

It’s not about authority and Sky’s ability to follow orders. It’s about the fact that Sky is on the same page. He went to military school. He has extensive training. He knows what to do and when, with barely any prompting, because he’s been taught to think the same way Warriors thinks. Warriors and Sky work together perfectly because of this:

But with Wild? Warriors is expecting the exact same thing with Wild, a fellow knight, but what he gets from the Champion is far from what he gets with Sky. This is very unexpected for Warriors. He gives what he thinks is a clear directive:

“Clear out the rest” to Warriors and Sky means “get rid of all the little guys so we can focus on the big guy.” Solid strategy. But Wild does not interpret this the same way, because he does not remember his military training and therefore any of the strategy he was taught. “Clear out the rest” just means get rid of everyone to him. And he decides to eliminate the biggest threat first. It’s important to note here that he’s not “defying orders” because his emotions are getting the better of him, or even because he thinks he shouldn't have been given orders. The way he sees it, he is following orders. Warriors said “clear out the rest.” And that’s what Wild’s helping to do. But then afterwards? Warriors is angry!

The plan? What plan? There was no plan! The goal was just to get rid of everyone! Why does it matter if Wild took out the big guy before the little guys?

It’s at this point that Wild realizes he’s done something wrong, but he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. (Any other neurodivergent folks here? If so, yeah, you know how this feels. I know I do.)

It’s clear through subsequent interactions that Wild genuinely does not understand what the problem is:

He thought he made the right move, but others don’t seem to think so. He’s already emotional, and this is just adding more fuel to the fire. He snaps, starts a fight with Four, and runs off still feeling confused.

Meanwhile, Warriors is also confused. Why didn’t Wild act the way Warriors thought he would? He’s a knight, right? Why did he do what he did, and how did he not understand that his choice of strategy was incorrect after?

And it’s not just Wild that Warriors failed to read correctly; the others are clashing with him too. Case in point, Twilight’s refusal to hang back after being injured:

In the aftermath of the battle, it’s at this point that Warriors makes a realization: he’s the one who made a mistake. He had preconceived expectations of people, and that ended up majorly backfiring on him.

Warriors knows that he can't be a good teammate - and a good leader - if he doesn't understand where his companions are coming from. Again, it's not about authority, it's about being on the same page. Ever since, he has been trying to seek better understanding. Maybe Wild doesn't feel comfortable taking orders from Warriors, and only listens to those he knows well?

But Twilight said, "No he doesn't." Huh. Okay. Well, maybe Warriors can try to get inside Wild's head? Let's try some bantering! These guys love to banter!

Oops. Fumble. That didn't go well. But hey, at least Wild seems to have figured out what he did wrong!

That's a step in the right direction! Okay, they're getting somewhere, Warriors thinks.

But Wild is really down on himself. He now realizes that he misinterpreted a directive that he should have understood. And thinks that Warriors thinks he's stupid, and hates him. (Again, where my neurodivergent peeps at? Yeah. That feeling.)

Meanwhile, things are becoming clearer to Warriors. Not only does he realize that he shouldn't have viewed his teammates through his own preconceived notions, but for the first time, he also realizes just how different his experience was from everyone else's:

He realizes he's got a LOT of learning to do. His discordance with Wild is proof of that. But Wild has never been in a dungeon either. Maybe this is their chance to connect? Warriors tries once again to get inside Wild's head. Maybe he can try to understand why Wild isn't approaching this dungeon the way Warriors would:

Aaaaand Wild froze up. Dang it. Warriors isn't getting anything. He really needs to figure out what's going wrong here so they can work together. It's for both of their benefit, and the group's benefit as a whole. They need to get on the same page so that they can not only fight together, but be good friends to each other. And when the opportunity arises to team up one-on-one, Warriors jumps at it! This is the perfect opportunity, he thinks!

But right now? Wild doesn't realize that. He thinks that Warriors is mad at him. Warriors is NOT mad at him. Warriors is trying to learn, to better himself, and to forge a connection.

And I believe that even though it's been a bumpy road, we're going to see some amazing growth between Warriors and Wild in the future.

[missmadella]

"How They React When You Dress Up Beautifully (But Usually Dress Boyish) "// Tokyo Revengers

Charakters: Mikey, Mitsuya, Chifuyu, Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, Shinichiro, Wakasa, Hanma

Synopsis: you’ve always been the hoodie girl. the one in scuffed sneakers, hands in your pockets, hair tied up, blending in with the boys without even trying. you weren’t there to be looked at — you were there to hold your own. and you did. but tonight? tonight, you show up in a dress. and not just any dress — one that fits, hugs, flows, turns heads. hair down. lips glossed. eyes soft but untouchable. and suddenly, no one knows what to say.

he stares. he freezes. and then he remembers how to breathe.

CW: possessive behavior, mild jealousy, physical affection (waist grabbing/thigh touching), suggestive dialogue, strong language, gender assumptions, toxic remarks from side characters

Mikey (Sano Manjiro):

When you first joined Toman, you were all hoodies, joggers, combat boots — tough, quiet, and fast with your fists. Mikey assumed you were just another strong kid in a sea of delinquents. Until Draken casually said, “You know she’s a girl, right?” Mikey froze. “Wait— she?”

You weren’t bothered. You didn’t correct anyone. You let your fists do the talking.

And god, did Mikey fall fast.

The way you handled yourself in fights. The way you leaned back on his bike like you owned it. How you never tried to impress anyone — just did your thing. Mikey loved that.

You were you, no matter what.

__________________________________________________________________________

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees surrounding the old shrine, casting golden light over the cracked stone path. The Toman boys had gathered early, as usual — laughing, arguing, throwing weak punches, killing time before the captains' meeting started.

You were leaning against Mikey’s prized bike, one leg propped up on the step, hoodie sleeves pushed up to your elbows, hands in your pockets. Comfortable. Invisible, almost — exactly how you liked it.

Mikey was sprawled lazily on the shrine steps, back against the railing, munching on a dorayaki. His legs were stretched out, crossed at the ankles, eyes half-lidded in his usual not-quite-here, not-quite-gone state. You caught him glancing at you every so often, though.

"Yo, [Y/N]," Baji called suddenly from where he sat cross-legged beside Draken. “Serious question.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

He grinned wickedly. “You sure you’re a girl?”

The entire group broke into a mix of groans and snickers.

“Baji…” Mitsuya warned, but it was too late.

Even Smiley jumped in. “For real, though. Hoodie, boots, baggy jeans. I thought you were one of the boys until, like… last month.”

“Didn’t she knock out that Mobius guy in, like, one hit?” Takemichi added, trying to defend you — but mostly just fueling the fire.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t frown. You were good at brushing this stuff off. You’d heard it before — from rivals, from randoms. But something about it coming from your people — even jokingly — made it stick just a little more than usual.

You pushed off Mikey’s bike and walked slowly toward them, stopping right in front of Baji.

He was still grinning until you flicked his forehead. Hard.

“Ow—!”

You smirked. “You wanna test if I hit like a girl again, or are you still nursing that bruise from last week?”

The others laughed. Even Baji had the decency to rub his forehead with a sheepish grin.

But the teasing… didn’t really stop. Just got quieter. Lingered in the way some of the boys eyed your outfit, or nudged each other when you sat back down. Like they couldn’t quite picture you in any other way.

Mikey had been quiet through it all. Now, he was watching you again — not with teasing or judgment, just that unreadable calm of his. Dorayaki half-eaten in his hand.

“Nothing?” you asked when you caught his eye.

He shrugged and licked his thumb clean. “I like you like this.”

A warmth bloomed in your chest — a quiet kind of comfort. You leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, surprising him just enough to freeze. You chuckled.

“You taste like dorayaki.”

Then you kissed him again — soft, quick, on the lips — before pulling back to sit beside him on the step.

He blinked, then smiled to himself, mumbling, “Good.”

Still, even with his quiet reassurance, the teasing hung in the air like a thin mist — not heavy, but not entirely gone either.

__________________________________________________________________________

A few days passed after the teasing at the shrine.

You didn’t let it show, but their words echoed in your head more than you expected. Not in a way that made you feel insecure exactly — but it stirred something inside you. A quiet want to remind them, maybe even remind yourself, that just because you didn’t show it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

So tonight, when Mitsuya messaged the group about another Toman meetup at the shrine, you made a decision.

No hoodie. No combat boots.

Instead, you stood in front of your mirror in a soft, flowing dress — nothing flashy, but elegant in its simplicity. The fabric complimented your frame, and the color made your eyes stand out. Your hair was styled neatly — maybe a loose wave, maybe tied back with a soft ribbon. And the shoes? Cute, comfortable, and just a little dressy. Enough to make a statement.

You looked at yourself once more.

“You are a girl,” you whispered with a smirk.

Then you headed out.

The sun was just beginning to set when the Toman captains began gathering at the shrine again — laughter echoing, engines cooling, boys lounging on the steps with drinks and snacks in hand. It was the usual chaotic calm before a meeting.

Mikey was perched on the top step, half-lidded eyes scanning the horizon as he slowly nibbled at a dorayaki. His gang surrounded him in clusters — Baji play-fighting with Chifuyu, Draken arguing with Smiley over something dumb, and Mitsuya sketching something in a small notepad.

No one noticed you at first.

You didn’t roll up with a loud voice or stomp of boots like usual. This time, your arrival was silent. Smooth. Confident.

A dress — soft in color, simple but beautifully fitted — hugged your form and flowed with each step. Your hair was done — styled softly to frame your face — and your usual boots were replaced with adorable, polished shoes. No hoodie, no slouch. Just you, in a way they had never seen before.

You walked up the path like you owned it.

Baji was the first to glance your way.

He paused mid-sentence, blinking.

“…Yo, who’s that?” he muttered, elbowing Chifuyu.

“Dunno,” Chifuyu whispered back, eyes narrowed. “She lost or something?”

Mitsuya looked up next, brows furrowed. “Wait. She looks… kinda familiar?”

“Holy shit,” Draken murmured. “That’s— wait. No way.”

But Mikey didn’t look up. Not yet.

You walked past the others without a word — straight to the steps. His gaze lifted just as your shadow fell over him.

He blinked.

You smiled softly, leaned down — and kissed him on the lips. Light, sure, confident.

He went stiff, stunned — and then blinked again, his mouth parting slightly.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes and said sweetly:

“Miss me, baby?”

BOOM.

The realization hit all at once.

“Wait— THAT’S [Y/N]?!” Baji yelled.

“No. No way!” Chifuyu’s jaw dropped.

“What the f— you’re kidding me,” Smiley practically choked, appearing from behind the bikes.

Even Draken looked halfway between impressed and shocked. “That’s... definitely [Y/N]. What the hell.”

Mitsuya just leaned back and gave you a proud little nod. “Damn. You pulled that off like a runway model.”

Mikey stared up at you in a daze, still holding the half-eaten dorayaki like he forgot what it was. Then slowly, he smiled — lazy and warm, the kind of smile that made your knees a little weak even though you were the one with all the power right now.

“You really trying to give me a heart attack?” he muttered.

You laughed. “What? You didn’t recognize your own girlfriend?”

“I thought you were some kind of dream.” He reached for your hand, pulling you gently down to sit beside him. “A very pretty one.”

The rest of the gang was still making noise behind you, but Mikey didn’t care.

He pulled you in close, rested his forehead against yours, and whispered, “Remind me to never let anyone else see you like this without me standing right next to you.”

You smirked. “Possessive much?”

“Damn right.”

And with that, he kissed you again — this time slower, deeper, like the teasing didn’t matter anymore. Like he wanted to make it very clear you were his.

___________________________________________________________________________

Mitsuya Takashi:

The music pulsed low through the speakers of the small design club Mitsuya was part of — a cool, casual creative space filled with fabrics, threads, sketchbooks, and the occasional loud personality.

You usually didn’t come here. It wasn’t really your scene. But Mitsuya had left his bento behind, and you were already out, so you figured — why not drop it off?

Wearing your usual: black joggers, oversized hoodie, hair thrown up lazily, and sneakers you’d worn into far too many alley fights. You didn’t care — it was you. And Mitsuya never complained.

When you walked in, he was in the middle of helping two girls adjust a dress on a mannequin. They both turned as you approached.

One of them blinked, glanced at your outfit, then gave a tight smile.

“Oh… hi,” she said, eyes scanning you quickly. “Are you one of the junior designers?”

You smirked. “Nope. Just the delivery girl.”

Mitsuya looked up at the sound of your voice, and his face lit up instantly. “Hey, babe. You brought it? You’re the best.”

You tossed him the bento and leaned on the edge of a table, letting him finish his work. As you did, you could still hear the quiet voices behind you — whispers they definitely didn’t think you could hear.

“That’s his girlfriend?”

“She’s so… plain.”

“She dresses like a guy. I mean, he’s so stylish—”

“I thought he’d be into someone more… delicate, you know?”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even look back. You just stood there, cool and unbothered, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

Because deep down? You didn’t care what they thought.

But later, as you lay on your bed at home, a small thought slipped through:

Still… wouldn’t it be fun to shut them up without saying a word?

___________________________________________________________________________

A Few Days Later – Shrine Meeting Pickup

Mitsuya was finishing up club work when you texted him.

“I’ll meet you out front. Ready when you are, fashion prince.”

He chuckled and packed up his things, heading down the steps of the club with a light smile. You were always cracking jokes. Always casual, lowkey — always you.

So when he stepped outside and saw someone standing by the gate, dress fluttering gently in the breeze, he paused.

For a moment, he didn’t even realize it was you.

The dress you wore hugged you in all the right places, soft and flowy, not flashy — but effortlessly beautiful. Your hair was done, shoes delicate, and your usual confidence was still there… but this time, wrapped in elegance.

Mitsuya blinked.

And blinked again.

“…[Y/N]?”

You turned to him with a sweet smile. “Took you long enough.”

He slowly approached, eyes drinking you in like you were a piece of art — no, like you were the runway.

“Holy shit,” he muttered softly. “You look… breathtaking.”

You smirked, adjusting your dress lightly. “Too boyish for you now?”

Mitsuya frowned for half a second — then it clicked. His gaze darkened just a touch as he remembered the girls at the club.

“They said that?” he asked, voice low.

You shrugged. “Didn’t matter. I know you love me for me. Just figured… I’d give them something to think about.”

He reached out, took your hand gently, and pulled you close.

“I love you in your hoodies. I love you with messy hair. I love you when you’re wiping blood off your knuckles.” He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “But seeing you like this? That’s not just pretty — it’s dangerous.”

You laughed softly. “Good. Let them be scared.”

He smirked, then kissed you, slow and firm — right there outside the club, where anyone could see. Not because he needed to prove something — but because he was proud.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “You're mine. And they all just realized they never even stood a chance.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Chifuyu Matsuno:

The pet shop was slow that afternoon.

