#romcom fanfic

[percabething]

“you better not be drinking and getting pregnant behind my back”

ma’am, I read fanfics on tumblr to fall asleep

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

part two

[proxythe]

sorry im really obsessed with this pair … 🧚 u guys must understand… i have a rare pair addiction …

[starkenobi]

Stupidly in Love | Bucky Barnes x reader

masterlist — warnings: mcu; avenger!reader; misunderstanding; idiots to lovers; romcom; fluff.

Summary: Y/N agrees to help Bucky win Natasha's heart. No problem, right? Except for the fact that Natasha is her best friend and Bucky is her crush. Where the hell had she gotten herself into?

Y/N didn’t know how she ended up in that situation. Okay, frankly, deep inside she knew. She had dug her own grave. Just didn’t imagine it would be so damn deep. Who’d have imagined that approaching her crush would automatically result in that kind of misfortune? It sounded way too much like those awful teenage movies. But here she was, agreeing to help her crush to go out with her best friend.

Look, in her defense, she panicked. She should have confessed right there, but she chickened out. C'mon, it's Bucky Barnes she's talking about. The famous Winter Soldier, Captain America's best friend and one of the greatest Avenger's spy. Of course, she could hold her ground just fine too, even getting the nickname of Avenger's golden wildcard. But was it enough? Sometimes she didn't think so.

She was doomed.

It all happened so fast. She was in the library studying for her next mission when Bucky appeared in all his glory, approaching with determined steps. And then there was her, with doe eyes, trying to assimilate the whirlwind of words that escaped from Bucky’s lips. She was caught off guard, with her crush before her speaking so passionately... What should she do, say no? Probably, unfortunately, her brain crashed, and fifteen minutes later, she was running toward the shooting range, where she knew her best friend was. But when Y/N came on the range and saw Natasha practicing with some shield agents, she felt completely lost. Y/N could imagine what Natasha's reaction would be, but the broken brain and the heart hammering in her chest made her believe that she should keep to herself.

Of course, the secret didn’t last long. She couldn’t hide anything from Natasha, in fact, she’d never be able to hide what was happening even if she could. Bucky was even closer. He started to dedicate his spare time to her. Y/N thought it was strange, but Bucky never asked about Natasha's preferences and tastes. In fact, they spent their time together talking about her and Natasha's early friendship before the Avengers. Sometimes it was even possible to forget the reason the two became closer. But after a week, Natasha confronted Y/N. Slamming her hands on the table and pushing Y/N's book aside, Natasha stared at her with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell is happening? Are you two together? What are you hiding from me?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her heart drop as she stared into her best friend's eyes. But as soon as she understood Natasha's questions, she frowned in utter confusion.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, it’s me! You don’t have to lie to me.”

“But- Wait, is this about me and Bucky? We’re just friend-”

Natasha groaned, cutting her off. “Everyone is commenting on the fact that you two are glued to their hips!”

“What?”

“Don't “what” me. Am I your best friend or not, dude?”

Y/N nipped her lip, averting her eyes from her best friend's intense expression. This is it. Now was the moment that she’d have to confess the real reason Bucky had officialized their friendship, that her long crush was actually into her best friend. That she was utterly fucked up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Y/N, folding her arms and waiting impatiently for an answer. The tension between them was palpable and Y/N, hanging her head low, whispered.

“Bucky asked for my help so he could ask you out.”

After a minute of silence, Y/N looked up confused by the lack of reaction. Only to watch Natasha burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“Fuck, that was a good one. For a moment I thought-”

Y/N's voice boomed. “I’m serious!”

Casting an accusatory glance toward Natasha, Y/N got up and disappeared into the hallways before Natasha could follow her. Over the next few weeks, Y/N did what she thought was best: avoid both Natasha and Bucky. But speaking the truth, after her fight with Natasha, her best friend made no effort to look for her either, staying by Clint's side. During the first days after the discussion, Bucky tried in all ways to approach Y/N, but after receiving several cold shoulders, he stopped trying and decided to just watch from afar. She felt like a fool, but at the same time, was completely confused and afraid to have a broken heart. Y/N realized that it wasn’t just a simple crush. She cursed herself, how could she fall in love when the situation was clear enough? Right in front of her fucking salad.

The compound was big, and over the years it became even bigger. But that didn’t stop the story from spreading faster than fire. Everyone was talking about the turmoil between the three greatest spies.

“Wait.” Y/N frowned, interrupting Tony's gossip. “What do you mean by three greatest spies?”

Tony looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “You really don’t know what's happening, do you?”

“What should I know?”

Tony gaped at her. “Dammit, wildcat! What have you been doing in the last two weeks and a half?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

As an excellent observer, Tony chuckled “You’ve been trying to avoid those two so hard that you closed yourself to the rest of the world.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew her friend was right. Slumping her shoulders, she sighed. “I'm an idiot, Tones.”

The thing is, Y/N was so determined to avoid everything, that she didn’t know of the fight during the last mission. More precisely, the fight between Clint and Bucky. And unlike the rumors, yes, Bucky didn’t accept very well all the gossip, but people who were there claim that Clint punched Bucky while howling something about him being a player.

“And if your little head is thinking that Clint was defending Natasha's honor. You're wrong.” Tony said smugly, a huge smile on his lips as he watched Y/N’s reaction closely.

“Oh?”

“It was because of you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What? But we're not even close!”

“So Natasha didn't tell you?”

And once again, after long weeks, Y/N was running toward the shooting range. With red ears and an annoyed look, she marched across the place until she was in the seating area. Clint was the first to notice her presence but not fast enough to stop Y/N from knocking Natasha down. No one knew how to react, watching in silence as Natasha pushed Y/N off, but only to throw a punch against her. They didn’t know why they were fighting, but with all the energy and lack of communication, the others had to step in.

“Enough!”

Clint's order fell into the void, Y/N struggled trying to get away from the other agents.

“You're a hypocrite, Romanoff!” Y/N roared with an accusatory glare.

“So that makes you a chicken!”

Natasha hissed back, but before things got worse, Clint's voice boomed. “I said enough!”

Ten minutes later, Y/N and Natasha were sitting on the avengers’ louge. Clint stared at them with his hands at his waist, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. He didn’t like to see the two best friends fighting over nothing.

“So?” realizing that neither of them would speak, Clint sighed exhausted “Look, Y/N, we’re not close friends but I like you. You're a good person. And that’s why I did what I did.”

“Thanks, but I know there's more than that.”

Natasha grunted displeased, running her hand through her hair before facing Y/N. “We’re together, I mean, Clint and I.”

Y/N scoffed. “Tell me something I haven’t found out through someone else.”

“I didn’t say anything before ‘cause we were just secretly fuck buddies.”

After a few minutes in silence, Y/N broke the tension with a burst of laughter, making Natasha and Clint exchange confused looks. But at the same speed as she began to laugh, in a heartbeat she was serious again and got up from the sofa.

“I can’t believe you said all that shit, when you were the one doing something behind my back!” Y/N hissed, pointing an accusatory finger towards Natasha.

“Well, what did yoy want? You were spending all your free time with him!” Natasha hissed right back, getting up as well but being stopped by Clint's hand on her shoulder.

Hearing the Natasha's words, Y/N’s angry expression quickly softened. “Wait, you're jealous?”

With a pinkish hue to her cheeks, Natasha scoffed. “No? No!”

“Yes, she’s totally jealous.”

Natasha glared at the archer. “Clint!”

“What? I’m tired of this fight.”

So, the power duo was back again. And Y/N started to explain in detail the day Bucky sought her out for help, the free time they spent together talking about everything and at the same time nothing. Clint and Natasha exchanged glances, everything making more sense. In the end, Y/N was completely oblivious and Bucky, and Winter Soldier was a damn coward.

Natasha and Clint decided that they wouldn’t say anything, for the time being, preferring to let Y/N vent and then get some dinner together. But after a few days, Natasha noticed that although things had returned to normal with Y/N, the idiot she calls best friend continued to ward off Bucky like a plague. A little uncertain, Natasha decided to talk with Steve for advice - the Captain was away for a long three months mission. But it didn’t take long to get a response from him, unfortunately, the message contained only two words: ask Sam.

Natasha sighed in defeat as Clint took the phone of her hands to read. Of course, Steve would push the problem (Bucky being stupid) to Sam, he was the best to solve this kind of bullshit (even if he didn’t like to admit it out loud).

Clint returned her phone, stole one of Natasha's toast and took a big bite before teasing his girlfriend. “You're o cute when you're worried.”

“Now isn’t the time to flirt and that’s my toast!”

Clint waved his hand dismissing Natasha. “Whatever, I'm already two steps ahead of you.”

Natasha scoffed. “How so?”

“I talked to Sam yesterday during our recon mission, we already have a plan.” the archer smiled smugly, stealing a sip of Natasha's coffee. “We locked Bucky and Y/N in the old lab on the east wing.”

“You WHAT?”

Y/N didn’t know how she ended up there. Sam invited her to see an old lab he had found that it could become hers, or so she thought. And to say that Sam Wilson could be 100% trustworthy. Now she's stuck in a room... With Bucky. A fucking cliché. And, maybe, a terrible nightmare. The two remained silent, avoiding eye contact and trying to dissociate from the awkwardness. They were embarrassed, but for completely different reasons. The words Sam said before leaving echoed in Y/N's head: If you wanna get out, better start talking. And it seemed that the more she thought about it the harder it seemed to be. Y/N nibbled at her bottom lip, sitting by the window, she could see Bucky's reflection sitting in one of the tables behind her. She wanted to tell everything to Bucky, but she didn’t have the guts. It had been 30 minutes, and Y/N could only imagine the worst scenarios.

She didn’t want to have her heart broken, no matter how much it hurt her to deal with what she felt for Bucky. Natasha was right, she was a chicken. But it wasn’t fair that her friends joined forces to put her in that situation.

“Y/N I need you to stop overthinking for a bit.”

Bucky's voice sounded so smooth, almost a whisper if it weren’t for the quiet room. Y/N looked up and turned slightly to glance at the tables, but instead, she found the super soldier standing closer, a shy smile on his lips.

Having the attention he wanted, Bucky sighed. “Hello.”

“H-hey, I'm sorry for-”

Y/N started nervously, wincing slightly for stammering, but Bucky quickly interrupted her. His voice softer, if that were possible. “That’s fine. Actually, huh, Tony warned me.”

She stared at him with big eyes, feeling her ears warm, she scoffed in disbelief. Sam and Tony were so dead. But none of that made sense. Why would her own friends do something like this? And warn Bucky about it but lie to her?

