#so there's no one to care for with the same attention you know? all my friends have other friends who are closer

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy You Happiness?

Yan! Batfam x Princess!Reader

Special

"Mother said be good, father said be nice. That was always their advice. So be nice, [name], good, [name]. Nice, good, good nice (tighter!). What's the good of being good if everyone is blind. Always leaving you behind." Prologue: Into the Woods.

(I needed the full thing in it)

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

Life is not fair, and while the rich eat like pigs the poor people eat scraps and still are charged no matter if they can afford it or not.

As a princess, I understood that.

I am labeled as the defective princess, the Imperial Princess of Gotham, [name] Wayne.

While all my siblings were intelligent and had strength, talent, and power that upstaged most people, I had none of that, I wasn't smart, actually, I was a complete dunce. I had no strength to my name and was disgracefully unable to use my magic, but I knew I had some...

I had to. Right?

My talent, probably being an embarrassment to my family name.

My mother, she also glanced at me with disgust, she made sure if I wasn't able to do anything useful I'll at least have etiquette while being useless.

I admired my mother, she was beautiful, graceful, sharp, and always upheld her image.

She sneers at me when I mess up, which is all the time, but we don't talk about that.

Oh gosh, and my siblings they were all so amazing.

Barbara held the same personality as our mother, she rose the social class fast. Too bad she doesn't talk to me, I think she would be a great person to take an example from!

Stephanie and Cassandra tagged behind Barbara. They were like those cool trios in the books.

Yes, I read books, but they don't count since they are all novels.

Damian berates me on the fact that I'm nothing like them, but it just shows he cares, doesn't it?

Dick will he coaches Damian he's the #1 Knight of our kingdom and woman all over swoon over him, he talks to me... sometimes.

Duke, well he's a gentleman we don't talk but he's nice enough to greet me.

Jason, well like those novels he'd be titled the 'bad boy' and it does in fact charm lots and lots of ladies.

Tim, it impresses me every time at how smart he is. Maybe that's why we don't have many conversations because I'm not on his level.

And my father, well, it's okay. He's the emperor of course he's busy, I can't ask for attention that would be so childish!

It's of course upsetting when they all hang out without me, but they're just letting me have more time to myself to read! If you think about it they just care about me.

I remember we went to an event, and I was alone and no one talked to me, but it's fine, that's when I met the love of my life, he was like a prince charming, I bumped into him and he caught me before I hit the floor, I swear I fell right then.

Connor Kent.

Then I found out he was in fact a prince! And I got lucky and arranged a marriage with him, he didn't seem as static, but it's okay, arranged marriages usually don't last anyway...

I don't know what took over me, but when they found this orphaned girl one day, out of nowhere, they adopted her, and that's when my life changed.

Serena.

It wasn't fair how she was the apple of everyone's eyes.

She was also clumsy and dumb, she didn't know how to use magic, just like me, but there was a fine line between us. For one I know etiquette and for two, I'm of royal blood.

But instead of also disliking her they doted on her. I let it go until Connor also started being attracted to her. I was enraged.

But kept to myself. I started writing things I felt like doing those things to her. Then slowly I started doing said things. But they were harmless! Mostly...

I always ended up getting caught every single time though.

I still did them though, I don't know I just felt like it, and then I started having dreams of this weird world, about a girl.

Her name, was just like mine, [name] [last name], and she's so cool!

It started off showing what kind of woman she was, a CEO, doctor, lawyer, but mainly an entrepreneur, I didn't know a woman could be in those fields. Also, what are some of those things?

Then those dreams.

"What a bast-, I can't with this main character! Oh and don't even get me started on the family, who wrote this?! And a poly relationship for what? Just for her to focus on one guy? That's it I'm balding. The only character I like is [name] but sometimes I wish she would just stand up for herself!"

Yes, for I found out she was just like me she also liked reading novels.

Her reactions to them were also quite funny, then one day I don't know why but I prayed to the Gods that I wanted to be just like her.

"Go hang yourself! Shitty ahh characters. Go suck a titty."

Okay, not exactly like her.

Then it was the next morning and the maids took a while to finally get me ready, I couldn't stand their murmuring about how terrible I was compared to Serena.

I wanted to rip my hair out when I heard her name.

Then I made an idiotic choice again, I shoved her while on the staircase.

Then my world went black before I woke up startled with NEW MEMORIES.

I had become [name] [last name].

But for some reason, I was smart, I knew how to manage her jobs…

5 years later

It's been, what, 5 years?

[name] was right to be cocky she had every right to be, I feel bad now that I stole her life.

[name] wherever you are I wish you the best.

I wanted to write this to show that both girls will get happy endings, and I rushed this because idk.

Anyway, thanks cuties for the interaction with my last post!

And again with the last post please give me constructive criticism!

Taglist -

@kittzu @charlenexoxo1 @bat1212 @silverklaus @sillysealsies

[bagholes]

English subtitles for Johanne Sacreblue

You've probably heard of a parody of Emilia Pérez (produced by a Mexican trans woman!!!) called Johanne Sacreblue. The whole thing is in Spanish (and French, obviously), so I translated the whole thing to English (see read more)

While I wasn't involved in the production of the original short, I'm Mexican and I have a degree in Translation and Applied Linguistics, so hopefully you'll enjoy my translation. Please give the video some love and don't give Emilia Pérez more attention!!

!!!!!!!! ENGLISH SUBTITLES !!!!!!!!!

(Hey! I'm a professional translator, and I translated the whole thing in English. Please upvote so more people can enjoy this video!)

Ah, nauseating France.   

Home of wonderful food such as baguettes, croissants, and more.

Lots of wonderful people live here.

Obviously, we’re French. 

This might look like a love story,

but open your eyes and pay attention!

In France there’s rising burglary rates. 

But why tell you about France when I can show you?

Welcome to la France!

♫

Welcome to la France.

A unique and special country.

Where you’ll know what it means to truly love. Love, love from France.

Live the experience of this place. 

[Homer Simpson voice] Wow, classy.

Maitre D': Good evening, sir. Would you please leave without a fuss right now?

Homer: OK.

Welcome to la France

where you’ll get your heart stolen,

and your wallet, too.

Welcome to la France,

but if you’re Muslim, homosexual, or Black,

I want you to stay back. 

Crêpes? Les crêpes? I didn’t shower today. 

I’m not worried. I smell just fine. 

Like rats, sweat, and wine.

The cheese I eat smells better than me,

but my perfume can take care of it. 

I love feeling superior. 

Here’s some rapping just because. 

Oh, mon ami. Merci. Sacré bleu. Comment tu t’appelles? Merci. Déjà vu. Bon voyage! Pizza, kwason. 

It’s croissant, croissant, croissant!

Welcome to la France

where you’ll get your heart stolen,

and your wallet, too.

Welcome to la France,

but if you’re Muslim, homosexual, or Black,

I want you to stay back. 

Hit it, Mbappé. 

Viva Cinco the Mayo!

Long live cakes!

Marie Antoinette! 

Long live cakes!

My fucking crêpe still hurts when I think of you

Part 1: surprise and challenge.

Maybe all those years living in a ranch were good for him.

He wasn’t living in a ranch!

He lived in Mexico City for ten years.

Same thing. It might as well have been a jungle.

Mexicans are savages. 

Do you know what they do to cheese over there?

They eat it fresh!

I don’t think he copied their ways.

He’s still a good Frenchman.

He better be. I expect no less.

He’s my only son. 

All the suffering in Mexico must’ve gotten rid of his rebel nature. 

He’ll be the perfect man. The perfect male successor for the largest baguette company in France.

My son. My manly son. 

Did I already mention that my son is a man?

He’s here!

Maman, papa… bonjour!

Son of a-

[title credits] Johanne Sacreblue. Directed by someone with ADHD.

What were you up to in Mexico?

I learned how to open a beer using a bill.

Jonathan is using a dress, Bridgitte. And he has breasts! What do you think he was up to in Mexico?

Now my name is Johanne.

Nonsense! You’re not getting the company. No way. 

That’s fine. I don’t even want it. 

Honey, it’s your future. You’re our only DAUGHTER. You have to take the position. 

You’ll get the company. End of story. 

You don’t even want me to own the company!

Because I didn’t think it’s what you wanted!

Why did we stop speaking French?

What did you say?

Nothing. I got confused.

I’ll tell you something: remember the Ratatouille? They gave us this letter. They challenged us to the national France competition to decide once and for all what’s better: baguettes or croissants. 

Do you want to enjoy your fortune? Win this competition and manage the company. Or go back to Mexico to eat guacamole.

For the last time, no! You won’t get the company. 

I’m the only one who’s always loved croissants.

I’m the oldest son. It’s my right. 

Your right? How can think that about your brothers?

Any of them could do a good job.

Hugo can’t get over his artistic phase and he’s addicted to sniffing paint thinner!

I’m not just sniffing paint thinner! Yellow paint makes me happy.

Mario Hugo! Good luck with his twangy voice.

Mario Hugo: I agree with my beloved brother, but I love you, my family. 

No one knows what you’re saying!

Dugo is young! Why can’t it be me?

Well, first of all, you don’t have a penis!

Oof. Gotcha.

I’m trans. Other than that, I haven’t changed at all. 

Does it really affect you that much?

I’ve made myself clear: anything that affects our family affects me!

It’s not that we don’t love you, honey, it’s just that… you embarrass us. 

You’re not even an Hugo!

Yes, I am! I’m [French accent] Arturo! (Translator’s note: the rhyme got lost in translation. Sorry about that). 

“Arturo” isn’t “Hugo”!

Yes, it is! Ar-tu-ro!

Where did you get that?

Well… Chofls!! The letter!

The Sacrebleu have invited us to the Great Paris Competition. We will show once and for all what food item best represents our country! If you beat that family’s stupid transexual, you’ll get the company

I don’t know what to do, bestie. I don’t want to own that goddamn company. 

And why don’t you learn how to do something?

Because if I do it, they’re gonna cut me off, and I’ll be an unemployed, 28-year-old trans woman who has no life skills. 

Why don’t you just tell your father that you don’t want to do it and that you won’t do it?

It’s too late. I have no choice. 

Bestie, I’m so sorry you can’t enjoy your fortune with no commitment.

It’s awful…

Good evening, ladies. What can I get you?

I’ll have some French molletes.

I’ll have chicken.

Of course, ma’am. How shall we cook it?

Anything is fine as long as you kill it as cruelly as possible. 

Excellent choice, ma’am.

Anything else? Would that be all?

That’ll be all. Well, actually, I think I also want-

You said that would be all! You must assume the consequences of your decisions. Rot in hell! [spits]

Oh my, what a great service!

I know! They have the best customer service in France! Okay, so are you signing up for the competition?

I really don’t have a choice…

Bestie, you can do anything. You’re stronger than every woman I know, and I’m not just saying this because you used to be a man…

Thanks for the clarification.

You’re gonna compete and you’re gonna win.

Emily, you have no idea how much that means to me. You’re the only reason I wanted to come to Paris. I wanted to see my friend Emily in Paris. It was the only reason I wanted to come tot this city: see Emily in Paris.

Oh là là, I know! Everyone tells me that! What I don’t get is why you don’t want to compete. This is such an honor for France-

It’s just that there’s a lot of things I don’t understand since I came back. Why are we so impolite? Why do we love animal cruelty? And why exactly do we hate Muslims? 

Because it’s fun!

Yeah, maybe, but have you ever considered that it’s wrong?

Oh my God! You’re right! I’d never thought about it! We’re awful!

Oui!

What we do to birds… we drown them in cognac! Why are we doing it? Who thought of that?

I don’t know.

I feel.. dirty! I want to take a shower!

I knew I wasn’t crazy!

Seriously… I never thought that we were doing something wrong. I always thought that people who get minimum wage liked how we treat them. No wonder they sent you to Mexico… You’re crazy.

I got sent to Mexico for being trans.

They sent you to Mexico because you’ve been hallucinating. You’re seeing Marie Antoinette.

I’m not hallucinating! It’s the actual ghost of Marie Antoinette.

Marie Antoinette: don’t listen to hear. She dresses like a Guatemalan. I’m as real as my tragic death. They should behead her for having such damaged hair.

There’s no point in knowing the truth about France. At the end of the day, I’m just an ordinary French millionaire with enough money to live for four days. There’s nothing I can do.

Marie Antoinette: [unintelligible] sleep paralysis at night.

If you win, all of France will listen to you.

Ladybug: Welcome to the most important competition of la France, where France’s most important families will make a very important decision.

Cat Noir: that’s right! We’re here to make a very important decision. What food best represents France: baguettes or croissants?

Our fellow citizens will know what we’re talking about, but for those dirty foreigners that only know how to use soap…

Wear perfume!

We’ll explain the rules.

There’s two events: whoever wins both will be victorious!

The first even will be a race! The first one to reach the Eiffel tower, touch it and say our catchphrase “we give up!” will be the winner!

Without further ado, we’re heading to the competition!

It’s the best race I’ve seen years!

The Ratatouille throw a croissant to the Sacreblue and almost slashes her throat. It’s cat-tastic!

But Johanne takes the lead with 400 rats, and she wins the race!

Rats! Meow!

Here she comes!

Vive la France!

Your love for croissants ends here. What an embarrassment!

Don’t feel bad, honey. I never really expected anything from you. 

Arturo, I’m not gonna lie…

Brother, defeat will only make you stronger.

What?

You’re a great man. You’ll make it. 

Can I have five French dollars to buy yellow paint? I want to paint. 

Later that night in some French dumpster

♫

I’m just a trash man in Paris.

Another piece of trash in Paris.

But I’m also the greatest trash

I’m the trash man.

I’m such trash that I made a fortune using other cultures.

I’m such trash that I enjoy cancelling last minute

because I’m scared 

that they’ll see my tiny baguette.

I don’t have the guts to say that I fucked up.

I’m scared to know what people think of me

If I’m a good guy or just a bald bad guy

I’m such trash that it’s embarrassing.

I thought Karla Sofia was from Puebla.

I’m such trash that I wrote a musical about narcos.

“Penis to vagina, woman to man.”

What the fuck was that shit, bro?

I’m disgusting, don’t you see? 

I’m disgusting, don’t you see? 

Part 2: from hate to love

Why did you ask me to meet you here?

[sigh] I came to ask you to stop fighting over something as dumb as bread.

Baguettes are just bread, but croissants are France itself. It’s in our veins, in our wine, in the air we breathe!

Arturo, wait, don’t do it!

[coughing]

You can’t take a deep breath in France. Dumbass.

Whatever. You’re just saying this because you’ve been away for a long time. You’re nothing but a chimichanga lover. 

Cinco de Mayo!

How dare you!

Does it make you feel good to be a man hitting a woman?

Actually, yes. Now I get why we do it.

I’ve had enough! I can’t take it anymore! What’s wrong with France? Why do they like to hit women? Why do they like racism? Can’t you see that what we’re doing is wrong?

Actually, no. I had never thought about it. I never considered that… Oh my God… We’re monsters! What are we doing? We must put an end to this!

But how?

You’ll do it with me. With your amazing arguments, we’ll change France. 

Do you think it can be done? But how?

Oui, mademoiselle. If you let me win the second event, it’ll be a tie, and they’ll have to listen to us according to the French rules I hadn’t mentioned before. 

I don’t know if I can trust you.

Trust me, mademoiselle. Trust this stinky French heart.

Alright. Kiss me.

Do you want me to kiss you?

Yes. Give me a French kiss.

Here it’s just “a kiss”, stupid

Welcome to the second competition!

This is the most fabulous competition! It’s the racism competition!

That’s right, Cat Noir! And for those stupid Americans who don’t know what we’re talking about, in this competition, participants are given a total of 30 minutes to deport and catch as many immigrants as possible.

Everything is allowed: from making up crimes to blackmailing! 

Each Muslim is worth 5 points. However, participants can get extra points from hate crimes against Muslims, Black people, Latinos, members of the LGBT community, and fans of Emily in Paris!

Let’s watch the racism competition!

We apologize for the technical issues. Cat Noir had a fanatic episode. 

It was amazing! With a great lead, our winner, Arturo, was victorious. So we’ll have to call this a tie. 

Oh! For the first time in more than ten years, we’re getting some words from our ten French emperors!

Stop!

There… won’t be… a tie!

This decision will no longer be postponed. 

 Declaramos abierto el duelo final.

And it’ll happen right now.

Because I love Queen Marie Antoinette.

The final duel…

It’s the fight to the death with baguettes!

Good luck! And may the Frenchest win. Yes. Oui. Oui. Oui.

[Elmo]

Part 3: destiny

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

I think there’s gonna be a fight to the death with baguettes.

What? Fight to the death with baguettes? What’s that?

Oh, fight to the death with baguettes. I’ve heard about it. I think they’re gonna fight to the death… with baguettes.

[gasp]

Johanne: I don’t want to fight to the death with baguettes with you.

Arturo: Neither do I, but we have no choice.

J: Yes, there is. Haven’t they considered that this is wrong?

No!

Arturo: Papa Johns!

Papa Johns: I pitted your families against you with a little help from whom you love the most… your butlers. 

Arturo: Chofls!

Johanne: Wigles, why?

Wiggles: I’m sorry, madame. I need the money, and you haven’t given me raise in 25 years. 

Papa Johns: I’ll destroy you so the greatest French food gets recognition: French fries!

Johanne: You’re losing a lot of wine.

Johanne: you have a rat on your head!

Papa Johns: this tiny chef taught me his secrets, and I used them for evil. 

Wigles: I think I got Stockholm syndrome due to so many years of labor exploitation.

And that’s how we got away from the bad guy, Mr. French ambassador. 

Controlled by a rat… The nightmare of every French. Ladies and gentlemen, that’s how Johanne Sacreblue and Arturo Ratatouille restored the glory of France. What a captivating story you’ve brought us, full of pain and social commentary. Is there anything else you would like to add before we run out of funds?

Well, actually, yes. As many of you know, I went to Mexico, and my fellow Mexicans asked me to bring a gift to France when I came back, and what a better person to give it to than the ambassador? 

Oh, what wonderful surprise have you brought from Mexico? Could it be some wonderful Mexican tortillas?

Wait… Is that-

Yes, a cake. Un gâteau. 

[Credits]

And that’s the story of how your parents saved la France.

Thanks for telling me these stories, grandma.

My grand-son. My grand-son, a boy…

[sigh] 

♫

Tito, my grandson Tito (translator’s note: another rhyme that got lost in translation. Sorry again). Tito, tito. My grandson Tito. 

You smell like frog legs in the morning.

You smell like you haven’t showered in weeks. 

You smell like a moldy baguette.

You smell like the omelette that I ate. 

You smell like cheese. Smelly, smelly!

You smell like your grandma.

Tito, Tito, Tito, my grandson Tito. 

You smell like snails. You smell like escargot.

You smell like France. 

[hhughes]

jack x wife!reader?? I just know that when he’s fr locked in with someone, he would love them ENDLESSLY

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ you did not put husband!jack in my inbox. omgggg . . .

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ I agree nonnie , once jack meets someone he wants to go all the way with he’s 100% locked in and he’s soo devoted, soo committed, soo in love 😩 some husband!jack for you I guess😽

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack loves saying “my wife” every chance he gets. It doesn’t matter if it’s been years since the wedding; he’s still obsessed.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ he’s the type of guy that once he knows you’re the one, he knows and he’s not shy about making it known. he’d be jokingly calling you ‘wifey’ up until he proposes

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ his friends invite him somewhere? it’s “yeah, the wife and I will be there.” and they never care, they know you and jack come as a package deal. it’s been like that since day one.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack loves talking about you. he’ll find any moment to talk about you. mentioning you in interviews. “my wife actually got me into that” or “the mrs. and I are headed to michigan for the summer” etc.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ even the little things — ordering coffee, talking to fans, casual conversations — he’s constantly name dropping you like it’s second nature.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ like I said once jack knows, he just knows, and he’s 100% committed to you. he’s got your anniversary memorized down to the minute and makes a huge deal out of it every year. he’ll plan trips, romantic surprises, and thoughtful little gestures just because. if you have a bad day? he’s on his way home with your favorite snacks and a long hug waiting.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ domestic husband!jack is just something else. it doesn’t matter if he’s been at practice all day or just got home from a road trip—he wants to be wherever you are. he just wants to be close to you all the time. he’s the type to cuddle up next to you while you’re working or cooking, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching you with a lovesick grin.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ will do the cheesiest things—slow dances in the kitchen, forehead kisses, and pulling you into his lap during movie nights. you’re the type of couple that’s still sickeningly in love even years after your wedding.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ loves when you wear his clothes, especially his jerseys— he’ll smirk and say, “damn, mrs. hughes looks good.” or “I’ve got hot wife huh?”