Chifuyu was restocking cat food behind the counter when the doorbell chimed and a girl — older high school maybe — walked in with that confident sway that made Baji would’ve whistled at, but Chifuyu didn’t even blink. He gave her a polite nod and went back to shelving cans.

But she didn’t move on. Instead, she leaned on the counter, elbow propped up, voice just a bit too sweet.

“You work here all the time, right? You’re kind of cute.” She smiled. “Are you single?”

Chifuyu paused. “Ah, no. I’ve got a girlfriend.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head. “Where is she?”

Right on cue, the bell chimed again, and you walked in — hoodie, old jeans, sneakers. Comfortable, like always. You noticed the girl at the counter but didn’t think much of it. You headed toward Chifuyu, ready to hand him the drink you grabbed for him on the way.

The girl turned, eyeing you. Up. Down. Then smirked.

“This is your girlfriend?” she asked, not even trying to lower her voice.

You raised a brow. “Problem?”

She laughed, like it was a joke. “No, no... it’s just surprising. I figured he’d go for someone, I dunno— more feminine? Prettier?” She added, “No offense,” in a voice meant to offend.

Chifuyu stiffened behind the counter. “Hey, that’s enough.”

You just sipped your drink, unfazed. “You done?”

The girl rolled her eyes and walked out, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, “Should’ve been me.”

Chifuyu turned to you, brows drawn tight. “I’m sorry. That was—”

You cut him off with a grin. “Relax. It’s not the first time someone judged a book by its hoodie.”

Still, something in your chest twisted. Just a little.

___________________________________________________________________________

Chifuyu was waiting outside the little soba shop near your usual meeting spot, playing with his phone when he heard your footsteps. He looked up casually — and froze.

You were wearing the cutest outfit he had ever seen on you.

A soft, flowy skirt that hit just above your knees. A cozy sweater tucked in neatly. Delicate earrings. Your hair was styled, face softly made up — nothing over the top, just enough to look effortlessly beautiful.

“Hey,” you said, smiling.

Chifuyu just stared. Like you’d punched the wind out of him.

“Babe?” you tilted your head.

He blinked. “You’re... holy crap.”

You smirked. “Still think I’m not pretty enough for you?”

His whole face turned tomato red.

“No—! I mean— You’re always pretty, it’s not about the clothes— I just—damn.” He looked like he short-circuited.

“You okay, Chifuyu?”

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, nodded quickly, and looked away like he needed to reboot. “Y-Yeah. I just wasn’t ready. You look like… like you stepped out of a movie or something.”

You laughed and leaned in to fix the collar of his jacket. “Good. I wanted you to see what ‘not pretty enough’ looks like.”

He finally turned back to you, eyes soft and serious now. “You didn’t need to prove anything. But... I’m really glad I get to be the only guy who sees you like this.”

You gave him a wink. “Only if you stop turning the color of your fish tanks.”

He groaned and muttered under his breath: “Too late for that.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Sanzu Haruchiyo:

The Bonten hideout was buzzing that evening — sharp suits, low voices, and tension like cigarette smoke in the air.

You were never one for flashy entrances. Hoodie on, hair tied back, combat boots heavy against the concrete floor as you made your way toward the back, where Sanzu was seated on one of the couches with a drink in his hand and a bored expression on his face.

There was a girl sitting next to him — one of the newer affiliates, clearly trying to climb the ranks by any means necessary. She laughed too loudly, leaned in too close.

Sanzu didn’t move. But his eyes flicked to the door the moment he sensed you.

The girl noticed. She turned too, eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of you.

“That her?” she asked, low. “The girlfriend?”

Sanzu hummed, swirling his drink.

The girl’s lips twitched. “Huh. I expected someone more... polished. She kind of looks like she works security.”

You reached the edge of the couch just in time to hear it.

“I do,” you said dryly. “His.”

The girl blinked.

Sanzu gave a wide, lazy grin — not even hiding how much he loved that.

The girl stood up fast, murmuring some fake apology and brushing past you.

You didn’t chase her.

But your fingers lingered a little on Sanzu’s shoulder as you walked by. “You free tomorrow night?”

He looked up at you like you were made of gold. “Always, baby.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The restaurant was private, upscale, drenched in dim lighting and heavy marble tables where the core Bonten members were already gathered. You were running a little late — intentionally.

Because tonight, you weren't wearing a hoodie.

You stepped into the room in a dark, body-hugging dress that split at the thigh, delicate chains brushing your collarbone, your makeup sharp and your heels clicking softly as you walked.

Conversation halted.

Rindou blinked. Ran actually coughed. Kakucho whispered something under his breath.

And Sanzu? Sanzu froze — eyes locked on you like he’d just watched a cathedral rise from the floor.

He stood up slowly, like in a trance, pushing his chair back with one hand and licking his bottom lip like he didn’t know what else to do with himself.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered.

You smiled, coming to stand in front of him. “Miss me?”

He grabbed your waist — not gentle — pulling you flush against him in front of everyone.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he said, voice low and ragged at your ear. “And it’s working.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his cheek. “Still think I look like security?”

He growled something under his breath and kissed you, hard, in full view of the Bonten table, like he was branding the moment into the timeline.

Later, as you sat on his lap while he lit a cigarette with shaking hands, he whispered against your neck:

“Next time someone says anything about you… they die before they finish the sentence.”

You laughed, sipping his drink. “Relax. I just like reminding them you’re mine.”

He pulled you closer, breath hot at your throat. “No one could ever forget.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Ran Haitani:

The Bonten meeting was already heating up when you walked into the lounge.

You weren’t dressed to impress. Just your usual look — hoodie, cargos, clean sneakers. Comfortable, low-effort. Just how Ran liked you.

You spotted him instantly: sprawled lazily on a black leather couch, legs crossed, one arm draped over the backrest like he owned the room. (He basically did.) He looked up the moment he felt your eyes on him — and smiled.

That lazy, lethal grin that said “Come here, baby.”

You were halfway across the room when a girl — tall, glossy, and clearly not from your side — stepped right into your path and shoulder-checked you hard enough to knock you off balance.

“Oops,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.

You steadied yourself, shooting her a cold glance.

She turned to Ran with a syrupy voice. “Ran~ I didn’t know you were into ugly girls now.”

You blinked. Excuse me?

The room quieted just slightly. Someone muttered “damn” in the back.

Ran didn’t stand. He didn’t raise his voice.

He just leaned forward with a slow, sharp grin. “Huh. I didn’t know I was talking to a corpse.”

The girl blinked, confused.

Ran stood in one smooth, terrifying motion, walked straight past her, and stopped in front of you. Without a word, he slid one hand around your waist, tugged you flush against him, and kissed you — full, possessive, leaving-no-room-for-doubt.

You barely had time to gasp before he pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You good, pretty girl?”

You nodded, slightly dazed. “Yeah…”

He looked over his shoulder at the stunned girl still standing there, and with a light but pointed tone, said, “Next time you try to talk, don’t.”

Then, as if she no longer existed, he turned, led you over to the couch, and sat down — pulling you right onto his lap, tucking your legs over his, one arm still firm around your waist like you were made to fit there.

The girl stormed off, flustered and silent.

Ran kissed your temple and whispered, low, teasing:

“I dare someone else to try that again.”

You chuckled softly. “You really like making a scene, huh?”

He smirked. “No, baby. I like reminding everyone who you belong to.”

You leaned into his chest, grinning. “You’re lucky I do.”

He gave a little laugh, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m the lucky one.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The warehouse was buzzing low with tension — Toman and Bonten finishing up a deal that had taken longer than expected. Everyone was watching, waiting, half-expecting trouble.

And trouble had a name — the same girl from before, standing near Ran with that smug look like she thought she’d won last time.

But this time, you weren’t the hoodie-and-sneakers girl.

No, today, you owned the room.

You stepped inside wearing a sleek black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, a daring slit running up the side. Your makeup was flawless — smoky eyes, deep red lips, hair cascading in soft waves. Your heels clicked confidently on the concrete floor.

Heads turned. Even the roughest gangsters paused. Ran’s eyes darkened as he caught sight of you.

The girl near Ran’s side froze — mouth open, completely caught off guard.

You smiled, slow and cold, as you walked over to him like you owned the place.

Sliding onto Ran’s lap, you leaned in and smoothly stole the cigarette from his lips, holding it between your fingers, and locking eyes with the stunned girl like she was beneath you.

“Miss me?” you purred, voice low and sharp.

The girl’s mouth snapped shut, and she took a step back, powerless.

Ran’s grin was wide, full of pride and amusement. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear.

“You look dangerous tonight, baby.” His breath was warm. “Good luck trying to forget who owns me.”

You gave a little laugh, flicking ash from the cigarette as you turned your eyes back to the girl, who was now fully retreating.

Ran cupped your face, kissed you deeply, and whispered, “You’re mine. Always.”

The room was electric. Everyone knew the message.

And no one dared to challenge it again.

___________________________________________________________________________

Rindou Haitani:

The Bonten hideout was shrouded in cigarette smoke and low conversations, a familiar haze that settled like a second skin. You were leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, watching the usual dance of power and strategy between gang members.

Sanzu was there, of course. Always watching, always sharp. And tonight, he had his sights set on you.

He flicked ash from his cigarette, eyes gleaming with that sly, dangerous amusement only he could pull off.

“Never seen you dress up before,” he called out, voice dripping with mockery. “Do you even know how? Or are hoodies the only thing you’re comfortable in?”

The room shifted slightly; some chuckled, some glanced your way, waiting for your reaction.

You just smiled — a slow, confident curve of your lips that promised something different.

___________________________________________________________________________

The street was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights as you stepped out of your building.

A sleek black luxury car waited at the curb, the engine humming softly. Behind the wheel, a professional-looking driver sat, eyes forward, ready to go.

But it was the man standing outside the car who caught your attention.

Rindou — sharp suit, cool and calm — leaned casually against the door, his arms crossed. His dark eyes locked on you the moment you appeared, a slow smile spreading across his face.

You were wearing a dark red dress that hugged your figure beautifully — the fabric silky and smooth, accentuating your curves and tone with elegance. The slit on the side revealed just enough to turn heads without saying a word. Your hair fell in loose waves, your makeup perfect with smoky eyes and matching red lips.

Rindou pushed off the car and approached, his gaze hungry and possessive.

“Damn,” he said quietly. “You look like trouble.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “Exactly what you need.”

He opened the door for you with a flourish, then held your hand as you slid into the backseat. The driver started the engine, and the car pulled away smoothly into the night.

The restaurant was dim and classy, the kind of place that made everyone sit up and notice when you walked in.

Sanzu was already there, leaning against a pillar with that cocky smirk. His eyes flicked over you and Rindou.

“Never saw you dress like that before,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You didn’t flinch.

Instead, you walked over to Rindou, sliding onto his lap as if you owned the place.

After you slid onto Rindou’s lap, the room held its breath.

You locked eyes with Sanzu and coolly said, “Hope you learned to shut up now, Sanzu.”

Without hesitation, Rindou grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. His lips crashed onto yours — deep, fierce, and full of possession.

He kissed you like he was marking his territory, like the whole world was watching and he wanted to make sure no one could miss it.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes burned with fierce pride.

“Sanzu doesn’t know how hot you are,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “And he sure as hell doesn’t know that you’re mine.”

His hands held you tight, as if letting go was unthinkable.

You smiled against him, heart pounding.

“Good. Let him think whatever he wants. I’m right here.”

Rindou’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

“Exactly. And I’ll make sure everyone remembers that.”

The room was silent — the message clear.

You were his. And no one could take that away.

___________________________________________________________________________

Shinichiro Sano:

Shinchiro was behind the counter of his shop, focused and calm as usual, fixing a bike with his sleeves rolled up.

You leaned casually against the doorway, dressed in your usual comfortable, boyish clothes — hoodie, jeans, sneakers — because, honestly, that’s just how you liked it.

A couple of gang members were hanging out nearby, watching you both with that teasing smirk.

One of them nudged the other and said loud enough for Shinchiro to hear, “Man, she’s like one of the guys, huh? Hard to believe she’s even his girlfriend.”

Another laughed, “Yeah, kinda forgot she was even a girl sometimes.”

You just rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything.

Shinchiro glanced up and smiled softly at you, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe he was the lucky one.

__________________________________________________________________________

The sun was dipping low, casting a warm golden glow over the quiet street as you approached Shinchiro’s shop.

This time, you weren’t wearing your usual hoodie and sneakers.

Instead, you stepped out in a soft cream blouse with delicate lace trimming at the cuffs, tucked neatly into a flowing navy skirt that swayed gently with each step. Your hair was styled into loose waves that framed your face perfectly, and your makeup was subtle but glowing — just enough to highlight your natural beauty.

You walked with quiet confidence, the soft click of your polished flats echoing slightly on the pavement.

The gang members leaning against the walls outside the shop immediately noticed.

The conversation around them froze. One of the guys stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide.

“Is that… her?” another whispered, disbelief clear in his voice.

The usual teasing smirks vanished, replaced by stunned silence.

Shinchiro, coming from inside the shop, stopped dead in his tracks as he saw you.

His eyebrows lifted, and his breath hitched for a second.

“Wow,” he murmured, voice low and full of awe.

You smiled softly, stepping closer until you were just beside him.

He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek.

“You look… incredible,” he said quietly, his eyes shining with something tender and proud.

From the corner of the street, Wakasa leaned casually against the wall, watching the scene with a sly grin.

He called out loud enough for everyone to hear, voice full of authority and humor:

“And this is why you shut the fuck up when it’s about Shins girlfriend.”

The group exchanged embarrassed glances, knowing better than to argue.

Shinchiro pulled you into a quiet embrace, his hand resting protectively on your lower back.

“I still don’t know how I got so lucky,” he whispered into your hair.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words.

“Well, lucky’s on your side,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

___________________________________________________________________________

Wakasa Imaushi:

Wakasa lounged against the cracked brick wall outside the usual hangout, a cigarette lazily perched between his fingers. The dull orange glow pulsed rhythmically as he exhaled smoke, eyes half-lidded in that usual relaxed, cool expression. The world around him seemed slow, the evening light casting long shadows as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

You approached quietly, your footsteps soft on the concrete, but this time something was different. No hoodie. No oversized jacket. No boyish jeans.

Instead, you wore a summer dress — soft and flowing, the fabric light as air, with gentle pastel hues that caught the fading sunlight and seemed to shimmer. The dress hugged your waist just right, flaring gently into a skirt that fluttered softly with each step. Your hair was styled simply, but in a way that made you glow with a delicate, feminine beauty that Wakasa had never really seen before.

His cigarette suddenly slipped from his lips and hit the ground with a soft clatter, forgotten.

Wakasa’s dark eyes flicked up, wide with surprise and something raw and unguarded.

For the first time, the usual calm, almost indifferent mask faded.

His breath hitched, and the slow, lazy smile he usually wore vanished as he stared at you, his gaze tracing every curve, every detail of this new, stunning version of you.