“You're overthinking again.”

“Why?” Bucky frowned, but Y/N didn’t wait for answers and pressed on. “Why did you agree to their plan?”

Bucky didn’t say anything immediately, deciding to kneel so he could look her better in the eyes. “Isn’t that obvious?”

She replied in a small voice. “No?”

He breathed out "cute" before moving closer and resting one hand on her knee. They were both so nervous, but now they couldn’t back down. Bucky could no longer ignore what he felt, not after knowing Y/N felt the same.

“I fell in love with you.”

She gasped at those words, her lips parted like she wanted to respond and finally gush everything she felt for Bucky. Y/N shook her head trying to form a coherent sentence, but she got distracted by Bucky's huge smile, eyes shining with adoration.

“I know.” Bucky whispered softly, taking Y/N’s face in his hands as if it was the most delicate flower. Then he inclined his head slightly so their lips were close enough that Y/N's warm breath mixed with his. “You can say it later, but I really want to kiss you now.”

Y/N felt as if her heart was going to explode, she nodded her head but quickly pressed her mouth to Bucky’s soft lips. It was better than she had dreamed. And she had dreamed way too many times about kissing Bucky.

The spell was suddenly broken when the door opened abruptly, slamming against the wall. She jumped slightly trying to pull away, but Bucky thought otherwise, deciding to wrap his arms around her waist in a half hug. And when they looked at the intruder, it was none other than Sam.

“That’s enough PDA for today, kids.”

Bucky groaned. “Fuck off.”

”No can do, the others are waiting.” Sam chidded, making no effort to hide his own smile. “Don't wanna be skinned alive by Romanoff, y'know.”

Sam headed toward the door, allowing Bucky to get up off the floor and bring Y/N with him. The two smiled secretly, she took initiative and held Bucky’s hand, wrapping their fingers together as if they've done it for years. Both smiling from ear to ear. Maybe they wanted to do it for so long that it just seemed natural. Bucky kisses her forehead tenderly, walking side by side as if there were no one else in the world. Y/N squeezed Bucky’s hand before finally saying the words with her heart on her sleeve.

“I love you too, in fact, I have for a long while.”

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, I think I noticed.”

“Oh.”

“And sorry for coming with that terrible excuse. I kind of panicked.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky stopped walking, turning on his heel so he could face her. “You're really oblivious, huh? I was going to ask yoy out that day.”

She frowned for a moment, but soon wrapped her arms around Bucky's neck, squeezing him. “I hope you take me on several dates and kiss me a lot.”

Bucky laughed at her teasing, noting her flushed face. “Everything you want, but with one condition.”

Y/N pulled away a little so she could look into Bucky's eyes. “Yeah?”

Bucky gave a peck on her lips before whispering. “Be my girlfriend.”

“Hey, lovebirds, can you leave it for later?”

The couple groaned, yet Sam remained unbothered. Maybe he was right and that was enough hot stuff for the curious eyes. But in the end, they didn't care. So, hand in hand, they entered the lounge. All smiles. Why? Well, they were stupidly in love.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

note: english isn’t my first language, and i don't mind if you call me inbox or dm to point out errors or typos. but please be kind!

[frankieburieshisdead]

ℬ𝓇𝓊𝒸ℯ 𝒲𝒶𝓎𝓃ℯ 𝓍 ℳ𝒶𝓁ℯ ℳℴ𝒹ℯ𝓁 ℛℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

cw: NSFW

~ You liked modeling enough. It was exciting, and new, and you got to meet a bunch of people you otherwise wouldn't. For instance, if you could go back to the skinny, slightly effeminate brace face in rural Smallsville and tell him he would be hanging off the Bruce Wayne's arm at a promotional after party in Gotham he would laugh in your face. But here you were, and here he was, all 6ft (6'7? 6'8? God he was intimidating) wrapped around your shoulders, two of the girls from the shoot on his other side. You didn't know either of them very well, but they we're kind to you whenever you crossed paths, and it was always nice to see more black models in the industry.

~ So why did you feel so much vitriol towards them? This ugly feeling curling in your stomach every time Wayne leaned slightly towards them, slightly away from you. You chopped it up to star power, pure unadulterated charm that came with being one of the richest men in the Americas, but as long as it had been, you still remembered what it was like it have a crush.

~ It was hard to not have a crush on Bruce Wayne. He was confident, ridiculously so, but not the kind of confidence that made you feel small. When you arrived, he asked you "Do you like dark chocolate? I can't stand the stuff but for some reason people keep giving it to me." You could see he was lying, and that maybe he had just wanted to give you an expensive box of chocolate without making you feel like you owed him anything. It made you feel special.

~ It didn't take him long to invite the whole party back to his manor. His home was beautiful. Like a castle in one of the picture books your gran used to let you borrow from her job at the library. You told Bruce that, and he had smiled so genuinely you hadn't stopped blushing for the rest of the night.

~ You ended up asking yourself up to his bedroom. One of the bottle girls had popped the cork right over you, drenching your pants in sparkling cider. She had been so apologetic, and you hadn't wanted to make a scene, so you stumbled up the stairs in into the nearest unlocked door you could find. You closed the door behind you, stripping out of your soaked jeans to dab them clean in the joining bathroom.

~ "Not that I'm complaining, but I have to say it's not everyday I find pretty boys stripping out their clothes unprompted in my bedroom." You must have jumped about a foot in the air, hiding behind your thread bare trousers. "Oh god Mr. Wayne I'm so sorry, I just needed- there was this champagne girl- and well-"

"Relax, I'm just teasing." You looked at him properly now, his weary tone bleeding past your initial embarrassment. He was propped up against the bedpost, shirtless with one hand clamped firmly over his ribs. There was a mean purple blotch under his fingers, and his chest rose and fell in stutters. He was in pain.

"What happened?" You were across the room the next second, pants forgotten on the floor as you scooted next to him in your briefs. There was a slight blush across his chest and cheeks. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe you were.

"Got into... a brawl. Nothing serious don't worry." You got the feeling he liked that you were worried. You wondered how many people worried about Bruce Wayne. You had seen an older man in butler attire fussing over him when the party first got here. You hoped he was looked after.

"Well... I best get going." You were inches apart now, you could feel his harsh breath against your top lip.

"Best." He replied, curling his lip to mirror your Midwestern accent.

You fell into him first, crashing your lips against his as his arms came to grip your biceps. He lifted you with an insane show of strength, you squealed into his mouth, ending off in a giggle. He gave that genuine smile again.

~ You were straddling him now, grinding down on a ever hardening length. He gasped into your mouth, squeezing almost painfully as he pressed you firmer against him. He was massaging the v on your waist, teasing just above where you wanted him.

"Can I?"

You nodded manically against his shoulder, the both of you generating a frantic energy. He dipped down, palming you through your underwear.

"Protection?" You managed to pant out, remembering every talk your granny had drilled into you since you came out.

"Bedside drawer."

~ 3 hours. You kept going for 3 hours after that. He had taken you, knees pressed up against your shoulders, hitting all the right spots until you had come dry and untouched. He was still hard inside you, panting and you squeezed your way through your orgasm. He was kind, clearly straining to not thrust forward while you were so sensitive. You hooked your legs behind the dip in his waist and tugged him forward. A dare. The result of which had you on your hands and knees panting and keening after your third, fourth? climax. He was good afterwards as well. Sweet. He held your head up as he poured water from a sealed bottle down your throat, petting through your slim locs. You woke up tucked against his side, unsure if he had even slept a wink as he stared down at you. He had to go, but he had arranged one of the cars for you as soon as you wanted to leave. The butler, Alfred, had cleaned and dried your jeans while you were asleep, although Bruce had made it clear you were welcome to his extensive wardrobe. You giggled, imagining getting back to your apartment in a pair of 1000$ tracksuit pants with the ankles rolled up to your calves.

~ When you finally made it back to your apartment, you patted down your jeans, pleading to whoever was listening that you hadn't lost your keys in the chaos of the previous night. Instead, you pulled out a neatly folded parchment paper, thumbing it open to find barely legible handwriting reading:

555-0199

Call me if you liked the chocolate.

END

[tippilo]

New Valentine Fic! 3 chapters are now posted! (3 chapters left and will be completed by next week!)

-

When a singing goblin in a frilly pink dress delivered a Valentine to Draco Malfoy's office, Draco was convinced Hermione Granger had finally noticed his existence beyond their verbal sparring matches. His response? A perfectly reasonable campaign of gift-giving. What could possibly go wrong?

Read for free on AO3

[kawaiiblossoms04]

A Day in a Life—Dating Nanami Kento: A Love Story in Financial Planning Pt.3 | Nanami x Reader

Remember, Bestie Dating Nanami is not for the weak. 

This is a man who believes romance is a logical decision, not an emotional one.

Love? Affection? Pillow talk? 

No, bestie. 

This man schedules quality time like it's a board meeting.

You text him "I miss you ❤️"and he responds, 

"Understood. I can be available for dinner at 7:30 PM. Does that work for you?"

SIR.

It drives you crazy, but some part of you melts when you imagine him setting his alarm to make you his priority. It just...makes sense, you know?

You enjoy getting lost in the crowd around the farmer's market when his arm slips over your shoulders and steadies you. The soft squeeze he gives you brings a little smile to your face and his warm murmur reminds you, "We still have time."

Because Nanami wants you to find the freshest vegetables and fruits and buy the prettiest bouquet without having to worry about finding him at the end. You turn and his eyes are already fixed on you, and they sweep down your figure before rising again. His lips quirk a bit when they meet yours and it makes you melt every damn time.

However, Dates with Nanami: A Budgeting Nightmare

Oh, you think you're going on cute, spontaneous dates with Nanami? 

No, bestie. 

You're going on economically responsible outings.

You want to grab brunch? Nanami is already shaking his head at the overpriced avocado toast. 

You order a cocktail? This man is squinting at the menu like he's reading the fine print on a lease.

"Eighteen dollars for a cocktail? Ridiculous."

SIR. IF YOU DON'T RELAX AND DRINK YOUR OVERPRICED SCOTCH. 

And don't even think  about pulling out your wallet—because Nanami refuses to let you pay. 

"It would be against the ethics of our relationship," he says, all business-like, while handing his card to the waitress. You open your mouth, because your parents didn't raise a freeloader, when his finger taps against your lips. "Not a word. Consider it an investment," he says as his finger turns up at the edge of his glasses.

Nanami's Texting Game: Corporate and Cold

Nanami does not do good morning texts.