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack loves taking you to events, dinners, and hanging out with friends because to him, everything’s better when you’re there. he introduces you to literally everyone and beams with pride while doing it. at team events, he’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable and having fun. if you’re at a party and he loses you for even a second, he’s scanning the room until he finds you again.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ he loves lazy sunday mornings with you—making breakfast together, lounging in bed, and just enjoying the little things. tries to cook sometimes, but ends up burning things, so he settles for being your “official taste tester.”

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ jack trusts you completely, and he knows you can handle yourself but if anyone disrespects you, he’s immediately stepping in. in the same way if someone makes you uncomfortable in public, he’s the first to pull you closer and give them a warning glare. even if it’s some times his own friends/teammates doing it intentionally or unintentionally. he’ll always mutter a little “watch it” or “careful” in their direction before checking on you.

ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ he’s just the most devoted, committed and attentive husband for sure 🥺

[girl-lostconnection]

Acceleration AU (part 3) 4.5k

Warnings: Plus size!fem!Reader, Soap x Simon, Simon x Reader, Reader x Soap, Reader is mad as fuck, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy attachment, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, insecurities, Reader slutshames herself a little, touchy Simon

You don’t know what the fuck are you doing out in this bloody pub, nursing your fruity cocktail and trying to pull your skirt lower.

It’s dim-lighted here, entirely too warm and crowded for your comfort. But the stubborn pride, the aching pit in your stomach don’t let you get up and leave like you usually would.

No, you aren’t leaving until you get what you came for.

Simon’s words are still ringing in your ears, Simon’s voice digs a hole inside of you the size of a fucking coffin. You feel like lying down in this hole and burying yourself down there.

But it’s not fair. It isn’t fucking fair and you refuse to wallow in your own misery just because you are getting your heart broken. Just because the man you spent your whole life with found himself a relationship.

(Doesn’t matter if you weren’t exactly in a relationship with him. Doesn’t matter that you never talked who you are to each other. Doesn’t fucking matter)

There is a scratch on the inside of your skull and the scratch suspiciously feels the same way worried eyes of Johnny “Soap” MacTavish feel when you almost throw a bloody mug of tea in Simon’s face.

When you got so mad you felt like screaming and raging, like moving away and changing your name and never saying another bloody thing in your entire life. Joining a covenant maybe.

[ “You could’ve said that you want me here for Christmas.”, - Simon is one heavy silence in a trenchcoat, arms crossed over the chest, lips thin line of a frown.

You know he hates this conversation. You know he hates fighting.

You need to do it anyway.

“You could’ve asked. You know it’s important. You know what it means and how much it matters.”, you are upset beyond anything, Soap’s tense shoulders just adding to the heat of the moment.

Because it’s not his bloody fault, because Simon is a grown man who should’ve known better than to throw a bone your way.

Not when he knows you snarl at things like that.

“I’m a grown man, luv. I don’t need your bloody permission to go somewhere, you are not my mum”, Simon snaps, eyes heavy. You know he’s becoming defensive now, that Soap looking uncomfortable as hell just agitates him further. That you being this upset drives him up the wall.

“Thank fuck”, you spit out and leave, ignoring his heavy steps right behind you, ignoring the way he tries to stop you, ignoring the “luv, please, it’s getting dark already”.

Because Simon cares, of course he fucking cares, you know that and you know him.

But the ugly roaring in your head chants “hate you-hate you-hate you” and you slam the door on your way out.

Doesn’t make you feel any better.]

There is a hole inside of you the size of a coffin and you intend to fill it today.

Because you are not a bloody placeholder. You deserve love. You deserve attention.

You deserve consideration and care.

But you’ve also been so lonely and god knows you want to feel wanted. Even if just for tonight. Even if it’s a little bit and not exactly what you crave.

Can’t get everything you want, right?

So you let the stranger kiss you, his smile grazing your skin, his hands on the small of your back and he’s very bloody respectful all things considered.

And in any other circumstances you would appreciate it.

But you are not looking for a date. You are looking for…what are you even looking for? Absolution? An answer? Warm body next to yours?

You don’t know so you just press yourself tighter into the man, soft sound escaping your throat when he murmurs something — your head swimming from heat and taste of sugar on his lips. It’s intoxicating.

It numbs the ache in your chest, it warms up the ugly slick parts of you that throb for entirely different hands and eyes.

Stranger’s name is nice but simple, something along the lines of Gary or maybe Harry (you didn’t listen and now are forced to just call him “hon”), his eyes are impossibly green, his smiles wide enough to remind you Soap.

You don’t know why he reminds you Soap. Because John MacTavish is broader, shoulders wider and arms meatier — honed bulk of muscles stretching his fatigues taut.

John MacTavish has tiniest freckles in the world, has small white strip of scar crossing his right eyebrow and has absolutely sinful lips.

You get why Simon is mad about him.

You take a breath, sound a little shakier than intended, but your newfound date takes it as the compliment, rumbling in your collarbones that you are “so gorgeous. Prettiest bird I saw”.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling the man closer, hands wrapping around his shoulders, your back pressed into the wall behind you.

Why do you even think of Soap in this situation?

The guy presses kisses to your neck, nips at the soft skin, groans “right beauty, doll, can’t get enough of ya” and you decide that if you can’t think of anything other than bloody Soap, you aren’t gonna think at all.

You are gonna let the bloke, whose bloody name you can’t remember for the life of you, touch you more, you are gonna lead his palm between your thighs, you are gonna let him rub the wet heat of you.

Hungry gnawing creature in you getting greedier with each touch, gripping on stranger’s wrist, throwing her head back, doing things she shouldn’t.

But you’ve been doing everything you should all this time and it had been getting you absolutely nowhere.

So you let the guy get you off, his teeth grazing your throat, his fingers sending shivers down your spine, your core molten hot and in the moment you feel so good.

You feel on top of the world, smiling like that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Smiling like you know how pretty you are.

The guy (god, now you will remember him as “The guy” only, there’s no way you are gonna remember his name. No matter how good his fingers are) kisses your neck and jaw, murmurs sweet nothings.

And for a few blissful moments you are high on pleasure, pliant from his warmth and soft in your satisfaction.

For a few moments you feel whole.

Then it all comes crashing down.

Because the high never lasts long enough, because there’s not a bloke in this pub that can sate the creature in your chest.

You feel so sick you want to crawl out of your own skin, you want to run, you want to hide and scratch your make up off and scratch this fucking dress off.

The guy (god bless the bloke) carefully tucks you in a cab, kisses your forehead and murmurs “don’t need to cry, doll, it’s okay. Call me tomorrow if you’d like, yeah? I’d love to take ya out” and leaves his number in the pocket of your coat.

He pays for your cab and doesn’t try to leave with you.

For some reason his kindness makes you feel even worse.

Because it’s not fair. Not to him, nor to you. Because you were out to be stupid and to have fun and to get yourself off. And you did it, crossed out all bulletpoints off your bucket list.

Why doesn’t it get much better?

You get home at the wee hours of the morning, floorboards creaking under your weight as you kick your heels off and then the light switch clicks on.

You freeze like a deer in the headlights, looking at Simon who looks less than impressed.

Simon in sweatpants and a sweater you were wearing this morning.

Simon with heavy tension in his shoulders that you know will ache like hell in the morning, tension pain climbing up to his neck.

But he used up all your patience and you are not in the mood for reprimand, you are a grown woman, you can deal with your own shit.

You can do it without him.

Simon’s eyes linger on your neck, muscle in his jaw twitching. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, something swelling in his eyes with the force of incoming tsunami. Tectonic plates shifting, oceans boiling, something big roaring to the surface.

But fuck him. Fuck him and his moods and his blond lashes and his pretty fucking boyfriend.

Fuck them both.

“Don’t.”, you spit out with such rage it surprises both of you, hiss so wounded it’s a miracle you aren’t crying.

It makes Simon snap out of whatever he’s been conjuring in his head, mouth opening again but this time his lips twist into a frown.

“Luv, wha’- did someone hurt ya?”, there is a shift in his demeanour, his whole body tilting closer to you. There is a familiar twitch to his fingers, a heavy tension rolling under his skin, squaring his shoulders — his whole body curling to wrap around you. “Luv, look at me. Come o’, sweet’eart.”

But no. No, you can’t do this today. Not right now.

Too much kindness and you will crack open like faulty glass with cracks all over it, everything pouring out of you.

“I said — don’t”, you snap, hanging your coat, your eyes stinging, the heavy hover of your brows (same one you subconsciously mimicked off Simon’s).

Simon opens his mouth to say something but you send him a glare so scalding he does a rare thing.

He closes it back and steps aside, letting you through. He doesn’t say anything anymore but there is a heavy weight of his gaze between your shoulder blades. It follows you when you pad into the bedroom to get your pyjamas and then into the bathroom.

Bathtub fills with hot water slowly but it gives you time to think. Shame finally flooding your system, your mind catching up to pleasures your body partook in and Jesus fucking Christ, what were you thinking?

Letting a stranger just touch you like that? Letting someone who’s not Simon be this close to you, this intimate with you, this soft with you.

Letting someone see you as this vulnerable wreck of a social butterfly — spreading your wings one moment and sobbing the next one. Fucking hell, the Guy must be thinking you a right nutcase right now.

There is embarrassment and strange kind of guilt curdling in your throat, your fingers twitching to finally wash the night away, to slide under the water surface and lie in the bathtub until you feel like a person again. Until you don’t feel this ashamed about something not shameful at all.

A quick glance in the mirror does absolutely nothing to soothe the restless creature in your chest because holy fuck. That’s why Simon was staring.

You look like a bloody mess!

Your neck is littered with hickeys all the way down to your cleavage, purplish marks covering your skin. It does look like someone tried to either devour you or kill you. Maybe both.

Fucking hell. Fucking fucking hell.

You wash for what feels like forever, angrily scratching off the make up, too rough and too quick, your eyes stinging, your skin too tight and too hot, your chest gurgling with wet shuddering breaths.

You don’t feel better. If anything you feel worse.

There’s a small dread-filled expectation that Simon is standing his guard right outside the bathroom door, that you will need to speak to him in a sorry state you are in.

But he isn’t there.

Soap is.

Not even right behind the door — he is in the living room, right across from you, his head snapping up when you finally emerge.

He’s wearing Simon’s T-shirt and you don’t want to let it get to you but it’s been a long night and fuck, do you feel like crying right now.

But it’s a different thing that gets you.

Johnny is standing with a handful of blankets, right next to couch that has been properly made to sleep on it, pillows and stuffed toy laying on there.

There’s a steaming mug on the coffee table. There’s a chocolate bar and a plate of pills. If you had to guess, probably painkillers.

It makes your chest clench and if this bloody Scotsman says a single fucking thing you will throw something in his head.

You don’t need his pity. You don’t want his kindness.

But Johnny just steps aside letting you plop yourself on the couch and drapes a blanket over your shoulders. Johnny passes you the mug and sits next to you.

For some reason you let him.

For some reason you press your cheek into his shoulder and cry — ugly fat tears streaming down your face, his hand coming up to slowly carefully rub your hand. It’s strange.

It’s not like Simon’s engulfing embrace, it’s not the way guy from the pub hummed his sweet nothings. But it’s good. It’s comforting. It doesn’t make you feel like a total wreck.

Johnny sits with you, letting you cry it out, not making a sound. Like he knows that you need this moment for yourself. Like he knows that this is not about him. This is about you.

You sit like that long enough for your eyelids to start dropping lower involuntarily, your body getting heavier — tired from shame and aching, wrung with the events of the day.

That’s when Soap finally starts talking, calloused fingers rubbing small circles on your forearm.

“I’m sorry.”, he murmurs quietly before finally looking at you, face a little softer, eyes a little warmer. Like he gets it finally. “I didnae ken you had plans with Simon. For Christmas. I wouldnae asked him if he said something”

You give him a silent shrug of your shoulders which feels more of a twitch rather than conscious expression of your “it is what it is”.

You close your eyes, tucking your legs under the covers and letting Soap wrap you in a blankets.

His eyes linger on your neck for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Was everything…consensual?”, there is a worried heavy crease between his brows and it’s not funny but you still smile at him earning yourself an eye roll.

“Don’t laugh at me, lassie, I’m serious. Simon is driving himself up the foockin wall.”, he shakes his head and fond exasperation in his face makes something in your chest clench painfully. God it would have been better if he was mean to you.

“I’m out here because I reckoned you woulnae mind some company.”, he murmurs, cocooning you in your blanket like you are some kind of helpless creature and you have to smack his palm away to stop him from wrapping you any tighter.

“ ‘m fine. I’ll talk to Simon tomorrow”, you breath out, curling around the stuffed toy, too tired to smack Soap’s hand away when he strokes your head, warmth of his palm soothing dull throbbing pain under your skin.

This is nice. You shouldn’t get used to it.

“I’m sorry too”, you finally say, words slurring out, your eyelids getting heavier when you look up at Johnny and you aren’t sure what it is there in his face but he looks at you like he gets it. Like it’s okay to be a wreck. “I…yeah, it was consensual. Just- I’m not like that usually”, you don’t know why you try to justify yourself to him. You owe him no explanation.

But his eyes still soften when he hums, nodding, his thumb carefully massaging your temple.

“Ah ken. It’s okay. Sometimes we do things for ourselves. Sometimes it doesn’t work out. Ahm just glad ye’r safe”, he chews on his lip before adding, laughter glimmering in his eyes. “And responsible. Even got yerself home in one piece. Ah was right bloody mess in similar circumstances, completely off my foockin’ trolley”

The notion does in fact make you feel a little less like shit and you chuckle, closing your eyes, slipping into dark welcoming nothing.

“Can’t imagine someone not wanting you. You are a beauty”, is the last thing that stumbles out of your mouth, before slumber swallows you.

Soap sits there for some time, palm still covering the side of your hand, eyes soft when you nuzzle into the pillow. You are the one to say that, hen.

He uncurls himself off the couch, finally pads back in the bedroom and crawls in bed — Simon’s hands coming up to pull him close immediately.

“Yer a bastard”, Soap murmurs, nose nuzzling in Ghost’s neck, eyes closing as he melts into warm embrace.

He doesn’t like the clench in his chest, he doesn’t like feeling out of place, he doesn’t like taking someone else’s place.

He doesn’t like making someone feel the way he was feeling. Not when he knows the desire to fill the emptiness inside with whatever works best.

“I know”, Simon’s voice is a low rumble, hands wrapping tighter around Soap’s body, keeping him closer. “Feelin’ like one too, sergeant”

“Good”, Soap hums and curls into Simon further. The bed under him smelling like you, the bed bearing your every trace, the bed a live reminder that somewhere along the way things got more complicated that they should have.

It’s only in the morning that Simon crawls out of the bed, hands wrapping Johnny tighter in the blanket — it’s cold in winter and the last thing he needs is for his sergeant to catch cold. He will probably need to crank up the heat higher, it’s freezing outside the warmth of covers.

It’s still early enough for all of you to sleep but you are very much awake when Simon pads out, awkwardly stilling in the doorway when his eyes meet yours. Look who’s now looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Mornin’.”, he rasps out, voice rough after sleep, hair a mess that curls at the ends. Like he has been tossing and turning all night.

You two haven’t talked save for the yesterday’s fight which had less than ideal results.

God, he hates fighting with you. Hates the tension, hates feeling out of place, hates not being able to melt into you like usually.

“Can I?”, he nods to the couch you are still plastered over and moves your legs out of the way when you give him a slow nod, your blanket-covered ankles now in his lap.

Sitting like that, on the edge of a bloody couch Simon looks like a sleep paralysis demon (a really attractive one, but you are sure you are biased).

The same way he’d sit on the edge of your bed after dumb teenage fights, after breaking your mug, after announcing he has enlisted — his palms massaging your feet absentmindedly.

Just to feel that you are still here.

Tangible, warm, real. His.

“How’d ya feel?”, there is no more fight in him, no more tomb-plate pressure on your shoulders to cave in and speak to him. No more restless energy — all of it drained out yesterday, was bitten out on his nails, splintering one in the process.

When you cut him off, sounding like you weren’t just mad at him. Like you were in pain. Like you were hurting.

Like he hurt you.

“It wasn’t fair”, he says, brown eyes meeting yours, thumb rubbing the roundness of your malleolus.

Simon doesn’t know how to just say that he’s sorry. That he shouldn’t have snapped like that. That he was wrong and he hurt you and he felt like absolute failure yesterday when you stumbled home.

Pretty as sin, glitter on your cheeks, somebody’s marks all over your neck.

Simon doesn’t know how to say that he almost lost it then and there, that he has never felt this mad, that he wanted to get out of the house and hunt down whoever dared to leave hickeys on you.

His fault, should have never let you out of sight, should have never let you leave upset, should have called and told you everything proper, should have been better. His fault, his fuck-up, his mistake.

And then you were misty-eyed and upset beyond anything he ever saw and his heart sank in his stomach, squeezing out white hot “minemineminemine”.

Because he won’t just hunt down if whoever kissed you all over took advantage of you. He’d kill them. He’d tear them limb from limb, he’d choke the life out of them.

Simon doesn’t know how to admit how scared he was that he pushed you away and you might have needed him and he wasn’t there.

Simon doesn’t know how to describe the sheer relief he felt, straining his ears to eavesdrop on your conversation with Johnny.

Simon doesn’t know how to say that he was wrong.

So he says the closest thing he can muster.

“You were right. To be upset with me”, he murmurs quietly, fingers curling around your ankles, palms warming you up. “I should’a waned you proper way. Should’a asked instead if Soap can come to celebrate with us”, he sighs, tilting his head from side to side — bones cracking and granting temporary relief from throbbing in his nape.

You sigh as well, the feel of his fingers on your legs so familiar it’s almost painful. The touch so tender you feel like snatching your legs back.

But god knows you are a weak weak woman.

You don’t. You let him touch you more, bolt of molten heat shooting up the underside of your knee when his knuckle presses on the centre of the sole of your foot.

“John is pretty”, you say suddenly, blurting it out to fill the silence. Because you know that Simon isn’t good with saying he’s sorry. And as much as you appreciate this sad attempt at apology, after everything that happened you aren’t entirely sure whether he’s sorry or just feeling guilty.

“He is very pretty.”, Simon nods stone-faced, softly squeezing your legs one last time before he moves you aside to work his way beside you. “You are very pretty too. Both of you are bloody beauties.”, he hums and you feel his faint grin pressing into your shoulder when he kisses it. “ ‘m surrounded by real dolls ‘round here.”

“You’re laughing at me”, you roll your eyes, smacking his hand when he repositions you to tuck under his side. Closer. So he can drape an arm over your stomach, pressing your back in his chest. “And don’t weasel your way on my couch, you big brute.”

“I’m laughing with ya, sweet’eart”, Simon murmurs finally stretching out behind you, grunting in satisfaction when your body slots into his like a well-oiled piece of puzzle. “Never at ya.”

Simon is a heavy warm presence, scarred fingers on your skin, callouses scraping ever so slightly.

Simon is a four-finger grip, stump of absent trigger finger a living reminder that he always comes back. No matter the cost.

He hums something in your hair, rocking you both in his embrace, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. Simon is warmth and safety, heavy silences and heavier gazes. Simon is everything.

And right now this big everything is purposefully lulling you back to sleep, realisation dawning on you only when he hums again — low vibration in his chest melting you into nothing.

“ ‘m not sleepy”, is a weak protest at best because he can feel with his whole body the way you melt when he tuts and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, you are, luv”, it’s not even a question, his hands wrapped around you securely, holding close to his chest. Close to him.

Sometimes Simon thinks that it would be nice to have six hands. Or at least four. Would’ve be enough to hold this tightly both you and Soap and never let go.

But he only has two hands and two of you and a challenge of getting you both safe and warm.

Soap pads out of the bedroom half an hour later, nothing on him but Simon’s T-shirt and boxers, one of your blankets draped over his shoulders when he sits down across from the couch.

Johnny has a calculating, sharp look in his eyes, has the heavy appraisal in his gaze, his voice low enough not to wake you up.