He straightened, pushing off the wall with a sharpness that made the air between you crackle.

His movements were slow and deliberate as he closed the distance, like he wanted to savor every moment of this surprise.

When he reached you, he lifted one hand gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly, reverently, across your skin.

His voice came low, rough around the edges, but filled with a possessive warmth:

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was slow, deep, and fierce — like staking a claim on you in a way words never could.

The cigarette smoke seemed to disappear entirely as you lost yourself in that kiss, feeling the heat of his desire and the protective intensity behind it.

When Wakasa finally pulled away, his dark eyes burned with pride and something softer — admiration, awe.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Always have been. But this… this is something else.”

You smiled, heart pounding in your chest, knowing this was a moment neither of you would forget.

Wakasa pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, and added quietly, “No one else better even think about it.”

The streetlights flickered on, casting a soft glow around you both, but all Wakasa saw was you.

___________________________________________________________________________

Hanma Shuji:

The pulsing lights of Hanma’s club cut through the smoke-filled air as music throbbed from every corner. The usual chaos of the night buzzed all around, but Hanma’s eyes never left the entrance.

He was leaning casually against the bar, a glass of something dark in his hand, his signature devilish grin playing on his lips.

Normally, you’d stroll in like always — hoodie up, jeans, sneakers, blending into the rough crowd with that boyish comfort that Hanma secretly loved.

But tonight was different.

When you walked through the door wearing a tight, sexy dress that hugged your body perfectly, showing just enough skin to drive him wild, the entire room seemed to dim.

Your heels clicked confidently on the floor, turning heads left and right — but Hanma’s gaze was locked on you, sharp and hungry.

Without breaking his gaze, Hanma pushed through the crowd and pulled out the seat next to him.

As you settled down, he didn’t just let you sit quietly.

His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His fingers pressed possessively against your hips, tracing slow, deliberate circles.

Then his other hand moved to your thigh, fingers grazing up and down with a teasing, almost electric touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Not some hoodie-wearing kid tonight.”

You smirked, leaning into him, your lips close to his ear.

“Thought I’d shake things up,” you teased.

Hanma’s grin widened, dark and dangerous.

“You do more than shake things up, baby.”

He tightened his hold on your hips, pulling you even closer as his eyes sparkled with wicked amusement.

“Don’t think I’m gonna let you out of my sight tonight.”

The tension between you crackled like electricity, the wild energy of the club fading into the background as you two owned the moment — fierce, unstoppable, and utterly magnetic.

[hvnlygrl]

hii can u do rafe cameron

can u pls do soft!rafe cameron or soft!jj maybamk where reader and him get into an argument and then he storms out and then the next morning reader gets her period, and when he comes home he just sees her lying on the bed eith a heating pad so he decides to make her a cookie skillet with nutella in it and ice cream on top of it and when he gives it to her she immediately starts sobbing and covering her face with the back of her hand telling him how shes so sorry and that she wished she never foughr with him and then he just comforts her and helps her eat while they watch a movie

⌞ I TAKE IT ALL BACK ⌝

જ⁀➴ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

જ⁀➴ word count | 1.3k

જ⁀➴ warnings | lotta cussing, reader gets a little mean, argument between rafe/reader, hurt/comfort.

જ⁀➴ synopsis | after a fight with rafe due to your hormones during that time of the month, he goes out of his way to make you feel better.

જ⁀➴ notes | sorry i kinda went in a little bit of a different direction with this i hope that's okay! but the general idea is still the same... thank you for the request! it's such a sweet idea <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

it had never bothered you before, the sound of rafe on his game in the spare bedroom, but for some reason the loud sounds of him on the headset with his friends were driving you up the wall while you tried to watch your show in the living room. 

you sighed out in annoyance when you heard him for what seemed like the 20th time in 5 minutes, “GO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? TOPPER GET HIS ASS!” 

you clicked the volume up on the t.v. in front of you, head beginning to ache from the loudness of the show mixed with the loudness from the game room. you were unsure of how to handle the situation. you didn’t want to ruin rafe’s fun on the game, and you surely didn’t want to start an argument with him but you couldn’t take it anymore. 

you paused the show, stood from the couch and stomped your way down the hallway. you didn’t bother knocking on the door since you knew he wouldn’t hear it, instead opening it as soon as you reached it. “rafe,” you called out. no answer. he continued clacking at the keys on the p.c., shouting orders at topper and kelce over the headset. “rafe,” you called out again, quite a bit louder this time. still no answer. 

at this point you were fed up. you were unsure of where the blind rage came from, but before you knew it you yanked the headset from his head. 

“what the-y/n? what the fuck are you doing?” he shouts at you, his eyes flitting back and forth between the computer screen and your angered expression. 

“can you shut the fuck up, dude? i’m trying to watch my show,” you grumble at him as if it's obvious. 

“woah,” he cocks his head back at your statement, “chill out.” 

now you’re really pissed. “don’t tell me to fucking chill out!” 

“babe, it’s not that serious,” he continues clacking at the keys on the game. 

“it is that serious. you try watching your favorite show and listen to me hooting and hollering from the next room. it’s fucking aggravating and i can't take it anymore right now.” 

rafe rolls his eyes. “i don’t know what you want me to tell you, y/n, it’s really not that serious. i’m doing my thing and you’re doing yours. you don’t see me busting through the door to get on your ass about the t.v. being too loud.” 

you can hear the oohs and ruh-rohs coming from the headset, only adding fuel to the fire. 

“oh my god, dude, can you just act like a fucking adult for five minutes? you don’t have to play fortnite every single night with your gay ass homeboys. maybe you could spend time with your girlfriend instead of being on the game from the second you get home until hours after i fall asleep.” 

“that is so not true and you know it, bruh.” 

“if you’re gonna play the game and not even interact with me, then just go do it at your own damn apartment. i’m not fucking dealing with this right now. i have a migraine and i don’t want you here tonight.”

rafe can't ignore the pang that shoots through his heart at your words. “seriously? you’re kicking me out?” 

“yeah,” you mutter softly before leaving the room and heading back to the living room. cramps begin overtaking the muscles in your stomach, only adding to your agitation. you breathe out shakily, your throat beginning to tighten as you watch him grab his bag and storm out. 

once the door slams behind him, a wave of guilt washes over you, your eyes watering as you smack yourself for kicking him out. all you wanted was for him to stop being so loud and now he’s on the way back to his apartment, pissed at you for embarrassing him in front of his friends and for sending him home.

you lie down on the couch, allowing the tears to stream freely as your thoughts get darker and crueler toward yourself. you sob deeply, arms wrapped around a pillow until you finally fall asleep. 

about an hour or so later you wake up, shuffling into the bathroom, you notice your appearance in the mirror; cheeks puffy and eyes swollen from crying. the sight only makes you feel worse. you sit on the toilet, letting out a harsh sigh when you notice the blood that pooled in your favorite pair of panties. after already feeling like a piece of shit both physically and mentally, here was mother nature three days early, ready to screw you over even more. 

you couldn't help but tear up again at the inconvenience, suddenly realizing what happened tonight. you wanted to slap yourself for being so stupid and not noticing the signs, but you knew that it was too late now. after heading to your bedroom to find a new pair of underwear and shorts, and spotting the dirty pair before throwing it into the wash, you head back to the living room. 

your heart beats in your throat as you pull out your phone to text rafe. 

after the conversation with him you felt a lot better about the situation, but you were still feeling pretty upset. you rummaged through the kitchen, checking the cabinets and the fridge and freezer for any type of food that would satisfy your cravings. of course, you had absolutely nothing that would help. you sighed as you shuffled back toward the living room, opting to just lie on the couch and watch your show until you fell back asleep. 

you knew the thought was dramatic, but you couldn’t help but wonder when your life turned into this; alone in an apartment that was too big for you with nothing you wanted and no one to share it with. 

and then you heard a knock on the door. despite it being his signature knock, you couldn't stop yourself from checking the peephole, heart fluttering when you saw the blonde on the other side of the door.

you quickly opened it, a soft smile on your lips. “what are you doing here?”

“did you really think i was gonna let you be alone on night one?” rafe raises a brow at you before revealing two grocery bags he’d been hiding behind his back. he had made a run to the local store for all your favorite sweets, chips, icecream, drinks, and anything else he could think of. he even bought you a heated stuffed animal that could be thrown into the microwave and used as a heating pad.

“baby,” your lips curl down into a frown, eyes watering at the gesture, “you’re too nice to me.” 

“of course i am,” he chuckles as he sets the items down on the coffee table, “you’re my girl.” 

you watch in awe as he grabs your favorite cup, fills it with ice and pours your drink into it. then he grabs the stuffed turtle (your favorite animal) and heads to the kitchen to throw it into the microwave for a couple minutes. 

“get comfy, babe,” he calls out to you, “get your show set up, do whatever you gotta do.” 

you smile at him sweetly. “you didn’t have to do all this, rafe.” 

“i know,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “i wanted to.” 

“thank you,” you whisper when he brings the warmed turtle over to you. you moan happily when you stick it onto your lower abdomen, the sensation immediately easing some of the pain. “i don’t deserve you.” 

“sure you do,” rafe huffs as he kicks his shoes off and gets comfy next to you, “how many times have you taken care of me? saved my ass without me even thinking to ask you for help?” 

you nod, “yea, i guess you’re right. i’m sorry about what i said earlier baby, i take it all back.” 

“don’t stress,” he holds his hands up, “water under the bridge, my girl.” 

you smile at him, admiring his features before turning your gaze back to the t.v. and snuggling in closer to him. “i love you.”

“i love you,” he parrots back, hand rubbing at your lower back in the spot that he knows typically bothers you. 

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hvnlygrl 2025 ©️

taglist — @lanasb0ngwater

[skzstannie]

"If only they knew"

SKZ -> Seungmin x fem!reader

genre: frenemies to lovers, slight angst and a little bit of crack (simply because I just can't help myself) wc: ~2,600 cw: none :)

summary: Seungmin never thought his sorry attempt at flirting would crack your shell; if only he knew.

A/N: 2 fics in a row is kinda crazy for me. Go give my Yunho fic a read if you haven't already! Appreciate you guys!

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

"Seungmin... I'm giving you three seconds to move your ass over before I freak the fuck out."

"But I'm comfortable right here." You gawk at him, eyes narrowing in annoyance. You see the smirk that forms on his face, and you know from prior experience that means game on.

You turn facing forward again, acting nonchalant. When just enough time has past, and the storm has calmed, you forcefully shove his shoulder, pushing him clear off the bench.

"Come on guys, do we really always have to do this? It's getting old," Chan comments from where he's sat across from you.

Your friend group is currently sat at a large picnic table outside on your university campus. When it's a nice day such as this one, you all prefer to be outside rather than all cramped together in your school's lunch court.

"Yea, Y/n, maybe you should try being nice to me for once, ya know? Pick on someone your own size; I think the ant I just crushed would be a more suitable match for you," Seungmin snarks back, standing up from the ground, brushing the dirt and grass from his backside.

Immediately you lunge at him once again, only to be pulled back by Lee Know who's sat on your other side.

"Okayyy, I think we should go for a nice walk, hmm? How does that sound?" He grabs your arm, pulling slightly.

"Sure, right after I pound his face in," you say, wrenching your arm out of the tight grip Lee Know has on you. Before you get very far, Hyunjin springs up from the other end of the table and grabs your hand, leading you in the opposite direction of Seungmin.

You turn back once more, wanting to finish what you started, but Lee Know is right behind you. He pushes you forward, preventing you from going back. "Walk," he says sternly. You huff but do as he says anyway, knowing you need to calm down before facing everyone, specifically the ant squasher, again.

"I just don't understand," you start, throwing your hands up in the air, "Was he just born with a personal vendetta against me? Or did he have a dream where I offended his entire ancestry? I just don't get why it's always me; I'm always his target," you vent.

"I don't really get it either, none of us do," Hyunjin agrees, walking beside you. Lee Know flanks your other side, and you guys continue to walk towards the trail that leads around your campus.

This is pretty much a weekly occurrence at this point, emotionally cooling off walking these sidewalks. The scenery is beautiful, and you like being able to appreciate the nature walks your school has to offer, you just wish it were under different circumstances.

"I think he just likes your reactions the most. That, and I don't think he's as scared of you," Lee Know comments.

"What's there not to be scared of? I can be scary!" You tell them.

"What have you ever done that was remotely scary?" Hyunjin snorts, only adding more fuel to your fire.

"Oh really? What about that time I hid in your dorm with that Scream mask on and scared you so bad that you peed your pants? If you weren't scared, I guess I need a better definition," you sass back, nudging him slightly.

"That was one time!" He whines back.

"And we're never letting you forget it," Lee Know chuckles, the memory playing clear as day in his head. "But I have to agree, he knows that he can get away with pretty much anything with you."

"Well, if you guys would've let me give him a good knuckle sandwich back there, maybe he'd think differently."

"It's not worth it. Every time he gets a reaction out of you, he wins. He gets what he wants. That simple." Hyunjin points out.

As the three of you round the last building you pass on your walk, the commons come back into view, and you see the rest of your friends, sans Seungmin, Chan, and Jeongin, still sat at your usual spot.

Lee Know and Hyunjin continue to conversate beside you, but you zone out, thinking if only they knew.

~ ~ ~

"You could be a little nicer to her, ya know," Chan says, pulling into the driveway of the dorms.

"Why would I do that when I can annoy her?"

"Because one of these times you're gonna go too far and she's gonna hate you. Is that really what you want?" He questions, putting the car in park to really get a good look at him.

It's silent for a moment, before Chan speaks up again. "What is it with her? Has she done something to you that the rest of us don't know about? Please enlighten me, let me in on the secret, because me and the rest of the guys are honestly so lost."

"He likes her."

Chan whips his head around to the backseat where Jeongin is casually scrolling along on his phone.

"That's bullshit," Seungmin counters immediately. Chan turns back to Seungmin, and if it wasn't for the blush starting to adorn his cheeks, he might've actually believed.

"Tell me this is a joke. Tell me you don't treat her like complete shit just because you have a crush on her? What, am I living a real life middle school TV drama?" He exasperates, eyebrows raised to the sky.

"Well sorry that some of us don't know how to properly express our feelings; we weren't all born with perfect genes like you, Chan," Seungmin retorts, reaching for the door handle.

"Oh no you don't." Chan's quick to hit the child lock, forcing him to stay right where he is. "I'm not expecting you to be a perfect flirt, but at least treat her with some decency! The girl's never going to get the hint if you keep treating her the way you do."

"That's the point. I don't want her to get the hint."

"What? Why?" He questions.

"Because he doesn't think she would ever like him back," Jeongin once again speaks up from the backseat.

"Shut the fuck up," Seungmin says, quickly reaching into the backseat to do who knows what to Jeongin.

"Hey! Enough!" Chan yells, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him back around. "Why do you think that?"

"Have you seen the way she acts when I'm around?"