✔You : "Good morning, babe! ☀️ I hope you have a great day! ❤️"

✔ Nanami (seen at 8:02 AM, responds at 4:52 PM): "Hello."

✔ You: "HELLO? THAT'S IT?!"

✔ Nanami: "What else is there to say?"

You try to flirt? 

You send "I miss you 🥺"and he responds with: 

Nanami (seen at 10:12 AM, no reply.)

Nanami (10:15 AM, Zelle: $30).

Message: "Get your favorite coffee. I'll see you later."

SIR. I AM FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE. 

And FaceTiming him is a battle.

He answers immediately—but he is NOT happy about it.

You're sitting there all cute, twirling your hair, and he's just staring at you like a disappointed father.

"What is it?" he asks.

SIR. CAN YOU PRETEND TO BE HAPPY TO SEE ME?! 

You speak first. "Just wanted to see you. We haven't FaceTimed all day. And since it's you're lunch hour I thought it's be ok. Sorry, um.. were you in a meeting?"

"Yes." He deadpans.

OMG.

Just then, an elderly woman starts cussing someone out in a different language, then talking about a refund, and Nanami frowns, adjusting his tie. "...Where are you?"

"Uh..." You quickly exit the Ulta and try to give a convincing grin. "Just on my way home."

You're lying trying to keep yourself in the center of the camera he doesn't see the display behind you and decide to have your ass financially excommunicated.

Meanwhile, he's trying to make sense of your surroundings while simultaneously responding to multiple emails and messages.

Nanami narrows his eyes.

"...Is that Ulta?"

"Uh, no?"

"I see a makeup display behind you."

FUCK.

"You just spent $200 on skincare last week."

"Skincare is an investment."

Another pause. His lips part slightly—like he's hesitating before speaking.

"So is your savings account and Roth IRA. And yet."

SIR. SIR. CAN YOU JUST PRETEND TO LOVE ME FIRST BEFORE DRAGGING ME???

Nanami glances offscreen.

"Actually, I'm about to run into a meeting with some important clients. Let me know when you make it back."

"I will, b—" And he hangs up.

WHAAAAAT?!

-

When you FaceTime again an hour later, he doesn't answer. He sends you a message 20 minutes later:

"This isn't the best time to talk, sorry."

BABE.

ARE WE FACETIMING, OR TEXTING, IT CAN GO EITHER WAY.

He doesn't call back for another eight hours. You fall asleep staring at your phone. When you wake up, the green icon says he read your messages, but not a word. No apology, no explanation—nothing. You're halfway through an angry rant in your head, before you hear his keys jangle outside your apartment door. He leans against the doorway and studies you with his brow raised. He knows. Of course, he knows.

And when Nanami finally meets you half way, it makes everything worth it.

Being Romanced by a Spreadsheet in Human Form 

Nanami does not plan dates.

He optimizes them. 

This man has an Excel sheet for everything.

A list of restaurants with the best price-to-quality ratio.

A personal budget report for how much money you've saved since dating him.

A shared Google Calendar invite for your next date night 

The Relationship Dynamic

Nanami is the type of man to tell you he likes you in the most passive, emotionally unavailable way possible.

He's not gonna say "I love you."

No, he's gonna refill your gas tank and hope you figure it out.

He remembers your favorite coffee order. 

You casually mention your favorite perfume—BOOM, a new bottle appears.

He keeps cough drops in his pocket just in case you get sick.

Or fix something in your apartment without saying a word.

You never have to ask, because he's already three steps ahead of you.

And if you ever ask him why he doesn't communicate his emotions,he's just sighing, taking a slow sip of whiskey, mumbling:

"Words are meaningless without action."

SIR. PLEASE JUST SAY YOU LOVE ME

But say something sweet to him? 

You: "I feel so safe with you." 

Nanami: "That's an efficient use of my presence." 

SIR. 

HAVE YOU EVER SINCERELY EXPRESSED A FEELING, LET ALONE CRUSHED ON SOMEONE, IN YOUR LIFE?

PDA? Not in This Economy.

Nanami does NOT do unnecessary affection. 

Hand-holding? Limited to crossing the street.

Kissing in public? Absolutely not. 

Cuddling? Only if it's cold, and even then, it's purely for efficiency.

But if you ever lean into him while you two are out? 

This man will freeze up like he just got drafted into war.

Meanwhile, his hand is already in his pocket, Zelle-ing you $50 because he does not know how to handle emotions.

SIR. I JUST WANTED A HUG. 

OHHHHH but The Sex: Silent But Deadly

Oh, and let's talk about sex with Nanami.

Because this man does NOT do casual hookups.

If Nanami is fucking you, he wants to own your soul.

This is a man who fucks like he's closing a business deal.

Does this man use a condom?

Hell, yeah, he does.Everything is controlled, calculated, efficient—until you make one sound, and now he's lost in the sauce.

You think Nanami is quiet in bed? 

NO, BESTIE. 

This man is repressed.

The moment you reach in to your nightstand and there's no condoms.

His gaze on you sharpens.

You let out a soft giggle, shifting onto your knees beside him.

"I mean, we wouldn't be in such an, uh," you said with a light giggle. "Well we wouldn't be having this type of accident then."

UGH. Y/N. GET IT TOGETHER, HAHA

It takes him a second.

The pensive expression as he cocks his head and quirks an eyebrow.

Then, his brows shoot up at the realization.

"Condom, Y/n. Did you run out?" he asks.

Y-Yes."

"Hmm. Why didn't you buy more?"

WHAT?!

"B-Bu—u-uh, I forgot?!" You reply, feeling his hand sliding up your bare thigh.

His voice is deep, rich and commanding, a calm timbre as always.

"Would you like me to go purchase more? It won't take long."

WHAT KIND OF LOGISTICS-BASED SEDUCTION IS THIS?

W-why is your heart racing?

"NO—uh—wait—just—pull out?! We don't have to—uh—waste time with—uh—logistics?! We can—um—improvise??"

And then, suddenly, he's had enough.

His lips slam into yours—hot, demanding, final—swallowing every weak excuse before you can even breathe.

OH.

Fuck logistics I guess.

His strong arm wraps around your waist and guides you beneath him as his hot mouth hungrily kisses you.

F-Fuck.

Suddenly, his weight is against you, pushing you deeper into the mattress, his thick thigh parting your legs further.

He will be completely in control at first, moving at a steady pace, whispering, "Tell me if it's too much." 

But the moment you whimper? Moan? Scratch his back? 

It's over. 

Now he's gripping your wrists, pulling your hair, and hitting it from the back like there's no tomorrow.

SIR, DON'T FORCE MY ARM BACK LIKE THAT.

His hips stutter, like he's fighting himself—like he's holding back something he doesn't want to name.

"Shit," he grits out, his fingers flexing involuntarily.

And then?

He snaps.

His thrusts turn punishing, primal, unforgiving. His head tips back, lips parted, panting, as he twists your hair got a better grip.

"You're fucking ruining me," he growls, voice wrecked, raw, and almost... frustrated.

And then? He bites down.

Hard.

All business is gone.

Nanami loses himself.

But you already knew you did this to him.

So, you grab him, press him into the mattress, and you ride him so hard that he is rendered speechless.

You roll your hips slow, deliberate. Just to watch him break.

His hands slide down your thighs, gripping tight, like he needs to hold onto something before he falls apart.

"Shit," he hisses, his head tipping back.

His neck is tense, the vein at his throat pronounced.

You grind down harder.

"F-fuck," he exhales, his breath hitching, his control slipping.

And then? He does something he never does.

His fingers dig into your hips, and his voice drops into something desperate.

"Please," he breathes, the word gritted, forced, unintentional.

You freeze. Because this man does not beg.

Your lips curl. "Please what?"

His jaw clenches, but his grip tightens.

"Don't stop."

The most you can get out of him are primal grunts.

When you lean over him, moving slow so you don't fall on top of him, and trace the outlines of his lips with a finger, you see him visibly shudder. His jaw clenches as you brush back the strands of blond hair that stick to his sweat-drenched forehead.

His eyes are shut, the pulse in his neck visible, the veins in his biceps defined and strained. You run a finger up his arm and can see his skin react, tiny hairs standing on end. It almost tickles.

Your other hand moves lower, cupping his balls, and he exhales loudly, biting his bottom lip to keep from being louder. With another slow bounce, his body tenses—shaking for just a few seconds—before he grips the sheets, holding himself back. You smirk, giving him two long, torturously slow rolls of your hips before settling into a steady rhythm.

He thrusts with you, his hand clutching the bed sheet at his hip as the other gripping the headboard behind his head. Watching your breasts bounce with every roll of your hips, his jaw tightening each time your tight entrance sucked him in.

In one swift motion, he sits up, grips your waist, and flips you onto your back. As he starts to pound into you, his groans grow louder and deeper.

He stops to move your legs over his shoulders. In the shadows cast by the dim bedside table light, his cheekbones and eyebrows are exaggerated, his chest and arms more muscled and veined than usual. He opens his eyes, and for a second you wish you hadn't seen that dangerous glint. His hand slides along your ankle, gently squeezing.

You relax in the bed sheets, sinking into his strong grip and his steady movement. He keeps his eyes on you.

The usual restraint in his expression?

Gone.

His hand drags down your stomach, down your hip, gripping tight.

"Look at me," he orders, his breath shaky.

You do. And that's when you realize—

His jaw is clenched. His brow furrowed. His pupils, completely blown.

He is holding back something devastating.

"Keep looking at me," he warns. "Don't you dare fucking close your eyes."

You are not some object to him—a mere transaction.

You are an investment. A personal project.

Something he can pour hours of time and labor into,to reap its value when you bloom.

But finally after this man cums deep in you, you watch as the tension that never leaves his shoulders melt.

Now he's breathing heavy, cursing under his breath, and suddenly he's on his third round like, "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

SIR. YOU ARE AN ANIMAL.

And after he's completely ruined your life?

He's just sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair, whispering:

"This was irresponsible."

He's referring to his little accident.

YOU MEAN THE FACT THAT YOUR CUM IS CURRENTLY MARINATING MY INSIDES?!

You pause.

Okay, yeah. This man needs to chill the fuck out, for real.

Nanami goes quiet again. You wrap your arms around him, holding his tight shoulders and hard muscles.

You see his jaw tighten again as he stares straight ahead. You press your chest against his back and hug him close. When you put your chin on his shoulder he exhales long, relaxing his shoulders again. He turns and your noses nudges his cheek, and his eyes seem sleepy, tired, but very satisfied. You move your lips to his and take his soft lower lip, dragging it slightly. You move your mouth against his. When he finally kisses back he groans, you're not sure what is going on in his head but he kisses you desperately.

