#sorry if none of these tags make sense i am so tired and i usually just say whatever first comes 2 mind down here

[is-johnny-jhonny-a-spectral-yet]

day 2913

no :(

[pensat-i-fet]

Wrong player, right time: Part 2 (Pablo Gavi, Pedri x Reader)

Part 1

Word count: 3003

Masterlist

Wattpad

Tag: @cinderellawithashoe

“Thank you”, you paid the taxi driver and walked to Gavi’s front door.

“Hi? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”, you asked, and when he saw the tears in your eyes, he moved to let you go inside his house.

“Did something happen?”

Before you could say more, you started to cry and Gavi hugged you, trying to calm you down. He took you to the sofa so you could sit and brought you a cup of hot chocolate when you finally stopped sobbing.

“I get why he’s mad but it’s not my fault. Or yours. What am I supposed to do?”

“I do feel like it’s my fault”, said Gavi, surprising you.

“Why would you think that?”

“After that video came out, I started to feel guilty. Because you were getting abuse on social media and had to make your account private. And I can imagine how many other problems this might have caused��.

“It’d be the same if people knew who I’m really dating. None of it is your fault, Pablo. Don’t be silly”.

“Well, knowing you don’t blame me for any of it makes it a little better”, he smiled and you smiled at him too.

It was crazy how a rumour like that one could be hurting so many people at the same time.

“What should I do?”

“Let him be angry tonight. He’ll realise how wrong he was and apologize. He’s…he’s obsessed with you”, he laughed. “I’m really happy you two met after we realised this you and I thing wasn’t really going to work. He’s so happy when he’s with you”.

“Ok. I just hope he stops being like this soon. I don’t like feeling like this”.

“It’ll be fine. I promise. But let’s go to bed now because I’m really tired after the match and you have to rest your big brain before going to class tomorrow”.

Gavi took you to the guest room and even though it took you way longer than usual to fall asleep, you managed to get some rest after such an eventful day.

[Gavi]: hey idiot, she’s here. Just thought you’d like to know.

[Pedri]: I did. Thanks. How angry is she? I messed up.

[Gavi]: she isn’t angry. She’s sad. You better get a really good apology ready.

[Gavi]: and stop being an idiot. Imagine you lose her because of this.

Pedri looked at his friend’s text and felt his chest tightening. He couldn’t lose you. He needed to control his jealousy because you were right, it wasn’t your fault people made up those rumours.

The next morning, he woke up earlier than usual to drive to Gavi’s and talk to you.

“She’s in the kitchen. I’ll give you some time but don’t take too long. I have to eat too”.

“Don’t worry. And thank you, for looking after her last night”.

“That’s what friends are for”, said Gavi, leaving to go to his room.

Pedri walked to the kitchen and saw you eating your cereal while reading from a textbook. Hearing footsteps, you looked up and stared at him.

“I’m here to apologize. And to explain”.

“Ok, feel free to start”.

He wanted to chuckle but didn’t do it, fearing you could think he was laughing at you.

“I’m sorry. Really sorry. Reading comments from people is bad enough but hearing them while I’m right there…it was too much”.

“I get that but all the other things you said were more hurtful than you being annoyed at that. I felt like you didn’t believe my feelings for you or something”.

“I do! Of course I do!”, he quickly said. “But…I have to confess something”.

“What?”

“I’m jealous. Jealous that Pablo was the one you talked to first. That you clearly liked him and flirted with him”, you wanted to speak but he stopped you. “I know. I know nothing happened and your dates were a disaster and all that. And that you liked me first but…you met him first. You were willing to give him a chance and that’s something that is on the back of my mind. Also that he wanted to date you. It’s tough to know that, you know?”

You had never really thought about that but it made sense. Even if you weren’t dating his friend, you thought about that as a possibility once. And so did Gavi. That had to be weird for Pedri, even if you’ve proven to him he’s the one you really want to be with.

“Sorry I never thought about that and how it could make you feel”.

“It’s ok”, he said, really meaning it. “I know Pablo doesn’t think about it either but I remember those weeks when he talked about you. And he’s the biggest supporter of our relationship now, I know that. But still…”.

You took his hand, happy to be able to touch him again. “We should have spoken about this before. But now it’s out and I can tell you, again, I only want you. And I understand it’s hard for you to see people thinking I’m dating your friend so I’ve been thinking”.

“About?”

“We should make our relationship public”.

“Are you really ready for that?”, the fact that he worried so much warmed your heart.

“Yes. I want everyone to know who the boy I really love is. And it’s you”.

You have never mentioned the l-word before and Pedri was a bit shocked to hear you say it now. He felt the same but was trying to find the right time to confess those feelings.

“Do you really mean that?”, he asked.

“Are you done? I’m hungry!”

You both turned to glare at Gavi, who was walking towards the kitchen.

“She just told me she loves me, Pablo. Can you please leave so I tell her I love her too and kiss her? I’ll buy you a bacon McMuffin on the way to training if you do”.

“Ok”, he said, leaving. And before you could continue talking, you heard him screaming. “I love you guys too!”

You looked down, laughing. And Pedri held your chin to make you look at him.

“I love you too. And if you want us to go public, I’ll be happy to show you off. But don’t just do it because of me”.

“I’ll do it because of me too. And because of Pablo. It’s also not fair for him to be part of this stupid rumour”.

“Ok then, we can talk about the best way to do it. There’s no hurry, really”.

You finished eating your breakfast sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, enjoying his kisses and sweet words. All until you were interrupted again by Gavi. But this time it was ok because you had to go to class and they had to go to training. There will be time for cuddles later.

                               **

The plan was very simple, really. You made your account public again, which made you gain thousands of followers during the match. And then, when the match was over, you posted a photo. Your back was to the camera, so everyone could see your shirt. And so they could see you weren’t wearing Gavi’s shirt, but Pedri’s.

Because you were feeling extra cheeky, you captioned it “Sorry guys, you got the wrong player this whole time. It’s Barça’s number 8 who I always liked”.

Even though you expected nerves after posting the photo, fearing the reaction from people, you actually felt pretty relaxed. It was nice to set the record straight. And you knew how much this meant to Pedri and how happy he was going to be. You only wanted to make him happy, in the same way he only wanted to make you happy.

“Hello official girlfriend”, he said when he reached his car, where you were waiting for him.

“Oh, so it wasn’t official until now? What were we doing before then?”

It felt so good to be able to finally kiss him in public, not caring about who could see you. So good that you got a little carried away. And Gavi was going home with Ferrán so there was no one there to interrupt you.

“I want to post a photo with you”, said Pedri, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Ok, you can do that whenever you want. You don’t need to ask me”.

“We can choose our favourite later and I’ll post it, ok?”

“Deal”.

                             **

“I’m going to get some water, do you want something?”

“No, I’m good. Don’t take too long”.

The good thing about people knowing about you and Pedri was that he could now hang out in your dorm too. The bad one…

“Here comes the footballer slut. Any bets on who she’ll sleep with next?”

You just looked down and kept walking, not realising Pedri had opened the door to tell you to get some water for him too, so he heard the comments made about you. Those you had to listen to every day. Those you never told him about.

“What did you call her?”

The girls were surprised to see him there, confronting them.

“Nothing”, said one of them.

“No, I heard you. Are you harassing my girlfriend?”

“It’s just banter”, said the one who had actually made the comment this time, trying to laugh. “You know, we call each other those things all the time”.

“It’s only banter if everyone finds it funny. She doesn’t. Do not speak about her like that ever again”.

Most of them left but one of the girls was feeling feisty and didn’t welcome Pedri’s tone.

“What are you going to do if we don’t stop?”