“What am I to you, sir?”, is a weird question maybe, considering he sleeps in Simon’s bed and wears Simon’s clothes and gets Simon’s kisses. But so do you. And he saw you yesterday when Simon decided he’s going to add someone to the equation you didn’t know you were even part of.

“Mine.”, Simon is calm, with you tucked under his side and his hand draped over you to keep you there and you close. There’s a heavy weight to his words, a heat that sends a shiver through Soap’s body because baby, it’s cold outside and god, does he want in.

Does he want to be needed and loved and cared for. Does he want the same attention you are getting, does he want the same focus you inwoke in Simon.

“Then what is she to you, L.T.?”, the question is carefully worded because Johnny needs to know for sure. Because he needs to know whether to pack his bags or stay by the door.

“Also mine.”, Simon hums, pad of his thumb grazing someone’s bite on your neck. His eyes are so dark Johnny feels heat climb up his face. Like he’s witnessing something he isn’t supposed to. “You both are mine. Not gonna change”

So it’s a final decision.

Johnny wonders how long ago lieutenant decided it. How long ago he saw Soap and decided to bring him home to the only other person he’s still considering family.

How long ago he looked at his bird and decided to introduce her to the only other person that makes him feel alive. That makes him feel warm. That makes him feel home.

Soap hums and crouches down in front of the couch, testing the waters but Ghost lets him, moving a little bit to uncurl himself from covering you. Letting Johnny get close. Trusting Johnny not to wake you up. Trusting Johnny with you.

Ghost is letting Johnny in.

Soap stays silent for a few very long moment, before nodding more to himself that to anyone else and presses a kiss to Simon’s lips. He nips hard enough to draw blood, licking it off before he stands up.

“Ahm gonna put the kettle on”, he rolls his shoulders and softly swipes away the remains of glitter you didn’t wash off yesterday from your cheek. Pretty girl, you have no idea what a man is lying beside you.

You have no idea that he’s never letting go.

You have no idea there are two of them now.

Ghost hums, satisfaction rolling off him in waves, satisfaction etched in him, satisfaction dripping out of every line of his face.

Maybe he won’t need four hands. Maybe Johnny can lend him his.

Maybe with time you will lend yours as well.

Taglist: @thestoriesiread @skeletonsucker @sirbonesly @blackhawkfanatic @rpgsandstuff @danielle143 @parasite--girl @un-aesthetic @vmaxis

[chocobje]

How I like to characterize Sprout is that he’s great talking with the ones he’s close with (Cosmo, Astro, etc.) But incredibly socially awkward with others. He comes off as brash, but he’s trying his best.

What guidelines do you try to follow when writing Sprout? I’m just curious.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to yap about one of my favourite characters hehe..

You asked for guidelines I gave you a character analysis instead.

(Don't mind the images I didn't want this post to look naked)

ALSO NOTE THAT AT THE END OF THE DAY THIS IS MERELY MY INTERPRETATION OF HIS CHARACTER. EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN!! Don't take my post as a mandatory guide to follow.

Let's talk about what's canon:

I like checking the Wikipedia for his dialogues every now and then to make sure he's not too out-of-character.

Sprout comes off as blunt, he does not sugarcoat his words when he has something to say.

Not even an excuse or a reason as to why he doesn't want to join Teagan for tea; It was straight up a "no" until Teagan told him Cosmo will join them too. (Also I want to point out he doesn't immediately say yes when he's told Cosmo will be there, so for all we know he'd still decline even if his best friend's joining Teagan).

Dandy's dialogue when you purchase Sprout. I think about it a lot. Out of all the character dialogues, the one with Astro is what I feel like is an example of his overprotectiveness coming across as "pushy".

He'd definitely be the type to scold his friends. Especially after Gardenview's shutdown with all the Twisteds wreaking havoc and whatnot. I don't think Sprout is fond of going on runs, but only does so he can watch over everyone and keep them safe. He makes sure everyone is focused and on high alert, he doesn't want anyone to be reckless.

He prioritizes safety over answers. His dialogue with Rodger shows that. Maybe he's also curious as to what has happened, because in Vee's dialogue he tried talking to Dandy only for Dandy to walk away. I assume Sprout just wanted to check up on him rather than knowing what's going on with Gardenview and the Twisteds.

Another thing I don't really see often is how Sprout is actually pretty forgetful and impulsive.

For a Toon who's constantly keeping watch on everyone he surely does not apply the same kind of attention to himself.

He talks before thinking about his words, but once he realized that he immediately apologized to Vee. I don't think he always notices when he comes across as rude though.

I actually think he's actually quite reckless when he bakes. I obviously can't show it in this post but if you look at that animation with Cosmo and Sprout baking they're not even measuring the ingredients. I mean what. 😭

The way he bakes feels so impulsive and it just looked like they were winging it. Somehow despite that their baked goods still end up great and that's honestly impressive.

Okay now for that dialogue between Bobette and Sprout, I was getting there-- I've never made a gingerbread house but from what I've seen from other people it requires a lot more patience and carefulness.

Sprout is neither.

According to him, his gingerbread house fell apart immediately and then he stopped trying afterwards. It's honestly funny.

I feel like this also shows through his stats. Both his extraction speed and skillcheck is 2 stars. His stamina and speed is way higher. He prefers running around, probably to make sure he can watch over everyone during their runs. That or because he has long legs.

Anyway to recap; Sprout in canon is blunt, pushy, overprotective, and impulsive. But he genuinely has good intentions and means well. He cares for his friends, which is why he scolds them because he wants to make sure they're safe.

Now for some headcanons:

Okay this is the part where I make stuff up. So it's just my take;

• He has ADHD.

I'M STARTING WITH THE NEURODIVERGENT HEADCANON.

This is not a unique headcanon. I've seen so many people who headcanons this too so it's relatively popular. Personally, I only see him with ADHD. (I'm projecting).

He's forgetful, impulsive, and quite socially awkward in a way aswell. He's easily distracted. He keeps forgetting about the oven. He's impulsive when baking. I'm a very impulsive and reckless person myself, I constantly make mistakes when I draw, yet somehow they end up okay 😭. When I'm not able to draw something right, I give up immediately. (I projected this onto the gingerbread house thing earlier).

• He comes across as intimidating.

You know in Kids' birthday parties when there's a mascot a lotta kids go run and hide? I based it off of that. I remember when I was like, 6 or 7, when a mascot came in I cried and hid under a table. They were tall.. <\3

I feel like there was a concerning number of kids who were actually afraid of him, despite how friendly he appears both in person and in the show. Maybe it's the RBF when he's not smiling..

I also like to think he's taller than some of the kids who comes to Gardenview which plays a factor to the whole "intimidating" thing. The way Sprout deals with this is giving the kids cupcakes or other sweets. Once the kids actually talk to him they're immediately comfortable.

• He was one of the very first to become "Twisted".

I don't have a concrete idea on how the story of the game goes, but I always imagine the Mains being the first victims. Sprout is a healer and he keeps an eye on everyone, so he had to go first.

–

Okay, I think that's all now. If you read all of that wow thanks, this took me hours to write 😭. I love overanalysing characters.

[swappermanent]

(Wet) Dream Come True (Frank's POV)

Read the original by @immortalmrwavell here.

You might be wondering why I decided to take Max’s body from him. Trust me, I’ve asked myself the same question a hundred times since it happened. Was it selfish? Absolutely. Do I regret it? Well… not as much as you’d think.

When Max’s mom and I first got together, being a father figure wasn’t exactly in my plans. Sure, I cared for Max, but I was stepping into some big shoes. A stepdad is supposed to guide, support, and be there when things get tough, right? Well, how the hell do you guide someone through something like losing their mom? I wasn’t prepared for that. And Max—he may have been old enough to fend for himself at 20, but he wasn’t ready to face the world alone. I did my best, but the truth was, I didn’t know if I could keep holding everything together.

As the months went on, my mind started wandering to the past. What would it be like to be in my twenties again? To have that energy, that freedom? To feel like the world was yours for the taking? At first, it was just a fantasy I’d entertain when life got too heavy. A little daydream to escape reality. But then… something changed.

I came across this weird little magic shop while I was running errands. The kind of place you’d almost walk past without noticing, tucked between a laundromat and a pawn shop. I don’t even know what drew me in, but once I stepped inside, I found something I couldn’t ignore: a remedy that could swap bodies. The old man behind the counter explained it to me in hushed tones, like he was letting me in on some ancient secret. There was one catch, though—it had to be a mutual swap. Both parties had to, at least on some level, want to know what it’d be like to live in the other’s shoes. After that, all bets were off.

Now, let’s be real—what 20-something would actually agree to give up their youth, even for a little while? Sure, I was attractive and muscular. I’ve kept myself in good shape over the years, but still, I was in my mid-thirties. Most young guys wouldn’t see that as a fair trade. That’s when I started thinking about Max.

I’d caught the way he looked at me, those lingering glances when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. The way his cheeks would flush when I caught him staring, the awkward way he’d quickly change the subject. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he had a thing for me. I mean, hell, I’m flattered. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could use that. Max wouldn’t just agree to the idea; he’d probably jump at the chance.

So, I decided to test the waters. One morning, over breakfast, I threw the idea out there casually, like it was just some funny hypothetical.

“This is gonna sound like a funny question,” I said, piercing a sausage with my fork, “but if you could choose to switch lives with me and have my body for however long, would you wanna do it?”

I kept my tone light, but I was watching him closely. The way he fidgeted in his seat, the way his cheeks turned pink as he tried to hide his reaction—it was all the confirmation I needed. His sheepish response, something about how it’d be “weird but interesting,” sealed the deal. I could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t just curious; he wanted it. Maybe not consciously, but deep down, he wanted to know what it’d be like to be me.

That was all I needed to make it happen.

When the time came, I added the remedy to our coffee, making sure Max drank every last drop. Watching his body slump as the effects kicked in was surreal, but when I opened my eyes and saw myself sitting across from me, I knew it had worked. My plan had actually worked.

I wasted no time. I’d already packed a bag with everything I’d need to start fresh—clothes, cash, important documents, a few personal items. I didn’t even wait for Max to wake up. I just grabbed my stuff and walked out the door, not looking back.

---

That was five years ago. Five years since I walked out the door, leaving my old life—and my old body—behind.

Now, this sexy body I’m in, Max’s body—no, my body—is 26. And let me tell you, I’ve made the absolute most of it. It wasn’t always easy; the first few months were an adjustment. I had to figure out how to carry myself as a younger man, and I won’t lie, it took some time to get used to seeing my reflection. But as the years went on, I really leaned into it. I started growing out my hair, experimenting with different looks. These days, I like to dress a little more feminine now and then—just enough to turn a few heads. And honestly? I love spending as much time shirtless as possible. This body deserves to be shown off, and I’ve been having an all-around good time doing just that.

Of course, that means my old body—the one I left Max in—would now be about 41. I never bothered to reach out to him after the swap, and, frankly, I hadn’t heard anything from him either. Part of me assumed he was mad, which would make sense. I mean, I did steal his youth, his twenties—arguably some of the best years of his life. Maybe he couldn’t confront me because of that. Not that I spent much time thinking about him these days. My life was too good, and honestly, I didn’t have any regrets. I had the life I wanted.

At least, that was the case until today.

I was at the gym, doing my usual workout. It’s a gym known for its gay clientele—big, muscular guys who weren’t shy about flaunting what they had. My kind of place. I’d just finished a grueling set at the squat rack, sweat dripping down my chest as I racked the barbell. I grabbed a towel and started wiping myself down when this super muscular, hot guy walked up to me.

“Hey, man,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, “mind if I work in with you?” He had this knowing smirk on his face.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. I was too busy eyeing him up. Thick, powerful arms, a wide chest, and legs that could probably crush a watermelon. He was older, but he had this ageless energy about him. Then, it clicked.

It was Max. In my old body.

My jaw practically hit the floor as I stared at him. “Max?” I said, disbelief dripping from my voice. “Is that you? You look… amazing.”

And he did. My old body hadn’t aged a day. In fact, it looked better than ever. He’d clearly been putting in work at the gym. My old body was practically glowing.

Max—or rather, my old body—grinned and crossed his arms over that broad chest. “It’s Frank,” he corrected, his tone smooth and confident. Then he flexed one of those massive biceps, his smirk growing. “But you’re damn right I look amazing.”

I stared at him, still a little stunned by how… okay he looked. Actually, not just okay—thriving. “I thought you’d be mad,” I said after a moment. “I mean, I kind of stole your youth. I figured you’d hate me for it.”

He let out a deep laugh, throwing his head back. Then, with that same cocky smirk, he raised one of those thick, muscular arms and took an exaggerated whiff of his armpit. “I was mad,” he admitted, “for maybe the first hour. But this…” He sniffed again, clearly enjoying his own musk. “…this helped me get over it.”

Before I could say anything, he casually ran a hand down to his crotch, grabbing his impressive bulge. “And this doesn’t hurt either,” he added with a wink, his tone dripping with smugness.

I couldn’t help but laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over me. “So, uh,” I began, trying to steer the conversation before I got too distracted, “I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you in San Diego. Is this where you’ve been all these years?”

Frank shrugged, his body language as relaxed and confident as ever. “Just moved to town, actually. Needed a change of scenery. Figured this would be a good place to start.” He looked me up and down, clearly taking in how much I’d changed. “And now I know why this gym has such a reputation,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah, well, I’ve been here a while. It’s a good spot.”

“Seems like it,” he said, his tone a little too casual, like he knew exactly how good he looked. “Anyway,” he continued, “we should grab a drink later, catch up. It’s been too long.”

I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the moment. “Yeah, sure,” I replied, trying to sound just as nonchalant.

As he walked away to start his set, I couldn’t help but watch him. There was something about his casual cockiness, the way he carried himself with this slight earned arrogance, that was undeniably attractive. He wasn’t just comfortable in my old body—he loved it. And honestly? That made him even more appealing.

---

Later that night, we met up at a dive bar just a block away from his apartment. It wasn’t much—a little run-down, sticky floors, the smell of stale beer—but it had character, and it was quiet enough for a real conversation. When I walked in, I spotted him immediately. He was leaning casually against the bar, a beer already in hand, wearing my old Texas Tech T-shirt like it was made for him. It looked snug on his broad frame, the sleeves straining against his biceps, and for a second, I felt a pang of something I couldn’t quite name. Nostalgia? Jealousy? Lust? Maybe all three.

“Nice shirt,” I said, sliding into the stool next to him.

He smirked, giving me a once-over. “Figured it’d be a nice touch. Thought it might bring back memories.”

I laughed, feeling oddly sheepish. “Yeah, well, it looks better on you.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I cringed internally. Was I… flirting? With my own body? I mean, technically, yeah, but how could I be this flustered? This was me, or at least it used to be. Yet here I was, stumbling over my words, feeling like a nervous wreck. Meanwhile, he—Frank, Max, whatever—was cool as a cucumber, his confidence practically radiating off him.

We ordered drinks, and he started asking me about my life. He was surprisingly attentive, hanging on to every word like he genuinely cared. It threw me off a little. “You’ve been busy,” he said after I told him about some of the things I’d been up to. “It’s good to see you doing so well.”

Was it weird that he almost sounded… proud?

Then he started telling me about his life—what he’d been doing in my old body. Turns out he’d made good money over the past few years working as a fitness instructor part-time, balancing that with his job as a mechanic. And apparently, he’d built up an online following, which had blown up enough that he was now financially set.

“It’s funny,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I thought I’d hate it at first, but I kinda love this life. It suits me.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, my eyes trailing over his broad shoulders and confident posture. “It really does.”

As the drinks flowed, I found myself relaxing a little too much. I didn’t even realize I was flirting until it was too late. My hand kept finding excuses to touch his arm or brush against his thigh. At first, it was just playful, but one of those touches lingered a little too long. My hand stayed on his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his jeans. He didn’t move away, and I didn’t either.

He turned to me with a raised eyebrow, that damn smirk spreading across his face. “If I didn’t know better,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I’d think you were flirting with me.”

My face went red, and I quickly looked away, mumbling something unintelligible. But before I could pull my hand back, he grabbed my thigh, his grip firm and deliberate.

“Usually,” he said, leaning in just enough that I could feel the heat of his breath, “I don’t go for twinks. But I think I can make an exception for you.” His hand slid just slightly higher, his smirk turning into something hungrier. “I mean, I know how fantastic that ass is. And I’d love to try it out for myself.”

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t find the words to respond. All I could do was stare at him, my heart pounding as his grip tightened slightly, his confidence swallowing the room whole.

Stay Tuned For Part 2

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter one : cold hearted snake

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions : player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tlou, ellie tlou, cheerleader reader, mention of sex, mentions of overdosing

notes: semi long chapter so get some snacks, turn your fan on and rub your feet together

"Jayce… don’t piss me off," you mumbled groggily, swatting at the air as you turned away from the light creeping in through the curtains. Your brother had this awful habit of waking you up early, and this time, it was no different. You groaned as you felt the edge of his foot on your nightstand, a clear sign that he wasn’t planning to leave until you gave him the attention he craved.

"Please, sis. Just tell me if they go good with my outfit. It's my junior year. I gotta look fresh," Jayce said, his voice high-pitched and over-the-top, just the way it always was when he was seeking validation.

You blinked open one eye, then the other, squinting up at him. The sight of his goofy grin—complete with his messy hair—did nothing to help the headache that was already forming. He was holding a pair of sneakers in one hand, his new must-have shoes for the school year.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. "Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you said flatly, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. He let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped down on the edge of your bed, his body taking up far too much space. "Don’t go back to sleep, c’mon! It’s your first day here at NYU. You gotta make a statement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of his well-meaning, annoying attempt to motivate you.

You cracked open an eye again, giving him a deadpan stare. "I don’t want to hear it, Jayce. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now."

Jayce chuckled, nudging you lightly with his foot. "Get up, you lazy bum. I need to know if this shirt works with my new kicks or not. It’s important!"

You sighed, sitting up slowly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Looking at him—his eager face, his ridiculous outfit—wasn’t helping your mood. You glanced at his sneakers, then his shirt, then his whole vibe. Jayce looked like he was trying way too hard to impress everyone on his first day back. He had his typical “I’m cool” swagger on display, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or just roll your eyes harder.

"Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you muttered, not really caring but knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.

Jayce leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, all dramatic as he asked, "Really? I mean, really? You sure about that? ‘Cause I need you to be my fashion consultant today."

You shook your head, not even bothering to reply to his antics. You were too tired for this. But he wasn’t backing down. He was, after all, Jayce—a master at annoying people to no end.

"Don’t make me get Mom on the phone, you know she’s got the best opinions," he teased, but you could hear the hint of excitement in his voice. He wasn’t just annoying you for attention; he genuinely seemed to need your approval.

You shot him a glare. "If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Mom you’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for two days."

Jayce’s grin faltered, just for a second, before he playfully shoved your shoulder. "Low blow, sis. Low blow."

Finally, you could hear him sigh in defeat. "Fine. I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Get up, though! Or I swear, I’ll drag you out of bed myself."

You stared at him as he got up and headed toward the door, but not without another remark. "Oh, and don't even think about that raggedy bus today. We’re taking my car. And you're making a statement whether you like it or not."

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was silence—glorious silence.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 5:47 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off and rolled out of bed.

The thought of the first day at NYU made your stomach churn with nerves, but you couldn't show it. Not after all the teasing and endless talk of “making a statement” from your brother. You needed to at least pretend like you had it all together. So, with a loud sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom for a shower, hoping the cold water would wake you up enough to deal with the day ahead.

As you stood under the stream of water, you tried to clear your head. You'd never been one for drama, but here you were, starting college at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It was supposed to be exciting. New people, new opportunities, new everything. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something much bigger than you were ready for.

Still, there was no turning back now.

You had spent your freshman and sophomore years in Italy, a place you quickly grew to love. It was a dream come true—walking cobblestone streets, sipping espresso in tiny cafes, and studying architecture and art history in a country that felt alive with culture and tradition. At first, you were nervous about being so far from home, but Italy embraced you with open arms, and soon, it felt more like home than New York ever had.

The plan had been simple: you would study abroad, and Jayce would come with you. Your mom had made it clear that he had the option to join you. “Think about it,” your mom had said, “two years of sibling bonding while experiencing a whole new world.” But, of course, Jayce had shrugged it off.

"Pass," he'd said without hesitation. "All my friends are here. Plus, who's gonna keep the soccer team alive without me?"