"K-Kento, i-its okay! I was just as involved in not purchasing enough protection! I'll take care of everything in the morning. Plan B. No biggie."

Nanami just stares at you.

His fingers brush your thigh, slow, careful.

"...I'll go get it," he murmurs, eyes flickering across your face like he's memorizing you.

You shake your head. "I can—"

"No," he interrupts, his voice impossibly soft.

His lips brush your forehead.

"Stay here. I'll be back soon."

He sees your trembling expression, and just knows you aren't saying no big deal because you think it is no big deal.

He tries to comfort you, and runs a soothing hand on your back.

It's his way of showing you he's grateful, that this wasn't some messy affair.

"I apologize, I really shouldn't have put you in that position." He sighs. "In the future, I'll be sure to—"

SIR. YOU JUST GAVE ME THE BEST SEX OF MY LIFE, AND NOW YOU'RE HAVING A MORAL CRISIS?!

"It's ok...I really liked what just happened. That was, um...It was actually amazing. Can we maybe do it again, but with I'll get on the pill next time, though?" You ask hesitantly, and quietly, chuckling and blushing a tad, and when his arms encase your naked frame. He places a kiss against the side of your neck before his breath warms your earlobe and his rich baritone rumble hits your core, saying:

"Absolutely."

HE NEARLY DEAFENED YOU WITH THAT VOICE WHILE THE REASSURING KISS BURNS INTO YOUR MIND.

Part 1 & 2

Part 4🤭

All rights reserved © 2025 KawaiiBlossoms. Do not copy, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

[mae-gi-writes]

rile you up | lee Minho (xo kitty)

You’re Minho’s latest form of entertainment and he cannot just get enough of riling you up.

Genre: romcom, slice of life, school!au, minho is a little dick

———

“Fuck you, Minho.”

“What a ray of sunshine you are on this fine day.”

You grit your teeth together, almost grind them to nothing, and repeat the words with even more conviction, “I said fuck you.”

”Watch that tongue sunshine, might fall out if you’re not careful,” Minho’s grin just widens at the way your eyes have narrowed into slights. If looks could kill, he would’ve been shot int he head twice, revived, and shot once again. But thankfully for him, your narrow-eyed stare is nothing scarier than a cute kitten ready to take her claws out.

It’s a boring, rainy and muddy Wednesday afternoon and you really don’t want to be here, in English Lit, listening to professor Lau drone on and on about love and friendship in the verses of Lord Byron’s poems and how, if you read in-between the lines and analyze the intonations, the words, the onomatopieas, you’ll find a much deeper definition of Lord Byron’s feelings.

And Minho sitting right beside you is not making it much easier.

“You’ve got a pimple growing on your left cheek,” Minho squints at your face as you turn away, cupping your face with your hands as your eyes find the lock tick, tick, ticking at the far end of the classroom. Thirty more minutes of this torture.

“Can you just stop hyper-analyzing me like I’m some kind of lab rat?I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” You snap back.

“Woah,” Minho sighs before he shakes his head, “you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“And you, my friend, need to mind your own business.”

“Minho and Y/N.”

Professor Lau’s voice causes both of them to wince, physically, before looking up to see the said old man with bespectacled glasses, the book of poems in his hand and his eyebrows raised as though he expected better.

If you’re being honest, you really do enjoy Professor Lau’s classes, normally. Normally.

But not today. Today, you’re having a completely off day. You woke up late, you couldn’t sleep at all last night, and all the coffee had run out by the time you’d made it to campus. Your grades are suffering and you’re currently trying to ploughing through all the assignments without drowning.

And the worst of it all, you miss home.

You miss your mom. You miss your family, your brother with whom you would fight with at every occasion and play Mario kart with. You missed your grandma, your aunts, the food they cooked, the shared laughter, the smiles…

You’re in so deep in your thought process that you haven’t even registered that Professor Lau is telling you off until he calls for your name that brings you back to attention.

“—yes?” Your eyes flit up to Professor Lau’s and a wave of emotion suddenly takes its toll on you. You try hard to blink back the sudden burn of tears at the corner of your eyes, crawling up your throat.

“I was expecting better of your behaviour, miss Y/N,” he says, pointedly looking between you and Minho with pursed lips, “in my office after class. You’re up for cleaning duty.”

Great. That’s exactly what you need. After everything.

Fucking. Great.

———

“These pretty hands cannot clean,” these are Minho’s first words as the rest of the class files out to leave you two alone on cleaning duty and as you had predicted, there are papers all over the place, test papers and pens and pencils, “I’ve taken care of my hands all these years. I am not ruining it just to clean a classroom.”

“You are so freaking dramatic,” you roll your eyes, standing up to find the cleaning supplies that are stacked at the back of the class, in the storage closet, “let’s just get this over with and we can both move on with our lives and I won’t have to see you again for the rest of this week.”

“What’s up your arse, dude?” Minho follows you, one hand leaning on the doorframe as you start pulling out the duster, the cleaning rags and the shiny new broom that Professor Lau is currently obsessed with, “you’ve been acting really weird.”

“What?” You scoff, proceeding to hand him the broom because you know he’s never going to be the one on his hands and knees cleaning the floors, “I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“No, you’ve been acting off all week. You’re all snappy, your dark circles are so prominent you look like a walking zombie and you keep asking me to go fuck myself,” Minho rolls his eyes, “also, how do you use this?”

“Jesus chri—“ you make a move towards him, grabbing the hand holding the broom while struggling to circle his back and grabbing the other, “you keep that thing steady, then you brush the dirt from this one—“ you grip his hand and shuffle it over the floor in a sweeping motion, “until it goes into the pan. Got it?”

It's only then you realize the warmth emanating from Minho's back. If you move a little closer, you could press your cheek against him. He smells like something citrus and fresh mint and man.

Somehow, it makes goosebumps explode all over your skin. You step back abruptly, noting the heat searing through your palms where you had touched him just as he turns to face you, "you seem to be a natural at this. Why don't you do it?"

"I'm gonna take care of the floors," you're glad for the distraction that comes in the form of the rag, for there's a knot of heat in the middle of your chest and you're not quite sure how to deal with it, "let's just get this over with."

There's a long moment of silence as both of you focus on your tasks, which helps to calm down your nerves. Somehow, the sound of Minho's brush is conforting to hear.

Until he speaks up, "so you're gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Why should I tell you, of all people?"

"Because there's nobody else around and seeing you all mopey makes me actually feel bad for you."

You wipe off the dusty corner by the teacher's desk, "Do you have any ounce of decency in you somewhere?"

"Not when you're involved," Minho snickers.

You whip around, throw the balled-up rag at him and smirk in satiafaction when it hits him square in the head, "ow--what the fuck, Y/N?!"

Glad that you managed to piss him off, you turn and continue, "oops sorry. My hand slipped."

It's not ultimately Minho's fault that you're more anxious, more easily irritated than usual. So you can't really take it out on him. But he doesn't make it any easier either.

Thankfully, the rest of the cleanup goes smoothly as butter and he parts ways with the excuse that he needs to go find his aupposed lunch date, to which you merely rolles your eyes and headed for the dining hall alone.

It doesn't normally bother you to be alone. On the contrary, you relish in those silent moments of freedom without having to hear an earful from Kitty and Q, or having Yuri complain about yet another one of her life's family miseries.

But as you find a vacant seat by the door, you can't help but suddenly feel a little small in a room full of people who seem to be right where they should be. And something in your heart constricts and clenches so hard it causes a soft sob to die at the back of your throat.

You grip your spoon a little tighter and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel the tangy taste of blood.

It feels lonely.

------

You're kind of sick.

Not physically sick.

Just sick of hearing christmas carols ringing all over campus. Sick of smelling hot chocolate in the air, sick of seeing luggages being dragged on vacation.

Sick of being here.

For an international student, returning home for Christmas was never an option. The airplane ticket is too expensive for your familt to afford, and you wouldn't ever impose that on them. But if you had to admit to that selfish part of you; you wished you were privileged enough to get to fly out at every chance you got.

Alas, that is not the kind of life that you live.

So when the doorbell rings at seven-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve, you're more than surprised to find none other than Minho standing by your door with his hands in his pockets.

"Wh--Yeah? What do you want?" You frown upon noticing the lack of luggage behind him. Knowing Minho, he packed like a diva.

He hums and peeks inside your flat, causing you to shuffle into his peripheral vision, "what do you want Minho?"

"You're not packed."

"Wise observation, smartass."

He brushes past you and strides inside, taking his shoes off casually by the door, "why not?"

"None of your business."

He throws you an exasperated look, "you gonna keep being like this?"

"I don't know, are you gonna keep annoying the hell out of me?"

He can't help the grin that spreads over his face at that, "you're fun to mess around with."

"Well for your information, it's not fun. Not for me," you don't hesitate to walk over before grabbing onto his arm and tugging over to the door, "really. I'm fine. Now leave."

"I'm surprised you're not going home for Christmas," he continues as you're pushing him out of the door.

It stings, "why?"

"International kids usually do," he folds his arms, proceeds to lean into the open doorway and you got another whiff of his scent, "what? Daddy didn't want to pay for you this time?"

"My dad died. Two years ago."

There's surprise first, that flashes through his eyes. Then realization slowly dawns.

There’s some kind of weight in your chest. Like your heart has just broke.

"What?" You laugh but it's dry and twisted, "cat got your tongue? Too shocked to speak? Poor little Y/N, who doesn't have a father to pay off her credit card bills, right?"

"I didn't know--"

"Of course you didn't. You never asked."

"I'm--" he swallows, looks away, "—sorry."

You scoff, "don't. It's okay. I've been over it for the past two years."

It's not what he says but rather the way he looks at you that makes your insides shrivel up with dread and fear and the idea that he'll never look at you the same way ever again.

Because the thing is, no matter how much Mjnjo teases you, bullies you into oblivion, you do enjoy the attention, the banter. It's almost as if it's better than just being ignored altogether.

And amidst all his teasing and his annoying personaity, there are bite and smidges of Minho's kindness smattered in-between, flecks of tenderness that makes your heart soar, your brrath

To have such a man look down at you, pity you, makes you want to be sick.

"Y/N--" you cut him off before he can even try to make it up to you, "it's fine, Minho. Just drop it--"

"Wha--I said I was sorry, don't give me that look--"

"I said drop it!" You swerve around on him, anger bubbling from deep within your chest as blood pulses through, rushes through you, "for one goddamn second, can you just leave me alone?! I don’t need this—this constant bullying of your part! It’s tiring and it’s just so goddamn frustrating and humiliating so will you just stop?!”