"It's because you're a raging asshole! Not because of who you really are," Chan argues, his voice becoming sincere. "Treat her nicely and see what happens. You're not stuck in whatever loop you've created; break this cycle. She really isn't one to hold grudges, which you should be really thankful for right about now."

"There's no way she'd ever see me as anyone other than the annoying guy who hangs out with the rest of her friends," Seungmin huffs as he stares at his fidgeting hands resting in his lap.

"Now you know that's a lie. Even though she wants to bash your skull in 50% of the time, she still considers you her friend. That I am positive of," Chan reassures him. "And don't worry about anything else."

"And why is that?"

"Because, we're gonna figure out how to get you two together"

~ ~ ~

"I just don't know what to do, Yuna," you say to your friend on the phone. You're sat on your bed, doing homework and drinking a coffee from the shop on campus.

You share a dorm with Hyunjin, Lee Know, and Jisung, but you know none of them are home at the moment. They're all either busy with work or should be in class. Carelessly, you left your door open ajar. Just wide enough for a wandering Lee Know, who just happened to skip class that afternoon, to pick up on the conversation.

Now, he wouldn't normally be one to eavesdrop on your conversations, especially when it's with one of your girlfriends, however, when it's about their resident devil puppy, he just can't help himself.

It's quiet for a moment before you speak up again, and Lee Know has to practically pick his jaw up off the floor.

"Of course not, I could never tell any of them, especially Seungmin, that I like him. The rest of the guys would probably think I had some mild case of Stockholm Syndrome, and Seungmin would laugh in my face so hard he'd probably give himself a hernia."

As much as he wants to barge into your room, grab you by the shoulders and shake you for keeping this vital information from him, he keeps his cool and saunters away from your door with the newfound tip.

~ ~ ~

"Guess what?" Lee Know and Chan say at the same time, both sitting down for their first lecture of the day.

"You can go first," Chan says, digging through his backpack to grab his laptop.

"Y/n likes Seungmin."

Chan chokes on his own spit with how fast he turns his head. He coughs for a moment, Lee Know dramatically patting him on the back. Finally, he gets his bearings back and he takes a deep breath.

"Seungmin likes Y/n, too."

"No fucking way! These two idiots. Why can't they just act like normal people and flirt properly," Lee Know says, laughing at the ridiculous situation.

"I don't know, but we've gotta find a way to get them together."

"How? Y/n doesn't even know I know! I overheard her talking on the phone," he admits.

"Jeongin told me on the way home from lunch yesterday. Apparently the little sneak has known for a while but using it as blackmail against Seungmin."

"Sounds about right," Lee Know laughs, "We'll tell the rest of the guys, though, someone's sure to be able to come up with a plan between the 7 of us."

Chan sends him a look of confusion. "Have you met our friends?"

"Believe me, I have, but I have faith in them. We're all sick and tired of their constant bickering, it's time for a real change around here."

~ ~ ~

"And then she said..." you start, walking down the hallway with Lee Know.

Lee Know distractedly nods, waiting for the signal from Changbin down the hall. Seconds later, Changbin gives him a discrete thumbs up, and the plan commences.

"Hey, there's Changbin! Let's go say- Hey!" you yell as you're pushed into the janitor's closet just to the left. Lee Know makes sure you're all the way in before slamming the door right in your face.

"What's the big idea?" you yell, banging your fists on the door.

"They're not gonna let you out."

You let out a startled screech, quickly turning around to come face to face with Seungmin. "What the hell is this? What are you doing in here?" you ask.

"I don't know, but I've already tried to escape twice, and both times I was caught and dragged right back in here by Chan or Changbin, they're like fucking watchdogs or something." He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans casually up against the concrete wall.

"What are we supposed to do in here? Let us out!" You cry out, once again banging your fists against the door.

"Confess your love for each other then we'll let you go," you hear Lee Know say, his voice coming through muffled through the door.

Your eyes widen in shock, not expecting him to say that at all. Defensively, you whip back around to face Seungmin, hoping your blush doesn't give you away. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Seungmin, feeling cornered, agrees, "Me neither. Definitely no idea what he's referring to."

You turn to look at the wall to your right, suddenly feeling embarrassed of the hot red complexion coating your cheeks and neck.

Seconds turn into minutes, and you realize it's never felt this awkward between the two of you. Yes, you may fight... a lot. The constant bickering that flows between the two of you is noisy, never letting a quiet moment pass. You decide it's uncomfortable, the silence thats encompassing the closet, but the thought of confessing trumps any feelings of discomfort.

"I don't hear any kissing in there!" You hear Jisung yell from the outside. "Yah, hurry this up! I wanna go eat lunch." That would be Jeongin.

"We're just gonna sit in silence until you let us out! We're not playing into whatever fantasies you weirdos have running through your heads!" Seungmin yells back, sliding his back down the wall until he hits the floor. You do the same, moving into the corner away from the door, scared that someone will barge in.

Again, you sit in silence. Seungmin has pulled out his phone, and you've done the same at this point. Suddenly, the door whips open, revealing an impatient looking Lee Know.

"That's it," he says determinedly, "I've had enough."

He stomps over to you, taking your hands and pulling you to your feet.

He pulls you in front of him and holds you in place, his hands resting on your arms.

"Oh Seungmin," he says, his voice a ridiculous high pitch, "I've liked you since forever, and even though you're an asshole I still have a massive crush on you," he finishes. You're stunned to say the least, your jaw dropping to the floor at the confession Lee Know just made.

You turn around, prepared to slap him, but he moves quickly, clearing his throat as he makes his way over to Seungmin. He yanks him off the floor, much less gently than he treated you, and starts again. "Oh Y/n," he says, his voice comically deep, "I like you too, will you be my girlfriend?"

He steps out from behind Seungmin and bows, as if expecting applause for his outrageous performance. "Ok, now that the hard part's out of the way, please continue." He nonchalantly leaves the closet, and the door slams closed behind him.

You're left speechless, staring at the floor. Tears build up in your lashes, realizing your biggest secret, one you've been holding onto for years, was just spilled in front of the one who mattered most. It's stupid really, crying over something as silly as this. But for all the emotional turmoil you've gone through over this, you had always hoped it'd have a greater outcome than this. Being rejected in a janitor's closet is not exactly at the top of your list for things to accomplish in life.

Seungmin, hating the way you're upset, takes initiative and steps towards you.

The tears fall freely as embarrassment continues to color your face. "Honestly," you sniffle, bringing your sleeve up to swipe at your cheeks, "Go ahead and make fun of me now. Get it over with; I can take it."

Your words fly right over his head, as the only thing going through his mind are the ridiculous words that came out of Lee Know's mouth. Could it be true?

His shoes come into your view, and you feel his warm hands gently cup your jaw. He lifts your head, and you make eye contact with him for the first time since you were forced into the closet.

"Is that true?" He asks, the sincerest look adorning his eyes.

You hesitate, scared for what he'll do, of what he'll say. "I suppose it depends," you decide on. "Was what he said true about you?"

"It was, actually," he admits, using his thumbs to wipe the remainder of the stray tears that fell down your face. "I was just never mature enough to admit it myself."

"Well, in that case," your hands come up to grab onto his wrists, "I suppose that it is true."

It's quiet now, the only sound being the soft breaths escaping from both of your mouths.

You watch as his eyes shift down to your lips, tracing over the features of your face.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispers, his hands still softly cupping your jaw.

"Please," you respond. With that, he leans in, and your eyes close as your lips connect with his. You move in sync, and it's better than you could've imagined.

It's short and sweet, but it gets the point across. He likes you back.

"I just want you to know," he starts once you've separated a bit. His hands have moved down to rest around your waist now, yours resting on his chest, "I'm still gonna tease you."

"I wouldn't want it any other way," you say before crashing your lips against his once again, savoring the feeling.

[xetlynn]

arcane imagines- claggor

don’t go

[arcane] [main page] 🔞⚠️content warning⚠️🔞: SMUT prompt: Claggor is jealous of an old friend of yours who rarely comes into town. He doesn't hide it either. containing: afab reader, fem receiving oral, unprotected sex, pull out method, vanilla tbh.

“I’ll be right back.” Claggor tells you, going off further into the market to get the both of you drinks as you were looking over artwork. “Okay, I’ll be waiting!” You beam, now left alone to admire everything. 

The two of you have been flirting for a while, it honestly feels like a game of tag. The only reason he’s at the market with you is because you lied about needing a new mirror for your room and needed someone to carry it for you. You’ve been waiting for this man to make it official. Or at least end this so you can move on with your life. You knew for a fact though that you weren’t going to be the one to say a single thing. 

As you were looking over a booth full of mirrors of all different shapes and sizes you felt someone come up from behind you. Confidently thinking it’s Claggor you turn around with a grin. “I think this is the one- oh… Caspian?” You furrow your eyebrow. “[Name], I was hoping I was right when I saw you!” He laughs, opening his arms expecting an embrace. You eye him up and down but then eventually give into it. Squeezing him. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” You exclaim excitedly. 

“Yeah, been off doing random quests.” He jokes, pulling away with a lopsided smile. “Right, how has that been?” You fold your arms, curious to know. “Eh, y’know. A lot, maybe I can tell you over dinner. Tonight?” He boldly asks and you purse out your lips. 

You really didn’t have anything to do. You were kind of hoping to have a night with Claggor but you also haven’t seen Caspian in three years. You can always spend time with the boy tomorrow. With Caspian you never know when he’s going to stay or leave town. With a shrug of your shoulders you answer him. “Yeah, I know the perfect place to go!” You say, pulling out a little notebook and pencil from your bag you scribble down the address before ripping the page and handing it to him. 

You didn’t see Claggor there, holding both yours and his drinks with a scrunched, annoyed expression. Slowly making his way over as the two of you talked. “Hey! Who’s this?” Claggor speaks up, handing you your drink and you thank him with a cheerful countenance, immediately taking a sip of the beverage. 

“This is Caspian, the one friend I told you about! He travels overseas.” You remind him, subconsciously leaning into his arm. Your friend notices this between the two of you and holds back a small grimace. “Ah, sorry, don’t really remember. I’m Claggor.” He sticks his hand out, the boy in front of both of you places a fake smile upon his lips. Taking Claggor’s hand bitterly. Giving it a rough grip. “Nice to meet you, who are you to [Name]?” 

“[Name]’s… boyfriend.” He hesitantly answers and your eyes widen, utterly shocked by the words. “Oh no way, man. Congrats to the both of you. I was just telling [Name] here how we should chat over dinner tonight.” Caspian finally rips his hand away from Claggor’s. Both men seething with irritation. 

“Really?” Claggor glances down at you and you nod your head. “You should come! It’d be so fun!” You gleam, taking another gulp of your drink. Oblivious to the two’s behavior as you’re still caught up in the fact that Claggor called himself your boyfriend. “Ah, we’d understand if you couldn’t though.” Caspian comments, only adding fuel to the fire. 

“I’ll be there. No worries about that!” Claggor stands up straight, he toward over your friend. “Great! Can’t wait to see the both of you later tonight then. Say, 6pm?” He cocks his head to the side and you nod your head. “Perfect! See you then, Cas!” You say as he’s already walking away. You turn around back to the mirror you had your eyes on. 

Claggor watches your demeanour, did him calling himself your boyfriend scare you off? Was that an idiotic move? Did he ruin this between the both of you? 

But those thoughts quickly disperse at the next couple of words that exit out your muzzle. “So, boyfriend of mine, carry this mirror for me.” You teasingly smack his arm, pointing to the object with your drink in hand. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re fine with it?” He questions and you stick the tip of your tongue out as you pretend to think. “Mmm, I’d like to be properly asked out but I’m fine with it.” You hint to him as you head over to the booth owner, giving them money for the mirror before leaving. 

Claggor carrying the body mirror in one arm as the other is snaked around your waist. Listening to you yap about how excited you are for later tonight. Only causing his chest to ping with jealousy. He doesn’t know why, genuinely he’s not a jealous person. But seeing you with Caspian who was clearly trying to flirt with you just… bothered him. 

And as you unlock the door to your apartment, letting him in first and you tell him to just place the mirror down against the wall. Needing to figure out a good place to put it in your room. 

“Want to hang out until tonight?” You offer, throwing your bag on your couch as you head to your kitchen. “Of course I do.” He scoffs, awkwardly standing in your living room as if he hadn’t been here plenty of times. 

“No need to be so sassy.” You giggle, searching around in your fridge, boredly. You didn’t know what to do, with a sigh you closed the door. Standing straight up to now see Claggor behind you. “Have you ever had feelings for Casper?” He tilts his head and you give a confused guise.

 “Caspian? Haha! Are you jealous?” You poke his side. Going to move past him but he doesn’t let you. “Answer the question, Angel.” He lowly orders and you look taken aback at first but then you attempt to hold a smirk threatening to appear on your lips. “So what if I have?” You ask with an “innocent” expression. 

“I don’t want to go to the dinner.” He suddenly pouts, his strong standing demeanor suddenly vanishing. You chuckle, holding onto his arm. “Claggor, I have never felt a single romantic feeling for Caspian. He’s a friend and nothing more. But if you don’t want to go to dinner tonight. That’s okay.” You pat his chest, finally able to move around him, heading back to the living room. 

A frown still graces his face as he follows after you. “But you’d still be going?” He inquires and you look back at him with raised eyebrows. “Yes.” 

“Could I change your mind?” He traces a hand up and down your forearm and shivers shoot through you. “And how would you do that?” You ask, intrigued now. “It would be worthwhile… I promise.” He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips. 

You bite your bottom lip. “Your jealousy is making you think very lewd… things.” You whisper as his lips now hover over your own. Your breathing was ragged and racing. “Not my jealousy, only you.” He disagrees before pulling you into a kiss. Closing the gap in a quick motion. You gasp against his mouth. 

The two of you have kissed before, it was always short and sweet. Nerves within the both of you always cut things before it could lead into something further. You lift yourself up, holding onto his shoulders as your leg swings to the other side of him. Now straddling his lap. 

Your lips lock with one another, impatient and expectant of more. Your hands glide up his neck to his hair as his own grasp onto your hips. Subtly roaming down… and down… until they’re holding your ass. You giggle into the kiss, peaking an eye open. Feeling his own smug smile against your lips. 

Your perk your ass out even more, indicating that you wanted more but it also causes your core to gingerly rub against his already semi-boner. He grunts quietly from the friction. You feel it too, it was too pleasurable to not do it again. Discreetly you make your hips rock back and forth, lolling onto him. 

Your fingers massaged into his scalp, feeling through his hair as you continue to grind your pelvis over his clothed private. His large hands knead your doughy, globular ass, finding true enjoyment in it. He can’t help but think how Casper… or whatever his name was would love to be in his position right now. 