You’d rolled your eyes when he said it, but deep down, his refusal stung. He didn’t even consider it. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had wanted him there. Sure, he was annoying and constantly in your space, but he was also your big brother—the one who always knew how to make you laugh when you were stressed, the one who looked out for you when no one else did. Without him, you felt a little more alone than you were ready to admit.

But Italy had been a journey all its own. You’d found your rhythm there, made lifelong friends, and grown in ways you never expected. You learned to navigate bustling markets in Florence, spent lazy afternoons sketching by the canals in Venice, and even picked up enough Italian to argue with locals over gelato flavors. It wasn’t just a study abroad experience; it was a transformation.

Then, two years flew by faster than you thought they would. And just like that, it was time to say goodbye to everything you’d built in Italy. The narrow alleyways you knew like the back of your hand, the corner cafe where the barista always greeted you with a warm "Ciao, bella," and the friends who had become family. It wasn’t easy leaving it all behind, but the opportunity to finish your degree in New York on a full-ride scholarship was too good to pass up.

There was one silver lining to returning home: Ekko. Your best friend since middle school. He’d been the one constant in your life before you left for Italy, and as much as you loved your new friends abroad, no one quite compared to Ekko. He was like a brother to you, but cooler than Jayce ever could be—not that you’d ever tell Jayce that to his face.

Ekko was in New York with a full ride scholarship majoring in Engineering, balancing school with being on the soccer team alongside Jayce. The two of them had always been close, despite being complete opposites. Jayce was loud, confident, and always seeking the spotlight, while Ekko was more laid-back and analytical, content to let his skills speak for themselves. The idea of seeing them again—especially Ekko—was one of the few things keeping you grounded as you prepared to face New York after two years away.

After your last class wrapped up, you decided to head over to the campus coffee shop to grab something to eat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit you as soon as you walked in. You ordered an iced coffee and a bagel sandwich before making your way outside, where small tables with umbrellas dotted the courtyard.

Finding an empty table near the edge of the patio, you set your things down and took a seat. The campus buzzed around you as students chatted or hurried to their next destination. Sipping your coffee, you opened your book and began reading while occasionally taking bites of your sandwich.

As you lost yourself in the story, two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, making you jolt and nearly drop your sandwich. Your head whipped around, your heart racing, only to be met with a familiar face—Ekko.

“Holy—Ekko!” you exclaimed, standing up with a wide grin.

He laughed, his grin just as big as yours. “Surprise!”

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Missed you too,” Ekko said, his arms wrapping around you firmly. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you.

You twirled around dramatically, giving him a full view of your outfit. His brows shot up in surprise as he took it all in. “Damn… Italy changed you in more ways than one. What happened to my (Y/N) who wore oversized hoodies and partied like a rockstar every other weekend?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “She’s dead, but I still love a good party,” you quipped.

Ekko leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “There’s gonna be a first-day bonfire tonight. Good music, new faces, and…” he paused for effect, “…Caitlyn Kiramman, the cheer captain, might be there. You could ask her about whether there’s a chance you’re on the team since you submitted that video for tryouts.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “You always come in clutch,” you said with a grin. “Only if you’re taking me, though.”

Ekko shook his head, his smirk turning into a sheepish grin. “Can’t. I’ve got a date for the bonfire.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Aw, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“A girl named Jinx. She’s in most of my classes. Thought she was cute, so I asked her out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “She surprisingly said yes.”

“Surprisingly?” you teased, folding your arms and leaning toward him. “Please, Ekko, you’ve got more game than you think. Good for you, seriously.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dusted with a hint of pink. “Thanks, I guess. What about you? Got your eye on any girls here yet?”

You grinned mischievously, your voice dripping with confidence. “Always.”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?” he asked teasingly.

“Yup. Vi,” you said with no hesitation. “She’s really hot—pink hair, tattoos on her back. God, I would love to take a ride on h—”

“Oh, fuck no,” Ekko interrupted, his voice sharp as his expression shifted to something between disbelief and warning.

You blinked, startled by his sudden tone. “What?!”

Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “She’s a player, (Y/N). I should know. She’s on the soccer team with Jayce. Don’t mess with her—you’ll get hurt. Real shit.”

You frowned, confused by his sudden seriousness. “What are you talking about? She seemed fine when I talked to her earlier.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms again, his expression dark. “I’ve seen it happen. She’s got game, yeah, but not the kind you want. I don’t like the way she moves. I used to hang out with her, but I stopped for a reason. The only time I’m even around her is when Jayce is.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, but maybe she’s different now.”

Ekko narrowed his eyes at you, unimpressed. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let her mess with your head, (Y/N). You’re better than that. Just…be careful, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you appreciated his concern. “Fine, Dad.”

When you got home, Ekko’s warning was the last thing on your mind. Vi was texting you, and there was no way you were going to ignore her. She was too hot not to respond to. Balancing your bag on your shoulder and your coffee cup in one hand, you pushed the door shut with your foot. As soon as the door clicked behind you, you checked your phone again, a grin spreading across your face as you read her latest message.

Heading upstairs, you scrolled through the playful back-and-forth between you and Vi, feeling giddy. The attention she was giving you was addictive. You were so lost in the conversation that you didn’t notice Jayce stepping out of the bathroom until you nearly bumped into him.

He stood there with a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the stupid grin on your face. “The fuck are you smiling about, dopey?” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look a little too gay right now.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. “Ha, ha, hilarious,” you muttered, holding your phone a little closer as you tried to move toward your room.

But Jayce wasn’t going to let it go. He reached over and snatched the phone right out of your hand.

“Jayce! What the fuck!” you yelped, spinning around and reaching for it.

Jayce held it out of your reach, laughing as he glanced at the screen. But his laughter quickly died when he saw the name at the top of the conversation. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with Vi?” he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.

“It’s the first day, so not yet, clearly,” you snapped, grabbing your phone back with an irritated glare.

Before you could retreat to your room, Jayce stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His expression shifted to something more serious, almost protective. “Whatever you’re doing with her, stop. She’s a close friend of mine, and she gets around, (Y/N). It’ll be awkward as hell, and on top of that, I’m not trying to get embarrassed by you.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Whatever,” you muttered dismissively, though his words stung.

Jayce didn’t move from where he stood, following you with his eyes as you turned toward the stairs. “Hey, wait. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

You stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, Ekko has a date, so I need a ride. Can you take me? Mom and Dad still haven’t gotten me a car yet, so I’m stuck.”

Jayce shook his head immediately, folding his arms again. “Oh, you’re not going. No way. Vi’s gonna be there, and that’s officially off fucking limits.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “What? What the fuck, Jayce! I can’t even go socialize?”

Jayce gave you a hard look. “You’re not going to socialize, (Y/N). I know how you are when it comes to alcohol and…other shit. Or do I need to call Mom and tell her you need to go back to Italy after I let you relapse?”

His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped as anger flared in your chest, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fuck you, Jayce,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “What a low blow.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. You locked it for good measure, leaning against it as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Outside the door, Jayce’s voice softened, guilt creeping into his tone. “Wait, sis… I didn’t mean it seriously,” he said, knocking lightly.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t even look at him right now.

When it became clear you weren’t going to answer, Jayce sighed. “Let me know if you want anything to eat when I get back,” he said quietly before walking away. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

While you sat on your bed, still upset over the argument with Jayce, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a text from Vi.

Vi: Are you coming to the bonfire party? I wanna see you.

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

You: Can’t. My brother’s not letting me go. And I don’t have a car. He was my only ride.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Vi: Well, I have a car. Give me your location and get ready. I’ll pick you up, beautiful.

A grin spread across your face despite everything, and you quickly sent her your location. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you sprang up and went straight to your closet. You scanned your options until you finally settled on a black fitted mini-dress paired with, a denim jacket draped off your shoulders, and chunky black boots. The look was edgy yet flirty—perfect for a night out.

You glanced in the mirror and realized your makeup was a mess from crying. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you cleaned up the smudges, reapplying your eyeliner and lipstick carefully. After smoothing out your hair and giving yourself one last look-over, your phone buzzed again.

“I’m parked outside the complex,” the text read.

“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to find a cute bag. You tossed your phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss inside, then rushed out the door.

As you left your apartment complex, you gave the doorman a quick wave. “Goodnight!” you called, like always.

“Have fun!” he replied with a knowing smile.

Outside, a sleek car idled by the curb. You spotted Vi leaning against the driver’s side, her pink hair glowing under the streetlights. She grinned when she saw you, and as soon as you slid into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed you.

You froze for a second, caught off guard, but then you melted into the kiss, returning it shyly. When she pulled back, her smirk was devilish.

“Nice place you live at,” she said, glancing at the complex as she started driving. “A friend of mine stays in one of these apartments. You must have a lot of money to live here.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Vi gave you a quick side glance, her smile softening. “Well, good for me. I like spoiled girls,” she teased.

As soon as you and Vi stepped onto the sandy beach where the bonfire party was in full swing, she casually draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. The heat of the fire reflected in her smirk as she held you there like she had no care in the world.

Immediately, you pulled away, glancing around to make sure no one—especially your brother—had noticed. “Stop,” you hissed, swatting at her arm. “You’re going to blow my cover. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”

Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, clearly enjoying your paranoia. “Fine, fine,” she relented. “But text me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Where are you going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go find Jayce and keep him occupied,” she said with a smirk, already scanning the crowd. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you.”

“Cool,” you said with a nod before slipping away from her, weaving through the bodies of drunken students and the glow of the bonfire’s flickering flames.

Your eyes darted across the party until they landed on Ekko. He was in the middle of a crowd, dancing with a girl who had strikingly light blue hair, her movements wild and carefree as they swayed to the music.

“Hey, Ekko!” you called out over the sound of the music.

Ekko turned his head at the sound of your voice, a grin forming when he spotted you pushing through the crowd toward him. “(Y/N)!” He gestured for you to come closer. “This is Jinx. Jinx, this is (Y/N), my best friend since middle school.”

You smiled, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of shaking your hand, Jinx’s face lit up, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry, but I’m a hugger, girl,” she said, squeezing you before letting go. “And middle school? That’s so adorable!”

You chuckled. “Yep. We used to do chemistry projects together in high school and blow shit up. My parents had to pay millions.”

Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, we were menaces,” he agreed, nudging you playfully.

Jinx grinned, eyes flickering between the two of you. “I like you already.”

The party was loud, the music pulsing through the air as laughter and shouts filled the night. You were mid-conversation with Jinx when suddenly, a random frat guy shoved an opened Cayman Jack into your hands. The condensation from the bottle chilled your skin as you instinctively curled your fingers around it.

“Chug, pretty thang,” he slurred, grinning like he had just offered you the holy grail.

“Oh, um… no, it’s okay. I’m taking a break from drinking,” you said, trying to hand it back to him.

Instead of taking the rejection, he popped the cap off with his thumb and shoved it back toward you, his eyes wild with excitement. “Chug!” he chanted.

At first, it was just him, but soon, others joined in, the word picking up like a wave, echoing louder and louder around you. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Ekko shot you a worried look, his lips parting as if he was about to intervene, but before he could, the pressure of a dozen eyes on you—waiting, watching, expecting—became too much. Without thinking, you tilted your head back and downed the entire drink, the carbonation burning your throat, the alcohol hitting your stomach like a rock.

“There, happy?” you said, shoving the now-empty can into the frat guy’s chest.

He let out a cheer, eyes gleaming with drunken satisfaction. Then, in a final act of bravado, he crushed the can against his forehead with a loud crack and stumbled off into the crowd.

Ekko’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, his grip firm but gentle. “Fuck…” you muttered, your stomach twisting. Your fingers trembled slightly, your body already remembering the ghosts of your past. “I haven’t had a drink since I…”

Ekko rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get you some water.” His voice was calm, but you saw the worry in his eyes. He turned to Jinx. “Watch her for me?”

Jinx gave a quick nod, her face uncharacteristically serious.

Ekko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the taste of alcohol still lingering on your tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked, tilting her head.

“I—I just…” Your voice faltered.

Before you could finish, a voice sliced through the noise, sharp and furious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped. You turned to see Jayce standing a few feet away, his face twisted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m just hanging out, Jayce,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

Jayce scoffed, stepping closer. “(Y/N), I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” His eyes darkened, his voice tight with frustration. “Shit, dude—not even a whole two weeks and you’re already relapsing?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m not relapsing. I was just pressured into taking a drink by those stupid frat boys,” you argued.

“Bullshit,” Jayce snapped.

Ekko returned just in time, a bottle of water in his hand, but he barely had time to process what was happening before Jayce was right in your face again.

You barely heard him, your mind spiraling as the weight of his words sank in.

Yes, you were an addict in high school.

After your dad’s death, you took it harder than anyone else in your family. You fell in with the wrong people, numbing the pain however you could. The night you overdosed, you had been left in an alley, a needle in your arm, your body convulsing, vomiting, barely clinging to life.

Your mother couldn’t handle it anymore.

Instead of sending you to rehab, she sent you to Italy—far away, somewhere new, somewhere she hoped you could start over. And you did. You got therapy. You worked on yourself. You fixed yourself.

But now, standing here with Jayce looking at you like you were a failure, it felt like all that progress meant nothing.

His next words shattered whatever was left of your resolve.

“Go home,” he said coldly. “I don’t care how you get home—just go.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your vision blurring with tears.

Ekko’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jinx nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ll come too.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Thanks. Just—let me say goodbye to someone first.”

Ekko nodded. “Cool. We’ll wait by the car.”

He took Jinx’s hand, leading her toward the parking lot, leaving you alone in the middle of the party, feeling like the ground beneath you was slowly cracking apart.

You pushed through the crowd, weaving between sweaty, drunken bodies, the pulse of the music thrumming in your ears. The fire in the middle of the yard crackled, casting flickering orange light over the partygoers gathered around it. Your breath was shallow as you scanned the area, searching for Vi.

And then you saw her.

She was standing by the fire, her red hair illuminated by the flames, her toned arms flexing slightly as she laughed at something. But she wasn’t alone.

A girl with long blue hair stood close—too close. She traced her fingers up and down Vi’s arm, her nails dragging over the inked skin like she had every right to touch her. Vi smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made your heart race earlier in the night. But now, it only made your stomach twist.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, Vi grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her in. Their lips crashed together in a deep, messy kiss—not just a casual peck, not like the ones you and Vi had shared. This was something more. Their bodies were flush, Vi’s hands gripping the girl’s hips, their mouths moving like they’d done this before.

You felt a lump in your throat, but not because you were heartbroken. No, this wasn’t heartbreak. It was disappointment.

Because everyone was right.

Vi was a player. A flirt. She wasn’t the kind of girl to settle down—not even for you.

Without a second thought, you turned away, pushing through the crowd with more force this time, ignoring the people who grumbled or stumbled in your wake. Vi didn’t even see you.

By the time you reached the car, Ekko and Jinx were already waiting.

“You good?” Ekko asked as you slid into the backseat.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, watching as buildings and trees blurred past. The streetlights flickered across your face, casting shadows that stretched and disappeared.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even feel angry.

You just felt disgusted.

For the first time in two years, that familiar, suffocating feeling crept back in—the one that made your skin crawl, the one that made you want to disappear.

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[poetic-vulgarity]

ᎮᎥᏖᎩ ᎮᏗᏒᏖᎩ - Kim Minjeong x Reader

Word count: ~5K

Prompt: When Minjeong transferred to an elite school, she didn't expect to catch the attention of Y/N, the golden girl. Then again, she also didn't expect Y/N to be the root of all her misery.

Tags: slow burn; angst; drama; high school! AU; richgirl!Y/N; happy ending (?)

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Ask any student out there how they feel about school, and you'll get the same answer.

It's shit.

There was no way around it, especially not for someone like Minjeong.

Shy, quiet, reserved.

She was a walking billboard that practically screamed "bully me."

And bullied she was. Ever since high school began, she'd been their favorite target. They scrawled insults on her desk, threw food at her, and even stuffed her into a locker once.

Minjeong thought it was just the way life worked. Some people were born unlucky.

Then Taeyu came along. Messy, reckless, the kind of girl who could (and would) fight anyone. For reasons Minjeong never fully understood, Taeyu liked her. And the bullying stopped.

They became best friends. Two years passed, and things weren't perfect, but Minjeong started to believe she could survive.

She wished Taeyu was there now.

If she had Taeyu by her side, all the stupid kids wouldn't be staring at her as she made her way through the doors of her new school. 

The towering entrance of Elite Open School Korea loomed before her. The glossy floors, the spotless hallways, the sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows—it was the kind of school where the rich ate up success like it was their birthright.

Minjeong didn’t belong there.

But she didn’t need to belong. She just needed to graduate. The full scholarship had been her ticket there, and she wasn’t planning to waste it. Screw fitting in. She’d keep her head down, study hard, and get the diploma.

Still, as she stepped inside, her confidence wavered. The air was heavy and she could feel the weight of all the judgmental eyes on her. She held her bag tighter and pulled out her crumpled schedule, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to make sense of it.

The school was massive. Minjeong had no idea where to start.

"You’re with me."

Startled, Minjeong looked up and found herself face-to-face with a stunning girl who radiated confidence.

"I’m Jimin, student president. I’m supposed to take you to your class," the girl said, her tone light and warm.

Relief washed over Minjeong. She nodded, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Jimin didn’t wait for a response before turning and heading down the hallway, her polished shoes clicking softly against the floor.

Minjeong hurried to follow, her school bag thumping awkwardly against her back. "I'm Minjeong." 

Jimin looked over her shoulder, a few loose strands of hair brushing her face as she smiled. "I know who you are; I was the one who made your schedule." Jimin replied with a soft chuckle. "Had to fit you and the other new students into the system."

Minjeong blinked, processing her words. "That... explains a lot, actually."

Her schedule was a mess: classes from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m., a long break, and then another class that ran until 10 p.m. She wasn’t sure if it was legal to keep students in school that long but they were all rich there. Who cared if they were breaking rules?

Jimin grimaced. "Yeah, sorry about that. In my defense, though, you signed up for a lot of extracurriculars."

Minjeong’s lips twitched into a small smile. "Don’t apologize. It’s fine."

"It’ll be cool; we have a few classes together," Jimin added with a grin.

When they reached the classroom, Jimin stopped and turned to her. "Here we are. All your classes today are on this floor, so you shouldn't get too lost. But if you do, text me. My number's on the schedule I sent you."

Minjeong nodded, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Thank you, Jimin."

"Of course. Have a good first day, okay?" With a wave, Jimin disappeared down the hall, leaving Minjeong standing at the door, alone.

It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.

Sure, a few students glanced her way as she walked in, their gazes sharp and appraising. Most of them didn’t bother hiding their curiosity—or their judgment. The guys wore designer shoes and watches, while the girls carried handbags that probably cost more than her family’s car.

Minjeong ignored them and scanned the room for a seat. She spotted one near the back and made her way over.

"That seat’s taken."

The voice was cold and cutting, and Minjeong froze mid-sit.

The girl who spoke was staring at her, eyes narrowed, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Minjeong swallowed and stood up, looking around for another desk. She wasn’t there to make a scene.

"That one’s taken too," the girl said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Why don’t you show her to her seat, Lee?"

The new voice came from the front of the room. Minjeong turned and saw another girl leaning back lazily in her chair.

She was stunning, easily the prettiest girl in the room, with an air of casual arrogance that made her seem untouchable. Her uniform was pristine, not a single hair out of place, and her expression was unreadable.

Lee, the first girl, faltered. "I—uh..."

"Go on," the pretty girl said, her tone light but commanding. "Since every seat is taken, show her one that isn’t."

Lee clenched her jaw but got up with a huff, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. "Fine. Follow me."

Minjeong glanced at the pretty girl again before trailing behind Lee, her head bowed.

"This one," Lee said, motioning to an empty desk.

"No," the other girl called out, her voice calm. "Not that one. She won’t be able to see the board properly."

Minjeong’s grip on her bag tightened. The room felt suffocating, every set of eyes burning into her as Lee led her to another seat.

"Here?"

"Still not good," the girl said, her tone almost playful.

Minjeong clenched her jaw, frustrated at the situation. This was all a game, and she was the entertainment.

Finally, the pretty girl tilted her head. "Tell you what. She’ll just take your seat, Lee."

Lee stiffened but didn’t argue. Her eyes flashed with anger as she grabbed her bag and stomped off.

Minjeong hesitated. She didn’t want to take Lee’s spot, didn’t want to make things worse. But when the girl raised an eyebrow and her eyes darted from her to her new assigned seat, Minjeong sighed and sat down.