The shocked silence that follows your sudden outburst is heavy. If the tension had been thick before, it’s now so hard you can barely cut it with a knife. You try to regulate your staccato breaths, try not to let your body take over your mind as you focus on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in. Breathing out. Just like that.

Calm. Like water. Like you’re a river that never stops.

“Just go, Minho,” your words are bitter. You can barely look his way, an overwhelming surge of irritation, guilt and hurt swimming through you.

Thankfully, the young man seems just as surprised as you are and leaves without even a backward glance. That’s when you finally cave in and allow your legs to crumble to your floor. Pressing your head against the door, your body instantly gives into the sadness that crumbles through you like used up tissue, soaking in all the tears that are suddenly cascading down your cheeks without restraint.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

———

“Minho, I’m really sorry about my behaviour.”

You stare.

Your reflection stares back.

Shit. This doesn’t feel right. You close your eyes, exhale a soft breath, and open them once more only to find a set of familiar brown eyes gazing back at you.

It’s just the day after Christmas and though the majority of your friends were still off campus, you’re well aware that a certain Korean young man has decidedly stayed back because of his mother’s offshoot shooting commercial.

However, you still hadn’t gotten the guts to go back and ask him for a formal apology yet. Did you even need one when he’d been the one prodding you with a stick like he would with a nest of aggressive bees?

Oh well. You decided you’d be the bigger person and make the first move. As always.

So you look back to your reflection with renewed determination, take a deep breath before forcing the words out, “I am really sorry for my shitty behaviour, Minho, I should’ve—no,” you shake your head, start again and clasp your hands together for good measure, “I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way, I was hurt—no. God. I sound so pathetic.” You can’t help but curse at the mirror.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath. And you try once more, this time adding a small smile.

“I’m really sorry for everything that I said. I was being a bit insensitive and wasn’t in the right headspace—“ you break off with a frustrated snarl, “god! Why is it so hard to apologize to the dude?!”

“The dude’s standing right here.”

Shocked, you swivel around only to find none other than the said question in person leaning against your doorway, eyebrows raised and a semblance of a smirk lining his lips.

“M—Minho,” you feel like slapping yourself for sounding like a stuttering goldfish. Quickly, your hands smooth down your sweater, hiding them in the big bell sleeves as your eyes find everything — anything, to get off his face, “what—what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

You’re still not looking, deciding that the faint crack in your dorm room is much more interesting.

Minho’s footsteps approach as he strides close, close enough that you get a whiff of his expensive cologne and restrain yourself from sighing out loud.

The bastard smells too good, you feel like crying.

“Why?” He scoffs, “isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Fine,” you’re still not looking at him, which is why you almost jump out of your skin the moment you feel the gentlest graze of his fingertips at your jaw.

“Wha—“ you stutter, eyes flashing up to his on instinct.

Dark brown meets swirls of maroon. You almost lose your breath.

In the mid-morning light with sunshine falling over half of his face, Minho looks like he’d just walked out of some fashion magazine.

“What are you…doing?” You manage to murmur out. Barely.

It’s hard to concentrate when he’s right there, in your personal space, looking a little too dashing for his own good.

“You’re right. I was being a selfish dick to you two days ago,” his grip on your chin is firm, his dark eyes even firmer, “so I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way.”

You laugh, “wait—is Minho actually apologizing? To me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“But this is a legendary moment,” you fake a mocking gasp at him, “I should record this right now.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Y/N.”

Chuckling, your eyes crinkle up as you allow yourself to roam over his features, “okay okay, I’ll stop.”

Minho fidgets and doesn’t say anything back. Weird, considering that he has a comeback for everything. You feel his hand drop from your chin as he takes a step back, lips pressed together and face looking like he’s uncomfortable being here.

Do you make him uncomfortable? It’s not a sight you’re used to seeing. Something tugs at your heartstrings but you try and ignore it.

“What is it?” You ask instead.

“There is…” his eyes dart away, “something I need to tell you.”

“About?”

His hand drops. Instantly, cold swoops in.

“About me. And you.”

You squint, “Minho I swear, if this is one of your stupid jokes again—“

“I like you.”

You blink.

He gazes back. His eyes. They’re gazing straight at you. Focused. Intense. Hot.

So hot it causes a flame to burst in your chest.

Wait…your mind backtracks, what?

“You—“ your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more, "I'm sorry--what?"

His eyes answer in his stead. Dark orbs swirling with a depth that makes your skin explode in goosebumps. You realize, all too soon, how close you are, how -- if you want -- you can diminish the space between just with one single step forward.

"I like you," he says it honestly. Somehow, you relish in the way he says it. Clear and transparent. No inside games, no beating around the bush, "maybe more than a little."

You sense a but. "And?"

He rolls his eyes, "and maybe I just don't know how to show it."

"You mean, acting like a five year old boy who bullies his crush for fun because he likes her?"

"Something like that."

"Okay," you drag out the word in hopes that it will hide the way your heart suddenly skips a beat, the way your legs feel weaker at the knees, "so what--what now?"

"Well, that's the part where you tell me you like me back--" Minho catches himself upon seeing you raise a brow at him, "--or not. Your choice, your rules, doll."

Doll? You can feel the flame bursting through your chest and squeezing your heart. It aches so much it hurts, though it seems that your smile can't help tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch him and despite his seeming nonchalance about the whole matter, there's the slightest sheen of pink that gives him away.

Cute. Your brain chants.

"Well," you tilt your chin up in what you hope is a confident manner, "you normally take a girl out to dinner first."

"Is that a yes?" Minho smirks.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, yes I heard alright. Fine," he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "tomorrow night. Dinner. Be ready by six. I'll pick you up."

"Tomorrow? But wait I--"

"You better be there, doll."

And with that, he swivels on his feet and walk away while whistling a soft tune, leaving your heart flooded with a tide of mixed emotions that erupt through your chest and butterflies running along your skin.

---

Minho: I'll come pick you up by six. Be ready then. Wear something cute but casual. Nothing fancy.

Y/N: i like how you're telling me how to dress up when you're the one who's supposes to be wooing me.

Minho: oh you don't have to worry about that.

The way he replies so smoothly has goosebumps running along the back of your neck and you squeeze your hands into fists. You're still sitting on your bed, trying to digest all this new information as another flurry of messages burst through your phone, probably fron Kitty's latest reaction your news.

Kitty: what?! Minho?! And you?! He asked you out?!!! Omg how did I not see this coming!!!

Y/N: i thought you were a matchmaker.

Kitty: well YEAH before he went and ruined it!!! Anyway, what are you WEARING?!

Y/N: i have absolutely no idea. He said something cute but casual, so I'm guessing there's not gonna be any fancy dinners or anything.

Kitty: omg!! Minho and casual doesn't sound right. Maybe he really is trying to woo you!!

Y/N: should I wear shorts? Pants? A skirt?

Kitty: definitely no pants. Maybe that cute skater skirt you wore to Yuri's party last semester?

So you do. The skirt's baby blue colour contrasts well with the simple white tshirt you decided to wear with it, and throwing on a beige cardigan and some white sneakers complete the look. You add a small blue bow into your hair to match, and take one last look at yourself in hopes that you're looking exactly how Minho wants you to--

No. That's the wrong way to go about it. Minho likes you. Yes. You. Not the girls he's always so uses to seeing. You don't have to impress him.

That’s how you meet him right outside your door, with your newly-found resolve as you catch the simple white tee and ripped jeans, hair styled just the way he likes it, just enough to make every woman’s heart swoon.

His eyes do a once-over, “not bad, Y/N. You clean up nice.”

“Not bad?” You scoff, “I’m sure there are much better adjectives to use.”

He grins, “we’ll see.”

Minho brings you over to the Han river by electric scooter, with you standing in front and holding on to the handlebars as he guides you across the street even though it’s technically illegal for people to do such a thing. But with the wind in your hair and Minho’s warmth at your back, you don’t find yourself complaining.

“Han river?” You raise a brow at him as he parks and pays for his e-scooter ride, “really? So cliche.”

“The Han River is a classic,” he looks at you pointedly, “and I’ll have you know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

“Ooh, does that mean anything?” You wriggle your brows and he scoffs, looks away, “shut up.”

You weren’t expecting him, of all people, to be a fan of romantic gestures such as this. But when he parks his scooter in favor of walking alongside you by the trail — even with his multiple complaints about the dirt being too dirty and people needing to revisit their wardrobe fashion — you can’t help but wonder how much effort he’s putting into just being with you. Because knowing Minho, walking on crushed grass and having his shoes in dirt is quite a big deal.

“Look, do you want to be swooned or not?” He replies when you ask him the question, even looks offended that you’d dared ask such a thing, “I thought girls loved it when boys brought them here.”

“Yes I know that,” your grin is so wide that you’re surprised it hasn’t broken your face in two yet, “and don’t get me wrong. I love it, but I never thought you—of all people — would bring me here, of all places. It’s just not…”

“Not what?” He scowls.

“Just not you,” you confess, and then, seeing that his frown seems to take a permanent fixture on his face, you quickly add, “so the fact that you’re doing it…thanks. It means…something. You know?”

Heat springs through your cheeks at the sudden confession and you quickly look away, anywhere, but not before glancing at Minho to see that he has a faint smile dancing across his lips.

As the evening wears on, you get to talk about everything and anything; from worries about your future and the rigorous routine of adult life, about which game box is better and which restaurant serves the best korean noodles, which Minho argues does not exist, considering that every single noodle joint in Seoul is a pro in making them.

"We're the city of noodles and gimbap, obviously there's more than one good noodle stop."

"You speak like someone who hasn't tasted Uncle Cha's food yet. You know, the snack from across the road to campus."

Minho's nose wrinkles, "nah I'm good--"

"Oh no you don't," you grab onto his arm before he has a chance to run away, "nu-uh. Let's go get them right now, actually."

Surprisingly awed by Cha's cuisine, Minho has no other choice than to grumble out a faint agreement. It's no secret that it makes your day.

"But the environment--" Minho shudders, "I think I saw a cockcroach scuttling about in there."

“Oh yeah,” you let your eyes follow the wall and trail back up to him, pointing at his face, “there’s one.”

Shoving you playfully, he pulls out his tongue in such a childish manner you can’t help but burst out laughing.

You decide to take the walk back along the Han River even if it makes a detour, stopping by a coffee shop to grab some hot chocolate. The city lights now illuminate the city like stars scraping the earth’s surface and you can’t help but feel amazed by how beautiful the scenery is, with the wind trickling through your hair and soft music from busking sessions in the background.