“Get you kicked out of here would be a good start”.

“You can’t do that, rich boy”.

“I’m pretty sure harassing other girls in the dorms is not allowed so let’s not find out what happens if I do”.

“What’s going on?”, you didn’t expect to see Pedri talking to all the other girls when you came back. And by the way they looked at each other, it wasn’t a friendly chat.

“Oh, nothing. Your boyfriend was threatening us because we’re being mean to you”.

“What?”

“How long has this been going for?”, you knew that question was directed at you.

“It doesn’t matter”.

You tried to walk to your room and take him with you, but he didn’t want to move.

“It matters. You live here. You deserve to not be surrounded by a group of mean girls calling you names”.

“I don’t listen to them. It’s fine. Let’s move on…”.

“Like she’ll move on from you to another one of your friends”.

“Shut up!”

The girls were surprised by your scream but no one was as surprised as you. You had been trying to avoid them because you didn’t want any fights but God, were they testing your patience.

You took that chance to go back to your room and Pedri followed you.

“You should have told me”.

“So you could do what? Threaten them? What would that fix?”

“You shouldn’t have to put up with this…it’s bad enough to get those comments on social media, but you shouldn’t have to deal with this where you live. It’s not fair”.

“Yeah, well. I’ve been here for 5 months and it’s been like this since the beginning so I’m used to it”.

Pedri kept looking at you, trying to find a solution.

“Move in with me”.

“What? No. I’m not ready to move in with you”.

“Then let me rent a place just for you”.

“No!”

“You can’t stay here…”, he wasn’t going to allow you to stay there, being bullied every day.

“There is nowhere else I can go”.

“I’ll think of something but you’re coming with me today”.

“Pedri…”.

“Please, stay with me. The boys are coming around to watch a match later, it’ll be fun”.

“Ok. But I’m staying here”.

Not if he could find another place for you to stay. And he wasn’t going to stop until he found one.

                             **

Going to Pedri’s house after what happened at your dorm was actually the best idea. Some other players brought their girlfriends too and you had a great time. Your boyfriend tried to bring up what happened but you ignored it. There was no point in going over it again.

“Everyone leaving in a second”, he said, hugging you from behind. “And then it’s just us here”.

You giggled, hoping they could leave a little faster and then saw Gavi approaching you.

“I have a solution for your problem”.

“What problem?”, you asked.

“The dorm issue”.

“Pedri! Why did you tell him?”

“Let’s listen to his solution”, he answered, avoiding your glare.

“My sister is going away for a month. She’s happy with you staying at her apartment. And it gives you a whole month to find another place to stay”.

“That’s great!”, said Pedri.

“I don’t know…”.

“Come on, it’s a good plan. You aren’t happy there and I’m not happy knowing you’re being bullied because of me”.

“And me”, said Gavi. “So you have to move. We’re both really worried”.

You sighed. It was a good idea. “Ok…”.

Three days later, you were back at your dorm to pack all of your stuff. You could see all the girls staring at you when they walked past, but no one made any comments. And you expected some because it was just you there.

The boys had training and Pedri also needed to do some interviews for his sponsors. So you had to do the whole move by yourself and Gavi was going to meet you at the apartment to give you the keys and show you around a bit.

"Are you leaving for good?", you turned to look at who spoke. It was a girl you had seen a few times and that always said hello to you. She was one of the few that didn't say anything nasty to you.

"Yes".

"I'm sorry you have to because of how you've been treated but look at it this way, it's you who has the boyfriend they all want to have".

You laughed at her comment. "I guess, yeah. I'll see you around".

Putting the last box on the passenger's seat, you drove to your home for the next couple of weeks. And when you arrived there, you saw Gavi waiting for you. He waved when he spotted you and you got out of the car to give him a hug.

"I hope you thanked your sister again. I really appreciate her letting me stay here".

"I did. Don't worry. Just don't use her shampoo. She gets very aggressive when someone does".

"Did you do it?", you chuckled.

"It was the only one available and I apparently used too much when I don't have much hair. She was really mean".

"I wish I had a sibling. Sounds like it's a lot of fun".

                          **

"Don't freak out, please".

Pedri looked at Gavi, starting to freak out. "Don't tell me to not freak out like that or I will. What happened?"

"So, remember the other day when I was helping your girlfriend move into my sister's apartment?"

"Sure".

"Someone took photos of us".

"And?"

"We were hugging and then leaving after the hour that took us to get everything sorted. So they are posting it as…you know".

"You using your sister's place to cheat on me?"

Gavi groaned. "It's exhausting".

"Yeah".

"You ok, bro?"

But Pedri only nodded, leaving to start training.

You were on your way to class when you noticed people looking at you and whispering. It was nothing new but it always bothered you.

"How could you do this to Pedri?", said a girl, almost screaming in your face while her friend told her to chill.

"Do what?"

"Cheat on him with his best friend".

"Oh God", you rolled your eyes. "Not this again. Gavi and I are just friends".

"How do you explain this?"

She shoved her phone in your direction and you caught it to look at whatever she meant.

It was an article with photos of you and Gavi hugging outside of his sister's place and leaving. The article pointed out a few times how you spent a whole hour there.

"I'm staying there because I had to leave my dorm. That's why we stayed there for an hour. He was helping me with the boxes. I guess whoever took these photos forgot to mention that. It didn't fit their plan".

"So you are not cheating on him?"

"No! I love him. I'd never do that".

For the rest of the classes, you worried about how Pedri would take this. Given his reaction last time…

The plan was to meet for dinner and stay with him. You had a lot of uni work to do but could do it at his place. He didn't mind.

"Please don't be angry. Please please please", you whispered after ringing the doorbell.

"Hello amor".

Pedri hugged you and told you to go do your homework while he got dinner ready. Maybe he didn't see the article yet…

It had to be that. He made no comment about it and acted like any other day, showering you with love.

"Did you…did you see anything in the news today?", you asked while having dinner. You needed to know.

"You mean the news about you cheating on me with my best friend? Yeah, Pablo showed it to me".

How can he say it so nonchalantly?

"Are you ok? Like, after seeing it?"

"Yes".

His smile was genuine and that only confused you more.

"You aren't angry like last time?"

"Stop that", he said, chuckling. "I know I overreacted last time but I promised you it wasn't going to happen again. I know what was really happening when those photos were taken. I trust you and I trust my friend".

"Thank you for trusting me", you said, sitting on his lap and hugging him.

"Thank you for choosing me", he winked.

"Easiest decision I've ever made".

[enoughyi]

#10: A Hole In The Breeches

Ship: Imelda Reyes x f!MC (Julia Wright) x Poppy Sweeting

Summary: Helping Julia was Imelda's area of contemplation but as it always was a snake biting its own tail yet again, an inner doubt found its resolution. This time, however, it was more of a hitting revelation.

Prompt Number: 31. Kiss at dusk. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 1555. Rating: T-M.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

I'm a tad busy, hence the absence, but I couldn't miss June 30th. But it also means I didn't really beta anything, so in advance; I'm sorry.

Rated M, partly; because Poppy. SLICE OF LIFE BTW.

Tags: @thriftstorebabayaga @espressoristretto-patronum @boxdstars @celestial--sapphic @caramel-hufflepuff @myokk @theladyofshalott1989

Sometimes Imelda felt a sting of unfairness, when looked at Julia.

This mad, unstoppable, relentless woman seemed never to know any rest from her endless journey along the flow of research; rarely had a complaint on spending days in the brewery -- she called her wee lab this -- if not counting an inceasing hissing when her back would tell, if not scream at her to get to at a more suitable accommodation; she would never let out a book, and what it would be only a whim of her would know; last and certainly not least, Julia was obsessively doing more than anyone Imelda knew ever would.