You withdraw from his mouth, puffing out air as your eyes examine his face. “I need you.” You murmur, pecking his parted lips. “Need me?” He quizzes as you fervently, eagerly nod your head. “Mhm, please.” You mewl out, plantering kisses all over his jaw. “So greedy.” He pops his hips up to get closer to the edge of the couch. You let out a small noise at the movement causing him to smirk. “Let’s go to the room. More comfortable.” He holds the bottom of your thighs. His fingers were close to your aching cunt. 

You nod your head but you go straight to his neck, ambushing it with kisses and little suckles. Definitely leaving faint marks. 

Entering your room he lays you down on your bed but your legs still wrap around his waist. Your hips in the air. He laughs at you and you reach your arms up. “I wasn’t done!” You complain but he just gently pushes your wrists away, throwing his shirt off. 

Your mouth shuts, you want to clench your thighs together but can’t. 

You do the same, ripping your own shirt off, not wasting time as your bra goes with it. He gawks down at your naked chest as you proudly show it off. “Touch me.” You whine, wiggling your hips on his. He obliges, leaning down to give you what you want. His hands go straight to the mounds on your chest. His mouth latching onto your nipples as well. Taking turns with the both of them. You lay your head back on the bed. Closing your eyes at the feeling. 

He was subtly rutting his hips against you like before and moans escape past your lips. 

“So pretty” He mumbles, his hands sliding down your body to your pants. “I want to take these off.” He huffs, forcing you to release your hold on him with your legs. He roughly yanks the clothing off, not even a warning before he does it. You were bewildered by the boy. You haven’t seen him act so… horny before. He’s teased you on countless occasions, but he was so respectful. Tasteful? Right now he is full of yearning and ferventness. 

Your legs were still spread to either side of him so he could fit perfectly between them. Giving him the view of his dreams. He didn’t give you time before his face was right in front of your soaked pussy. You lifted your head to stare down at you. Claggor peers up to you before smiling. 

“Can I?” He asks and you glare at him. “Don’t make me wait. It’s rude.” You sternly tell him. Partly joking but mainly serious. You were antsy now. There was no backing out. There was no stalling. You wanted it. Needed it even. And so did he. So without skipping a bit he dives into his delicious meal ahead of him. 

His tongue swirls over your folds and your hands immediately find their way to his hair. “I’m so glad you got jealous!” You cry as he begins to eat you out. 

It felt like whatever you thought of heaven to be like. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Toes curling. You wanted to feel angry with how he held this from you. The magic of his mouth. You truly were ecstatic that he couldn’t handle his own grown boy emotions of being jealous of a childhood friend of yours. 

He hums into your pussy at your words, grumbling about what you had just said to him. 

But even with how good it felt you had to push his face away from your cunt. “I need you inside me, I can’t handle it.” You roll your hips forward, almost off of the mattress and he snickers at your neediness. “I need to prep you, angel.” His thumb rubbed up and down your thigh and you jut out your bottom lip. “I can take it. Promise.” 

He clicks his tongue, bearing his teeth. “As much as I want to, no, [Name].” He shakes his head and your face falls in disappointment. His mouth was coaxed with your juices and his eyes fell back down to the reason for it. “I’ll be quick” He swears as his fingers go to your cunny. 

His middle and ring delicately sliding down from your clit to your hole. Purposely antagonizing you by being slow. 

As his digits enter inside you his tongue reattaches to your clit. Playing with it. His fingers scissoring inside of you, stretching out your walls. 

Your liquids make squelching noises, starting off quiet but growing ever-so-quickly. He focused on your gratifying spots. Hooked on them, not giving them a break. He learned and adapted quickly to you. Studying every fidget, every moan from your vocals, every twitch of your cunt. Educating himself on what you enjoy. And what’s going to get you closer to your sweet, sweet release. 

“Sweet angel, that feel good?” He mutters against you and you let out an incomprehensible bunch of words. Nonetheless answering his question though. Your muscles tightened in your thighs as you held them in the air. Tummy flexing and you wanted to scream out from how you feel. 

“I- ‘most there!” You squeal, your nails puncturing your own skin on your hips as you hold yourself. “Good girl, cum all over my fingers.” His fingers thrust in and out of you, going back to sucking on your nub. “F-fucking- idont- mmm…” You babbled consistently, not able to do anything else as your body squirmed the closer your orgasm approached. 

And as that wave hit, you were seeing stars. Your mouth held open, the air in your throat not even able to exit. Your cheeks are flushed and warm. 

And even as you cum he’s lapping up every ounce of it. Not letting any of it go to waste. 

As you calm down from what felt like a once in a lifetime ejaculation you lay there almost lifeless. Numb to his mouth that wasn’t letting up. “Claggor…” Your hands grasp at him, weakly shoving him away. “S-stop…” You whine. 

“Alright, angel.” He coos, going back up, kissing you sweetly as his hands worked on pulling his pants down. “Before I give you what you want… Tell me we’re not going to that dinner tonight.” He gazes down at you and suddenly the post-orgasm drunkenness you felt completely dispersed. Your eyes landing on him. “What?” 

“I don’t want you to go.” He tells you truthfully and you giggle. “Claggor… fuck me and I’ll give you an answer.” You wrap your legs around him and push him forward. His weight landing atop of you and you grin. “[Name], but I said-”

“Fuck, Clags. Please.” You interrupt him. 

He couldn’t deny you at that. Swiftly he pulls his cock out. Spitting in his hand before rubbing it on his member. “There we go~” You sing, mouth watering at the sight as he lifts himself back up to line up with your tight, glistening hole. 

He scoffs but still gifts you precisely what you crave and wish for. Sheathing inside of you, inch by inch. 

Your walls clenching and unclenching on him. He swallowed down roughly at the feeling. Still tasting you on his tongue. Once fully inside of you he keeps himself in place until you tell him to move. 

And as those words hit his ears he’s moving at a delectable pace. And as he does his hands roam all over you. Squeezing all over your curves. Getting to feel what he only thought he could imagine in his mind. Getting to experience it was something he had only wished for. 

Your smaller hands grasp onto his. Bringing them to your chest. His eyes were dark, glossed over as he admired every inch of you. Your eyes were shut, it was too much. 

“Look at me, please- wanna see your beautiful eyes.” He begs, squishing your boobs within his hands. Kneading and playing with them. You did as told, sheepishly smiling up at him. His heart fluttered and the only thing he could think to do is forcefully kiss you. Lifting your left leg over his shoulder. 

“Deep! ‘S deep, Clags!” You sob, claw at his arms. “Sh-shit! You’re really squeezing me, angel.” He groaned, this angle had him fighting for his life. 

“S-sorry…” You mewl, bringing your other leg over his other shoulder. Having a hard time keeping it in the air yourself. “Gonna cum soon, where do you want me?” He grunts as he asks you, sweat dripping from his forehead. 

“My mouth, wanna taste you.” You say, and seconds later you feel empty. Your hole gaping, clenching onto nothing. 

You hurriedly get off the bed, sitting on your knees, mouth open for him. Your own hand went to your pussy, swirling around your clit to reach another high. Your eyes were closed as you await Claggor. 

Tongue on display, he jerks himself off. “O-oh fuck!’ He crumbles forward as his semen spurts out. Velvet ropes of cum splattering your face. Barely hitting your tongue where it was supposed to go. 

At the same time your body trembles at your own orgasm. You smile as you lick up the cum around your mouth. 

As he catches his breath, he looks down at you. Now embarrassed at what he did as his ejaculation was in your hair and all over your beautiful face. Your already drenched fingers go and wipe at some of it. Putting it in your mouth and you sucked on them. 

“T’s real good.” You inform him, standing from your spot and plopping down on the bed. He joins you with a huff. “Sorry, gonna have to thoroughly wash that out.” He tried to pick it out of your hair and you laughed. “Guess we might miss that dinner then.” You say with a knowing smile and he perks up. He looks over at the time and it’s only 3. 

He knits his eyebrows together, confused. 

“I thought you wanted to go?” He quizzes and you shrug your shoulders. “Found something more worthwhile.” You press a lip to his cheek. Getting his nut onto his face. 

You were going to have to call Caspian, hoping that he has the same phone number and let him know you weren’t going to make it. 

[aleksatia]

April Just Plans 🌷

First off — massive thanks to everyone for the reblogs, comments, likes, and requests. Last month’s activity was honestly insane (in the best way possible) and I’m beyond grateful! 💛💛💛 All of your support really fuels me to keep writing more of those delicious little stories. I always stick to one rule: only write what I’d want to read myself. So! With that in mind, here’s a little peek at what I’ve got planned for April:

🎵 Songfic Game

🌷"Six Days" Series

✅ Posted: Xavier Solo Story (Sequel)

📝 Planned: Rafayel Solo Story (Sequel)

📝 Planned: Sylus Solo Story (Sequel)

💌 Solo stories for Caleb and Zayne haven’t really been requested, so for now I’m not planning to write any (even though I adore them both — especially Caleb). I’m feeling like it’s time to step away from "6 Days" for a bit and explore something new.

✅ Posted: As a continuation–slash–alternative for all the LADs from “6 Days”, you can check this one out. It’s a bit AU, written by request.

🌷"After You, there was nothing" Series

✅ Posted: Sylus Solo Story

✅ Posted: Rafayel Solo Story

✅ Posted: Caleb Solo Story

✅ Posted: Zayne Solo Story

📝 Planned: Xavier Solo Story

🌷Your Requests:

📝 Planned: "One Day for You, Years for Him" — angst/drama with time skip

✅ Posted: "Not How We Planned It" — pregnancy trope with high-stakes birth: Drabbles | Xavier's Part

📝 Planned: "Something That Wears Her Face" (wanderer-mimic)

✅ Posted: Five Times the Kitchen Caught Fire (and So Did They)

📝 Planned: What-if: Energy Drink Overdose

📝 Planned: What-if: Nervous Breakdown at Caleb’s Grave (and of course, he finds you)

Any new requests will be added to my May lineup — I’ve got work and other things going on too 🙃

[ckret2]

Chapter 73 of human Bill Cipher still being stuck in the Mystery Shack but currently fearing back pain more than execution: it's Day 1 of Bill being off death row, let's see what everyone other than Soos is doing with their day.

When Fiddleford answered the door to Ford and Stan—Stan with the Quantum Destabilizer's case slung over his shoulder—the first thing Fiddleford said was, "That demon's still alive, isn't he?"

"Demon's still alive," Stan confirmed.

Ford let out a long sigh. "I was afraid we'd have to break the news."

"I figured when the power here flickered during your shot." He planted his hands on his hips. "You didn't use the NowUSeeitNowUDontium, did you?"

Ford shook his head.

"Well?" Fiddleford fixed Ford with an angry squint, lips pursed. (Maybe it wasn't an angry squint, Ford told himself hopefully. Maybe it was just because Fiddleford didn't have new glasses yet.) "Why didn'cha shoot him?"

"I couldn't. He escaped," Ford said. As panic began to bloom on Fiddleford's face, Ford quickly added, "But he's back! That's why I used the wrong fuel. Somehow he overheard that we'd made enough Dontium for one shot, and he—tried to persuade me to cover his escape. Firing a blank made him think I'd used the Dontium up and he was safe—"

"—So's he'd come back and you could get a proper shot at him! Ha!" Fiddleford jumped up, kicking his heels in the air, hollering, "Stanford Pines, you clever sonovagun!" His hooting and hollering died down as he realized, "So... why're you here with the destabilizer instead of shooting him?"

Ford and Stan exchanged a glance. Stan said, "Well—He—He's pretty harmless right now, really—And he's great with the kids—"

"Not with Dipper," Ford muttered.

"He's great with one of the kids."

Ford said, "And he's..." It would be a lie to say improving, wouldn't it? "He's... got the potential to improve. And we— We thought— If there's a chance he could do better..."

Sternly, Fiddleford said, "You let him get into your head again, didn't you."

Ford sighed. "I let him get into my head."

Stan held out the Quantum Destabilizer's case. "Which is why we're here. He's not in your head. You won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

"I getcha." Fiddleford accepted the case grimly. "You need me to finish the job."

Ford hastily added, "If—if it becomes necessary."

Fiddleford gave him a hard look.

Ford swallowed as he realized—as always, a moment too late—just what an enormous thing he was asking of Fiddleford and his fragile nerves. "But if you don't think— I mean, if you'd rather it stay in our hands—"

Fiddleford held the Quantum Destabilizer away from Ford. "No, no—you're right. It's safer here," he said. "You oughta shoot him. I'm never not gonna think you oughta shoot him. Especially now we know he knows how to escape. But, if you won't—better that this is in my hands than with the fellers what let that devil sucker 'em into thinking he deserves to live."

Ford wanted to say I'm sorry. If he was so sorry, why had he chosen to let Bill live? It seemed like his problems always became Fiddleford's problems—yet the only times Fiddleford's problems became Ford's was when Ford caused them. "Well—the good news is, even if he does escape, he can't get far. He's trapped inside Gravity Falls' weirdness barrier."

"Well, that's somethin'," Fiddleford muttered. Then he frowned and gave Ford a sharp look. "Wait," he said slowly. "Are you sure he can't get out?"

"I—" Ford tried to remember when they'd learned that. "Sure, we—found out that first night, didn't we?" It had been a very long night.

"Yeah!" Stan laughed. "Almost accidentally killed the guy by driving him into it."

Fiddleford nodded, his expression faraway and thoughtful. "I need to run some calculations," he said. "I'll let you know what I find."

He turned away, muttering to himself. Just before he shut the door, Ford saw Tate at the far end of the great hall, arms crossed, watching the proceedings sourly.

And then the door was shut without so much as a goodbye.

"Huh," Stan said. "Ominous!" He clapped Ford on the shoulder. "Welp, let's get home!"

####

Tate leaned into Fiddleford's lab. "Dad?"

Fiddleford was sitting at a space he'd cleared at a worktable, hunched forward and squinting to see his work as he ran through a towering stack of calculations, using a calculator to double-check his math and a second calculator to double-check the first one. As he often did, he'd put on an old record to help block out distractions; and an old country song was blasting at top volume as Fiddleford sang/yodeled along: "I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son! How I looong to shoot that sonuuuvaguuun. I'll seeee my boy when that triaaangle's done—cuz I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son—"

"Dad," Tate said louder.

"Tater!" Fiddleford sat up, automatically reached to adjust a pair of glasses he wasn't wearing, and just bumped the bridge of his nose. "What is it, son?"

"Couldja turn the volume down?"

"Turn th—?" Fiddleford looked at his record player, started when he realized what was playing, and quickly took the needle off the record. "Sorry, Tater, I—"

"It's fine," Tate said glumly.

"Didn't even realize which song'd come on. They're just words to sing along to. You know I don't really feel..."

"Just don't like Pluckin' Jim's yodeling style, that's all."

Fiddleford dropped his gaze. "All right, that's fine. I'll keep it down."

Tate stuck his hands in his pockets. "Might oughta be careful with that album, anyway. If any guests overhear it talking about the triangle and call the police..."