“I’ve never actually walked along the Han River before,” you confess to him as you gaze down at the black waters sloshing against the river edge, “thanks, Minho.”

He has the look of a satisfied five year old child who got a gold star for his best behaviour, “you’re welcome.”

“Who knew you’d be the one to bring me here?” You jostle his shoulder playfully before taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

“What’s that you’re implying?” He frowns.

“That you’ve surprised me and my expectations.”

“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?” He looks horrified and dramatic, “you’re harsh, Y/N. I’ll have you know, I haven’t—“ he stops himself just in time for you to swoop in and push, “yeah? You haven’t what?”

“Nevermind,” he sips his own drink and you notice the way his ears have turned red.

You giggle, “tell me, have you gone on dates before?”

“Wha—of course I have! What kind of question is that?!” You keep on laughing and laughing at his face, shaking your head as you try and muffle your chuckles the best you can, “oh god—oh my god, you never have. It’s written all over your face—“

“You talk too much,” he mutters into his drink and turns away from you, ears as red as a fire engine.

You nudge him, smiling, loving that side of him that he’s never really shown anyone before. Because you all know the cool, confident Minho. But this, this side of Minho is uncharted territory.

And you’re all here for it.

“Why not, though?”

His eyes narrow as he looks back at you, “what?”

“Why haven’t you brought anyone out before?’ You fidget with your cup, glad that it’s warming your hands so you can busy yourself with something, “because I’ve seen you, with different types of girls. All the time—“

“Yeah that didn’t mean anything.”

“But you still went out with them.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

“What?” Heat flushes through you, “no, I just—“

That’s when you feel it. His hand, fluttering up to yours. He pries your hold from your cup gently before bringing it down between you, fingers entangling with yours like they’re meant to be there in the first place.

And when your eyes flutter to lock onto his, there’s liquid warmth in those pools of brown, a tenderness you’ve seldom seen before.

“This is new too,” he murmurs then, “all of this.”

Your heart skips a beat. There are no words to be said.

You swallow thickly, look away, and don’t miss the soft chuckle that falls from his lips as he keeps swinging your hands back and forth between you, his smile a permanent fixture on his face. One that your lips mirror faintly as you keep walking back towards your dorms in comforting silence.

———

“Was that romantic enough for you?”

Minho’s question is met with a chuckle from your part as you finally reach your dormitory. A few stray students are still studying deep into the night, some already asleep on the deep blue couches in the common room as you make your way through, hands still entertained from earlier.

Your heart has been skipping and rollerblading into ecstasy ever since.

“Hmm,” you hum, even tilting your head in thought, “guess so. Though if I had any complaints—“

“You wouldn’t tell me, because there aren’t any,” Minho finishes for you, “right?”

“Oh i have plenty, but I’ll keep it for another time,” you flash him a mischievous smile. You’ve reached your corridor by that time, your words causing Minho to shoot you a suggestive look.

“another time?” He repeats with a cock of his brow.

You bite your lip and look away to avoid the fact that there’s a faint, yet growing smile on your face, “yeah. Maybe.”

The said young man’s lips pulls into a small smile, “I can work with that.” He murmurs, and something warm pools in the middle of your chest.

It’s hard to control yourself around Minho especially when he’s not being a little shit. Because the fact is; he’s very enticingly charming and likable.

“Well, that’s me,” you’ve reached your door then, glad that for once your dorm room is free of activity since both your roommates have gone home for the Christmas season, and turn towards Minho.

“Thanks you, for tonight,” your cheeks are warm with heat but you can’t resist grinning up at him, “I had more fun than expected.”

Minho sucks in a dramatic breath, “wow. I think i finally got a compliment out of your mouth.”

“Trust me, that’s me being nice.”

“I know,” he flashes a grin at you and before you know it, his arm has gone up to press against the doorway, caging you in and suddenly making you feel smaller than you are already. His body heat rolls into you in waves, the scent of his boyish cologne making you dizzy as your body leans into him unconsciously.

“So,” he breathes. He’s so close, so close that if you move just a little, your noses would brush, “since I’ve taken you out on a date, do I get to kiss you now?”

Air stills in your lungs. Your teeth find your lower lip.

“It depends,” your whisper is so soft he barely catches it, too enthralled by the way your mouth curves and moves with the words, “will you take me out again?”

“If her highness wishes,” Minho chuckles, tilting his head so that your noses brush. Electricity zaps through your body, goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, “I’ll take you wherever you want.”

Your eyes lock. There’s warmth, want. Desire swimming through his own pools of brown.

“Sounds like a promise,” you breathe, “so when will that—“

“Y/N.”

The way he says your name has a knot tightening in your stomach. Your body tenses in anticipation.

He’s gazing at you as if he’s only just seeing you. His lips are so close, you can feel his breaths on your lips. Hot against cold. He smells divine.

You’re so lost in your own daydream that you respond a few seconds late, “y-yeah?”

“Do me a favor?”

One hand cradles your cheek. You freeze.

“Hm?”

“Stop talking.”

And before you can do anything else, his mouth presses against yours.

Fireworks explode. Behind your eyelids. Through your body. Blood races and your brain goes fuzzy with want and desire as Minho’s other hand wraps around your waist to tug you in, his other hand clasping your jaw firmly as he kisses you. Once. Twice. He’s a good kisser, yet so gentle and tentative.

You’re taken by surprise for a few seconds, before you finally melt into him and kiss him back. A sigh escapes you as your hands go up to wrap around his neck, and the groan of satisfaction he lets out makes your entire nerves buzz with delight.

Tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, longer, you let out a gasp against his mouth as he pulls you even closer still, as if he can’t get enough of you. You haven’t realized you’re pressed to the door until your back meets the hard wood underneath and you yelp softly at the way his tongue swipes over your bottom lip to ask for entrance.

He kisses you softly, yet so firmly as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, satiated. His hand at your hip moves up, tracing the back of your spine, the side of your rib cage before brushing against the corner of your bra and making you squirm while your hands curl into his hair. You tug, causing a grumble to echo out of Minho’s chest. His tongue darts in and you part for him like melted butter so that he can kiss you and ravage you without restraint.

Everything falls away, with only Minho being your anchor. You smell him, feel him against you, and want nothing else other than the dizzying rush that makes your stomach erupt with fireflies.

Your mouths part with a pop and he takes this chance to nip at your jaw, littering kisses down your neck before suckling on a soft patch of skin. Your body reacts instantly, curving into him as your lips part in a soft, minuscule moan. That’s enough to snap him back to attention.

He gazes up at you, chest heaving and all heavy breaths. His lips are swollen and red and just so beautiful. Hair tousled like he’s just tumbled out of bed and you quickly decide that’s the look you love best on him.

The curfew bell sounds and he curses.

“Minho,” you murmur when he leans in, noses brushing to capture your lips into his once more. You sigh, eyes falling shut as he takes your next set of words away.

It’s almost as if he’s drunk on you, as if he just can’t get enough.

The thought makes you shiver. Your heart swells with emotion.

“Minho,” you murmur once more against his lips. He groans, pulls away onto to bury his face into your neck and humming, “yeah?”

“Curfew’s in two minutes.”

“I know,” he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and you can’t help but whimper and cradling his head closer to you despite trying to make sense of your thoughts.

“Y—You should go,” you stutter out but it’s almost like you’re talking to yourself. He’s clearly in his own world, suckling onto your skin and leaving purple marks to claim you as his. He pulls away, groaning appreciatively at the sight you make.

“Do I really have to go?” His dark eyes — darker than you’ve ever seen them — flickers over your features. There’s a kind of hunger to them that makes you shiver.

“Yes,” you stammer out, heart almost bursting out of your chest when the boy merely tugs you close before he rests his head atop yours. He holds you, breaths you in, and your eyes close on their own accord, taking in the moment like it’s the last.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” his whisper grazes the shell of your ear and you shiver. He pulls back and there’s the kind of crooked smile that makes your heart tighten, “goodnight, Y/N.”

“Good night, Minho,” you murmur and dropping a last kiss atop your temple, you watch him walk away, raising a salute with his hand as he does so.

———

A/N: GAHHH IDK WHAT I WROTE AND I GAVE UP AT THE END I HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT BUT ANYWAY I’VE BEEN OBSSESSED WITH MINHO THESE DAYS.

[thelavendrhaze]

fic: i love you (it's ruining my life)

author: wildestdreams

rating: explicit

word count: 40.3k

“You’ve been teasing me all night, looking like a fucking dream, and the minute you get me alone, all of that attitude and your games go right out the window, don’t they?” Louis asked, voice low. “Why do you do it?”

Harry grinned, cheeks warm as his palms rested over Louis’ shoulders. “It keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

The alpha watched him closely, gaze dark, while he stroked one hand down Harry’s side before settling over the dip of his waist. “I can never tell with you.”

“Tell what?”

“If you like me or not.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “I’m not supposed to like you. I’m supposed to just want to fuck you.”

or

A situationship AU where Harry is one of the most sought-after omega supermodels in the world and Louis is the alpha lead singer of the indie supergroup, The Rogue. The last thing either of them wants is to fall in love.

fic tag / twitter / playlist

[percabething]

when the fic has an aesthetically pleasing layout but the writing is… questionable

[spiderslookcool]

heyyyyyyyy

fanart for YoSoyCeviche and their work jade body, promised heart. i enjoy it very much 💗

[neuro-psyche]

hc that jason todd loves 90s romcom movies. The fairy tale ending and the simplicity of it all is 100% one of his guilty pleasures.

i feel like You’ve Got Mail is def one of his favorites. the references to pride and prejudice sold him on it. sure, he doesn’t like how Joe put Christine out of business, fuck late stage capitalism, but still.

Roy def showed up at (broke into) one of his safe houses while Jason was watching 4 Weddings and a Funeral and it went like :

Jason, sobbing during the funeral scene : What the fuck are you doing here.

Roy, already taking a photo for blackmail : Why the fuck are you crying.

Jason : I’m watching four weddings and a funeral.

Roy : What the hell is that.

Jason, already rewinding : Sit your ass down.

-Later-

Roy, sobbing violently during the funeral scene : He was his song, dude!

Jason, also sobbing violently despite having seen this movie hundreds of times : This scene never gets any easier.

Roy : We will never speak of this.

Jason : Speak on it and your body will end up in the river.

Roy : Agreed. Now shut up the movie is going.

also dick 100% watches the movies with him. they also both watch 10 things I hate about you and sob.

[sallowskeeper]

🚨DRAMIONE ROM-COM ALERT

(artist credit: @puridewart) She's so talented and nice, highly recommend Puridew for any artwork you need.