No witch or wizard of her or Poppy's knowing would attempt or try to renovate a house in the muggle way. Cook like muggles do, making a bother of knives and pots. Installed a stove, took so much pride in it, to everyone's surprise, only to down their brows when the first colds of the year came and wouldn't sip in, ever, as the heat would induce the feel of summer, pertained, enclosed and stuck within these walls.

Julia was doing so much and had little to nothing said about it, other than an occasional skepticism, in Imelda's mind. Her and Poppy's life achievements would instantly fade out beside Julia's. She deserved to be recognised, to be praised, but then Imelda would always recall Julia's reaction of a scowl.

She had done so much and was awkward at taking a compliment.

"You're proud of your flying, because it is a skill. You learnt and what you have was earned, and rightfully so it was. But I was born to this magic, and my sharp mind; it was inherited and is yet to surpass the achievements of my late mother. None of these things are of my own making, Melly, I have simply borrowed them," she'd say.

Maddening woman, Julia was.

And Poppy? Credit where it's due, she knew Julia longer than she did; if that imbuing sense of achieving more for seemingly the sheer sake of it was Julia's goal, no wonder Pops called her Draught of Peace.

Hardly a thing could be a disturbance to this woman. Even pinching her from behind when she was busying with food, seemingly lost in thoughts and haphazardly scribbling something in a notebook with an enchanted pen, couldn't annoy her in a sense Imelda did secretly expect. Wouldn't she need a little help? Instead, her gesture has never crossed Julia's mind any other way than what was usually intended.

Then, Imelda would ask, to clarify it wasn't anything salacious this time around, if she needed anything. Julia would simply say, didn't she have resting days? "Yes but you could certainly have a helping hand?"

"No, and I meant, there is no need," she'd answer, a tired but satisfied smile stuck in her voice. A quick glance at the notebook would reveal symbols after symbols describing what Imelda could remember were alchemical processes -- or were they, potioneers, these timid people, always wrote in ciphers or, no, hieroglyphics, like mathematicians?

"Just when I thought you are still grieving over your Charms NEWT."

"I still am."

"But look at this, you've mastered them. Remember McDowell? The girl still burns everything she touches."

"She performed better than I did," and on that note of pure sulking, Imelda felt a light kiss would liven Julia. It certainly did, her cheeks flashed with delightful pink, but her eyes remained stuck at the stove before her, and no thought was behind that stare other than a some non-relevant exam to her career at the construction firm in London, her current job, to any of her numerous hobbies and interest, to any of her researches, thoughts, wits; Aesop Sharp, damn, was her best friend and taught her beyond Hogwarts' curriculum. And she dared to drown in sap of past, non-important mistakes that to Professor Ronen were simply this, too.

Julia needn't his subject per se, lest she wanted to become Theory for Magic professor to continue Fig's foolhardy attempts at… what was he researching again?

"More important is that you seem to have forgotten you need to rest, too," Imelda reminded.

"But I'm resting. Every time I think of something enjoyable, write it down and continue moving onwards with my research. Unless, you remember, my back."

"Want to sit by with me?" Imelda knew she didn't have to ask twice. Julia was quick to move from the stove to a cosy couch -- another of her kitchen prides -- and solaced by warmth, felled limp in Imelda's arms. Her pen still scribbled something, however, and so hastily it was tearing through the page. "Jools, your pen." It stopped. Then, as Julia's wand suddenly flickered in her hand, both notebook and pen gravitated towards the table and lain themselves at where no plate would stand in just few long tens of minutes before dinner.

Behind the windows, a smokefall.

And through this majestically glittering mist, along the trail of little fairies, the subtle silhouette of Poppy was moving closer to the door. Like Julia, she preferred to enter the house via the kitchen door. Why, as Imelda once asked unsolicited, turned into a grim story. Poachers.

Wicked people, they had eaten off their own children; remaining unseen and unheard, crawling for the food storage in the middle of nights to steal enough for lunch the next day…

Poppy spoke about it all so calmly, not a dirgeful tremble in her voice, but was it -- was it truly calm or held so because Poppy was telling above Julia's sleeping, deaf ear; yet her skin could catch the strange tremble of the air of her anxious whisper. Julia would've hated to see her upset; cursed all poachers heard a strain in her voice. Was it also the reason why Julia was relentless?

And wasn't Imelda trying to ruin what's been sewn long before she became another key stone of this whole relationship.

Tonto, tonto niña.

When Poppy entered, she immediately jumped at them to ask if Julia had yet again overworked herself. Julia replied, she didn't, it was just getting late, and she would come up with more excuses. Imelda cut her off, "Obviously she was, she rejected my help again."

"Don't do that again," Poppy meant it jokingly, but meant nonetheless and Julia couldn't escape her judgement, leaning tiredly on Imelda's shoulder. "I'll--"

"But you just came!" Julia sat up. "Take a seat, I'll--"

Imelda retorted, "Crumple on the floor? Forget it, be a good wee little princess and sit with Pops, I'll have use of myself for once."

Julia's pouting was met with Poppy's lecturing; Julia could stand her wishes empalingly sharp but not against Poppy. This woman would never tolerate any form of self-deprecation or self-neglect, she saw no romance in what felt an unwarranted sacrifice, a needless fatigue, that something pertaining to Julia's whole act of doing the home. It was her wish, Imelda knew. Poppy's wish was to do it, to, together.

Imelda listened to them for few moments, until the dinner was ready to be served. As she placed first plates, Julia was saying, "But I don't know, Poppy. I need all this for research, too."

"Research?" Imelda cut in. "Have I heard you right? You are thinking of research doing laundry? What exactly are you studying off my dirty breeches?"

"Your dirt-smeared, butt-worn, holed atrocity inspired a hypothesis the other day!"

"Melly," Poppy inclined, "don't, she is just like that."

"Like that! I like that, It's vital to my job! I can't solve another cryptic recipe if I'm not tending the garden, or strolling, or throwing gnomes, or cooking, or--"

"Are you telling me my favourite breaches have a hole on the arse now."

"That whole region has come off, sorry, I didn't know how to tell you."

Imelda put the kettle down with a muffled thud. "And you threw them away???"

"Not yet but I just might if you're so against me to do more work here, around our house, such as patching this thing."

"Why though?" Poppy asked, mouth half-full of baked potato. "Burn them?"

"They're my breeches!"

"But do not you understand patching them will fuel a theory?"

"Shut it!" Imelda demanded. "What kind of argument is that! Forget it! Are you still… doing this… after all those years, even when!.."

Julia pecked, "Always. Do not you, too, to name an example, do not you come up with strategies when, hm, doing me?"

"Fuck! Julia! No!"

"Tending the garden?"

"No."

"Or when strolling down to the Pitch on a sunny day?"

"Not really, every thing of what you've just mentioned is my relaxation and not a job. It stays where it belongs. At the club's dormitory. Just so you're aware. It has no place inside your--"

"Now you shut it," Poppy asked. "The only pussy here is our cat."

Sammy the Kneazle, a middle-aged kneazle of a gorgeous iridescent sable colour, was resting on top of a counter near his food stand.

He lifted his head at Poppy called him, while Julia was blinking at Imelda, in turn staring at her holding a nervous laughter.

Julia was a maddening woman. Stubborn. Deaf to the word of care and advice sometimes; something Aesop-damn-Sharp noticed, too.

But unlike Poppy, she couldn't render speechless with just a word.

[endlesstwanted]

What Have We Become

My entry for the @flashfictionfridayofficial #201 prompt Comedian’s Night and the @domaystic day 17 prompt Marked date in the calendar!