"Oh, I know, I know. You're right, I'll be careful. It's just..." He reached under his hat to scratch at his head like he was trying to massage his brain into working. "When it feels like the whole darn world's gone crazy, it's comforting hearin' somebody sing something sensible," he said. "I—I don't mean Jim's attitude toward his family. Just the rest of it."

"Mm." Tate nodded.

Fiddleford sighed and shook his head sadly. "I don't know—maybe I'm the one who's going crazy."

"Naw," Tate said immediately. "You're not. You're the sanest I've seen you since I was a kid, dad."

"Well—thank you, Tater. That means a lot."

"You're just stressed, that's all." Tate nodded toward Fiddleford's stack of calculations. "Don't overwork yourself, all right?"

"I won't, I promise."

"If you need help with all that math..."

"No, no, that's all right." Fiddleford waved off the offer. "It's got to do with Stanford's weirdness thingamajig." For the past few months, Fiddleford and Stanford had been working on a paper about the Law of Weirdness Magnetism—although that had seemingly ground to a stop at the start of summer.

Tate paused. "Okay, but I'm dragging you out of there for meals."

"Heh! I won't fight you."

As Tate left, Fiddleford set the needle back on the record, starting the next song: "The Three B's Poisoning Your Children (Booze, Bebop, and Bill)." Tate shut the door and let out a long sigh.

####

"I'll get it!" Dipper doubted anyone else could even hear the phone; Abuelita was asleep in the living room, Soos was upstairs hammering on something, and Bill and Mabel were at the far end of the house playing the piano and singing.

Dipper jogged into the office. "Hello?"

"Dipper!" Wendy said. "Dude! Just the man I wanted to reach."

"Wendy, hey! What's up?"

"Are you still looking for the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes! Why, did something happen?"

A couple weeks earlier, Wendy had shown him where her brother had seen the Fremont Nightwigglers; but by the time she showed him the path, they'd already come and gone a couple nights earlier. They'd found footprints and followed them to what looked like a campsite—there were odd empty burrows in the ground and traces of ashes—but when Dipper had tried to figure out where they'd gone after leaving the campsite, he'd lost their trail in the underbrush.

"Gus says he saw them on the same trail again last night," Wendy said. "Which means, if they were going back to that place we found with the burrows, and it was a campsite—"

"—then that's where they're camping today. So they'll still be there tonight!" Dipper laughed. "That's perfect! I can stake them out and watch when they wake up! Hey, do you wanna come along for a stakeout?"

Wendy groaned. "I wish. Gus freaked my dad out talking about the Nightwigglers. He says we have to stay home after dark and he's actually been checking our rooms."

"Aw, man. That stinks."

"But hey, tell me all about it at work, okay?"

"You got it! Oh—I could make a Guide to the Unexplained episode! I'll show you the whole thing."

"Oh, awesome. I can't wait to see these things," Wendy said. "Head's up, you probably wanna be quiet to avoid spooking them. Gus said they looked super skittish last night. They're probably wigging out because of gravity disappearing for a couple of days, lots of other wild animals are. I don't blame them, I'm still wondering what was up with that."

"Giant invisible flying axolotl from another dimension."

Wendy laughed in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! I'll tell you about it at work too." Probably leaving out Bill's involvement. Speaking of Bill, where had he left Dipper's backpack? "I've gotta pack for the stakeout. Thanks for the tip!"

####

Gideon knocked on the shack's back door and waited anxiously, tugging at his sleeves and shifting from foot to foot.

The door opened to the sound of distant piano music. Dipper stood there holding a heavy backpack and a box of granola bars. "Gideon?" He didn't sound thrilled.

"Well, hey there, Dipper!" Gideon tried to sound more chipper than he felt. "I don't suppose Mabel's ar—"

"Nope," Dipper said. "What do you want?"

Gideon took a deep breath. "It's about Bill—"

"Shhh!" Dipper cast a nervous glance back toward Soos's grandma asleep in the living room. "Keep it down. Only Mabel and I know you know about Bill and no one else can find out."

"Why not?"

"Because... Mabel and I will get in trouble for not telling them sooner?"

Fair enough. Adults didn't need to know everything, Gideon thought. Voice lower, he said, "I didn't notice him with the others at Rainbow Club this week, and I saw that big laser thingamabob at the shack,"—and the next day received a panicked call from a cultist who couldn't reach Bill—"and... well—I need to know if Bill's dead, or—"

Over the piano playing, an off-key voice sang at top volume: "AND IIIIIIIIII will never HATE yooOoOOou—!" In the living room, Abuelita started from her nap, blinked sleepily, turned up the volume on the TV, and fell back asleep.

Gideon's shoulders sank in disappointment.

"Still alive," Dipper said. "He has a really bad backache, though."

"Well, dang it!" Gideon kicked at a twig on the porch. It didn't move.

"Yeah, I know," Dipper said. "But... I kinda think Bill has to stay alive? I heard this prophecy that I think is about Bill saving everyone? Probably not voluntarily—he actually really didn't want me to hear about the prophecy—so... yeah, we might just be stuck with him. At least for a while."

"Well," Gideon said sourly. "Isn't that just wonderful."

####

As he trudged home, Gideon tried to think of a way out of this. For one day, he'd thought he was blessedly free of Bill; finding out he was wrong felt like getting hauled back to prison.

If the adults didn't know he knew about Bill, maybe he could tell the Stans that Bill had been using him—surely they'd forgive Gideon for using a little dream magic to brainwash the town, right? Stan understood the lengths a businessman had to go to to advertise his business, and Ford was apparently the one who'd recorded the spell in the first place—and maybe the two of them could prevent Bill from spilling his blackmail to the rest of the town; or maybe Gideon could arrange for the Stans to "accidentally" find out Gideon had been working for Bill, and then Bill couldn't blame Gideon for spilling the beans...

Or maybe he could just stop helping Bill. Simple as that. He knew he'd been helping Bill arrange escape plans. Bill had promised he'd keep quiet about Gideon's crimes as long as Gideon didn't pick up dream magic again; but he'd never required Gideon to help him. The only issue was what his contact in Bill's cult might do and whether she might out him as one of Bill's allies; maybe he could just tell her that his parents were getting suspicious and he couldn't be a go-between anymore...

When he got home, as soon as he opened the front door he could hear his father excitedly talking in the kitchen: "It's the darnedest thing! I don't know where they came from—must be tourists, I suppose..."

Gideon followed his voice into the kitchen. "Daddy? What's all this fuss?"

Bud was grinning from ear to ear; even Joy was faintly smiling, a half-washed dish forgotten in her yellow-gloved hands. "There you are," Bud said. "Son, I've got the most terrific news! I just sold the three most expensive cars on the lot, all on the same day! Can you believe that?!"

"Well, hot dog!" Gideon grinned as well, relief washing over him. "That oughta keep us going for a while, shouldn't it?"

"It sure will! I guess you were right—we never needed any magic hocus-pocus, just good salesmanship!" Bud beamed. "But it's just the darnedest thing," he said again, "they all said they'd been referred to the dealership by a Mr. Locke."

Gideon's smile froze and his stomach flipped.

"I don't remember any Mr. Locke passing through town."

"Oh," Joy said, "there was one a—a week or two ago. Some sort of talent agent, I think? He came to see Gideon."

"Did he," Bud said, clearly a bit deflated that it wasn't his prowess as a salesman that had lured these customers to town; but he quickly recovered, "Why, that's wonderful! Maybe looking to line up another television appearance?"

"No no no," Gideon said quickly, "no, it was—it was purely a social visit. I-I knew him last summer. I'm not doing that sort of... television thing anymore."

"Ah, well. Still! Having connections pays off," Bud said. "If all he wants to do is send customers our way, I'll be mighty happy! If he comes by again, invite him to stay for dinner, it's the least we can offer him as thanks."

"I think that's a—a wonderful idea," Joy said, voice even softer than usual. "He was very friendly."

"Son?" Bud called. "Where you headed?"

"Just upstairs, I remembered I need to make a call," Gideon said. He had to ensure Sue knew Bill was alive.

Seemed like he'd be working with her and Bill for a while yet. His family couldn't afford for him not to.

####

Dipper pounced the Stans the moment they entered the shack. "Hey! Great Uncle Ford!" 

"Dipper? What—"

"Grunkle Ford, remember you promised that as soon as we weren't dealing with any Bill bull, we could go on an investigation—?"

"Hey," Stan said sternly, "any Bill what?"

"Bull... soup?" Dipper tried.

Stan nodded, satisfied. "That's right. And if your parents ask, that's exactly what you think it means." At Ford's look of amazement, Stan said, "What! Last year the kids' parents said if they came home swearing, I couldn't take 'em over the summer again."

Dipper resumed his attack: "Well, we're not dealing with any Bill bullsoup today! Come help me track the Nightwigglers!" He held up his journal, proudly showing off his unfinished spread. "Wendy told me where they're camping today! If we're there before they wake up, we can finally see them in person!"

"Really? Tonight?" Ford asked. "We just had a late night yesterday."

"Can't we have two late nights and sleep in tomorrow?" Dipper pled. "They might not be there tomorrow night! What's more important: sleep, or seeing the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes, I see your point. You're absolutely right," Ford said. "I could take a nap now and we can leave after dinner."

"Yes!"

Stan groaned, "Great—the insomniacs are enabling each other." He shook his head and started upstairs, muttering, "I'm gonna see what Soos is hammering on."

Dipper said, "I've already packed my camping supplies! Do you need help packing? I can help you pack! Come on—I can show you where we're going, too!" He impatiently led the way to the elevator.

####

This weekend, Bill had escaped the shack, faked his death, and proven that the whole Pines family actually wanted him alive; and yet, for all that, Mabel thought he seemed pretty down in the dumps today. He'd been kind of off since the eclipse.

Actually, now that she thought about it, he'd been off since before the eclipse, ever since the day he'd been grumpy to her about the glass pyramid "Mysteries." She was pretty sure he wasn't mad at her about that anymore; so she didn't know what was wrong.

But even though Mabel could see him wince when he leaned certain ways or moved his arms too quickly, he was trying to hide that he was in pain and he was trying to hide his gloomy mood. He grinned when he played the piano, and he alternated between popular songs that she knew and could sing along with and a bunch of old boring things like jazz and opera. (Bill tried to sing along to everything, even when he shouldn't. Mabel was pretty sure he was the worst opera soprano in the world.)

She didn't know how to fix whatever was actually bothering him. She could hang out with him and sing and talk—that seemed to make him happier. But Bill needed more than that.

He needed more friends.

Bill attempted a run, one hand crossing over the other and back as he rolled up the keyboard; his hands tripped over each other and stumbled across several keys at once.

Mabel laughed. "That sounded like a musical fart!"

Bill blew a raspberry. "I'll show you a musical fart." He attempted the run again, and messed up again.

Mabel laughed again. "I don't think you've got that part."

"Hey! I'm usually great at that part. It's this body—I'm used to playing it with flat fingers, I haven't practiced it with an extra dimension before," said Bill, who was lying, and had never been good at that part, and truthfully was pleased he now had an excuse that let him pretend he was actually better than he was. "Playing piano in a human body really holds me back. It takes nine hands to play my favorite song." That wasn't a lie.

He started the song over and elbowed Mabel. "Hey. Something's eating at you. What's up, kid?"

She hadn't realized she wasn't hiding her gloomy thoughts well enough. "Uuugh, I want you to meet my friends, but this morning Grunkle Ford said I still can't invite them over even though you're off death row. I guess he and Grunkle Stan are still worried you'll brainwash them or something?"

"Pff. We're still—renegotiating the terms of my imprisonment."

"Oh yeah? What have you renegotiated so far?"

The corners of Bill's mouth turned down. Mabel suspected that might have something to do with his foul mood. "Hey, I've got an idea to get your friends over here."

"Yeah?"

"Tell your uncles that the girls' parents are starting to wonder why you haven't been inviting them over like you did last summer. Say they're beginning to think that something is going on over here, and they're worried you're not in a safe environment—buuut if their kids can come over and see everyone's just been adjusting to a new guest, maaaybe their parents will calm down, right?"

Mabel shot Bill a dirty look. "Bill! That's a complete lie."

"But it's the kind of lie that could easily be true, and might even be true in the future, so is it really a lie?"

"Yeah it is."

"No it's not! Besides, it'll get your friends over here and it won't hurt anything, won't it?"

Mabel grimaced. "Okay, I can try—but if I try it and it works and I bring my friends over, you've got to make friends with them."

"Hmm!" Bill's face twisted up. "I like Candy's taste in art. And her bloodthirst."

Mabel elbowed him. "What do you have against Grenda?"

####

Eight-year-old Grenda sat at her desk kicking her feet and staring at her $1 bill, waiting for the bell to ring for lunch. It was Chocolate Chip Cookie Monday, they were fresh and gooey, and she was ready.

For the first time, she noticed the design on the dollar had a weird little one-eyed triangle with a hat. She pulled out a marker and drew a little smile under his eye.

And then she added buck teeth to the smile.

And then she gave him a second eye, stupid glasses, and a spiky beard that poked out in every direction.

And then drew wavy stink lines over him and added a word bubble that said "I'M SMELLY!"

"Heh. Stupid looking guy," she mumbled.

####

With an air of haughty disdain, Bill said, "She knows what she did."

"Okay, but you'll be nice to her, right? Pleeease?"

"All right, fine," Bill said. "For you, I'll be nice."

####

"Grunkle Stannn can my friends please come over? Even their parents think it's weird that they haven't been here all summer! If Grenda and Candy come over they'll know nothing weird's going on!"

"Uhhh..." Stan grimaced. "The last thing we need is parents asking questions... Yeah, sure, you should probably do that sometime soon. Maybe after we figure out what we're doing with Bill for the rest of the summer—"

"Thanks!" Mabel hugged him, ran off, and decided she'd heard Stan say "yeah, sure, you should."

She pulled out her phone. "Candy! Grenda!" She kept her voice at a loud whisper. "Great news! Dipper's gonna be out with Grunkle Ford tonight and I kinda-sorta got permission for a sleepover! Get ready for a party. I have a plan."

####

(This is a bit of a transition chapter for a couple more plots, but I hope y'all enjoyed! Let me know what you think!)

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

jealous hotchner because he can’t take his brother flirting with you so he shows you who you belong to 😘😘😘 (as in he wasn’t aware he liked you like that until he saw his brother with you and realised he didn’t want sean doing to you what he wants to do to you)

ps. you are an amazing writer and i love your work 🩷

ೇ bathroom bitch ― aaron hotchner .ᐟ

pairing .ᐟ aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

summary | things change thanks to the helpful youngest hotchner (or aaron's a little oblivious but then realizes he's jealous and you guys have sex in the bathroom at work).

warnings | yet ANOTHER pwp, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, mentioned vaginal fingering, rough sex, doggy style, backshots, mirror sex, bathroom sex, dom!aaron hotchner, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamics, kind of mean dom!aaron, he's just being a little mean, but only 'cause he's jealous, the reader is enjoying every second of it though, a lot of dirty talk, teasing, ass smacking (like once), implied oral sex at the end (m rec), they just match each other's freak.

wordcount | 1048

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | WOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO AND DISAPPEAR INTO A HOLE NOW!! this is just a whole mess if i'm going to be honest, but in like... a good way. i don't know if this aaron is ooc 'cause usually he's sweet in most of my fics, but this is just a whole different ball field!