She kept her head down, rummaging through her pencil case, her eyes fixed on the desk in front of her.

An awkward silence loomed over the classroom, broken only by the sound of students chatting and the occasional burst of laughter.

Minjeong’s eyes shifted to Lee, noticing the way she kept a sharp eye on her former seat. A part of her felt bad for taking it, but it was already done.

She took out her notebook, pen, and highlighter from her bag and placed them on the desk. Her hands went up to brush her short hair back behind her ears.

Minjeong’s eyes darted up to the front, looking for the teacher. Instead, she noticed the pretty girl from before standing in front of her.

Minjeong tilted her head up, keeping her shock and awkwardness from showing on her face. The girl was stunning—her features soft, her lashes long, and her lips plump.

The girl gave her a small smile. "The view okay?"

Minjeong’s head spun at the words. Her cheeks instantly flared up with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to stare. She didn’t even realize she was staring in the first place.

"Sorry," she responded hastily. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate to look anywhere but at the stranger.

The girl chuckled lightly. "I meant the board."

"Oh."

Minjeong felt like her soul left her body out of sheer embarrassment. She couldn’t stop staring at the stranger earlier, and now she’d somehow made it worse for herself.

"Yes, it’s a great view," she mumbled, her voice small. She forced a smile, hoping to salvage the situation.

Minjeong tried to focus elsewhere, her eyes shifting to the window and the students outside, chatting with their friends and enjoying lunch—blissfully unaware of her predicament.

The girl smiled wider, clearly amused.

She extended her hand, drawing it towards Minjeong. "I’m Y/N."

Minjeong hesitated for a moment before reaching out her own hand to shake Y/N’s. "Minjeong," she replied, the handshake lasting a beat longer than necessary before she quickly pulled away.

Y/N was… a lot. Minjeong wasn’t sure what her intentions were. Was she just messing with her, or did she genuinely want to be friends?

"Pleasure to meet you," Y/N said with a nod.

Minjeong blinked. What high schooler said "pleasure to meet you"?

"You too," she muttered, her voice barely audible.

A tense silence stretched between them as the two of them stared at each other. Minjeong wanted to look away, to dig into her bag for something to distract herself, but her eyes kept finding their way back to Y/N.

"Welcome to the school. I’m sure you’ll fit in well." With that final comment, Y/N turned on her heel and walked back to her seat.

Minjeong let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Y/N was intimidating. She was too pretty and confident for her own good, and Minjeong didn’t know what to make of her.

All she wanted was to get through the day without any more trouble.

And, for the most part, she did.

During lunch hour, Minjeong hid in the library. Her other classes went by without much ruckus.

Throughout her first week, she realized that she shared a lot of classes with Y/N. She saw the popular girl almost every day. Correction: she noticed the small smiles Y/N sent her between classes—almost every day.

It was… weird.

Y/N had a cool friend group and a perfect reputation around the school. She had no reason to even notice Minjeong.

“You need to leave the newbie alone. Her friends died. Have a little compassion.”

Y/N turned to glare at Yeonjun. It was Friday, and the group was eating lunch together. Since Monday, Y/N hadn’t seen Minjeong set foot in the cafeteria.

“You could be a bit more respectful about it, no?”

Yeonjun pouted dramatically. “Chill, I was joking.”

“Our Y/N is protective over the newbie,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s side playfully, trying to get a reaction out of her.

“Why would I be protective over anyone?” Y/N huffed, picking at her food as if it were playdough. Her eyes lingered on the unopened sandwich she’d bought that morning.

“Well, you keep looking for her,” Chaewon pointed out, raising an eyebrow as she sat down beside Yeonjun with a knowing smile. “In class and now here.”

Y/N felt cornered. She usually didn’t show this much interest in anyone, and her friends had noticed. It was irritating.

Before she could mutter an excuse for her behavior, her phone rang. Her friends immediately knew who was calling by the look on her face.

“I’ll see you guys later.” She grabbed her belongings and stood up, phone already raised to her ear. “Yes, Dad?”

The call only lasted a minute or two, but it gave Y/N the perfect excuse to slip away. She wandered into the library, her curious eyes scanning the room for one person in particular.

“Lunch is important, you know?”

Minjeong jumped at the sudden voice, her wide eyes snapping up to see Y/N standing in front of her, hands on her hips.

“Are you stalking me?” The words slipped from Minjeong’s mouth before she could stop herself.

Her heart pounded, anxiety clawing at her throat. She had no idea why Y/N was taking an interest in her—why she kept showing up, insisting on toying with her.

Y/N was surprised, to say the least.

Minjeong had some bite. It wasn’t what Y/N expected from the shy girl she’d met on the first day.

“I guess,” Y/N said with a soft hum, casually pulling a chair out and sitting beside her. She reached into her bag, pulling out the sandwich she hadn’t eaten earlier, and handed it to Minjeong. “Eat.”

Minjeong stared at the sandwich, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I already ate,” she said flatly, not reaching for it.

Y/N’s eyes flicked down to Minjeong’s half-open bag. An apple and a small carton of orange juice sat inside—it was all Minjeong ever brought, and she usually saved it for her late 10 PM class.

“No, you haven’t.”

Minjeong’s shoulders slumped slightly. Y/N was far more observant than she had anticipated.

Minjeong looked down at the sandwich again, conflicted. She wasn’t a fan of being told what to do, but Y/N had clearly gone out of her way to give it to her. Refusing would make her feel bad.

Slowly, she reached out and took the sandwich, giving a small nod.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N said casually.

It didn’t take long for Minjeong to finish it.

“So, what are you reading?” Y/N was usually good at making conversation, but with Minjeong, she couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.

Minjeong blinked, snapping out of her food-induced daze. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she finished the sandwich. Now that it was gone, her body slumped back in the chair, heavy with fatigue.

Her gaze shifted to the half-read book on the table, her fingers brushing over the cover. She avoided looking at Y/N, knowing how easily she got flustered.

“A book,” she responded plainly, hoping Y/N would get the hint.

Y/N nodded, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Very informative.”

Minjeong sighed, unable to come up with a retort. The silence between them grew, awkward and heavy. She wasn’t used to this—having someone like Y/N hover around her. They were opposites in almost every way, and Minjeong couldn’t fathom why Y/N was even there.

Her eyes lifted briefly from the book, just to check if Y/N was still looking. Their gazes met, and Minjeong’s breath caught. Her cheeks burned, and she quickly looked away quickly.

Y/N cleared her throat, the confidence in her voice softening. She fiddled with her fingers, her usual ease replaced with hesitation. “I’m... sorry about what happened. At your last school.”

Minjeong froze, her eyes widening. A lump formed in her throat as she tried to think of something to say.

She hadn’t expected an apology—least of all from Y/N. But even if she had, she wouldn’t have known how to respond.

Her body tensed, her knee bouncing beneath the table. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy,” Y/N continued, her voice gentle. “Especially with all the idiots making fun of it.”

‘Cancer school.’

The cruel nickname flashed through Minjeong’s mind.

It wasn’t far from the truth.

Several students had suddenly passed away at her old school and it didn't take long for investigators to find out that the building materials used for the school were highly toxic—cancerous, in fact. Minjeong was one of the lucky ones, spared from any trouble. She had survived unscathed, physically at least, and had been granted a scholarship to transfer elsewhere—a quiet bribe to keep her mouth shut. 

Taeyu hadn’t been so lucky.

Minjeong’s hands trembled as the memories clawed their way to the surface. She had buried them so deeply, refusing to confront them, but they always left a bitter taste when they resurfaced.

She swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the library. Despite knowing Y/N’s words came from a place of kindness, Minjeong felt a pang of irritation.

“Thank you.” Her voice was hollow, mouth dry. She wanted to be anywhere but there. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment, emotions she couldn’t quite control.

She stuffed her jacket into her bag, voice shaky as she muttered, “I appreciate it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, alarm flashing across her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“Save it.” Minjeong snapped, cutting her off. She didn’t meet Y/N’s gaze as she shoved her things into her bag and walked away.

She wasn’t sure who she was angry at—Y/N, for bringing it up, or herself, for not being able to let it go.

The wound still felt raw. She wasn’t ready to face it, and all she wanted was to forget.

But after a few days, the sting of her reaction dulled and guilt creped in. 

Y/N had only been trying to be kind, and Minjeong had been rude.

After debating with herself for days, Minjeong decided to swallow her pride and apologise. 

Before one of their shared classes, Minjeong watched as Y/N walked into the room, making her way to her usual seat.

Now or never.

Her heart pounded as she stood, each step toward Y/N feeling heavier than the last. Minjeong didn’t want to be there, she didn’t want to apologize. Admitting she felt bad was almost worse than snapping in the first place.

But the guilt wouldn’t leave her alone, and she knew it wouldn’t until she said something.

“Y/N?”

Y/N looked up from her notebook, her face lighting up when she saw Minjeong. “There you are,” she said, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich—the same kind she’d given Minjeong in the library. “I’ve been eating these all week, and I hate cheese.”

Without hesitation, Y/N extended the sandwich toward Minjeong.

Minjeong stared at it, swallowing hard. She didn’t need pity or charity. That wasn’t why she’d come over.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day,” she said, ignoring the food.

Y/N’s eyes softened, her expression gentle.

Minjeong forced herself to turn away, eager to retreat to her seat. Her conscience was clear now, and she didn’t owe Y/N anything more.

But before she could take another step, a hand caught her wrist.

Y/N’s touch was firm yet delicate, her grip just enough to stop Minjeong without making her feel trapped.

Minjeong turned slowly, pulse quickening as her eyes met Y/N’s.

Y/N smiled, her voice warm and sincere. “I’m the charity act here, not you.” She nodded toward the sandwich still in her hand. “I genuinely hate these sandwiches.”

Minjeong froze for a second... was she that easy to read?

"Why do you keep buying them then?" Minjeong asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Y/N shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm allergic to salmon, and they like to serve it at the cafeteria, so I bring it just in case."

A little white lie never hurt anyone, right?

But Minjeong was insistent, "I don't see how that's my problem."

"It's your problem because I want to get to know you," Y/N admitted without hesitation. "And the sandwich was just the perfect excuse for it."

Minjeong wanted to ask why Y/N didn't just buy something she actually liked, but she had a feeling Y/N would have an excuse for that too.

So, she sighed and finally took the food, giving a small nod.

"You're eating this if I ever see salmon being served at the cafeteria," Minjeong added.

Y/N smiled, her eyes lingering on Minjeong. "Deal."

Minjeong could feel her face heating up at how casually Y/N agreed to her request.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Even though she was still uncomfortable with how Y/N was so interested in her, she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to understand why everyone talked about her.

Y/N was kind, sweet, and charming. It was almost impossible to resist her, but Minjeong knew she had to keep her distance.

She kept her distance.

For a few hours.

Later that day, when Y/N asked her to go out for coffee, Minjeong found herself accepting the offer.

Just like she accepted Y/N’s offer to give her her number a few days later.

Minjeong had no control over it. She was just pulled in.

For a while, she tried to fight it, but in the end, she couldn’t.

It felt nice to be liked. Y/N would take her out for lunch and dinner whenever Minjeong was free, always doing whatever it took to make her feel special.

Minjeong hated how addictive it was, getting attention from someone like Y/N. It made it that much harder to ignore her growing attraction.

"We could go to your house, if you'd like?" Y/N asked, leaning against Minjeong’s desk, her eyes carefully gauging Minjeong’s reaction.

They had a group project to do, and thankfully, the teacher let them choose their own partners.

Minjeong shrugged, her eyes drawn to her notebook as she finished her exercise. "I don't know, honestly."

Y/N nodded, her eyes intense. "My house?"

Minjeong paused for a moment to consider the proposition. They’d gone out together before, hung out during breaks, and after school. But being in Y/N’s house felt somehow more personal.

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, sure.”

Y/N's eyes brightened up as a smile took over her face.

It still felt like a double-edged sword. Like Minjeong had a price to pay to be hanging out with Y/N.

"Cool, I'll wait for you by your locker at the end of the day."

Y/N started to walk away, but Minjeong reached out for her hand. "I only finish classes at 10 today."

They had been hanging out four two months by then, Y/N knew Minjeong's schedule by heart.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and brushed a strand of Minjeong's hair behind her ear. "Don't worry about it."

By the time she reached her table, Y/N had already cursed herself out at least twenty times.

She needed to get a hold of herself.

Still, she couldn't help the excitement that took over her body. She was getting there. Slowly but surely, she was winning over Minjeong.

Y/N's classes ended at 5 PM that day, so she hung out around school while she waited. She went to the library, finished her homework, and even started on the group project. Who knows? Maybe if Minjeong saw that the project was well advanced, she'd agree to watch a movie. Or just talk.

By the time 10 PM came around, Y/N was wrapped up in her long coat, hands stuck in her pockets as she waited for Minjeong.

Minjeong arrived at 10:10, accompanied by a figure that had Y/N freezing up.

Jimin.

The student council president.

Her ex-girlfriend.

An ex-girlfriend that also seemed surprised at seeing Y/N.

"Oh, hi." Jimin tried to smile, turning to Minjeong with a gulp. "You didn't tell me your friend was her."

Minjeong stood there, hands in her hoodie pocket as she looked between Y/N and Jimin in confusion. "You two know each other?"

Jimin and Y/N's history was complicated, and Y/N hated thinking or talking about it. But it happened. She was her first love.

"Yeah," Jimin responded, her eyes glued on Y/N. "We were toge-"

"-It's a small school." Y/N barely looked back at Jimin. "Should we get going? It's a little late already."

Minjeong wasn't oblivious to the way Jimin and Y/N looked at each other. The air was thick with tension, and Y/N seemed oddly uncomfortable the whole time, her body language closed off.

Something was definitely going on, Minjeong couldn’t shake that feeling all the way to Y/N's house.

Once they reached their destination, Minjeong looked around curiously. Y/N didn’t mention that she was well off, but it was almost expected of her.

Popular girl at an elite school.

Minjeong wasn't surprised to be led to a mansion in Gangnam-gu.

It was lavish and spacious. Minjeong felt like she had to pay a tax just to look at the furniture.

"Your parents already sleeping?"

Y/N shook her head, leading the way upstairs to her room.

"My parents live in Dobong. I live with a few employees."

"Oh," Minjeong was surprised, but it seemed normal for Y/N. Was that a normal thing for rich people? "Why is that?"

Minjeong caught the way Y/N's shoulders tensed up for just a second. "For work."

She decided to not touch the subject again as they finally arrived at Y/N's room.

It was a tidy space. The bedroom was nice, cozy, and chic. Minjeong couldn’t help but wonder if it was even a room made for a teenager, though. It looked like the rooms Minjeong had seen at IKEA.

"I didn't know you were friends with Jimin," Y/N let out quietly, taking off her blazer and loosening her tie. She looked at Minjeong with soft but darker eyes than usual.

Minjeong was caught off guard, to say the least.

Her eyes followed Y/N's figure—she had never seen her without the blazer.

Y/N undid the top of her button-up shirt, and suddenly, Minjeong felt the need to look away.

"I- yeah. I eat and have a few classes with her sometimes. Met her on my first day at school."

Y/N nodded slowly, eyes following Minjeong as the short-haired girl looked around her room. 

She sat on her bed almost unmoving, back tensely upright. "Do you like her?"

Minjeong blinked at the question, her brain processing the words.

Did she like Jimin? She supposed she did. The other girl was nice and always helpful, plus she didn’t tease Minjeong about her past either.

She wasn't sure what prompted Y/N to ask, but Minjeong answered honestly.

"Yeah, she's nice. Why?"

"Nice in a way that makes you want to date her?"

The question had Minjeong's head snapping to Y/N, eyes wide.

"I- uh-" Minjeong swallowed hard, her cheeks heating up at the insinuation.

"We're just friends," she blurted out. "Why do you ask?"

Y/N let out a hum, eyes fixed on Minjeong, "Because I like you."

Minjeong's breath hitched when Y/N said those words. That was not what she’d been expecting to hear.

Her heart pounded in her ears, so loud it almost drowned out every other sound. She just stood there staring at Y/N, eyes wide.

After a few painfully silent moments, Minjeong found the voice to ask, "You what?"

Y/N looked down at her hands, fingers playing with each other as she gathered her words.

"I know we've only known each other for a few months, but I like you. I was wondering if you'd let me get to know you even better. Maybe get closer?"

"You...you want to date me?"

The words were barely a whisper, the disbelief evident in Minjeong's face and the way she looked at Y/N.

She was torn on what to say. Minjeong didn't want to get her hopes up again, but Y/N made her feel something.

Her body was screaming at her to say yes, but her mind was telling her to refuse.

Things had been awkward with Jimin. Minjeong was sure Y/N was hiding something from her. She was Y/N. No one like Y/N would ever want anything to do with Minjeong. There had to be another reason for all this.

Y/N smiled, "Well, yes, eventually. I'm not very traditional, but I would like to court you first, if you'd let me."

Minjeong's eyes dropped back down to her hands, her mind whirling with a multitude of possible outcomes.

What if it didn't work out? What if things exploded in their face and they couldn't even be friends anymore?

Did it matter?

It was just dating. It wasn't like Minjeong was agreeing to marry Y/N. If things went sideways, they could always break up and go back to being friends.

"I- could you give me a little time to think about it?"

Minjeong inwardly chastised herself as soon as the words escaped her mouth.

She had just rejected the most popular girl in school.

She had just rejected Y/N.

Well, sort of rejected, right?

Things weren't over. Minjeong just needed to think things over.

Y/N smiled as gently as always, "Of course. You have all the time in the world, Minjeong. I don't want to rush anything."

Minjeong felt like she could breathe so much easier after Y/N said that, as if a boulder had been lifted from her chest. She'd half expected Y/N to be mad or angry at her, but she was still smiling softly.

Not that Minjeong would know how to handle Y/N when she was angry. She couldn't even imagine it.

"Thank you," Minjeong whispered, her voice barely audible in Y/N's room but still loud enough to be heard. "I promise to get back to you soon."

It was Y/N's turn to feel her chest lightening up.

Things weren't ruined.

She hadn't ruined anything.

Minjeong just needed her time, and Y/N would give it to her.

She had been patient from the start, why wouldn't she be now?

"I appreciate that," Y/N patted the bed at her side. "Come here, let me show you the ideas I had for our project."

Minjeong didn't hesitate to indeed go sit by Y/N's side.

She still felt a little tense but it didn't take long for her to fully relax again.

After a good two hours of work, Minjeong turned around in Y/N's bed, eyes falling on a framed picture on the bedside table. It was Friday so they had all the time in the world to be lazy. Didn't matter how late it was. 

"You looked cute as a baby, you know?"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and she glanced at the direction Minjeong was staring.

There was a picture of her as a toddler, grinning at the camera with a cute and wide smile that showed off the four teeth she had at the time.

"Oh," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper and a soft smile on her face as she looked at the picture. "Did I?"

She was feeling embarrassed that Minjeong was looking at it. "I don't have many pictures with them, so I keep that one there."

Minjeong nodded quietly, her eyes never leaving Y/N's framed picture. She looked a lot different now, but Minjeong supposed that was true for everyone.

"You looked adorable," she added softly, her eyes glued to the toddler in the photo. It was a little strange to think how much had changed in Y/N's life since then, but Minjeong didn't dwell on it much.

"Do you miss them?" She finally asked, tilting her head to the side slightly as her eyes turned to Y/N.

"Sometimes," Y/N shrugged. It's not like they were dead, she just didn't see them a lot. "It gets harder during the holidays. I was close to my mother, but she's been very... involved in my father's work, so yeah."

"That must be hard..." Minjeong sighed, her eyebrows furrowing in thought.

She couldn't fathom the idea of being away from her own parents.

Withdrawing her eyes from the picture frame, Minjeong scooted a little closer to Y/N. "You know," she spoke softly, "You can always come hang out at my house during the holidays."

"I couldn't possibly bother you... or your family," Y/N shook her head, a small smile rising to her face.

The truth was that Y/N didn't really have a family, and as cold and impersonal as her parents were, they had always given her everything she would need or ask for.

She couldn't complain about anything, but at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder sometimes what it would feel like to have a cozy, warm house instead of a huge empty mansion. Not having to eat alone during Christmas morning.

The idea of Y/N spending the holidays with her was a strange one. Minjeong was just starting to get used to the idea of dating. Her heart beat faster at the mere thought of bringing Y/N around her family.