Fandom: Original Work

Rating: General Audiences

Characters: Blue (OC), Richard “Ricky” Jones

Tags: First Person POV, slightly codependency, Secrets, Angst and feels, Non-verbal communication, Domestic Fluff, Ambiguous Ending

Summary: Rick takes Blue out to a comedians’ night the night before their big mission.

Wordcount: 809

Author's note: This is set in one of my MCU-verses, but given that none of their characters appear in this piece, I tagged it as Original Work! Things are being ambiguous and nothing is clearly discussed on purpose (even though the summary gives a clue), so I’m sorry if it’s confusing. I promise it makes sense with the rest of the story, but this was not a scene to spill every detail onto. This piece, unlike the rest of my writing, will not be posted on Ao3.

Thanks for reading, ficlet under the cut!

Ricky has said it was a good idea.

I didn’t want to get out tonight, given what day tomorrow is. And I don’t understand how coming to see random people talk to a bunch of strangers and trying to make them laugh is a good idea, but everyone seems chilled here. Maybe it’s me, who can’t understand their humour, and maybe Ricky is just pretending that this is actually fun so we don’t call it a night yet.

We’ve been here for an hour now, and it’s definitely not fun, at least for me. But well, I know what I am getting when I agree to anything he suggests —as if I had the ability to tell him no.

Ricky has been listening to the speakers and holding my hand. We’ve never done this before, outside our room, but I’m holding his back. It feels nice. Very nice. He’s also been laughing at some of the jokes, chuckling at the rest of them. And looking at me, from time to time, like trying to guess if I’m still here or not.

I’ve mastered the art of being in one place and having my mind in another, which is usually work, and that’s where I am right now. Tomorrow’s date has been marked in my calendar for quite some time, and I have only just told him today. I feel terrible for keeping it away from Ricky, making every second I’ve spent with him since I was assigned this task a waste, by not making the best out of it, but I had orders to follow.

I’m sick of orders and I’m tired of this place.

On top of that, I have just realised we have never done anything like this before tonight, nor in the years we’ve known each other or in the ones in which we have been living together. This is something Ricky has never asked me to do, and it can be his way of dealing with my departure.

This seat is getting uncomfortable and I shift, squeezing Ricky’s hand and bringing it closer on the table. I can feel his eyes on mine, and even if I’m focusing on the speaker’s lips and on trying to make sense out of whatever they are saying, I know by my side there is a better view.

So I turn to look at him, and his eyes tell me everything I need to know. He doesn’t want to go home.

Well, coming back to a bunker turned into a room and a bed we’re going to share for the last time in maybe forever doesn’t sound suitable for anyone, that’s fair. Even though he doesn’t know this last part, I know very well what is happening after tomorrow, what needs to happen if I want to fulfil my mission and finish living in this lie I’ve turned both of our lives into.

The only reason why I’d like to come back home tonight instead of running away is because I’ll be doing it with Ricky, and he’s the one giving some meaning to that name. The moment we close the door, he’s going to wrap his arms around me. Probably will pick me up to take me to bed, and most likely pepper my face with kisses until I feel my head burst from laughing.

We’re going to cuddle in bed later, entangling our fingers like we were made to be mixed with the other, and if I get lucky, he’ll remember some kind of story he’d start to tell me. If he doesn’t, or is not feeling up for it, he’ll be skipping that part and jumping to where he rests his head close to mine and whisper kind words to carry my soul to sleep. Words of freedom, hoping for a better tomorrow, and a future in which we’ll be in charge of our own fate. Words of hope, close to daydreaming of a life we could be living only if we were different people.

I’ll pretend to believe them; I’ll snuggle closer to him. But he’ll look at me like anyone’s looked at me before, like he does every night, and I’ll let it pass, praying that he keeps looking at me like that forever, simply because I cannot say the words I want to say to him. I don’t know what is going to be like to get away from his skin, his magical voice and the warmth of his presence.

And I don’t really want to find out.

So for now, all I have to do is focus on the person speaking into the microphone, and on Ricky’s laugh and his touch on me, and hope for the night to last, or at least let it be one to remember and recall in the worst of days that will be there to come.

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

Thanks for the tag @frostysfrenzy !! Sorry it took me a bit I been goin' thru it :,)

Are you named after anyone? Yeah Kathryn Janeway bc my parents love Star Trek

Last time you cried? Earlier in the day lmao I'm goin' thru it

Do you have kids? God no I am a 23 year old teenage girl

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Uhhh sometimes idk time and place I guess

First thing you notice about people? Usually if they're going to be a pain in the ass or not. I've been in customer service for almost 10 years so you get a spidey sense for that

Eye colour? Mine? Blue. Favourite? Brown.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings I guess?

Special talents? I make balloon animals at most town events that are too cheap to pay for my dad (I cost 20/hr he costs 300 to leave the house)

Where were you born? Same place as the trailer park boys

Hobbies? Writing and making greeting cards with my nan :^)

Any pets? I have one cat, my real human daughter and her name is spooky but she goes by Spoobert Doobert in professional circumstances.

What sports do you play/have you played? Oh god like a lot of them. Soccer, Hockey, Football, Roller Derby and Rugby. I ended up needing to hang up sports for real bc of too many brain injuries but these days I still like hiking (nice and low impact with opportunities to see waterfalls)

How tall are you? 5'11

Favourite school subject? None from high school but philosophy when I got to university

Dream job? Retired.

First ship? ZuTarra

Three ships? I'm not a huge shipper honestly

Last (current) song? Nuttville by Buddy Rich (nice beginner-friendly fusion jazz)

Last movie? I watched the entirety of Devil Wears Prada in like 80 parts on TikTok the other night if that counts

Currently reading? Still working on The Rum Diary by HST (got distracted by re-reading my WIP (why can't books write themselves))

Currently watching? Pretty much just Jeopardy at this point lmao (I'm too tired to watch TV when I get home from work)

Currently consuming? Nicotine still :(

Currently craving? A double gin and tonic made with Tanqueray

Tagging: @girlscience @angrywarrior69 @mcusluttt and like anyone who wants to do it

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Fire & Flight: Characters Out of Context Tag

Ngl, i was first overwhelmed by the idea of how I was gonna pull this off because I have like 3 different books bouncing around in my head rn and am getting them all mixed up, but then I remembered the search function was a thing😂 Any way, HUGE thank you to @blind-the-winds for tagging me in this! I really enjoyed scrolling through your fill and have been loving all of your recent TNS content💜 And before I get carried away, I'll tag: @violetcancerian, @author-a-holmes, @faelanvance, and any one else who'd like to participate. No pressure to fill!💜

Charity: “Go on then, kill me!” — [Redacted😉]

Chapter 1: [no dialogue]

Chapter 2: “I’d like to barter for a map and compass. Know anyone?” — Nyla

Chapter 3: “No, thank you, Mrs. Focaccia.” — Xander

[Honorable mention: “Amelia tells me he’s been all over town, helping her with the tailor’s deliveries. If he can spend these last few weeks galivanting all over Halberry and beyond, then he can surely come around and help his dearest aunt.” — Betsy]

Chapter 4: “Oh, hey, map girl.” — Xander

Chapter 5: “I don’t think there’s a map in this world that could help me get to where I’m going.” — Nyla

Chapter 6: “I-I’m not sure.” She paused. Her voice shook, barely above a whisper, like she was still terrified, “I mean, I remember, but it’s weird. The ogre was just there, and then it wasn’t. And the light…” — Nyla

Chapter 7: “Never mind.” She bit her lip. Her feet stopped, and she cast a glance in either direction. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “How long do you think we’ve been walking?” — Nyla

Chapter 8: “Since we got here, I’ve been thinking: is it worth it?” His voice shook as he continued, “What if it isn’t what I hoped it would be? What if I’m better off without it?” — Xander

Temperance: “I envy you,” Cedric said quietly. The gleam in Dia’s eyes softened, becoming curious. “You could fly away, never to be bothered by manifestations of your own guilt or nightmares or years of—of doing nothing.”