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

You really, really had no idea how you ended up here, but somehow you were pulled to the side by your boss and found yourself tugged into the gender-neutral bathrooms.

Your lips were rolled between your teeth and your eyes were squeezed shut tightly in order to try to keep the sounds of pleasure from spilling between your teeth. Your hands curled into the counter of the sink, head hanging low. 

Aaron’s large palms gripped at the fat of your hips, your pencil skirt shoved up and over your waist, your panties pulled halfway down your thighs before they sat on top of your knees that were squeezed together. It was hard to keep yourself still in your heels, but you were determined to be good for him, just like he had asked.

One moment you were sitting at your desk chatting away with Sean, the youngest Hotchner brother when Aaron had come storming over, mentioning something about, “Leaving his Agent,” Alone. The tone was unfamiliarly possessive, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t felt his brooding from atop of the stairs near his office.

You could always feel him near you, it was like your body was pulled towards the earth that was Aaron Hotchner. 

You could see it in Aaron’s face as he all but dragged his brother away from you, jaw set tight and eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his suit covered chest. They bulged out in the material and you had to keep yourself from moaning at the sight of them.

Sure, you knew Sean was flirting with you, but it was rare that men would show any interest in you, so you can’t blame a girl for taking advantage of a situation in front of her, though it wasn’t the brother that she wanted.

Anywho, that’s neither here nor there. All you know is, is that one moment you’re walking down the hallway after visiting Penelope’s cave to be dragged away by Aaron into the bathrooms and pressed against the door.

The way he peered down at you was dark and hungry, and he definitely had a goal in mind as you coward. He held you there with his body, large, broad shoulders pinning you to the metal as you peered up at him through fluttering lashes.

Your body fucking burned for him. You knew you would do anything he would ask you too.

Of course this was disorderly conduct, that it was inappropriate, and quite frankly taboo, with the way that he was your boss and you were his subordinate; and oh, you guys were currently fucking in the company bathroom.

If you were going to be honest – and nasty – that only added fuel to the fire that was your dampening core.

You had begged in a small voice, shaky hands raising to set themselves on his shoulders, fingers curling in the material to… steady yourself? Pull him closer? You didn’t know, but he just watched you.

“Tell me what you want.” The question was sultry and demanding and a shiver ran its way up your body, wracking it in its haste. “You.” You would go to whisper, gaze falling on his lips before following back up to his eyes.

He had bent you over the counter, fingering you open quickly before tugging himself out of his slacks and entering you.

“Mmf… fuck!” You couldn’t help but cry as his tip kissed your g-spot over, and over and over again. The stretch burned so good, and the coil in your stomach was tightly wound, but not quite there yet. You needed that extra stimulation and you didn’t know if Aaron was willing to give it to you.

“Shush.” He puffed harshly, the warm air hitting the shell of your ear before he tugged on it with his teeth.

“Oh God.” You whimpered, leaning back into his bites. “I need it, Aaron please… Don’t be mean.” You whined. “You’ll take what I give you. That’s the least you could do after flirting with my brother right in front of me.”

The mention of his brother caused him to punch back into you harshly, sending you forward slightly. You scrambled to tighten your hold again, another cry lodging itself in your throat.

“Nasty girl.” He growled. “What made you think that was appropriate, huh?” Another emphasizing thrust. “I – I didn’t think…” You mewled.

“‘Want you only. I promise.” You said with a pout, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah? Only me?”

“Mhm.”

He studies your face before leaning forward to join your lips together. Despite the awkward angle, he holds you steady, one of hands leaving your skin to run circles over your clit.

“Gah!” Your yelp is muffled by your lips, the man all but eating it. You don’t know which fountain of pleasure to chase, hips rocking forward and backwards constantly. 

“I… I…” Your words failed you, and your eyes squeezed shut again.

“‘M gonna cum, Aaron baby, can I? Can I cum?” You beg.

He forced you to meet his gaze in the mirror, strands of his black hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead. “Do you deserve it?” He asks darkly.

You think you could cry.

“Aaron…”

“Answer me. Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“You know I do.” You breathe petulantly, but he isn’t having it, the hand your hip slapping your ass instead. “Fuck.” You sigh. “You’re lucky we're running out of time, or I would be making you beg more, understood?”

“Yes, yes! Understood!”

“Good.”

The tight circles return and you keel over, teeth digging into your bottom.

“I wish I could hear you, my pretty girl.” He coos and you cry out as you cum. Your body trembles but he works you through it.

You’re breathing heavily by the end of it, your heavy eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“You think we're done?” He asks with dark amusement. “I haven’t cum yet.”

He maneuvers your body and turns you around, and by the pressure on your shoulders, he’s trying to push you down, and you understand what he wants. You follow his wordless instructions wordlessly, staring face to face with his dripping wet cock that’s stained with your creamy cum.

“You know what to do.” Aaron encourages, and you do.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

© ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused .ᐟ

[militarywifesvt]

Defending the quiet

Pairing : bestfriend!seungcheol / student! seungcheol x student!reader /bestfriend!reader

Summary : he couldn't stand up for himself , so you did it instead .

Genre : fluff

Warnings : bullying , seungcheol being insecure about his belly ( people need to seek help fr )

A/n : since btches can't shut up about coups' cute little belly , here's what I would do if they bullied him in front of me . Also this is kinda inspired by the Bollywood movie " dunki " I've been crying since I watched it :( . The song is from the movie when she was the first person to defend him and he instantly fell in love🫠 . Ok I'll shut up now , enjoy !

At such a young age , seungcheol was miles away from anyone at his age . When they worried about exams and midterms , seungcheol was flying interviews and photoshoots with famous brands . Of course he was popular at school , all eyes were on him every time he enters a classroom . He never liked this spotlight , and wished people would treat him like a normal person . And he found that wish in you , his best friend of almost 10 years now . You never cared about his fame or his growing audience . to you , he was just cheol . The person you would share your snacks with in 3rd grade , the person who would laugh at your jokes no matter how cringe or awful they are .

But in his last comeback , things took an awful turn . Sure , the song was fantastic , multiple days at number one , international awards , millions of streams and still counting . The album wasn't the problem . The problem is that some insecure imbeciles had a lot of things to say about seungcheol's belly . According to them , he was fat or whatever . But in reality , his belly looked completely normal . His picture spread really fast , and even people from the school saw it , and now , everyone is talking about it . That made you really frustrated , and you noticed a lot of changes in seungcheol's mood . You tried to hype him up like you usually do , crack a few jokes , buy him ice cream which he refused to eat saying he's on a diet . But nothing worked , so you gave up , but always stayed by his side just in case he needed someone to talk to .

The next day , you were sitting next to seungcheol during break . You and some other students decided to stay in the classroom . Seungcheol didn't talk much , but you yapped anyway , because you know he's listening . Suddenly , a group of classmates approached you two . And with an ugly , mocking voice he said :

" hey seungcheol , didn't take you a six pack to be rich and famous , huh ? "

He laughed even louder while another one added

" I guess money can buy success , just not a gym membership "

They continued mocking him like he doesn't have feelings . You thought he would stand up for himself . How could he not , right ? He always defended you when people mocked you . But to your surprise , he stayed silent , head looking at the floor , barely blinking . Then , something inside you snapped .

“ And who do you think you are to talk to him like that ?” your voice cut through the room silencing every person who was whispering and gossiping about him . “ Just shut up. You think you’re better than him when you obviously look like that ? He’s out there changing lives with his music and talent while you sit in the same chair every day , rotting in your own arrogance . You would quit after one bad day if you were in his shoes . "

You answered without hesitation , your eyes blazing with a fire no one can take down . Every word came out sharp, fueled by pure loyalty and frustration you had held inside for too long. Your voice cut through the classroom , turning the mockery back on them with the weight of truth . Seungcheol looked surprised at your action . He never saw you this mad , he couldn't even say a word to calm you down , he just looked at you with pure shock in his eyes , with a tight feeling in his chest he couldn't quite understand . And what caught him completely off guard was the moment you gently grabbed his wrist, your voice soft as a whisper, urging him to get up , before leading him quietly out of the classroom , leaving everyone stunned by your action . In that instant , A sudden warmth grew in seungcheol's chest , steady and impossible to ignore . It wasn’t just your touch or voice , it was how nobody has stood up for him before . Usually , people leave him when things get hard , but you didn't. You were the first person to be there and stand up for him when no one else did . In that moment, his heart sped up, and he realized he had fallen head first , in love with you .

Getting into longer fics these days , I might write a part two~

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 5.4k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for this chapter only) Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot, AGAIN. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​ @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs

find other parts here! pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes. The lead vocalist and leader of HHT stood before her, his usually melodic voice now tight with concern and something that sounded like barely contained frustration.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware of the curious glances from passing employees. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of her father's company.

"Not here," she hissed, grabbing Seungcheol's arm and pulling him towards an empty conference room. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could physically block out the complications that were piling up around her.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol demanded as soon as they were alone. "Mingyu showed up at our dorm this morning looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He's refusing to talk to anyone, and we have that radio interview in a few hours."

Y/N closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She'd been so focused on protecting herself that she hadn't considered how her decision might affect the band. "I... we ended things," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up. "Ended things? I didn't realize there were 'things' to end. I thought you two were just..."

"Fooling around?" Y/N supplied bitterly. "Yeah, well, it turns out feelings don't always follow the rules we set for them."

Understanding dawned on Seungcheol's face, followed quickly by sympathy. "You fell for him."

It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded anyway. "I did. And when I tried to talk to him about it, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more. So I ended it."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Mingyu when he was stressed. "Shit, Y/N. This is... complicated."

"You think I don't know that?" Y/N snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. And now my father wants me to take a more active role in managing you guys, and I-"

"Wait, what?" Seungcheol interrupted. "You're going to be our manager?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not exactly. He wants me to be more involved in the management side of things. Apparently, I 'understand your demographic' better than the older executives."

Seungcheol let out a low whistle. "Talk about adding fuel to the fire. How are you going to manage that with... everything else going on?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, slumping into one of the conference room chairs. "I never wanted this, Cheol. Any of it. I was happy being the party girl, the CEO's wild child. It was easier."

Seungcheol took the seat next to her, his expression softening. "Maybe it was easier, but was it really what you wanted? Because the Y/N I know is smart, talented, and more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It had been a long time since someone had seen her as more than just a pretty face or a potential scandal. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Seungcheol reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this, Y/N. The band... we care about you. Both you and Mingyu."

At the mention of Mingyu's name, Y/N felt her heart clench. "How is he, really?"

Seungcheol sighed. "He's hurting. I've never seen him like this before. Whatever was between you two... I don't think it was as casual for him as he let on."

Y/N's head snapped up, hope and confusion warring in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Seungcheol said carefully, "that maybe you two need to have an actual conversation. One where you both be honest about your feelings."

"I tried that," Y/N protested. "He laughed it off."

"And you immediately ended things instead of pushing the issue," Seungcheol pointed out gently. "Look, I'm not taking sides here. You're both my friends. But I think there's more to this story than either of you are seeing right now."

Y/N wanted to argue, to defend her decision. But a small part of her wondered if Seungcheol might be right. Had she been too hasty? Too afraid of rejection to really hear what Mingyu was saying – or not saying?

Before she could respond, Seungcheol's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grimaced. "That's our manager. I need to go wrangle the guys for this interview." He stood, then hesitated. "Y/N, promise me you'll think about what I said. And maybe... maybe come to our studio session tomorrow? We could use your input on some of the new tracks."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Seungcheol reached the door, she found her voice. "Cheol? Thank you. For everything."

He flashed her a warm smile. "That's what friends are for. Just... don't let fear make your decisions for you, okay?"

As the door closed behind him, Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling. She'd thought ending things with Mingyu would simplify her life, but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Now she had a broken heart, a new job she wasn't sure she wanted, and the possibility that she'd misunderstood everything about her relationship with Mingyu.

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a message from her father:

"Meeting with HHT's team tomorrow at 10 AM. Be there."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face Mingyu, the band, and her new responsibilities all at once. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

As she left the conference room and made her way out of the building, Y/N made a decision. She would go to the studio session tomorrow, as Seungcheol had suggested. She would face her fears head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to have that honest conversation with Mingyu. Because if there was even a chance that he felt the same way...

Well, that was a risk she might just be willing to take.

-

Y/N stood outside the studio door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear muffled voices and the faint strains of music from inside. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her blazer and steeled herself. Today, she wasn't Hwang Y/N, the party girl with a broken heart. She was Hwang Y/N, the professional, here to do a job.

With that thought firmly in mind, she pushed open the door.

The chatter inside the studio immediately died down as she entered. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, but she only allowed herself to focus on one – Seungcheol's. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"Good morning, everyone," Y/N said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be sitting in on your session today. My father thinks it would be beneficial for me to have a more hands-on role in the creative process."

She deliberately avoided looking at Mingyu, who she could sense was staring at her intently from his position by the guitar rack.

Vernon was the first to break the awkward silence. "Cool, always good to have a fresh pair of ears. We're working on the bridge for the title track. Want to hear what we've got so far?"

Y/N nodded gratefully, taking a seat next to the sound engineer. As the music started playing, she allowed herself to get lost in the melody, analyzing the composition and arrangement. This, at least, was familiar territory. She'd always had a good ear for music, even if she'd never pursued it professionally.

As the song progressed, she found herself nodding along, impressed by the intricate harmonies and the way Seungcheol's powerful vocals blended with the instrumental. But something was off in the bridge – the guitar riff didn't quite mesh with the rest of the arrangement.

When the song ended, Y/N cleared her throat. "That was great, guys. Really solid work. But I think the bridge needs some tweaking. The guitar part feels a bit... disjointed."

She saw Mingyu stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on Seungcheol.

"What do you suggest?" Wonwoo asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "Maybe if we simplified the riff a bit? Something that complements Seungcheol's vocals rather than competing with them."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mingyu spoke for the first time. "And what would you know about composing guitar parts?"

His tone was cold, almost challenging. Y/N finally allowed herself to look at him, keeping her expression neutral despite the way her heart raced at the sight of him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still unfairly handsome.

"I may not be a guitarist," Y/N replied evenly, "but I know what sounds good. And right now, that bridge doesn't flow with the rest of the song."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol cut him off. "She's right, Gyu. I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn't put my finger on why it wasn't working. Let's try simplifying it."

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might argue further. But then he shrugged, turning back to his guitar. "Fine. Let's hear your ideas then, Y/N."