She'd just have to talk to them first. It wouldn't be too hard, her mother had been asking about Y/N ever since Minjeong first brought her up.

But Minjeong didn't want to get ahead of herself. She was still trying to decide how to respond to Y/N's confession.

Still, she did feel good about the idea of having Y/N around.

"Are you kidding me? My parents would love you more than they love me. I can already picture them serving you first and leaving my siblings and I for last."

Y/N rolled her eyes softly, knowing that Minjeong was just teasing her.

"We'll see where things go and maybe I'll drop by to bring your parents a Christmas gift."

Christmas wasn't that far away, but Minjeong hadn't expected Y/N to even think about buying her family anything. She didn't even know them.

"Oh wow, you're getting my parents a gift but not me?"

A teasing smile appeared on Y/N's face, "They're the ones I want to impress."

Minjeong gasped at Y/N's teasing. She playfully hit the other girl, her own teasing smile on her face. "Are you saying my opinion doesn't matter?" she asked in mock hurt.

Minjeong couldn't deny that it did make her happy.

Y/N didn't have to like her family, but she was still going out of her way to do something nice. Minjeong appreciated it a lot, even if Y/N had a tendency to make her flustered.

"I'm saying their opinion matters more."

Minjeong laughed at that, her eyes crinkling up as she did. "I'm sure they'll like you as much as I do," she said sincerely without thinking about the words.

A beat after the words left her mouth, Minjeong froze. "I just mean..." She cleared her throat. "That you're cool and nice."

"Oh..." Y/N pretended to be flattered. "I'm cool and nice. Who would've thought?"

"I didn't realize you could make jokes," Minjeong shot back teasingly.

"Hilarious."

She liked this, the playful back and forth. She felt comfortable, talking about anything and everything with Y/N.

But there was always the hint in the back of her mind, telling her that there was more to it.

So, she decided to get to the end of the story and brought the topic up during lunch with Jimin, only a few days later. 

"So, what really happened between you and Y/N?"

That caught everyone's attention.

Ning was quick to gulp, eyes drawn on Jimin, and Yunjin almost spat her food out.

Minjeong wasn't expecting that reaction. 

Was the question that bad?

She hesitated, turning to Jimin with a look that screamed 'you don't have to answer if you don't want to'. 

After recollecting her thoughts, Jimin cleared her throat and spoke up. "We dated for two years. Broke up four months ago."

"They were like- the IT couple of the school. It was kind of funny." Ning shook her head, eyes soft and sad as she looked down at the table. 

The group missed Y/N, Aeri, and Chaewon. They had separated from each other after the breakup. Sides were taken. Mistakes were made.

Minjeong wasn’t sure what answer she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Two years. That was a long time, longer than she had imagined. And the fact that they’d only broken up four months ago? It seemed...recent.

Minjeong felt her heart tighten as she listened intently to Jimin. She had a lot of questions, and now that the topic was brought up, might as well ask. "Why'd you two break up?"

The curiosity was getting the better of her. Minjeong had no intention whatsoever of being involved in a love triangle drama. That was the last thing she needed to be associated with.

"Well, I realised I just couldn't associate myself with people like her or her family. It was a moral thing." Jimin spoke about it in a light way, but something about her expression told Minjeong she was still grieving her relationship.

Minjeong nodded at the answer, unsure of how to respond. She glanced over at her friends seated around her, her gaze falling back on Jimin with an uneasy smile. "What's wrong with Y/N and her family?"

"You know, I didn't want to be the one telling you this, but I think it's only fair to you." Jimin sighed. She knew Minjeong went to Y/N's house the other day- being honest was the right thing to do. "Y/N's father is the mayor of Seoul. Those rumors about him being in charge of building your last school are true. Him and his family are just doing their very best to bury the scandal since he's going to run for presidency next year."

"My last school?" Minjeong's voice was soft, throat suddenly dry.

The cheaper but toxic materials used to build the school. The deaths of her friends. Taeyu.

That was all because of Y/N's father.

...and Y/N knew.

Y/N knew all along, didn't she?

All the attention.

All the gifts.

The stupid sandwiches Y/N gave her.

Y/N being nice to her when she didn’t really need to.

It all played back in her mind, over and over again.

Minjeong felt like the biggest fool in the world.

What was she?

Some sort of pity project to Y/N? Was she just being made fun of all along?

Her chest tightened painfully, and she felt the overwhelming need to get away.

Minjeong cleared her throat and stood up from her seat, her chair scraping against the floor. “Excuse me,” she said quietly. 

She didn’t wait for a response.

[amphibiahawks321]

Fem alastor x angle reader that was her husband when she was alive

Charlie : I've never seen Alastor... This quiet before...

[Husk sipping his drink]

Husk : She just found out her husband is gonna visit the hotel, she's an absolute pain in the ass but I can't blame her....

[Cut to Alastor that seems to be pacing slowly in the lounge, her with a grin that seems to have a hint of.... Nervousness]

Charlie : why doesn't she seem excited, she always talks about how Y/N was such a loving person!

[Husk shrugs, muttering under his breath]

Husk : Guess even the Radio Demon has her soft spots, Who knew....–

[The door suddenly creaks open, an angelic figure steps in, his presence immediately draws attention as he is astonished by the hotel's decor]

[Charlie immediately walks up to Y/N and starts shaking his hand viciously]

Charlie : You must be Y/N! It's an absolute pleasure meeting you!

AngelM!Reader : Chuckles.... The pleasures all mine!

Angel : Well, well, would ya look at that! Heaven’s finest just walked in

[The staf gathers in the lobby as you step inside, Y/N's white wings shimmer faintly, and your kind smile instantly fills the space, Nifty walks around Y/N excitedly]

Nifty : How do you keep this thing so SOFT!?

Angel : Careful Nifty, you’re gonna scare the guy off with all that energy

AngelM!Reader : Chuckles... Aww, thanks for the warm welcome you all! i—......

[Y/N went silence mid sentence as he locks eyes with Alastor near the corner, Y/N Excuse himself from the staf as he walks up to Alastor]

AngelM!Reader : Hey, dear...

[Alastor freezes when she hears Y/N talks, For a moment her usual facade falters almost completely]

AngelM!Reader : Still causing chaos huh?

Fem!Alastor : Chaos? Me? Oh dearest, you know I'm as harmless as a lamb

[Y/N let out a short chuckle, stepping closer as his voice now being calm]

AngelM!Reader : Harmless? Say that to our neighbor who always has to see you bring your cooking experiments to barbecue parties

Fem!Alastor : HA! Excuse me, those were culinary masterpieces, They were the ones who couldn't handle my creativity

[Alastor stepping closer to Y/N with her usual grin but now..... with a genuine grin]

AngelM!Reader : Chuckles... Creativity? You're "creativity" nearly burned down our kitchen y'know

[The rest watches in stunned silence seeing both of them Sharing some laughs, as they see the radio demon seems almost... Soft]

Fem!Alastor : ....I didn't think you'd actually come...

AngelM!Reader : Me too... But... I couldn't stay away too long from you... I know I'm probably not of much importance to you anymore especially in this place.... but–

Fem!Alastor : No....

AngelM!Reader : ......

Fem!Alastor : I missed your presence.... I didn't even think you would wanna even consider my existence the moment you enter up there

AngelM!Reader : Even in heaven, my thoughts were full on how you are doing down here....

Fem!Alastor : I've changed too much, you know.... I'm not the woman you married the moment on earth when you saw my heinous secret... The face of despaired, betrayed and disgusted you made can make any sinners feel guilty....

[Y/N stepping closer, gently taking her hand despite the claws she now bears]

AngelM!Reader : And Yet I still see the same woman who danced with me under the stars and laughed like the world didn’t matter...

Fem!Alastor : you certainly haven’t changed much, Still as irritatingly radiant as ever....

[For a moment, the room is silent as the two gaze at each other, Then Alastor’s composure cracks, she places her staff against a chair and walks close to Y/N, wrap her arms around Y/N in a tight embrace, The staf gasps in unison, shocked seeing the composed Radio Demon showing such emotion]

Fem!Alastor : You really are an angel, aren't you? My angel... Maybe.... one day....–

[Y/N wraps his wings around Alastor as he returned the hug tightly with a bit of tears Rolling down his cheek]

AngelM!Reader : Ssssshh... I know... I know you barely have hopes of it actually happening but... Knowing you have just the slightest tiny specks of hope is already making me feel warm...

[The staf exchanges glances, some smiling, others looking away to give you both a moment of privacy, Charlie obviously is clapping her hands together viciously]

Charlie : that is so sweet! I knew there was a sweet side to her!

Angel : Come on, Al! You’ve been talking about this guy forever, Say something cute! like ‘Oh, my darling, I waited so long for you!’ or some crap like that!—

[Angel suddenly stops as he notices Alastor staring at him directly in the eyes, Angel’s smug grin falters as he notices the change in her demeanor completely, her eyes gleaming dark red]

[within seconds Y/N immediately saw the shift in her mood and in an instant starts petting her hair repeatedly, calming her down from basically Killing angel on the spot]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! I'm trying to get into writing twst fanfiction, but I'm having some trouble with keeping the boys in-character. What do you think are their base traits? Like, what's the foundation of their personalities?

Hello! I spent a long time debating about whether to respond to this ask or not. Ultimately, a lot of the thoughts I would include in my response are the same as what I have already expressed here. However, I've noticed that this has become sort of a recurring issue, so I'd like to address this more seriously.

I've recently been getting a lot of people requesting that I basically tell them how to write the Twst characters. Tens and tens of them, in fact (too many to include all in one post). Sometimes it's an ask like, "please list out strengths/weaknesses or a summary of their character traits", and sometimes it's more specific like, "here is a prompt I am working on; how do you think [character] would act in this situation?" I'm NOT comfortable with either type of ask and refuse to answer asks of this nature.

I want to be clear: this is NOT the same as asking for general writing advice; this is literally just asking to be spoon-fed the answers. There is a difference between seeking advice on how to overcome writer's block or asking what are techniques to show, don't tell (which is general writing advice) versus asking someone to specifically instruct them on how to write Leona Kingscholar from the hit Disney mobile game Twisted Wonderland. The former is okay with me, while the latter is not.

While I am flattered that people care about my opinion and hold it in high regard, I am not here to be a cheat sheet, and nor are my opinions the "most correct". There is no single "correct" way to write a character, and even if there was, it's certainly not mine. Only the Twst devs themselves are the "most correct", as whatever they produce is what ends up as canon.

As I have said in my previous post on this topic, having someone else tell you how to write does little to help you. Writing is a skill, and skills are not inherent. They are something you train in, practice, and learn. Looking at a bunch of adjectives will not help you write or understand the characters any better than you currently do. If anything, it just means you don’t develop or practice your critical analysis skills. In a worse-case scenario, it devalues what a writer does, as it places the burden on them to condense what they know into a laundry list of characterization--as if it doesn't take us tons of time to hone those writing skills. The only real way to get the results you want is to do your own research, develop your own interpretations, and practice, practice, practice. There is no magic pill or shortcut or streamlining or easy way to do it and come out with a quality result. You have to be willing to put in the time and the effort to learn a skill, and that extends to writing, be it for this fandom, another fandom, or even for non-fandom writing. Think about it like this: when you're writing a good research paper, do you go and ask a single other source to gather all your data and summarize it for you? Of course not. You have to go out and manually collect the resources, do the reading, take notes, and gain an understanding of those resources. Then you use your newfound knowledge to summarize and to synthesize your own conclusions in your research paper. The same logic applies for writing in fandom.

I'm not sure why there is this sudden interest in shortcuts. Is it social media shortening our attention spans? Is it the rise of A.I. like ChatGPT making people more reliant on and more comfortable with summaries? Is it that people are concerned with nailing characterization or instant success the first time around? Is it that the internet's so much crueler with comments + feedback that we want to avoid OOC-ness as much as possible? Is it that I just so happen to like talking about character analysis so people think I must know everything? It could be any of these reasons or a combination of them--but whatever the reasoning is, it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It's concerning to me that it seems like people are becoming less and less interested in thinking for themselves and instead are increasingly reliant on others telling them how to create. You NEED to fail and get stuff wrong. You NEED to be able to have the courage to try things on your own. Don't be afraid of failure--failure isn't inherently a bad thing, it is how we learn, grow, and shape our own styles and ways of thinking! I definitely was not perfect when I first started out. I had to fail and stumble and struggle to get my craft to where it is today. So did every single one of your favorite creators. Artists had stick figures, writers had their first words. No artist or writer started off making masterpieces. Arguably, they still don't. Every creator is continuously learning and trying to improve their craft. It's not as though they hit perfection one day and decided to stay stagnant. I feel that it devalues what we make when we try to boil down all the skill we've developed into easy "answer keys" for others to digest. Again, you can ask all you want and seek out as many shortcuts as you like, but that's not going to be properly absorbed into your brain unless you walk the walk for yourself. You can't assume that learning these things will be as easy as reading a summary, memorizing a tutorial, figuring out what brush someone uses, etc.--it wasn't for the people you're asking for this advice from either. Failing is normal and expected. You will also never be able to create something that pleases everyone or something that everyone agrees with--so instead of trying to appeal to an unseen audience, please focus on creating what makes you happy. You have your own creative journeys ahead of you, so don't be scared to walk that road! It can be tough and you'll hit roadblocks and challenges--but overcome them, and you'll become even stronger and more skilled than you were before.

Best of luck!

[chevxyn]

CONFLICT = CHEMISTRY!

in which, you and sae got into a lil conflict outside a football stadium & the paparazzi’s made a false statement that the two of you are dating.

an itoshi sae smau series.

mature language, written + two attachments, english is not my first language, i apologize for grammatical mistakes.

act i, ep 001 : encounter | next part

wc : 540+

ITOSHI SAE, walked out of the stadium through the back door. It sucked, as his team looked like they were gonna lose 2-3, he needed a breather. And the nearby park was the perfect place to do so. It was quiet, and not alot of people was there due to most of them being in the stadium for the match.

At that same park, another person, that had just picked their coffee from a park vendor was walking the opposite direction from Sae. They were focused on their drink that wasn’t closed properly.

Now, Sae, he wasn’t really paying attention. As he was still dissatisfied with the current situation, he hated the fact that he was not allowed to play at that time due to a minor injury from training. If he did, he believed that his team wouldn’t have the disadvantage.

And, because he wasn’t paying said attention; he bumped into you. Which made you fall to the ground as your coffee spilled over the paved path. Sae stopped as he just looked at you.

Rather than thinking that he should help you, he just thought that you were another one of his crazy fans that did this for his attention. So what did he do? He looked back to his way and walked.

You, took a glance at your spilled coffee, and the way he just ignored you. You stood up and stared at the back of the guy who just bumped into you as he walked away. ‘Did he just.. ignore me?’ Oh, you are NOT taking this lightly.

So, you went after him. walking a little fast to catch him and his attention. “Hey!” you called out, your tone was raised to replicate a stern voice but Sae just ignored it once more.

‘Oh this guy does not know how to be polite.’ You thought, and then your pace went faster. “Oi!” still Sae didn’t budge. You got pissed and, you kinda picked up the speed and as you were about to grab him— well, you tripped.

‘Whoops.’ And what makes it worse? You kinda tackled him down with you. And you both rolled the small hill that was used for picnics and hang outs.

When the two of you stopped rolling, he was on top of you as his forehead bumped into yours. And when you looked at him. You locked eyes with his somewhat familiar teal ones.

He was handsome, you admit. Unfortunately, his personality is an ass. And you noticed another thing; his lashes were as pretty as someone you knew well, makes you wonder if they’re related. But you didn’t think so.

Around three seconds after you both realize your position, he immediately got off of you, and you stood up. But before he could complain, you quite literally ran away, which resulted him looking at you weird from a distance.

At this point you didn’t care about the pain from the result of you rolling from that hill. Your embarrassment is the one’s at stake here. You just hoped to the Gods that noone saw that.

Sae’s mind was conflicted. He rubbed his forehead, as he thought that ‘fan’ was crazy. First of all, bumping towards him, and then tackling him down to the grass? What a joke. He just hopes he would never see that person ever again.

What the two of them didn’t realize? A camera’s flash clicked at that moment of embarrassment.

taglist (open) : @vaelils, @levihanmyotp, @kaz-0e, @jaeyuuns, @narcjsistx, @sxftiebee, @tojirin, @nensi, @banzaitaka

©chevxyn

[wolftarotcrafts]

What is coming towards you in love? Let's find out! Soon I will post another tarot reading on how your relationship may deepen for those in relationships already.

I also just want to say thank you for the support on my other tarot readings I have posted on here. It means a lot to see that my readings have resonated with people. And if you missed those readings and want to check them out, you can go to my page, and I will link them at the end.

I also have started setting up my Ko-Fi, so I will make a separate post on that if anyone is curious about personal readings. Please enjoy the readings.

Pile One:

Oooooooh, pile one. You have got some good things coming in. In terms of what you can expect, I see you meeting the one who you will get married to and start a life with. This is the person who is going to commit to you. I see you guys have kissed frogs and have been patiently waiting for your person. I see that the patience is finally going to pay off because on the horizon I see them arriving. I see you have been focused on yourself and really taking time for you. You are ready to receive what you want. I see it's just within reach. I see some of you are powerful manifesters and may have manifested your person with a spell or vision board. I say refresh the manifestation and make another little list of the qualities and traits you want your person to have and be specific. Use your power pile one and get ready because they are coming. 

Signs: Colored hair, Pink, Red, Purple, Black hair, Straight hair, Ocean, boats, Port, Fall, Seattle, Movie-10 Things I Hate About You, Seattle, Sunrise, Tomorrow-Annie, sunshine, light-hearted, Manifestation, Vision board, Songs, Winter, Dec, 18, In a few months, In a few days, Cancer, Virgo, Sagittarius, 1212, Leap of faith, Jack, Fernanda, Ashly, Laura.

Pile Two:

Hey pile two. I feel you guys are kind of in your own world. Many of you are young, like in high school, or just really carefree and youthful. I see you guys are just having fun and living the best life you can. I see there are two possible situations. I see that some people may have a crush on you, and you don't even know it. I see them admiring from afar. I see them finally gaining the courage to talk to you and ask you out. I also see another situation where some of you like someone, and you are observing them, and they are mirroring you and doing the same with another person. I then see you guys somehow come together and start liking each other. 

Signs: 6, 12, 19, 22, 26, 29, Aries, Aquarius, Brown hair, Orange, Tattoos, Smart, May, Asia, "Hi," Isaac, Swimming, Messages, hanging out with friends, Daylight Harry Styles, Hold On, We're Going Home- Drake,

Pile Three:

Hey pile three. I am sending you good vibes and all the love. Pile three I am not going to lie. There are some bad vibes here. Make sure you are careful with who you surround yourself with and who you tell your secrets to. I see there are some snakes around you. I see there is going to be some conflict, and you might get heartbroken, and there might be some deception going on. Some of you might know who I am talking about and just ignore the red flags, but listen, it's only going to hurt you in the end. Do not ignore the red flags. Pay attention to your surroundings and who you are with. Not everyone has your best interest at heart. Just guard yourself a little pile three. I know this was supposed to be about love, so one of your friends may take your crush or something like that to hurt you, but again be on the lookout. I'm sending you hugs, pile three.🫂❤️‍🩹

Signs: 18, C, A, I Sneaky, Secrets, Drama, Backstabber, Gossip, Gemini, Sagittarius, "Friends," Alex, Alexander, Adam, Andrea, Cassandra, Cassie, July, Sad songs Wildflower-Billie Eilish

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

I have started working on my Ko-Fi, so more news on that is coming. Disregard the Etsy link.

Other Tarot Readings

Future Spouse PAC (Appearance)

Future Spouse PAC (Personality)

Advice-What you need to hear

Spirit Guide Reading

Again, thank you for the support!

[kingofthewilderwest]

Viola is the most gorgeous-sounding instrument on the planet, but how I became a violist in music school is one of the dumber sets of circumstances I’ve had in music life. You’ve heard of the violinist to violist pipeline? Get ready for… another level beyond THAT.

Guys, I’m a flautist.

And I’m not, like, a slouch on flute? I’m no queen toot toot but I know which end you blow out of. In high school, I was competitive. Nothing extraordinary, but I did all the honor ensembles and made first chair flute All State Orchestra. Ahhh, the memories! XD

I came into my freshman year of college as a philosophy and linguistics double-major, then quickly realized I NEEEEDED formal music again. I was crawling up the walls. I was writhing on the floors. I was ready to eat wallpaper. I was prepared to do anything to get back into the music world.