Chapter 9: “Did you just try to shoot me?” — Xander

[Bonus “All I’m saying is that I was almost shot today. It’s pretty terrifying that you have such good aim for someone who didn’t know they had magic.” — Xander]

Chapter 10: “You’re right, I guess, though finding shelter in the rain and dead of night is extremely difficult and impractical. I just thought it would be nice to sleep in a nice, warm inn with a featherbed and running water and a hot meal, a real meal, at the inn’s tavern. But it’s your call, whatever makes you happy,” he tempted with a shrug of his shoulder. — Xander

Chapter 11: “I don’t know. I thought it was just a dream or a nightmare, but none of it makes sense.” Her hand floated up to her shoulder where Astrid’s hand had been, her eyes puzzled. “I’m not really sure to be honest. It all felt so real.” — Nyla

Chapter 12: “You will never hurt anyone like you’ve hurt me. I might not know what the hell is going on, but that doesn’t really matter because no matter what you do or how powerful you are, I am going to stop you, even if it means killing you!” — Nyla

Hope: “I hope that wasn’t more trouble than it was worth,” Cedric grumbled as he grabbed the bloody dagger beside him and used the nightstand to pull himself up.

Chapter 13: “Tired of picking the lock?” — Nan (aka Gerri)

[Bonus: “I hope you know that you owe me an explanation as to how you managed to cut yourself that badly while unconscious,” he said dryly. — Xander]

[Extra bonus because I can’t help myself: “I’m sorry almost being stabbed and killed is interrupting your usual sleeping habits,” Xander replied dryly as he turned his back to her.]

Chapter 14: “Bold words from the man trying to convince me to go shopping when I should be resting.” — Nyla

Chapter 15: “Why? Why is this so important to you?” — Nyla

Chapter 16: “Me too.” Nyla nodded slowly. It all came back to her. The memory sparked from the far reaches of her mind. “I’ve felt this before, this sort of nothing, when I traveled in the Dunelands. I thought it was just the heat and the fact that I… well, you know me. But I’m beginning to think it isn’t like that at all. There’s nothing here, no life, no energy, no...”

Faith: [no dialogue]

Chapter 17: “Well, if you’re gonna leave your bow with me, I feel like it’s my duty to warn you—you may not have any arrows left if I have to use it.” — Nyla

Chapter 18: “Really? So, every rock in the Shadow Forest just happened to find its way into your boots? Or how about the fact that even now you can barely keep your balance? I bet a gentle breeze could knock you over right now. So, honestly, what’s up?” — Xander

Chapter 19: “I’ll run if that’s what you want to do. Might not last long, but hey, it would buy us some time,” he offered sincerely. — Xander

Chapter 20: “I feel like there’s waves crashing over me. And do ya know what? I’m okay if they sweep me away. It’s nice just sort of…floating.” — Nyla

Courage: [no dialogue]

Chapter 21: “How do you know that? That’s like saying if I was never born, my family would still be alive, and [REDACTED] wouldn’t have started the fire. You just don’t know that. So what if you two were fighting? I believe our families know exactly how much they mean to us. You can’t be angry at yourself for things you think you could’ve or should’ve done because you just don’t know. You need to stop blaming yourself.” Nyla tugged his hand to get her point across as she brought her other hand up to wipe away Xander’s tears. “Love doesn’t disappear just because people pass away. It’s always there, even when we hate ourselves.”

[Bonus because that was angsty: No one chooses magic. It just happens, Shamira explained. Do you question your free will? The reason you need to breathe? To eat? To drink?]

Prudence: “You aren’t the only one that’s unhappy about this,” he muttered, glancing over the letter. — Cedric

Chapter 22: You have more control than you think. Maybe not as much stamina as you’d hoped, but your magic is strong. You are strong. You just have to learn to trust in yourself, in your magic. You’ve already done so much, keeping yourself safe all this time. The only limit is your own fear. — Shamira

Chapter 23: “Almost. There’s an inner gate farther up, but yeah. Welcome to the abandoned Woodlane Manor of Hart,” Nyla replied with an air of resignation.

[Bonus: “Oh sure, take all the fun out of breaking into an old, abandoned manor, why don’t you!” — Xander]

Chapter 24: “You didn’t tell me it was this bad.” — Xander

Chapter 25: “When will I ever get the chance to explore a creepy old manor, inhabited by a creepy old woman, who may or may not be an imprisoned traitor trying to kill us, with a cat creature that mysteriously goes off on her own to find something you or I can’t possibly see on our own? Sounds like fun to me.” — Xander

Chapter 26: “If you don’t think you can trust yourself, then can you even trust at all?” — Westley

Chapter 27: Don’t look at me like you expect an answer. Wands are an entirely human device. No other magic users have need for a wand that I know of. If anything, I’d think they’re cumbersome. — Shamira

Chapter 28: “Yeah. I opened my eyes, and there she was, the girl with silver hair and no map.” He paused, looking down at the table. His features softened. When he spoke again, it was reflection that painted his voice. “Turns out we were both going to Fortune Falls. And I guess I just felt like I needed to help her. You weren’t there when she discovered her magic.” — Xander

[Bonus: “You know, I’m a little disappointed that there isn’t more of a reception.” — Cedric]

[Extra Bonus: Hold her down! I have to heal her, or she won’t make it! — Shamira]

A/N 2: Idec if I broke the rules on this one😅 There were just too many options for certain chapters and too lines that I loved and couldn't choose between lol

[chiwhorei]

the folly of man

pairing: e. todoroki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.6k

tags: the softest!enji there ever was, crybabie!reader, age gap (20ish vs. 50), d/s dynamics, belly bulge, squirting, overstim, daddy kink, size kink, dacryphilia, a spank, breeding kink, creampie, i am dramatic and clinically melancholy so it’s a little angsty but it’s really just unabashed, self-indulgent fluff

a/n: i screamed about soft!enji to @messwriting a few weeks ago, then the other night enji took me to paris and wrecked my shit in my dreams. the result? complete self-indulgence. i will not be taking criticism on my desire to fuck this man, he is a drawing. (the banner image is from the lonely doll by dare wright, if you know this book we probably have very similar issues sksksksksk)

hymn: angel by finneas

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss,” ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

He swears it’s your quirk that got him. Grabbed him by the collar, stole his soul from his chest— you swiped it right from his rib cage.

You sit across from him, legs folded under each other and pen pressing against your lips. Is it your lips? Or the way words curl past them?

A siren’s call in the form of a 20-something journalist. He hates the likes— prodding for sound bites and snippets to plaster across front pages. But your figure buckles in on itself, nerves weighing down the fabric of a light pink blouse and tight-yet-tasteful pencil skirt. Your presence is gentle and honeyed, it feels warm where Enji is usually burning hot.

Your fever spreads across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need me to repeat the question?”

Your bottom lip trembles nervously, pulled in between your teeth to gnaw on. Freshly graduated and on your very first assignment, it seemed hilarious to send the newly minted recruit into a white-hot tongue lashing.

“Mr. Number One has chewed the head off of every reporter in Japan, it’s a right of passage.”

The echo of your colleague’s stifled laugh rings in your ear as you stare back, you scan over the small wrinkles by his eyes and the jagged scar across his face. The silvered skin curves around his features like atonement. There’s something about the prolific hero that seems to pull you towards him. You grab the side of your chair so as to not fall forward right into his orbit.