The way he said her name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, made Y/N wince internally. But she pushed through, working with the band to refine the bridge. To her surprise, once they got past the initial awkwardness, the creative process flowed smoothly. Even Mingyu, despite his obvious reluctance, contributed valuable ideas.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself relaxing into her role. She offered suggestions on vocal arrangements, helped fine-tune lyrics, and even hummed out a melody idea that Vernon quickly turned into a catchy hook for their b-side track.

It wasn't until their manager called for a lunch break that the comfortable bubble of creativity burst. As the others filed out of the studio, chatting about where to grab food, Y/N hung back, gathering her notes. She was so focused on avoiding being alone with Mingyu that she didn't notice Seungcheol had stayed behind until he spoke.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Y/N looked up, offering him a small smile. "No, it wasn't. You guys are incredibly talented. It's... it's an honor to work with you like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened. "You're good at this, Y/N. Really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing music production?"

She shook her head. "Not really. It was always just a hobby. Besides, my father has other plans for me."

"Maybe it's time to make your own plans," Seungcheol suggested gently. Then, after a pause, "Mingyu was watching you, you know. When you weren't looking."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "We have to work together now. It's bound to be awkward for a while."

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, the studio door opened and Mingyu walked in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot my phone."

The tension in the room was palpable as Mingyu retrieved his phone from beside his guitar. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on her notes, hyper-aware of his every movement.

As he turned to leave, Mingyu paused. "The bridge sounds better now," he said stiffly, not quite looking at Y/N. "Good call."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol squeezed her shoulder supportively. "Give it time. And maybe... maybe try talking to him? Outside of work?"

Y/N shook her head firmly. "No. It's better this way. Clean break, professional distance. It's the only way this can work."

As they left the studio to join the others for lunch, Y/N repeated those words in her head like a mantra. Professional distance. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong? -

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with tension, the usual easy banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of instruments being tuned. Seungcheol watched as Mingyu stole yet another glance at Y/N, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as she reviewed some paperwork in the corner. The leader of HHT sighed inwardly, knowing that something had to give.

For weeks now, Seungcheol had noticed the change in dynamics between Mingyu and Y/N. The playful flirtation that had once been a constant source of amusement (and occasional exasperation) for the band had vanished, replaced by awkward silences and stilted interactions. It was more than just personal drama – it was affecting the band's chemistry, and as the leader, Seungcheol knew he had to do something.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Seungcheol called out, hoping that focusing on the music might alleviate some of the tension.

As they launched into their latest single, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how Mingyu's usually flawless guitar work seemed off. The tall guitarist kept missing cues, his rhythm slightly out of sync with the rest of the band. Every time this happened, Mingyu's eyes would dart to Y/N, as if seeking her reaction, only to quickly look away when he realized she wasn't even watching.

Y/N, for her part, seemed determined to focus solely on her work. She sat in the corner, ostensibly reviewing marketing reports, but Seungcheol noticed how her pen hadn't moved on the page for the past ten minutes. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her gaze would flicker to Mingyu, a mixture of longing and hurt in her eyes.

After an hour of subpar practice, Seungcheol called for a break. As the other members dispersed, grabbing water bottles and checking their phones, he pulled Vernon and Wonwoo aside.

"We need to talk about the Mingyu-Y/N situation," he said in a low voice, guiding them to a quiet corner of the room.

Vernon nodded, relief evident on his face. "Thank god someone said it. The tension is killing me. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells every time they're in the same room."

Wonwoo frowned, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of strain. "It's affecting our performance too. Did you hear Mingyu during that bridge? I've never heard him miss those notes before."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up when stressed. "I know. That's why we need to do something. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help."

As Seungcheol outlined his plan, Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief while Wonwoo's narrowed in thought.

"Fake dating?" Vernon whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mingyu wasn't within earshot. "Isn't that a bit… I don't know, dramatic?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But subtle hasn't been working. Those two are too stubborn for their own good. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "It could work. But are you sure Y/N will agree to it?"

"Leave Y/N to me," Seungcheol said, a determined glint in his eye. "For now, I need you two to help set the stage. Can I count on you?"

Both Vernon and Wonwoo nodded, though Vernon still looked a bit uncertain. As they broke apart, returning to their instruments, none of them noticed Mingyu watching them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Later that week, Y/N was working late in her office, the soft glow of her desk lamp the only light in the room. She rubbed her eyes, tired from staring at spreadsheets all day. As she reached for her coffee mug, a soft knock on the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair.

Seungcheol poked his head in, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Got a minute?"

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to sit. "What's up, Cheol? Is everything okay with the band?"

Seungcheol settled into the chair across from her, his usually relaxed posture tense. "Yes and no. The band is fine, but… well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "If this is about Mingyu-"

"It is," Seungcheol cut in gently. "But not in the way you might think. I have a… proposition for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath. "Look, we've all noticed the tension between you two. It's affecting the band, and frankly, I hate seeing you both so miserable."

"I'm not-" Y/N started to protest, but Seungcheol held up a hand.

"Y/N, come on. We've known each other too long for that. You're not happy, and neither is Mingyu. But you're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Y/N slumped back in her chair, the fight going out of her. "What am I supposed to do, Cheol? He made it clear he doesn't want anything serious. I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if we gave Mingyu a taste of his own medicine? What if… we pretended to date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? Cheol, that's crazy. Why would we-"

"To make Mingyu jealous," Seungcheol interrupted. "Look, I've known Mingyu for years. He's stubborn and proud, but he cares about you. A lot. I think seeing you with someone else might be the push he needs to confront his feelings."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. The idea was tempting, but… "But what about the band? And my position? Wouldn't it complicate things even more?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But it could also solve our Mingyu problem. Plus, it might help deflect some of the pressure from your dad about taking things seriously. Dating the lead singer of HHT? That's a power move in the industry."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I care about both of you," Seungcheol said sincerely. "And I hate seeing you two dance around each other like this. So, what do you say? Want to be my fake girlfriend?"

After a moment of hesitation, Y/N nodded. "Okay. Let's do it. But we need to set some ground rules…"

Over the next few days, Seungcheol and Y/N put their plan into action. They started small - sitting closer during meetings, sharing inside jokes, leaving together after practice. The other band members, clued in by Seungcheol, played along perfectly.

Vernon, ever the actor, would waggle his eyebrows suggestively whenever he saw them together. Wonwoo, more subtle in his approach, would casually mention how much time Seungcheol and Y/N had been spending together lately.

Mingyu, however, was oblivious to the plan. At first, he barely seemed to notice the change in dynamics. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, alternating between trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Y/N and convincing himself he didn't care.

But as the days passed, little things started to catch his attention. The way Seungcheol's hand would linger on Y/N's back as they walked into a room. The inside jokes they seemed to share, leaving the rest of the group puzzled. The fact that Y/N was suddenly at every practice session, even when she didn't need to be.

During one particularly grueling practice, Mingyu fumbled a guitar riff he'd played perfectly a hundred times before. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was laughing at something Seungcheol had whispered in her ear. The sound of her laughter, once a source of joy for Mingyu, now felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Dude, you okay?" Vernon asked, concern evident in his voice.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, just… distracted."

Vernon followed Mingyu's gaze to where Seungcheol and Y/N were huddled together, looking at something on Y/N's phone. "They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Mingyu grunted noncommittally, but his grip on his guitar tightened. "I guess. Not that it's any of my business."

Vernon raised an eyebrow at that but didn't push further. As they resumed practice, he exchanged a meaningful look with Wonwoo. Their plan was working, perhaps a little too well.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu's mood grew increasingly sour. He snapped at staff members over minor mistakes, isolated himself during breaks, and threw himself into his music with an almost manic intensity. His songwriting, always emotionally charged, took on a darker, more melancholic tone.

One evening, after a particularly tense practice session, Wonwoo found Mingyu alone in the studio, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"New song?" Wonwoo asked, settling into a chair nearby.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It's… it's about letting go of something you never really had."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up at that. "Sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might open up. But then he shook his head, slamming the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just… exploring some new themes."

As Mingyu stood to leave, Wonwoo called out, "You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to us. We're not just your bandmates, we're your friends."

Mingyu paused at the door, his back to Wonwoo. "I know," he said softly. "But some things… some things you have to figure out on your own."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wonwoo to wonder if perhaps their plan was causing more harm than good.

The situation finally came to a head at a company party celebrating HHT's latest album going platinum. The event was in full swing, the cream of the K-pop industry mingling in a high-end Seoul nightclub.

Mingyu arrived late, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent hours agonizing over whether to attend, knowing Y/N would be there. In the end, his pride (and a strongly worded text from their manager) had won out.

He froze in the doorway as he spotted Y/N and Seungcheol on the dance floor. Y/N was wearing a stunning red dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Seungcheol, looking handsome in a well-fitted suit, had his hand on her waist as they moved in perfect sync to the music.

Something snapped inside Mingyu. He stormed over to the bar, downing a shot of soju before grabbing another. As he watched Y/N throw her head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, a series of memories flashed through Mingyu's mind:

Y/N's shy smile the first time they met at a company event. The electricity he felt the first time they kissed, hidden away in a dark corner of a after-party. Late nights spent talking about their dreams and fears, sharing parts of themselves they'd never shown anyone else. The way Y/N's eyes lit up when she listened to his new songs, always the first to offer genuine feedback and encouragement.

And then, more recent memories: The hurt in Y/N's eyes when he'd laughed off her suggestion of something more serious. The growing distance between them, a chasm he hadn't known how to bridge. The ache he felt every time he saw her now, an ache he'd tried to ignore, to rationalize away as mere physical attraction.

But seeing her now, radiant and happy in another man's arms, Mingyu could no longer deny the truth. He was in love with Y/N. Truly, madly, deeply, irrevocably in love. And he might have just lost her to his best friend.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. The glass in Mingyu's hand shattered, startling nearby partygoers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Y/N, beautiful and radiant, looking at Seungcheol with an affection that used to be reserved for him.

As staff rushed to tend to his injured hand, Mingyu's eyes met Y/N's across the room. The concern in her gaze was almost more than he could bear. In that moment, Mingyu knew he had to fight for her, to tell her how he really felt, before it was too late.

But first, he had some serious groveling to do. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to turn his pain into the most heartfelt song he'd ever written.

As he allowed himself to be led away for medical attention, Mingyu's mind was already racing with lyrics, a melody forming that he hoped would convey everything he'd been too afraid to say. He'd messed up, pushed away the best thing in his life out of fear and stubbornness. But if there was even a chance that Y/N still cared for him, he'd move heaven and earth to win her back.

Little did Mingyu know, across the room, Y/N was fighting every instinct to run to him, her heart breaking at the pain evident in his eyes. As Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly, Y/N wondered if their plan had worked a little too well. -

Y/N went home to her apartment. She sat curled up on her couch, a glass of wine in hand, trying to process the events of the evening. The company party had not gone as planned – the image of Mingyu's pain-filled eyes as he clutched his bleeding hand was seared into her memory.

Y/N's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Another message from Seungcheol:

"Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need to talk."

She sighed, typing out a quick reply:

"I'm fine. Just need some time to think. Talk tomorrow?"

As she hit send, a loud, insistent knocking startled her. Y/N glanced at the clock – 1:37 AM. Who could it be at this hour?

The knocking continued, more urgently now. "Y/N! Y/N, I know you're in there! Please… please open up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even slurred as it was now. Mingyu.

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find Mingyu leaning heavily against the doorframe, his usually impeccable appearance in disarray. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, hair a mess, and the unmistakable smell of soju wafted from him.

"Mingyu?" Y/N said, shock evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu's eyes, glassy from alcohol, focused on her face. A lopsided smile spread across his features. "Y/N… beautiful Y/N. I had to see you. Had to tell you…"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling. Y/N instinctively reached out to steady him, the familiar warmth of his body sending a jolt through her.

"Woah, easy there," she said, guiding him inside and closing the door. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You shouldn't be here."

Mingyu allowed himself to be led to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. 'm not supposed to be here. But I couldn't… couldn't stop thinking about you. About us."

Y/N perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. Despite her better judgment, concern overtook her resolve to keep her distance. "Mingyu, what's going on? Are you okay? Your hand–"

Mingyu waved dismissively, wincing slightly at the movement. His palm was wrapped in a white bandage, a few spots of red seeping through. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt. Not like…" he trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Not like what?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Not like seeing you with him," Mingyu finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt her heart clench. This was exactly the reaction their fake dating scheme was meant to provoke, but seeing Mingyu in actual pain made her question the wisdom of their plan.

"Mingyu, I–"

"No, let me… let me say this," Mingyu interrupted, sitting up straighter and fixing Y/N with an intense gaze. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up so bad. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you with someone else. Thought it didn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."

He reached out, taking Y/N's hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but found herself frozen, captivated by the raw emotion in Mingyu's eyes.

"I miss you," Mingyu continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I miss your laugh, your smile. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating. I miss the way you make me feel – like I'm more than just a idol, more than just a pretty face or a good voice. With you, I'm just… me."

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was everything she had wanted to hear for so long, but the circumstances were all wrong. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Mingyu shook his head vehemently, then immediately looked like he regretted the motion. "No, no. I'm drunk, yes. But I know… I know what I feel. What I've always felt, even if I was too scared to admit it."

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of Y/N. In any other situation, it might have been comical, but the desperation in his eyes killed any urge to laugh.

"Please, Y/N," Mingyu pleaded, still clutching her hands. "Please give me another chance. Break up with Seungcheol. He's… he's my friend, but he's not right for you. Not like I am. We're… we're meant to be together. I see that now."

Y/N felt panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mingyu wasn't supposed to show up at her door, drunk and emotional, laying his heart bare. She wasn't prepared for this.

"Mingyu, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're not thinking clearly. We can't… I can't…"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look. "I'll do better this time, I promise. I'll… I'll write you songs. Take you on real dates. Show the whole world how much you mean to me. Just please… please don't leave me."

His impassioned speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. The adrenaline and alcohol seemed to be wearing off, leaving exhaustion in their wake.

"I love you, Y/N," Mingyu mumbled, his head drooping. "I love you so much. Please… please just…"

And with that, Mingyu slumped forward, his head coming to rest in Y/N's lap. Within seconds, soft snores filled the air.

Y/N sat frozen, her mind reeling. Mingyu's words echoed in her head, everything she had longed to hear for months. But was it real? Or just the ramblings of a drunk, jealous man?

Gently, she extricated herself from under Mingyu, laying him out on the couch and covering him with a throw blanket. She allowed herself a moment to study his face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluding her, Y/N's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The fake dating plan had worked – perhaps too well. Mingyu had confessed his feelings, but at what cost? And what would happen in the morning, when he woke up in her apartment with a killer hangover and the memory of his whiskey-soaked confessions?

One thing was clear: the game they'd been playing had just gotten a lot more complicated. And Y/N had a sinking feeling that someone's heart was bound to get broken in the process – quite possibly her own.