PLOT:

Facts are things considered to be known or proven true. Take for example; Draco Malfoy.

Prat? Known. Brilliant Potions Professor? Proven true.

Annoyingly handsome and capable of using every opportunity he had to get on her nerves? Known and proven true.

When the Headmaster is forced to early retirement due to a family emergency, the position is open to the rest of the faculty. The Minister, Chief Warlock, and the Director for Wizarding Education will be ranking the staff, and the number one professor will be named Headmaster. She could see it now. Hermione Granger: Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The problem? Draco Malfoy was also vying for the position, if nothing, but to irritate her. Follow both Professors on their academic journey as they try to sabotage each other while also finding out that they might not be so different after all.

Fact: There is a thin line between love and hate.

Spice and HEA lie ahead!

AO3 link

Wattpad link

[glossypolaroidkisses]

hi my love!! im excited to see what ur blog will contain hehe omg im so ecstatic that u commented that ur interested in the whole right brained reader thing hehe i js want to know ur thoughts on the relationship dynamic of having a more humanitarian reader who likes english, arts everything that's quite opposite to what luigi is like!!

hihi!! omg I’m SO excited too!! i already feel so welcomed!! ok this is so fun, buckle in!! bear with me!!

since luigi seems to be so analytical and anal with his thought processes (like you mentioned), i can see him pre-relationship being a bit skeptical while getting to know you; just because that’s not how his brain works. at the start he’d ask you so many questions. you’d have so many conversations that would give him better insight into your mind, to make sure you’re not just in la la land all the time. it’s giving, waiting for 3rd or 4th date to talk politics?… no. 1st date we’re talking about thoughts on religion, the afterlife, etc.

also, that’s not an insult to right brained/artistic ppl, I’m one of them (if you couldn’t tell lol)! i’ve been perceived as dumb(er than others) because I’m so driven by creativity, english and the arts (NOT scientific or mathematical at all). It's only once someone gets to know me better, that they learn how intelligent I am. right brain thinkers are more likely to be dismissed or overlooked, imo!

someone like luigi may not have been too surrounded by many right brain thinkers let alone dated them, and he would be so curious about what goes on in your mind.

obviously, you do develop a relationship and the dynamic would be adorable. you balance each other out! there may be some minor situations and misunderstandings where his strict, logical, rational self isn’t sure where you’re coming from; but he always listens to you explain your POV, and does come around to understand it. he’s very open minded, esp when it comes to you!

he loves your brain. i mean, he’s so fascinated by it. you find art, beauty, creativity and meaning in things that he could’ve never perceived in such a way. both of your brains work in different ways that are both so important.

whether you come to him about a situation all pouty, or do the opposite, acting stubborn and silent about it until he picks up on your mood shift, coming over to help you.. he’ll have a solution. he’d drop anything to brainstorm a way to help you solve your problems. for luigi, because of his logical problem solving, the solution is usually simple for him to come up with. but then you’re standing there with stars in your eyes like ‘wow luigi😍❤️ i would’ve never come up with that🤩 thank you so much😩’ and he’s just there, giddy, bc you make him feel so smart and useful. he’s so happy when he can help you in any way.

there will probably be a lot of funny moments trying to make decisions together. you might want to decide based on gut feeling, or your emotions, but he’ll be so analytical; thinking of every detail. for example, buying furniture together. you might be like “omg! this couch is such a cute colour, matches the vibe of our apartment and it feels so soft!” and luigi would be like “uhm… yeah! cute! but… (pulls out tape measure) it isn’t the correct dimensions, the fabric isn’t stain resistant, the cushion covers aren’t removable, and it isn’t well reviewed online….😅🥸”

if he’s not with you, he’ll take photos of things he sees while out-and-about, maybe exploring, and send them to you. or!!! when he comes home, he’ll be all excited to show you stuff he took pictures of, wondering what your perspective on it would be, how you would interpret it. he’ll go through the pictures with you and just listen to you gush over something artsy or interpretive, like if he saw graffiti he thought you’d find cool, a quote from a book or painting at a museum. idk!

if he goes book shopping for his own yk NON fiction books, he’ll always come back with a book or two for you. he’ll get home, probably make some sort of joke like “i just chose the book that had the most colourful cover”, when in reality he spent time at the bookstore looking through the books, reading so many back covers to choose one that he knows you’ll genuinely enjoy. or, he’ll just buy a book he remembers you mentioning you wanted in passing. even if he wouldn’t enjoy reading it, he enjoys knowing it brings you joy. and if you talk to him about a book you’re reading/read, he’ll listen as if it’s his favourite genre.

me personally, idk if it’s the eldest daughter in me, but i LOVE being taken care of + i think he’d enjoy feeling helpful. like if i was drawing on an app on my ipad and it crashed or something, i’d go running to him for help.. with anything technology related (even if i had an idea of how i could fix it myself) like heyyy my lil compsci problem solver.. help pls😇

overall, i think this dynamic is so sweet as long as you can both embrace each others differences and find that harmony. he would add more structure to your life while appreciating your perspective, and you’d add more spontaneity, empathy & creativity to his!

also idk if i touched enough on this, but this dynamic is literally a humanitarian power couple. like fighting for what’s right, with his brain and your heart!! best of both worlds for a well rounded perspective!! mwhahaha

thank you so much for submitting that! oh my god that was so much fun I’m not insane i promise (maybe a lil hehehe) it is literally 7 am i am going to sleep now. i just started responding to that ask and couldn’t stop. aaa love it!!

i hope you liked it!! don’t be afraid to give feedback, anyone! i loooovee requests like these!! keep em coming!! mwah

[thebubblesareevil]

Romcom/fanfic trope idea

My shower thoughts need to be shared.

Imagine the main character being an unintended Cupid everywhere they go.

The guy the flirted with at the coffee shop? Just invited them the wedding after he married the regular MC talked about and introduced him to.

The gorgeous woman at the gym that shares workout tips with mc and nerds out with? Got swept away by the absolute tank that came to help after mc put on too much weight on the bench and she needed help spotting

Hot guy in same coffee shop that mc was flirting with? Called out name and brought attention to him from his high school crush

This happens all the time and they just roll with it now. They enjoy those moments when they see the happy couples.

One day there’s a new coworker that mopes about not having a s/o and mc just pays them on the back and says something along the lines of-

Don’t worry, we work together on the same shift and I think you’re hot, I give it a week and you’ll meet the love of your life

Mc walks away not realizing the damage they just did because now they can’t stop thinking about the fact that mc thinks they’re hot.

After awhile mc has a mental betting pool to see how long it take for new cw to fall in love and to which of their many potential suitors

Meanwhile the main love interest is busy fighting off a swarm of romcom bait after having no one showing them interest in years. MEAWHILE they would really like to know what about them mc finds hot

[spatialwave]

V's All That

Chapter 1 || The Bet

➥ Summary: Jayce Talis, the school's golden boy and a guaranteed pick for Prom King, seems to have it all—looks, charm, and popularity. However, when Kino presents him with the opportunity to win back Mel, his ex-girlfriend and the one who got away, Jayce jumps at the chance. The challenge? To transform Viktor, a snarky outcast who is as far from popular as possible, into Prom King instead. Jayce takes the bait, but he may have taken on more than he can handle. ➥ Word Count: 2.6k ➥ Pairing: Jayce Talis x Viktor || Arcane

🧡 beta'd by @spxllcxstxr 🩷 art by @wapimostosis 🧡 available on ao3

part 2. ->

The sun was high on Monday afternoon, illuminating everyone in the courtyard in bright light that warmed the skin. Spring Break was now a memory of the past, and the only thought looming above everyone’s heads were prom and graduation—the final milestones of a senior’s life.

Especially sought after by the popular kids. Their final night of royalty before they were shot into adulthood.

For Jayce Talis, this was everything. 

Football quarterback, soccer captain, class president and the obvious vote for Prom King.

It wasn’t easy being as popular as Jayce Talis. One had to be confident, charismatic, and, obviously, attractive. He basked in the glow of his rank atop the social ladder, eyes closed as he laid back atop one of the picnic tables in the courtyard that had been swallowed up by the sun. His arms rested behind his head, and his varsity jacket was discarded to the side, so he was clad in only a sleeveless tee and jeans.

A quick tan as the final minutes of school wrapped up, lucky enough to have a free final period. Why he didn’t leave? Who would want to leave school when everyone loved you?

Jayce’s close friend, Kino, sat next to him and toyed with a football in his hands. His eyes flickered around as students sat amongst each other and chatted, giggles and chatter filling his mind. The attention of all nearby girls settled on Jayce, who ensured his skin was perfectly sun-kissed.

A snort bubbled up from Kino’s chest, tucking the leather ball into his elbow, “You know, it’s kind of cute how everyone thinks you’re a lock for Prom King,” he murmured, noticing the way two freshman girls walked by and giggled as Jayce sat up, arms stretched above his head. Muscles perfectly contoured as he flexed.

“I am a lock for Prom King,” Jayce retorted, pushing the sunglasses he’d been wearing to the top of his head. His golden hazel eyes settled on his friend. “It’s not even a challenge.”

There was only truth in that statement: once nominated, no one could take the highly-sought crown from him. It was the status quo – how things were supposed to go. Popular boys won Prom King. And Jayce? 

He was the popular boy.

Kino gave a dry chuckle, the smirk on his lips only growing, “You think it’s just your charm, huh? All you?”

Jayce’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piquing. “Well, yeah,” he scoffed, his nose crinkling as he waited for his friend to delve further into his ramblings.

“It goes beyond just you, man; I don’t know,” Kino dragged on, licking over his teeth as an idea sprung in his head. One with malicious intent, “You think you have everyone at this school wrapped around your finger… like they’d vote for whoever you told them to vote for.”

“What’s your point?” The question lingered, confusion settling in Jayce’s head.

“Prove it.”

Jayce was stunned momentarily, “Prove what?”

Kino grinned toothily, “You really think you’re all that? I bet you can’t make someone else Prom King–someone completely off the radar. I’m talking a real outcast.”

Jayce chuckled, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose and leaning back on his hands, “Is that supposed to be some kind of challenge? Man, I already am the winner. Why would I care about helping some random person take the title from me? You’re insane.”

Kino shrugged, hands twisting the ball within his hands again, eyes focused on it, “Because, let’s be honest here, Jayce… there’s a part of you that’s too comfortable with this, and what’s the fun of that?”

“You’re delusional.”

“You don’t think you could do it?”

“I could,” Jayce bit back at him, his pride on the line, “I just don’t see the point. What do I get out of this?”