Any attempt at distance was doomed from the beginning.

He shakes his head, eyes darting from either of yours to find the question you asked him. He coughs awkwardly, nodding his head for you to continue. Any desire to snap at you dissolves into the carpet with the very first laugh. You let out a small, tinkling giggle against better judgement that cracks the glassed tension.

“What is your biggest inspiration?”

The question hangs in the air a moment before a rehearsed answer falls from his mouth, something about the citizens of his community and the desire to keep his country safe. Whatever tumbles out is less interesting than how you smile in response.

Every person in the room-- agents, publicists, the poor intern holding a black coffee in his trembling hands-- watch on, collectively agape, at the scene before them.

Flame Hero: Endeavor breaks composure for a moment to send you a docile, lopsided smile.

You decide it’s something you won’t soon get tired of seeing.

“Did you get everything you wanted,” his voice trails off with a hint of uncertainty, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “I could answer a few more questions over dinner.”

Enji stands in shock at his own behavior, the inferno flickers little more than a candle in your eyeline. Every minute holds sixty seconds of opportunity, and Enji’s hair is graying at the ends. Even if you brush the dusty old hero from your shoulders with guffaw, even if you roll your eyes or kiss his insole with a pointed heel. He can’t afford to waste a moment more.

It has to be your quirk, he decides, reciting like a prayer the only logical answer to his sweating palms and clambering heart. Nothing makes sense but keeping you within arms reach. It must be some kind of hypnosis, maybe a pheromone.

Enji’s penance lies in the soft, supplied skin of a quirkless civilian.

***

There are few places that have felt like home, no matter what four walls build a house around him. He alone is responsible for each one decaying. He deserves a spot in every plane of hell.

Enji leans against the headboard, scanning over pages of John Milton and enjoying the quiet just after dusk. Looking over the top of his glasses, the book in hand falls out of frame, like most everything does.

Pink lace hangs like bated breath from your shoulders and hips. You look on to him for approval, the set your eyes had lingered on in a boutique window now brandishes the swell of your breasts.

“My perfect girl.” His words are filled with wonder, pulling at the ends of his mouth when you twirl, the ends of flowing lace pick up around you like wings.

Winter air creeps from the open balcony to hit your skin, spreading chills down every inch. Enji watches as you shiver, the cool breeze prickles past pick lace with little effort.

“Come here.” Enji tosses his glasses and book to the bedside table and pats his lap.

Nothing feels more like home than when you settle to lie atop his naked chest, cheek pressed firmly against his pulse.

You rest your chin against his sternum, hands crawling up to find warmth from his skin. He feels the thin, golden ring as your touch trails around his neck.

His own hands, calloused and battered, eclipse over your lower back to find purchase against your ass.

Away from the prying eyes of domestic paparazzi and forty minutes outside of Paris— Enji cuts out what feels like a stolen heaven.

Idle chat about the museum he took you to today fills the room comfortably. Your fingertip comes down to trace the lines of marred skin across the bridge of his nose, he hums and smiles as you talk about paintings.

None stood out to him.

He takes your hand in his much bigger one, kissing the band that mimics his own. You tangle your fingers together.

“This feels like a dream,” your voice is barely above a whisper, lest the night air hears the talk of lovers.

“I’m not totally convinced you aren’t a dream.” Enji pulls you to sit back against his legs, in this position you can meet his eyes without straining upward. Strong hands come down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing lightly against the lingerie’s fabric.

You scoff, batting at his chest, you laugh his comments off in moments like this. But Enji is convinced one day you will lift straight from the world with nothing left but your shoes keeping the earth weighted down.

Soft lips ghost over his, an invitation he’ll never refuse. Your mouth is against him, small hands coming to either side of Enji’s face. His graying stubble is coarse under your fingers. You inhale deeply, he smells like campfire and expensive cologne. Your tongue slips between his lips. His mouth tastes like the remnants of the bottle of red wine you shared after dinner

The hands around your middle pull your impossibly closer, pressing into your lower back to grind your hips down against the bulge in his sweatpants. Your body moves against him, panties rubbing against your already throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” The title wraps in chords around his vertebrae, the sounds of whimpering hits his ear, and he notices the wet patch rubbing right against his knee.

“What do you want, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” The maneuvering of your hips starts slow, but Enji has you almost bouncing on his leg before you can answer him. Both of your hands wrap around his left wrist, tugging it in between your legs.

“I want you to touch me, please. I- I need it.” You bite the inside of your cheek when the pads of his fingers graze the damp, thin material of your panties, his burning touch sets every blood cell aflame.

“You’re so wet, princess, what’s got you all worked up?” There’s a gleam of humor in his voice, seeing you desperate for him has Enji stiffening beneath you.

“My precious little thing, I’ll take good care of you.” His words write you a promise, it extends far past a night of love in Paris.

You can feel his assurance carved into your heart.

Enji’s hand dips into the front of your underwear, ghosting over your clit and running against your swollen lips. He marvels at your response, the smallest ministrations have your head rolling to the side.

His pointer and middle finger prod against you, inching inside carefully. Even with the utmost care, you wince at the stretch. No matter how many times he’s fucked you open in this whirlwind year,

“You’re tighter than a fucking vise, Christ.”

A long moan escapes you, knees moving to dig into the mattress below you for leverage to buck against his hand. Enji curls his fingers upwards, calloused tips finding the spongy patch of skin that has you squirming. His fingers cross over each other, pumping into you and easing you to relax against the intrusion.

“Daddy, I want your cock. I’m ready, please.” The heat in your core is rising, licking against your nerves like wildfire. Enji tutts in response to your begging, his thumb coming down to rub taught circles into your clit.

“I know, princess, but you remember the rules. Cum on my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.” Enji picks up the pace of his fingers, his own patience thinning at the edges with each call for your daddy.

“Close, ‘m close,” your voice wobbles, aching legs pushing you against him, chasing desperately for that first release.

Enji feels you clenching tight in finality, a squeal breaching the steamy space around you. You crack in his tight hold, the taste of bliss coats your tongue-- it tastes like tears.

You slump forward against his chest, coming to float back down to earth before he sends you hurdling back towards the sun.

“You’re so beautiful, princess, absolutely perfect.” Enji’s voice is heavy, lined with a certain bitterness you are familiar with. His compliments always sound like apologies.

You lift your head, forehead pressing against his, the stray hair around your face tickling his skin.

There aren’t words that could heal decades. No amount of atonement, no prayers to any gods will fix a life of despair. He shoulders the blame of it all, heavy against bones and muscle.

Moving to kiss him tenderly, lips pulling him back into the world's sweetest direction. You shouldn’t let him use you as his redemption. If Enji were another man, a better man, he would have walked away from you that fateful afternoon under fluorescent light with just the fleeting feeling you dipped his heart in.

He’s not any kind of good in this world, Enji is a foolish bastard.

He’ll keep kissing you, he’ll touch and lick and fuck you until your wings pick up in the wind and fly you away.

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy. Let me make you feel good too.” You beg for him once again, you beg to be a distraction, the sweetest kind of diversion-- hidden snugly in the quiet of a French villa.

Enji is meticulous with stripping you of the dainty lace, brushing off the straps of your bra so the cups fall right under your pert nipples. He moves his hands slowly, snaking up your sides to swipe his thumbs against the pebbled buds. You don’t try to stop the wines falling like prayer, your body still on edge from your first orgasm.

He pulls off your soaked panties, eyes tracing the strings of slick collecting and breaking off from your glistening cunt.