So in my sophomore year I added music composition as a degree.

I auditioned in with piano and flute as my mains. In addition to the private composition lessons, I was signed up for private piano lessons (flute slots were limited to people getting a degree in flute - understandable enough).

But then came ensemble requirements. Something you’d think would be the easiest and most flexible thing to take care of. This was a good school. Please, not Curtis or Julliard or a conservatory or something, but a good school. We had LOTS of ensembles. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, grab an ensemble and go, right?

Naw.

To graduate, we had to enroll in one ensemble every semester. You couldn’t double up to complete the requirement faster and it had to be on your primary instrument. I was already at a disadvantage because I was doing the degree in three years. Thankfulllly, thankfully, the administration gave me an exception and allowed me to double up for credits.

Didn’t solve all my issues, though. Because here’s the thing: everyone in the flute studio could play circles around me. A composition major without flute instruction is not going to be able to compete with a performance major learning from some of the best people in the country.

So. By their own rules. I could neither get lessons on my primary nor would I have the chance of auditioning into a single ensemble on my primary.

This meant the only ensemble I could get into was the non-audition, lowest tier band. And because there was marching band during fall semesters, that meant the lowest tier band only met in the spring. So that gave me… 3 out of the 8 ensemble credits I needed on my primary.

And I’m looking at the administration, like, “Dudes, you have to work with me. Not getting my degree because I can’t get a few 1 credit ensemble courses is bat guano.” But my other primary, piano, was even more limited for ensemble credit options. What to do? What to do?

Well. In high school. I had a viola teacher. Sort of. I mean, I dated her. She offered to teach me viola during the summers, I paid her a little cash, and we more often than not paid attention to the viola before paying attention to other matters.

Humorous description aside, we were classmates in the same grade. We just happened to make a viola lesson arrangement within our broader relationship. This wasn't the only time we made such arrangements; I later taught her younger sister flute. And like, lessons were a convenient way to meet regularly without our families cuing in on our non-viola relationship.

We had a nasty falling out. So nasty. We were dumb. I was dumb. Don’t need to get into details. But I got two summers’ worth of viola lessons out of this and I owned a cheap@$$ viola I bought secondhand for $100 USD.

So. With my grand total of less than a year of “formal” [cough] viola instruction, where I could barely aim my bow at the correct string, I suggested This Great Music College should accept viola for my ensemble credits. Then I could enroll in the non-audition orchestra. Which, unlike its band counterpart, DID meet every semester. So, between the 3 ensemble credits for band and the 6 ensemble credits of orchestra, I COULD get my required 8+ credits acquired.

This plan was agreed upon.

So now I’m a flautist officially turned violist. A viola-approximate pestilence they can’t get rid of. Every semester they have to hear my yowling and know this is the grave of their own making. We must lie in it. I am second desk viola, not because of merit, but because I’m a music major, and I guess that meant I got preference. I did their optional chair auditions, they accepted that as "good enough," now here I am near the front. I am not where I should be. At all. Last year I was playing the flute solo of Dvorak's Eighth. Now I'm on Dvorak's Eighth near the front of the violas. What.

My problems were ended, though, right? I got what I wanted, right?

Well. There’s one final stupidity in this venture.

You see..... my “viola teacher.” My ex-partner. My now-turned-enemy. Had also enrolled in this college.

And was our section leader.

[justastraymoa]

Yet Unnamed

Chapter 4

masterlist

Korean is in italics

Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

************************************************************************

"I gave you the night. It's time to go public with her." JYP stated.

"You go public, and you will destroy yourself and Stray Kids, dumbass." You snapped. You had literally just established this with the others and were not feeling generous enough to have it again.

"Whether you like it or not you are contracted to JYPE. Best get over it."

"You drugged me and had me sign the contract! I do not have anything to do with JYPE!"

"Think again, honey. You signed the same contract Stray Kids signed. You are legally ours."

You gag at the pet name coming from that man's mouth.

"It won't stick. I'll tell them I was drugged. There is enough physical evidence on me to be believed." You pointed out.

JYP smirked. "You tell them that and you will be single handedly responsible for the downfall of Stray Kids. You willing to do that?"

You purse your lips and glare at him. He had you cornered, and he damn well knew it. He knew what he was doing from the very beginning. But what was his plan to get around the media finding out anyways? Or did he think he was so powerful he could make it all dissapear?

"No." Chan said firmly.

"What do you mean no? I assure you; it very much will end you. If not by media, then by me." JYP threatened.

"I don't care. You will not blackmail Y/n."

You blinked, shocked by this turn and his declaration. Looking around, it seemed like everyone was in agreement with him too.

"You would give all this up. For her?" JYP asked in disbalief.

Hyunjin stepped forward. "You underestimate our soul bond. You have done enough to her. No more."

JYP was stunned into silence. There was no way he saw this coming. You didn't even see this coming! You only just met them, yet they are willing to give up everything for you.

This whole fucking ordeal is absolutely insane. From the very beginning. What even was your life right now? This was a lose-lose situation. Either you get blackmailed into working as JYPs slave and risk the media finding out. Or Stray Kids stands against JYP for you. Either way Stray Kids are done for. Unless somehow the media never finds out the truth.

There had to be a way to head the media off at the pass. You have a degree in business with a specialty in social media and production. If anyone could do it, it was someone like you.

You gasped. You had an idea. "Let's renegotiate the contract JYP." You crossed your arms and half smirked, a plan forming that would benefit all involved.

Lee Know placed a hand on your arm. "You don't need to do that, Y/n. We have your back." He hummed quietly.

You laced your fingers with his. "I appreciate it so much. However, I think I can fix all our problems."

"And how are you going to do that?" JYP challenged.

"You really should have paid more attention to my profile when you hunted me down. I am a social media expert. Given time and the right resources, I can manipulate the facts in our favor."

"What does that mean?" Chan asked.

You smiled, giddy. You couldn't believe you were actually going to do this. "It means, if JYP will meet my terms, I won't have to hide."

"We can show you off?" Felix asked, hope overflowing his entire body.

"What do you say JYP? Tear up that sham of a contract you drugged me into signing and work with me on a new one?"

~

An hour and a half later you were wearing a pair of Hans jeans with a belt and a sweatshirt from I.N. You and Chan sat at a table in a conference room of JYPE way too similar to the room you woke up in just the day before. You eyed the couch warily as you settled in across from JYP and his big shot legal guy.

Chan would be able to help you negotiate a good contract and navigate all the tricky wording. He was a pro at this by now. Or well, better than you were at least.

It took 7 hours of going back and forth. You were not budging on your demands. You weren’t asking for anything outrageous. After what JYP did, he could bend a little for your requests. It was literally the bare fucking minimum.

The craziest thing you were asking for was to be solely in charge of all Stray Kids social media. Both solo accounts and group accounts. Even what went on JYPE pages. And every aspect that went into the posts or on any type of media.

This was part of your plan to head off anyone finding out your origin story. Plus, it gave you a job and a place here, so you weren’t just dead weight getting in people’s way or mooching off everyone. It was also the main demand that JYP was against. He didn’t want to give up that power. You weren’t going to let him keep it. It was now a game of who was going to give in first. And you were one stubborn son of a bitch.

Your heart also hadn’t stopped racing since negotiation began. Chan gripped your cold hand the entire time, not saying a word when adrenaline made your hands sweaty and start to shake. That was the only outward indication of your panic. With tremendous effort you kept your voice steady and firm the entire day.

The other members trickled in one by one as they finished up with their days, starting with Seungmin. They were interested in what was going on and even put in their own opinions at times. But mostly they made themselves comfortable and were just happy to be nearby.

In the end, JYP caved, and we reached an agreement. A terrifying, binding, agreement that was bigger than anything I ever thought I would be a part of in this lifetime.

As such you were now officially the ninth member of the Stray Kids soul group.

“I cannot believe I did this.” You whispered when JYP and his mucky much left with their copy of the new contract, your copy under the fingers of the hand Chan was not holding.

“Do you have regrets?” Chan asked quietly. There was excited chatter around the room from the others now that it was official, and you were able to go with them and not have to be hidden or blackmailed.

You pulled Chan’s hand into your lap and drew your knees up to curl around it. “More freaking out. I have never done something this huge. Or stood up to someone so huge either. I’m not sure what came over me.”

He squeezed your hand where they were both now hidden. “You did fucking amazing. And we have your back.”

Lee Know sidled up to your other side and rested his forehead on your shoulder. “Thank you. For fighting.” He whispered.

In the chaos that followed you had forgotten what happened this morning. You were so happy you wouldn’t be the cause of anyone’s pain. Lee Know snapping this morning absolutely broke your heart.

You reached up to scratch his scalp. “That’s not something you should be thanking me for.” Even though it was for the right reasons, even talking about separating and keeping me hidden caused your soulmates pain. You had caused them pain.

~

Back at the apartment the things you had requested the personal shopper get you had been delivered. And that brought up another issue that needed to be addressed.

“I am not going to permanently steal your room, Chan. I can set up a roll out in the living room and borrow some drawers.” You gesture towards the living room as you talk. Though you were sure eventually you would be close enough to all of them that you could sleep in whoever’s bed for a night or two and they wouldn’t care.

But Chan was already shaking his head before you even finished. “No. The arrangement we have works great. No way are you sleeping on a roll out.”

“Stay in the room you are in. We are all always sleeping in each other’s beds anyways, but you are the only girl. You should have your own space and your own bathroom.” Hyunjin pointed out.

Oh fuck. You were surrounded by 8 men. You are so fucked. The number of farts you were going to have to put up with on a daily basis alone was staggering!

“You know what. I’m exhausted from looking and talking with JYPs ugly ass all day, so I don’t care. I want cuddles. Who is going to cuddle me?” You asked. If you were going to do this whole soul bond thing, you were not about to do it half assed or slowly. That sounded exhausting. You’re all in. And that means your needy ass wants cuddles.

You spin on your heel and go to the living room, grabbing every pillow and blanket you could see, you piled it all up on the floor and turned on the TV.

Behind you a hushed argument was happening between the others.

“You two got to cuddle her last night!”

“Lee Know got time with her this morning after his temper tantrum.”

“Yah, fuck you!”

“Chan spent all day with her!”

"Negotiating her contract. That hardly counts!”

“You held her hand!”

“She was panicking!”

“What? She was?”

“She didn’t seem like it.”

“Trust me, she was.”

“Wow. I am impressed.”

“She did stand up to JYP.”

“You should have heard her yesterday. She looked him square in the eye, told him she didn’t like him, then called his bluff afterward!”

“Yeah, and she said she got those bruises because she broke out of her restraints. Twice.”

You sigh. They had gotten off track. “I’m awfully cold and lonely over here!” You call to them.

“Okay, okay. So, Innie, Seungmin, or Hyunjin. They are the only ones who haven’t gotten to spend a lot of time with her yet.”

“Take turns?”

“Youngest first.”

I.N finally joined you in the living room, looking awkward. You smiled gently at him from your nest of comfort.

“Do I…Do I just grab you?” He asked.

You tried not to laugh at him. He was very cute. Very unsure. “Do you want to cuddle. I won’t take offense.” You had to be sure he wasn’t just doing it because you had asked for cuddles.

His face screwed up a bit. “I want to be close. Can I just use your belly as a pillow?”

You got more comfortable and patted your stomach in invitation, quietly hoping it wouldn’t make any weird sounds when I.N had his ear pressed up against it.

“J-Jinnie can cuddle you.” He hesitated now for some reason.

You shake your head. “It’s your turn. C’mon, little bug.” You coax.

I.N blushed lightly and curled up next to you, gently laying his head on your stomach. Immediately you buried your fingers in his hair, twisting strands absently as you flipped through channels on the TV.

The others joined you a few seconds later, all finding their places around the room. Draping over chairs, couches, and each other.

Sometime later, from a cue you didn’t see or hear, I.N rolled off you and Hyunjin laid next to you, half his body on top of yours. One leg and one arm thrown over you and face in your neck. You giggle and squirm as his breath tickled down your skin.

“Mm, sorry. I just pushed through the awkward and went for it.” He explained. He shifted a bit closer, and his breath no longer tickled.

You wrapped both arms around his ribs tightly. “S’kay. I understand. Are you comfortable?”

Hyunjin hummed in affirmation. You gently traced shaped on his back with your fingertips. I.N still lay next to you, just no longer using your stomach as a pillow, instead he was using his own arm. You couldn’t see his face, but you were pretty sure he was at least half asleep. You fold one of the blankets you were laying on over his legs so he wouldn’t get chilled without our shared body heat.

Hyunjin was warm enough on his own to keep us both warm. He was playing on a phone absently as we relaxed. Everyone was quietly doing their own things, just enjoying the moment. Every once in a while, there were murmurs as they chatted or a video playing softly on their phones.

Then Hyunjin handed you the phone he had been on suddenly. “We all entered our number and socials for you already. And you are hooked to our shared calendar.” He told me in explanation.

You had honestly forgotten you were getting a phone. You had no idea what they did with the old one when they took you, you would need to cancel it anyway. Who knew if it would even work over here. And if it did what kind of massive charges it would incur.

Slowly, with one hand, you begin setting up your new phone to your preferences and logging into everything of yours.

“Hey look.” You said lifting the phone up and snapping a pic of you and Hyunjin as soon as he looked.

He watched as you set it as his contact photo. “I look awful.” He grumbled.

“You look cute and squishy.” You liked the photo. It was soft and authentic. No practiced or rehearsed looks or smiles. Just the two of you.

You would eventually get one of everyone, Hyunjin just happened to be right here and looking so photogenic.

“You are in charge of announcing yourself to the world now. Do you have a plan?” Chan asked.

If you were honest, not really. More half-baked ideas and a final goal. “That’s tomorrow’s issue. Today I need to book a plane ticket to my apartment.” Meaning you needed to go back and pack up, transfer everything to Korea, sell shit off, etc.

Hyunjins head popped up and several others moved towards me. “You’re leaving?” Felix asked.

“Did you think I would just leave everything behind?” You were confused about their reactions.

“But you’re coming back.” Hyunjin asked to confirm.

Oh! “Yes! I’m sorry, yes, I’m coming back. I just need to pack my things and tie up loose ends.” You assured them all. Reaching up you brushed away Hyunjins hair.

The room palpably relaxed. You needed to be more careful. It seems like they are a little attached to you right now. And you understood the feeling. If you could, you would stay with them, but there were things back at the apartment you couldn’t just abandon. Being apart would hurt, but it was necessary. And hopefully the last time you would need to be apart for a while.

“We can go with you.” Chan suggested.

You shook your read and pulled up the shared calendar on your new phone. The schedule for everyone was full to the brim for the following week and more. “You have things you have promised to be at.”

“We can cancel. We canceled several things yesterday and today.”

“And it’s starting to get suspicious. I need to stay hidden until I can get the plan in motion or none of this will work. And I don’t officially take over your socials and start enacting the plan for a little while yet while the things that are already in motion finish up.” You pulled Hyunjin back down to cuddle, he went easily enough.

“Why not take one or two of us then?” Han suggested. You knew none of them would mind joining you in the least.

“Are you worried about me, or are you worried I won’t come back?” You were sort of teasing them. You knew there would be a small part of them that would worry you would leave them for a long time yet. It was natural. Just like how you worried they wouldn’t like what you brought to the group, and they would ask you to leave.

You hit confirmation on your two-way ticket purchase. “I’ll be back in 2 weeks.” You told them before anyone could try and answer your teasing question.

“Two weeks!” Several voices nearly shouted.

You sighed. “Even though I was probably fired, I did have a job. I should at least try and give them a two week notice to find a replacement. Plus, I can’t pack up and sell my entire life in a day. Two weeks will be crazy enough!”

“Are you going to be anywhere near our fashion shows?” Felix asked. He and Hyunjin would be in New York to participate in several runway walks and appearances.

“It’s too far of a distance to drive and flying is just not feasible. You would get no rest and waste jet fuel in the process.”

Binnie pouted. “I don’t like it.”

Honestly, you didn’t either. You were hoping to get done sooner and dip a few days early, but you couldn’t be sure that would happen, so you didn’t even bring it up. Didn’t want to get their hopes up.

“When do you leave?” Chan asked sad but resigned.

“Early tomorrow afternoon.

“Move, Hyune. My turn.” Seungmin ordered. Instead of coming down to the floor with you, he pulled you onto the couch with him, settling you so you were laying on top of him, his thighs framing your hips and your head on his sternum. You relaxed into the embrace immediately. “Only have tonight, getting everything I can.” He grumbled.

Han scooted over and sat at my feet, placing a hand on my ankle and resting his head on my knee.

You open a new text, adding everyone and naming it ‘Nonet’ before sending a test text through and watching as one by one each member got the message and checked it. It’s not like they wouldn’t have a group chat eventually anyway. And you could keep in touch all day and night with this.

“Nonet. Good one.” Chan chuckled. You shrugged with a smirk at your own little joke.

“Texting won’t be enough! We just got you!” Binnie complained.

“We still have her, Bin. We ripped her from her life. Can’t just expect her to be able to start a new one right away and leave everything behind.” Lee Know explained from the other couch.

You opened your camera to get a profile picture of Seungmin, only to snap one of him making an ugly face at the camera. You snort and set it as his contact photo. “Just wait. I’ll post that on insta.” You threatened lightly.

“Nah, you won’t.”

“STAY would love it. Meme the shit out of it. You would never live it down.”

“It’s going to be interesting having you control our socials now. You think like STAY.” Lee Know mused. You wondered if he meant that as a good thing or a bad thing.

“I am STAY.” You point out.

“Not anymore. Now you’re one of us.”

That was vaguely creepy. “I’ll always be STAY.” I argued. It’s not like I just wasn’t a fan anymore just because I was in this soul group.

“No, he’s right, y/n. You will have your own fanbase now. You will need official socials and everything.” Chan said.

You very much doubted you would have fans. You would have a hate club. Everyone has haters, obviously, but as the only female in Stray Kids soul bond there would be a lot of judgement.

“I don’t think I’ll have any socials. I’ll delete them soon. Bett for my future mental health.”

Seungmin poked my cheek. “A social media expert with no social media?”

Admittedly it was weird. But you wouldn’t have time for your own socials anyways if you were going to manage the boys. It would be around the clock thing with them. Random posts, scheduled posts, bubble, lives, comments. You wouldn’t miss your own much. The itch would be scratched.

The boys were supposed to leave early in the morning. Much earlier than you planned to wake up. As such, you made sure to say your goodbyes before you went to bed for the evening. You packed a small carry-on backpack for your flight and put the rest of the things the personal shopper brought you away in your new room. When you get back from your trip, you could start personalizing the room a little maybe. Make it feel more yours and not a guest room.

♤♤♤♤♤♤

A/n my tumblr is driving me nuts and not saving and posting without permission so apologies

Yet Unnamed Taglist: @fackeraccount @velvetmoonlght @hyunjinstolemyheart @vampkittenb82 @happy-jj @estella-novella @demigoddreamon-blog @tiana-maxivar @ms-flowergirl @jennibahng @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @mimimiloomeelomi @simpforskz143148 @xxeiraxx @lil-bear08 @brbwritingfanfic @jisungs-iced-americano @zofia515

General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

[im-so-normal-iswear]

A míI wondered if you could make yandere espió, vector y a Silver, With a gender-neutral reader, who is a baker and who at the same time likes will please everyone with his desserts?

Thank you , and sorry if my English isn't good, you don't have to do it if you don't want to.

A/n: no problem!

Yandere!Espio/Vector/Silver x Reader who loves baking

Espio:

Espio had always been one to stay in the shadows, observing from a distance. It started innocently enough, he had been tasked with keeping an eye on the neighborhood for suspicious activity.

Someone had mentioned a new baker in town, and curiosity led him to your bakery one morning.

The moment he opened the door, the sweet scent of freshly baked bread greeted him. You smailed as you waved to him as he stepped in, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and Espio felt an odd flutter in his chest.

He brushed it off as nothing at first, just an appreciation for your craft. As he visited more frequently, sampling your muffins and cookies, the feelings only rooted deeper.

Espio admired your dedication, the way you poured your heart into every creation, but it was more than that. You treated everyone with kindness, that unrelenting warmth was intoxicating, and Espio hated how others took advantage of it. They didn’t deserve your attention. Not like he did.