“I’ll talk with Mel,” Kino added smoothly, uncaring to even look at his friend.

Jayce’s heart dropped and twisted in his chest like a sharp knife. Mel Medarda, Kino’s younger sister, but more importantly – the girl of his dreams. The one who broke up with him just before spring break after a year of going steady. He hadn’t expected to hear her name in the conversation, but he’d be damned if it didn’t make him curious and eager.

Kino knew this game was dangerous for Jayce, so he went for it. How could life be exciting if there wasn’t a sprinkling of drama?

“You’re bluffing,” Jayce turned himself away, slipping his jacket back on, “there’s no way she’d give me–”

“Dude. I can make it happen… if you think you can.”

Jayce hesitated, the cards dealt to him making his stomach twist uncomfortably. A second chance with Mel was like a lifeline, a reason to keep going. God, he missed her.

But making some outcast Prom King? Maybe it wasn’t a good idea–like trying to force a square peg into a round hole. 

Still, Jayce wasn’t one to back out from a challenge. Not when the deal was so goddamn sweet.

“Fine,” he tilted his head back, inhaling a sharp breath, “easy enough.”

“My man,” Kino grinned, extending a large hand to give his friend a few pats on the back. “I knew you still had some left in you.”

Jayce rolled his eyes, discarding his sunglasses into the backpack he strung over his right shoulder and pushing himself off the table. “What happens if I lose? That’s a big ‘if,’ by the way.”

“I’ll figure something out. It won’t be good,” he chuckled low, his eyes flickering around the schoolyard with mischief flickering through his dark orbs. “I think it’s time we go shopping.”

Jayce’s stomach twisted as they wandered around the courtyard and the exterior school halls. The chiming of the final bell coincided with a rush of students swarming around, excited to get home after the first day back from spring break. His fingers gripped onto the strap of his bag, his hazel eyes flickering around.

“Man,” Kino whistled, spinning on his heels as a young freshman with taped glasses walked past him, “Too bad we said prom king. These geeks in their freshman year are too goddamn good… impossible to fix.”

“Nah, man,” Jayce rolled his eyes, “You get that kid in the right clothes and take off those glasses, and it’s a done deal. " His eyes followed the young boy.

“You’re too confident,” he replied, nudging Jayce’s side with a sharp elbow, “It’s more than just looks for the dudes, my man. With chicks, it’s easy to get them in a good push-up bra, makeup and slutty clothes—“

“Oh, really now?” Jayce chided.

“Yes, really,” Kino stopped his footing, holding a finger out as he pointed to a guy just down the hall. Nerdy with textbooks clutched against his chest, “See?”

As if on cue, the boy was shoved by one of their peers on the football team. The guys laughed when he fell, and his textbooks flew across the pavement of the exterior halls—a quiet, pathetic groan coming from him.

Jayce’s jaw tightened as he watched the boy scramble to gather his fallen textbooks, the football players laughing as they walked away. It was a familiar scene—one Jayce had witnessed a hundred times but never intervened in. 

“You can’t fix awkward with a change of clothes,” Kino said, gesturing to the poor guy still fumbling on the ground.

Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair. Kino was probably right, but the bet began to feel like a mistake. The nerves were beginning to rise in the back of his throat like bile, twisting his stomach uncomfortably.

“You’re not getting off easy on this one,” Kino hummed, eyes darting around, “if you want to prove you can turn anyone into prom king, you’ve got to start at the absolute bottom. And there—” he jabbed a finger toward a figure across the courtyard—“is your guy.”

Jayce followed Kino’s gaze, and his stomach sank when he saw who he was pointing at. A slender guy walking slowly along the edge of the lawn, his head slightly bowed and wearing cheaply made headphones that wrapped around the back of his head. He leaned heavily on a cane with every step, his uneven gait making him stand out. His messy brown hair hung over his forehead, and he wore an old Deftones shirt that looked like it had been well-worn.

“Viktor,” Kino announced wickedly. “He’s perfect.”

Jayce groaned, shaking his head at the mere prospect of Viktor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chances of winning were looking slimmer with each passing second.

“Nope.” Kino crossed his arms, his grin widening. “Think about it. Total loner. Walks like he’s 80. Probably spends his weekends building robots in his basement or something. There’s no way anyone’s going to vote for him, no matter what you do.”

Jayce kept watching Viktor, who had stopped to adjust the strap of his book bag. The guy wasn’t exactly ugly—his features were sharp, but in a way that made him seem more intimidating than approachable. There was something about the dark circles under his eyes and the perpetual scowl on his face that screamed, ‘Don’t talk to me.’

“C’mon, Jayce,” Kino pressed, “you said you could do it, right? Doesn’t matter who it is. Unless you’re backing out already…”

Jayce bit his cheek, fighting the urge to snap back. Kino was doing this on purpose; he knew that. Picking someone like Viktor wasn’t just about making the challenge harder—it was about watching him squirm.

“Fine,” Jayce said finally, his voice low. “I’ll do it. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to lose.”

Kino’s grin turned predatory. “Good. Go on, man. Let’s see what you can do.”

Jayce’s eyes widened, landing on his friend as panic settled in his gut. “Now?”

Kino answered with a rough shove against his shoulder, enough force to cause him to stumble forward several steps. Jayce caught himself easily, his hazel eyes staring ahead as he kept walking smoothly toward Viktor, who was still struggling with the strap that dared to unravel from its clip.

“You got this,” he murmured encouragingly, chest puffing out as a smile graced his lips. 

Jayce stopped shy of two steps away from Viktor, hand tight over the strap of his bag and squeezing the fabric. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared down as the student sighed in relief, nimble hands clasping the strap snugly.

“Hi, Viktor,” he blurted out calmly, breaking the ice between them. His palms were sweaty as his hand nearly slipped down the strap over his shoulder and needed to readjust. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

There was no response for a few beats, leaving Jayce standing still and staring—wondering whether he should tap on his shoulder or step before him.

Then, a pair of amber eyes flashed up, meeting Jayce’s. There was a deafening silence between the two, quiet enough that all Jayce could hear was the blood rushing through his ears. His heart rate skyrocketed. 

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous.

Viktor, however, broke eye contact first, eyes dashing around their immediate surroundings as they stood off to the side of the courtyard. Of course, the entire student body seemed to think the same thing as they stared at them—they were horribly nosy.

It was a chorus of the same thought: ‘What the hell does Jayce Talis want with… him?’

Viktor shifted his weight onto his cane, lifting a slender hand to tug down the flimsy headphones that had been perched on his head, letting them settle around his pale neck. His tired eyes settled back on the football quarterback, annoyance flickering through him.

“Can I help you?” He asked, voice edged with impatience.

Jayce perked up, caught off guard by the thick accent that rolled from Viktor’s lips. He’d never paid enough attention to him to notice.

He parted his lips to speak, moving them through a bit of silent stuttering until he caught his words, “Yeah, uh—” he glanced over his shoulder to spot Kino, who was whistling to himself and pretending to keep his attention elsewhere. He could see the corners of his lips curling up into a shit-eating smirk he was fighting off.

What a tool.

Turning back to meet Viktor’s sharp gaze, he quickly recovered and flashed a charismatic smile, in typical Jayce fashion, “You’re good with chemistry, right?”

“Depends,” Viktor answered sharply, words cutting through the air between them. He bit his cheek to keep himself from saying anything more, suppressing the urge to let sarcasm take the forefront of the conversation. He didn’t have time for whatever this was. Some sort of sick joke—at his expense, no less.

“Oh, well,“ Jayce chuckled lightly, treading the growing tension carefully, “you seem like the kind of guy who is good with it. I’ve never seen you struggle in class.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed together in confusion. What did Jayce Talis know about him? He didn’t pay attention to him, right?

“I’m surprised you know that I’m in your class.” His tone was harsh, coated in disdain.

An awkward chuckle bubbled up from Jayce’s throat, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he looked between those golden eyes that pierced through him like daggers. He inhaled a sharp breath, maintaining his calm facade, different from the storm in his mind.

“I was wondering if you could help me out,” Jayce continued, eyes momentarily dropping to the faded graphic on Viktor’s shirt that had seen better days, “I’ve been struggling wi—“

“No.”

Jayce Talis was stunned into silence, blinking in disbelief as Viktor tore himself away from the conversation and began to walk away. The end of his well-worn cane tapped rhythmically along the pavement, limp evident in his walk as he attempted to hurry off. Though, he didn’t quite have the luxury of escaping when Jayce caught up with a few steps.

“No?” Jayce said incredulously, letting out a breathless chuckle as if half-expecting Viktor to twist back around and laugh with him. Tell him that it was just a poor attempt at a joke and that he’d help him. 

After all, who wouldn’t want to help Jayce?

“I said no,” Viktor frowned, straightening up when Jayce stepped directly into his path, forcing him to pause his grand escape, “I’m certain you have others who would be of better assistance.”

“But I’d really appreciate your help.”

“I don’t want to help you.”

With that, Jayce was met with a hard shove against his shoulder as Viktor strode past him. It was hardly hard enough to make him lose his footing but enough impact to strengthen his firm answer.

There was no way in hell Viktor would help Jayce with chemistry. 

Spinning on his feet, Jayce watched as Viktor continued, meeting paths with a familiar-looking girl. She wore rounded glasses that accentuated her features and had curled hair pulled back tightly—brown eyes flickered in his direction before her attention turned to her friend as they approached the student parking lot.

Jayce couldn’t remember her name, but that was the least of his concerns. Not when he stood in the dust, watching as the man he’d been challenged to help brushed him off like he was nothing. Having never felt so insignificant.

“Christ,” Jayce groaned, looking back at Kino and taking note of the gallery of students who pretended they hadn’t been watching the exchange. The courtyard buzzed back to life, eyes tugging away from him.

“Holy shit,” Kino barked out a laugh, hurrying to Jayce’s side as he watched their victim turn a corner and leave their line of sight. A heavy hand patted his back several times, earning a few low grunts, “What did you say about not losing? Looking rough for you out here, King Talis.”

“Screw you,” Jayce grumbled, smacking Kino’s hand away from him in frustration, “This doesn’t mean I lose. I’ll figure it out.”

Kino shook his head, laughter rumbling from his chest, “You poor fucking soul.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my first multi-chapter JayVik series! Writing this has been a blast, and I'm excited to get more chapters out, and will update each post with links to easily jump between each part! A huge thank you to Jaclyn, who has graciously offered her time to beta this fic for me, and to Wapi, whose art has transformed this fic into something truly beautiful.🧡