“Such a precious little pussy, and it’s all mine.” Enji frees his cock from his sweats and boxers, the length springing to slap against his abdomen. He pumps his hand a few times before pressing it against your stomach. It’s no surprise that his size is impressive, long and thick in an ever-intimidating way.

Enji admires how his cock presses against you, tip nudging against your belly button. In comparison to your smaller form, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ripped you in half.

You’d let him.

“No more teasing, Daddy. I need it, please.” Desperation sparks against your nerves, igniting with the sharp sound of Enji’s hand against your ass.

“Don’t get mouthy now, princess.” His warning is light, he’s never been good at denying you.

He pulls your hips up, lining himself up so you can sink down onto him. If his fingers make you whimper, the first breach of his shaft makes you wail.

Your hands find his shoulders, digging in to steady yourself with every deliciously unforgiving inch. You’ll never get used to his size, you never want to.

Enji has held composure with white knuckles, but his resolve is rusting with every movement of your descent. His desire to tear into you becomes untamable, his mind swims in with the velveteen grip you suck him in with.

“You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine forever.” He will promise you until he believes it himself.

He’ll believe in forever if forever means you.

The folly of man is nestled at the apex of your thighs, is pleading gasps, is begging for more, is too much and too little.

And Enji is a fool in love.

The gates of heaven open between your quivering legs to let the devil in. He’ll take every moment he can steal.

As your hips settle down finally, the feeling of being so completely full has tears collecting in your lashes to run down your cheeks. It’s depraved, truly, how beautiful your destruction is.

Enji gives you a moment, adjusting to his size and relaxing, his hand comes down to rub against your stomach, tracing against the skin lightly.

“I can feel it,” his breath hitches, the pulsing around him is dizzying, he feels his tip as it moves inside of you, “fuck, I can feel my cock in your tummy.”

Shaky thighs start moving above him, the bounce of fat and flesh atop his hardened body. He can’t help the declarations flying from his mouth, he can’t stop the itching feeling to make you his completely.

“I want to fuck a baby into you, want to fill you so full.” He can feel the way your body reacts to his most perverse desire, “I want you round and swollen with my child.”

Enji grabs your hips, taking control and quickening the pace of his assault on your weeping pussy. You cry out, a string of babbled, “Please, daddy, please fuck me full, s-so full.”

You can feel your second orgasm bubbling up with each stroke of Enji’s cock against your abused pussy. All words are lost, all thoughts fuzzy aside from the man pounding himself into you from below.

“Cum around me, little girl, cum around my cock.” Enji’s words are little more than a growl, head thrown back into the pillows as you constrict around him. His fingers come down against your clit again, rubbing with fervor. He’s adamant on throwing you head-first, body limp and overstimulated in every way.

You feel it in the gnashing of your teeth, the wound chord snapping like floss around Enji. You feel yourself gushing, your cum leaking around him and dripping onto the bed sheets.

Enji cums with one final buck, hips lifting off of the bed as he spills into you. You can feel the thick spurts against your still pulsating walls, filling you to the brim and trickling out even before you separate.

He stays inside of you for a moment, large hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you to crumble into his chest. You collapse against his warm, jagged skin. He lulls you with soft strokes to your hair, behind the flush and sweat on your face, he sees the dizzy, love-drunk expression tugging on your lips.

No matter how many times you disagree, Enji knows it’s true.

The swelling, disorienting feeling of your smile. The visions of a future, of the life he doesn't deserve but wouldn’t give up for any deal the devil could make him. The sight of you, simply and without motive, every day.

It has to be your quirk.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[weasleylangs]

opposites attract - f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor.  Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k

A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!! 

P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

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

Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.

Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.

Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment. 

When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.

This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.

She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.

“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag. 

Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’. 

These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’. 

“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?” 

Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.

“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care. 

“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.” 

She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.

“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.” 

-

It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over. 

“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.” 

Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?” 

He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening. 

“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.

“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,” 

They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.

“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”

Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek. 

Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.” 

She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?” 

Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.” 

He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck. 

When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done. 

The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.

“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!” 

She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.

He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”

He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist. 

“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.

“I love you.” 

This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?” 

Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.

“I do, I love you.” 

She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide. 

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling. 

[9tzuyu]

who you are

note: mostly made this for my own comfort, but i do hope it helps and/or comforts any fellow lesbians :]. i normally wouldn’t specify sexualities on any characters because obviously everyones going to feel differently about different characters, but like i said this started off for my own comfort bcs i was hashtag goin through it.

prompt: basically just reader struggling to accept themselves as a lesbian. sorry non lesbians :(

warnings: heavy heavy heavy on internalized lesbophobia. talks about comphet (trying to force oneself to like men) and wanting to be ‘normal’

thank u ally for proofreading <3

not tagging anyone just because i don’t want to trigger :[

. . .

you were wrestling with something, natasha could tell that much. your eyebrows were drawn together, eyes lost in a gaze. it wasn’t until the third time tony called your name when you snapped out of it.

“sorry,” you mumbled.

“well are you going to answer the question?”

natasha noted the tapping of your foot, knuckles cracking beneath the table. it was obvious you weren’t in the right state of mind to be answering any kind of question. foolishly, no one else picked up on that except for the redhead.

“what was the question?”

tony sighed, his patience growing thinner by the second.

“i asked if your report was done. it was supposed to be handed in three days ago, remember?”

your foot tapped faster.

“yeah- yeah, i’m almost finished.”

it wasn’t like you to be so late on things like this, you were usually on top of everything.

“you told me you would have it ready by today. this is the fourth time this month that you’ve done this. you’re dragging your ass and the rest of us are getting pretty tired of it.” a collective agreement could be heard from the team. all eyes were on you waiting for a reply.

if you hadn’t felt anxious before, you most definitely did now.

“it won’t happen again.” tony blew off your statement and rolled his eyes. you shifted uncomfortably, nauseous from all the negative attention.

you couldn’t help but wonder if they knew. maybe that’s why they were being so short. it made sense after all.

natasha tried making her way towards you, but she was stopped by steve’s hand on her shoulder. you were well past gone by the time she managed to scramble away from him.

your back pressed flatly against the wall, tears steadily falling down your face. hatred was all you felt. hatred towards yourself. 

why couldn’t you be like the rest of them? why didn’t you belong? 

whywhywhywhywhywhy

granted, you knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. that was never the issue. the issue was the fact that it was yourself, that there was no possibility for you to ever be attracted to men. 

you were sure it would be a phase, that it would pass, that you would forget about it and never think about it again. you tried to go on dates, tried to form a relationship, tried to enjoy having sex with them. none of it worked, no matter how much you forced yourself to believe it would. 

all you could think about was how sick and disgusting you felt. and the shit representation didn’t help your case at all. the media hardly ever portrayed a good, well-rounded lesbian character that wasn’t problematic, over-sexualized or dead. 

the media only reiterated the fact that you were supposed to want men. you were supposed to find the right guy and fall in love with him, call him your husband and start a family. 

a knock on your door pulled you away from your thoughts. you shuffled your way back to your feet, drying your eyes for good measurement. 

natasha stood patiently, eyes drilled on your doorknob. if it were up to her she’d be picking your lock, but she knew that would be crossing a boundary. she went to knock again when your door swung open. 

“hi nat.”

“hey,” her voice was soft. “you’ve been crying...” she pressed her hand against your face, thumb rubbing the top of your cheekbone. 

you shrugged. it wasn’t like you could deny her, your red eyes had already given away the truth. “yeah.” 

she hummed, “may i come in?”

you hesitantly moved out of the way to let her through, cursing at yourself for finding her so attractive. 