You started noticing strange things happening around the bakery. A customer you'd mentioned was rude one day stopped coming altogether. When you asked around, no one could give you a clear answer about where they'd gone.

A particularly persistent admirer who hung around too long suddenly stopped showing up, too. You chalked it up to coincidence, but Espio would stand silently outside, watching, ensuring no one overstayed their welcome.

He loved how oblivious you were to his subtle interference. It gave him a sense of control, of keeping you safe without you even knowing. But as his feelings grew stronger, so did his jealousy. Every laugh you shared with a customer, every compliment you offered someone else felt like a dagger to his heart.

He started slipping notes under your door at night, written in elegant calligraphy, praising your talent and devotion. You thought they were sweet gestures from an anonymous admirer, but Espio relished the thought of how close he was to you without you realizing it.

The day you offered him a personal batch of dango he nearly broke his stoic demeanor. You had made them just for him, you said. Did you know what that meant to him? Probably not. But to Espio, it was a declaration of love. And he wasn't about to let anyone else take that away from him.

Vector:

Vector was loud, brash, and utterly smitten from the moment he stepped foot into your bakery. He wasn't even supposed to be there, Charmy had begged him to stop in because he'd heard about your chocolate tarts. he wasnt interested in tarts at all, nit at the time at least, but when he saw you everything changed.

You handed him a tart with that warm smile of yours, and it was like a thunderbolt struck his heart. He'd never tasted anything so sweet in his life, and it wasnt just the dessert. It was you. You had this way of making him feel like the center of the universe, even when you were serving a dozen other customers. It wasn't long before Vector was finding excuses to visit every single day.

"Got any new recipes today?" he'd ask, leaning on the counter with a wide grin. He didn't care what you gave him, everything you made was a masterpiece in his eyes. But what really hooked him was how you always remembered his favorites. That personal touch made him feel special, like he mattered more than anyone else.

Vector's feelings quickly spiraled into obsession. He started bringing you little gifts, flowers, trinkets, even some expensive baking supplies he thought you might like. (Rest of chaotix wasnt thrilled with the excessive money spending) At first, you found it endearing, but then he started showing up unannounced after hours, claiming he was "just in the neighborhood."

One night, as you were closing up, you turned to find him standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin. "Thought you might need some help carrying stuff," he said. You didn’t want to be rude, so you let him stay. But as the weeks went on, his visits became more frequent, his presence more suffocating.

Vector couldn't stand seeing you serve other customers with the same kindness you showed him. He started scaring off anyone who looked like they were getting too close, his booming voice and imposing stature enough to make most people think twice about hanging around. He even tried to convince you to hire him as security, saying you needed someone to "keep an eye on things."

You laughed it off, but Vector wasn't joking. He’d do anything to protect you, even if it meant keeping you all to himself.

Silver:

Silver's obsession was quieter, more insidious. He didn’t stumble into your bakery by chance, he was drawn to the warmth and happiness radiating from it. Coming from his world, your little shop from sonics was a beacon of hope.

The first time he saw you, he was too shy to come in. He watched through the window as you handed out cupcakes to a group of children, your laughter carrying through the glass. You looked so... perfect. Untouchable. But Silver couldn’t stay away. The next day, he worked up the courage to step inside, his heart pounding as you greeted him.

Silver was awkward at first, fumbling over his words as he tried to order. But you were patient, helping him choose something from the menu, and he left with a bag of pastries and a heart full of newfound affection. From that moment on, he was hooked, not just on your baking, but on you.

Unlike Espio and Vector, Silver's jealousy didn’t manifest in overt ways. Instead, he used his powers to subtly manipulate situations. If someone seemed too interested in you, their car might mysteriously break down, or they'd lose something important and have to leave. Silver didn't want to scare you, he just wanted to protect you. To keep you safe from anyone who might take you away from him.

He started spending more time at your bakery, sitting at a corner table with a book or sketchpad. He told himself it was harmless, that he just liked being near you. But as his feelings deepened, so did his obsession. He began sketching pictures of you, filling page after page with drawings of your smile, your hands as you kneaded dough, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about a new recipe.

Silver dreamed of a future where it was just the two of you, baking together in a quiet little home far away from the rest of the world. He even started practicing his own baking skills, hoping to impress you. One day, he brought you a loaf of bread he'd made, his cheeks turning pink as he handed it to you. It wasn't perfect, but you praised his effort, and that small moment of encouragement only fueled his obsession further.

As time went on, Silver's desperation to keep you close grew. He started leaving little notes tucked into your apron pockets, each one more heartfelt than the last. You thought they were sweet, but you had no idea how deeply his obsession ran, or how far he was willing to go to make sure you were his and his alone.

[cosmique-oddity]

Cosmos and Soundwave Story Line

Made with the precious help of my mutuals @gravedwe11er and @polarpasteque

Because we thought maybe the Mecha Universe lacked a bit of a space Nerd :)

Based of @keferon ‘s AU

————————————————————————————

It felt like a rainy day, when the skies cry and you decide to stay at home, watching the weather from a point where it doesnt affect you. Intensitive at even one single drop, usually, you take a blanket and watch at these amount of water, crashing on everything. Set the world all grey.

Well space was just far bigger. Far lonelier and, as a matter of fact....just more far. He watched the little blue planet, with his white volutes the day and all the littles spotlights at night, mimicking the stars all around. Even the Black void of space was captiving, far deeper than all kind of Earth's deepest oceans. We could say....it felt like the little planet was slowly swallowed by darkness.

Cosmos understood why a lot of astronaut came back to Earth and didnt care a lot about Earth matters. How could you pay any attention at some human conflict when the space was so much bigger than human's hybris ?

He shared that opinion. When he made his first trip to the outer space, Cosmos couldnt stop himself but admire the little details, even the more basic ones ever to space life. He was almost distracted from his original mission but, happily, the man was good at multitasking.

Floating like that, in the Hermes I Station, he knew he wouldnt want to return in Earth. Ever.

And while he was gazing at the immensity of the greater dark, he didnt realized how he was trapping himself, definitely, on what he was now calling 'his great loneliness'.

Not that it was any different than on Earth, he always was that silent man, that clever and kind and courageous man. Everyone of his colleague knew to call him if they needed something.

"Call Cosmos, the one with stars and space shuttles on his desk, he is very strong, he can carry that".

He didnt even know when he became 'Cosmos'. He was useful. Everyone knew to call him for help, but the thing was...nobody really knew him for himself. He was Cosmos for everyone because that was the only distinct thing the other could tell about him. He was obsessed with the stars. Pretty average among training astronauts ? Maybe, but Cosmos physically yearned for space and stars. Everything was about that. Escaping Earth. Setting himself on a tiny space box and sort of leave this physical realm. Be among his Kind, the cosmos.

Now, among the stars, he was feeling it. The loneliness. Wasnt that different from before, but maybe more hopeless. He talked with people, yep, everyday. His Job was very important, using all the high tech tool he has at his disposal to find the Kaijus, the fastest possible, and warn the Kaiju's Extermination Organisation. He saved lifes. And on the same side, was trying to intercept any extra terrestrial communication, from Kaijus, to find something, anything that could slow their obliteration.

Cosmos was aware of their war and how they were losing it. But everything was so far in space...the program that choosed to isolate him on that tiny flying box at the edges of their gravity force and Earth's magnetical shield also prevented him from War's horrors. He didnt saw any horrible things he knew were happening. He know it, saw it on internet.

He sighed. Mostly, his work was to watch the AI of his computer do the job alone, and assist any bug he saw.

Lets say they werent a lot of them, and oftenly he was just watching any serie his internet connexion allowed him to watch. Or searching for any weird frequencies on space.

Did he said he nammed the AI Doc ? And was talking to the thing, on top of that ! Doc wasnt a bad person. His answers were just a little bit expected and repetitive...

This day was one of those empty day. No scary alien was threatening humanity. Well, in the film he was watching, Alien, he couldnt say so. Did he mention he was a space nerd ? Even the movies he watched reflected that.

And because IRL Aliens were invading his homeland didnt mean he didnt enjoyed watching similar scenario in movie. He was far from everything. It wasnt affecting him at all, this war.

The latest human he spoke to was a Mech Pilot, codnammed Jazz he was charged to monitor through space. He a was solar person, loving music... Sympathetic, you couldnt possibly hate Jazz even if you knew him only three minutes. He was Talkative enquiring for the astronaut's mental health, alone out there. Cosmos has felt compassion for him. Someone threw him too, in the middle of the biggest knowhere existying. Except everyone knew Jazz and considered, and liked him, so it was certainly difficult for the pilot to leave. It wasnt for Cosmos.

Cosmos knew he was the last living person he saw. Because Jazz vanished. Probably died. And this human was the living being he grieved the most in his whole life. He cried alone in the space station when someone ordered him to stop searching for the silenced voice of Jazz.

They didnt send another man, and that, he was glad. He prefered having emotions toward an undying AI than realizing how many people died around him.

Cosmos was sat at his desk. Question of protocol, he wouldnt imagine not being here and missing a Kaiju and being responsible of Earth's destruction. Slowly dying from oxygene loss or being swallowed by some extraterrestrial giant jaw.....or being held hostage and having eggs layed on him.....

Maybe he should stop watching that movie.

Suddendly, an audio signal howled inside the etricate desk room of the station, Cosmos paused his movie and stood up, enthusiastic. That was the radio signal ! Jazz being finally alive ? An old broadcast lost in space ??

Radio news were the most interesting informations he could have !

All happily, he floated until having the complex system of communication in his hands. He could proudly affirming he knew everything about this machinery. That was his most loyal friend and good news annoncer. And he have been to silent since Jazz disappearance.

Except this time, the intercepted message wasnt translating in words, it wasnt an audio media. His device was displaying error messages. The thing was extremely weird looking. There was some space radio wave, in a frequence he never heard of before now.

Some weird alien wave ? He was displaying itself on repeat, as if it was enscribed into the FSK modulator (that one device used to send signals via frequency through very far locations). He took the headphone and tried to module the initial suit of waves into something audible. Changing the setting everytime he heard a risible ‘pfffuit’ or a deafening ‘SHRIEEEEEERK’. Maybe he would lose his hearing before translating the enigmatic sound wave. And people would be forced to send someone after him. Someone else, less used to loneliness would be where he had been. Wondering the same things. Sleeping in the same berth. Being disposable was always an unpleasant thought.

He slowed immensely the data of the enigmatic wave, and finally began to hear something approximatively human. English it was.

“.....Noise…..”.

An erailled, full of static voice could be heard, close to Cosmos's ear, and all it was saying was a statement about what he was hearing from the beginning of his manipulation. What the hell was this message ? It was coming from so far ? Was it alien ?? Did he finally succeed on the mission of finding another life form or even more interesting, secret Kaiju's comm line ??? Were the extraterrestrial sentient after all ???

He slowed even more and passed on another frequency. The message kept its static and emotionless deincarnated voice but the pronounciation was perfect and audible.

“Noise : excede the safe amount” “Sentient local specie : Endangered” “{QQZERRTEAAASS} : might and will hear”.

What was that ? The first alien broadcasted message in history and it was telling him to shut the fuck up ?

The unbearable piercing scriieech sound before ‘might and will hear’ was not rocket science to understand. That was probably speaking about the Kaijus. Kaiju and danger formed a loving couple from the past decade.

He took some time to mentally register the information before imobilizing. Eyes wide. Another signal was displaying. And its been on display for longer than he noticed. That was Kaiju's detection signal. His heart stopped for a while. Since how long had he been focused on the translation of the alien message ?

Floating as fast as he could. Wich must have been fun to watch if he wasnt alone, Cosmos crossed the distance between the modulator and the board computer for the second time of the day. Faster.

He read, panicking highly, all the pings across the screen and finally allowed his heart to slow down.

He was wrong. He was not that useful. Doc took care of the attack, he…..it warned the Extermination Organisation, and triangulated the position for the intel responsibles back on Earth.

The only thing it needed from Cosmos was writing a report and archive all the attack's metrics.

He sighed. Doc wouldve done very well without him, if he could automatize this part of the script, he would be officialy useless.

He nervously scratched his curly ginger hairs. He hadnt noticed how long they got (not that long but longer than the classic military haircut he adopted at the beginning of his formation). Useless ?

No. Cosmos had now the most important mission of humanity. He had to answer back to the alien form that wasnt (probably) a Kaiju. He worked on Doc's automatization for a while, remembering suddenly he had to eat at some point. Biting proudly in his sandwich, he told the AI.

“I cannot assist you anymore, old friend, i have my own mission to accomplish now, im going to talk to the Alien. And if i can convince him to help, then maybe i can save Earth !”.

A small little voice inside of him asked if he wasnt completely insane and delusionnal and wasnt inventing himself a mission to prove he wasnt worthless. He shut the voice. He was Cosmos ! He would talk to the alien. Peoples would remember him, they would remember because they would survive !

………………….

He spend weeks into trying to imitate the complex alien sound wave. This was so fast, so evoluated, and yet, the data was speaking a perfect english ? How was it possible ?

He frowned.

“Try again buddy, your Alien is going to be bored of you”.

He was calling the very small message he recieved ‘His Alien’ and wrote several copy of what it was saying on papiers and pinged these on the walls. Like a serial killer.

His own message, “Are you another sentient life form ? My name is Cosmos”

Wasnt definitely as professionnal as he would make himself believe, but he was trying to convert it to the same kind of radio wave as he recieved.

He has to remember how he translated the message in the first time.

And invert the protocol.

But his FSK modulator was simply not strong enough. He had to power down a few things. Useless things absolutely. And only for a few seconds. Nothing too dangerous about that. He definitely wasnt a small human in the middle of uncooperative environment.

The man inspired deeply and started his protocol, disabling the lights of the station, and preserving the oxygene system at all cost, along with the pressurisation system and basically all life preserving systems.

It worked. He had his message. He could send him via the FSK modulator.

He pressed the button and smiled deeply. He just send a message to an Alien !

“Hey doc ! Guess who established contact with the Alien ! Oh oh im going to ask him sooo many questions !”.

No answer. Cosmos remembered having to disable settings about conversation in order to efficiently make Doc replace his work.

He felt incredibly lonely.

“Im sorry i had to silence you Doc….”.

The signal of external message ! Again ! And that quickly ??? How.

Hyperventilating, Cosmos giggled to himself and turned to the modulator. The translating part was much easier now that he did it one time.

“Designation : Soundwave”. “Query to Cosmos : why answering ?” “Procedure of making further noise : susceptible to increase the attention of {QQZERRTEAAASS}”.

Oh, so his Alien was really a Soundwave. That was his name…. Funny.

The Kaijus again ? And this weird speaking manner again ? He thought for a couple of second about an adequate answer…But there werent any established protocol in case of contact with intelligent aliens. The Kaijus couldnt speak with them. They tried, so this meaned Cosmos was doing that freely. Nobody knew, nobody done that before. He was free to speak to the Alien as unprofesionnal as he wanted. He could tell his governement later.

“The Quiizertas ? Already noticed us. And attacked, more or less sound wont change anything about that”.

The answer was quicker again

“Prononciation of opposant : incorrect”. “Reading : /’kwin:n'te'zau:n/”. “Status planet ?”

The voice asked. And using the phonetical alphabet with that ?? Where did an Alien learned that ??

Cosmos bit his lips and answered, with an intensified apprehension.

“Planet uuuh. Under attack. Of the Quintessons” He translated with his own vocabulary, excited at the idea of inventing a new word. “Resisting with our technology but its barely enough. We need help”.

“Earth : very small” “efficiency of resistance : surprisingly high”. “Soundwave : cannot provide help at the moment. But i need to understand what is making your fight against quintessons fair”.

Cosmos blinked in front of his modulator.

“What ? Fair ??? We are being destroyed here and he call that a fair fight ?”. He paused. He had more conversation with this Soundwave than with any human being since Jazz. He might getting attached to the outer life form if he kept answering his question with fairness.

“Cosmos, stop. He could look like a pudding, or even not being material”.

Right. The name was Soundwave, the alien could be only made of sound waves.

He could also be a Xenomorph and lay eggs on him at the first occasion. The young astronaut didnt want to die with his stomach perforated !!! It looked very painful in the movies….

“Hoping its a E.T. kind of alien….”

“Are you hostile to my planet or kind ?”.

He shyly asked. Kai- Quintessons were enough trouble for his ‘small’ planet. Oh god it was his new favorite word ! He invented it. Well….technically he just translated with his own alphabet the phonetical alphabet Soundwave gave him. Hm.

His answer was quick.

“Your Specie : dont seems hostile towards our kind”. “Conflict : not wanted”.

Well that was positive at least.

“Is it some kind of space alliance ?”

The answer arrived later than the others times, and for a couple of stressful minutes, Cosmos feared that all of that was just a dream. Wich was possible, considering how he ate the whole pack of his last cookies last night. Maybe he was sick. At this moment, the answer arrived at his ears.

“Alliance : would benefit both of our planets. What is your status among your specie ?”.

Cosmos took some times to take off the headphone and start a gravity-free dance of victory.

“i….made….an alliance….with a fricking alien….!”

Or maybe the Alien would suck all of his internal organes out of his body and lay eggs on his brain. Maybe.

But, but maybe he would save all of them from the Kaiju, and they would befriend their specie ! Yeah. More probable. And Cosmos would be the first human to have made contact with them ! So they would like him. Soundwave might be as excited as himself was to discover another specie ! He would listen everything, because data about alien was a common source of enjoyment. He wouldnt even have to say something interesting !

Cosmos reached Doc's screen and yelled at him with a joyful tone.

“Doc ! Guess who just made the first pacific contact with another life form ! From another planet ! Perhaps even galaxy !”.

All full of wonders and lively, Cosmos answered Soundwave again.

What was the question ? Ah yes, “statut among specie”.

“I am erm…..Space Explorer. And Responsible of all communications to report and locate the Kai….Quintessons”.

He tried to make his post sound cool and not ‘im just a guy assisting an AI far more developped than me and honestly i feel useless”.

“Soundwave's statut : Communication and Information Officer among Cybertronian's forces”.

That sounded very military. The good or bad side of this information was debatable. On one hand it was surely better than just have Soundwave as an ally. But an Alien army ? It was more dangereous than just innocently talking to Soundwave… For a random reason, he had the impression the word ‘among’ has been twisted a little in comparaison of the otherwise perfect pronounciation of Soundwave's voice.

“Great i suppose. This mean we are kind of similar in statut….?” “By the way…..”

He cut himself at the middle of his answer, thinking about it before answering. What was the most pressing question about the extraterrestrial being at the other side of his spatial Phone ?

Wait. He had it.

“How do you speak exactly the same language as me ?”

That was a question. For the first time since the recieving of that first call, Cosmos wondered if someone was just playing with him since the beginning, making him look like a fool for his own distraction. Wont be the first time. Was Soundwave an Alien ? What stupide name was even Soundwave ? The answer stopped his spiraling.

“Soundwave : recieved radio wave from your planet : cracked the language code. Very interested on a large panel of codes and language, find the understanding of foreign dialects : very stimulating”.

Oh funny one, Soundwave considered his language like a code to break. The Alien was very interesting, and wait a sec

“Your heard the radio waves ? But you must be very far from Earth, the waves must have distorded every sound and mixing with others space sounds”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener”.

What did he meant by that ? But another voice line could be heard now.

“But data from radio waves : insufficient”. “Interfacing with local technology : optimal for the comprehension of your successful resistance”.

Interfacing ?

“You want to come here ? To Earth”.

“Yes”.

That last message was very short but awakened an insatiable curiosity in the Astronaut's heart.

“Oh my god my Alien is going to visit us” he whispered with joy.

One last question, because he felt brave.

“May i continue asking you questions while you uh…..travel to my planet ?”.

“Soundwave : is a great listener. And is feeling curiosity towards your specie”.

The voice repeated his phrasing “May I ask you questions ?”.

And Cosmos's loneliness slowly faded away.

——————————————————————————————

Annnd here is my little Cosmonaute <3 had to make a design for him

Welcome to the ginger club, blorbo.

Soundwave’s is coming soon he will look like his TF One self, with some modifications, in order to effectively hide himself from Earthling that are more Earthling than Cosmos hehe….because tf1 Soundwave is some sort of space ship. It’s not very useful when you want to hide from our paranoid society

(You guys will like it !!)

Ps : Hi Keferon ! I know you don’t necessarily seek for the ramifications of your AU if it doesn’t connect with you but I hope you will like this little story/introduction to my sweet platonic space chilling ship)