“you know you can talk to me, you always do. why haven’t you said anything?” natasha moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “you’ve grown quiet these past few days, it’s not like you.”

“i’m just tired, worn out from work i suppose.”

she nodded, though she knew better than to believe such a lie. natasha could always tell when you were lying, something you both hated and loved at the same time. 

you sat next to her after a friendly tap on the bed. her gaze made you feel like a little kid in trouble. it was as if she already knew and was prepared to say the worse.

“i don’t believe you.” 

“well, i don’t know what you want me to tell you, nat.”

“how about the truth?” you scoffed purely out of defense. “and what good would that do?” 

“it might relieve whatever you’ve got on your heart.” you met natasha’s eyes and your lip immediately began to quiver.

“i’m afraid you won’t be able to look at me the same.” 

she softened, taking your hand in hers. “there’s nothing in the world that would change the way i see you.”

“you say that now, nat, but-”

“i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.” 

you thought about it further. natasha had never been one to judge someone based on the things they’ve been through, the things they’ve done or the things that make them who they are. she saw people the way they were, nothing more, nothing less. 

but what if she didn’t like you or see you the way you were? you weren’t sure you could handle the aftermath if that were to be the case. it was bad enough you struggled to accept yourself, natasha’s disapproval would only break you. 

“i’m a lesbian.” a lump in your throat began to form and you found yourself crying once more. “i tried so hard, i tried everything i could think of, but i can’t, i don’t like men.”

you coughed, choking on your words. 

“i don’t understand, nat! i don’t understand why i can’t be normal. why can’t i do it? if i just liked men i would be okay, i would be fine, i would be fucking accepted.” you paused for a breath of air. “i just want to be normal.” 

natasha was taken back by your confession. it was nothing near what she thought it would be. she expected you to tell her you’d been stressed or that you were scared for the next mission. 

“i’m sorry, i-”

the spy quickly cupped your face, tilting your chin upwards as a hint to meet her eyes again.

“look at me, c’mon, hey. you have nothing to be sorry for, don’t ever think that you do. i love you for who you are. there’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. you’re normal, you’re who you are, who you’re supposed to be. you are real. i promise you are.” 

without thinking you leaned into natasha, clinging on to her for dear life. her arms found their way around your body, hands rubbing your back up and down. 

“you should be proud to be who you are, not ashamed. and if you’re not proud of yourself then please know that i am. i am so, so, incredibly proud of you, sweetheart.” she finger brushed your hair as you continued to cry. “shhh, you’re alright baby. i’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone.”

“it’s okay nat.” she gave your body a small squeeze, frowning at your response. “you shouldn’t have to feel like you need to force yourself to be someone or something you’re not. you don’t deserve to struggle so much for your own acceptance as a lesbian.” 

you nodded, though she could tell you weren’t fully convinced. “the only opinions you should care about are your own and the people you love and cherish. i know that’s easier said than done, but it’s true. besides, what you told me just gives me something more to love about you.” natasha finished off with a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

“this means a lot to me, nat. thank you, for everything really.” 

“oh sweetheart i should be thanking you for trusting me with such an important part of you are.” you shied away, a growing smile forming on your face as you leaned into her shoulder.

natahsa smirked, clearly aware of the effect she had on you. “who knew you could be so cute?” 

“nattttt.” 

she rose her hands up in surrender, “alright, alright. i’ll stop on one condition.” 

“what’s that?” you mumbled. 

“would you let me take you out for dinner tonight? i’ll show you just how beautiful it is to be with a woman.” 

“yeah, yes- yes please, that’s fine.” natasha could’ve sworn she heard your heartbeat quicken and she had to refrain from letting out a small laugh at your flustered state. 

“we need to clear that little mind of yours. i’ll be back here at seven on the dot, okay?” a pat on the leg caught your senses as you watched her stand. the last thing natasha heard was the soft “okay” fall from your lips as she walked out the door.

you’d never been happier to be a lesbian in your life by the end of the night. 

[denkamis]

Can you please write a fluff one shot about a sk8 the infinity like his girlfriend/boyfriend/s/o falls asleep on him

to anon: omg first request omgomg thank you so much for sending one in! i wasn’t sure which sk8 character you were referring to, so i decided to write one for both reki and langa! hope you don’t mind hehe <3 this is the one for reki, the one for langa will take a little bit longer bc of valentine’s & other requests but i hope you like this one regardless!

warnings: none, just some fluffy times with the best boy. reader is gn!

word count: 1.3k

sleepyhead. (reki x reader)

Late nights were certainly not a rare occurrence with your boyfriend, Reki. He was filled to the brim with energy and passion that practically flowed out of him like a geyser. Not that you were opposed to that at all, you found that it was one of the qualities that made you fall for him in the first place. Though, you worried that he wasn’t taking into consideration his own personal health during these late night excursions. Take for instance tonight, as it was slowly approaching two thirty am, it seemed that the redhead had no clear intention of stopping his work.

The two of you were cooped up in his workshop behind his house, Reki singing along to some “cool jams” as he called them. In reality, it was his Spotify playlist of the “best 2000’s alternative” music like Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne and Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low. You were barely hanging onto your string of consciousness, the mere idea of sleep sounding like absolute heaven at this very moment. You were propped up on a stool in the corner, the stack of skating magazines Reki had given you to flick through in case you got bored now sat in a neat pile off to the side. You had read each one of them front to back twice already tonight.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love spending time with Reki. You enjoyed listening to his midnight ramblings of whatever came to mind. His ideas for new boards, designs for stickers, and other creative ways to beat his future S opponents were usually his topics of interest. No one really noticed how much of an imaginative person your boyfriend was. He could be impulsive and over excited at times, but his fantastic mind and his willingness to create made your heart soar. Not only that, but he was fairly handy when it came to fixing up and assembling his own boards like he was some mad scientist waiting for one of his many experiments to go right. You indulged him as much as you could, you really did enjoy his company. Even if you would much rather be curled up beside him snuggling in bed rather than hear Reki precariously make his way through the lyrics of Check Yes Juliet for what seemed like the seventh time.

“Reki,” you spoke up finally as the analog clock on the wall indicated the current time of two forty-three am. Reki looked up from Langa’s custom longboard, hair bouncing about despite already being contained by the headband he wore everyday. “Yeah?” he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder only to see your weary eyelids and tired expression. His entire demeanour melted, lips jutted out in a tiny pout upon seeing his poor baby so tired.

He backed away from his worktable, dancing and tiptoeing across the floor to avoid stepping on any spare parts or tools he had left lying about his mishmash of a workshop.

“Is baby tired?” he cooed, sawdusted fingers beginning to tug and pinch at the corners of your cheeks. You groaned in annoyance, your sleep deprived state causing you to be a tad more irritable at this hour. “Reki,” you repeated in a more serious tone, ember coloured irises meeting your e/c ones. His calloused hands moved to cup your face, warmth enveloping you in a way that felt like home. The scent of pine and the remnants of orange crush soda invaded your senses. He smiled at you with that goofy face of his, the one that Langa constantly teased for being weird. Maybe it was your sleepy nature, but he looked even more gorgeous in the harsh LED lighting of his garage. Tiny strands of his auburn hair fell in front of his face as he tilted his head to the side, his smile growing as he watched your eyes begin to droop.

“Please. Let’s go to bed,” you asked of him as kindly yet firmly as you could. Reki clicked his tongue a bit, thinking for a moment before delivering a cute peck to your nose. “A few more minutes! Then we can head inside, grab a cookie or two and crawl into bed together! It’ll be just a jiffy okay? Here, you can even set an alarm,” Reki was already reaching for his phone in his hoodie pocket so that you could do just as he suggested. He stopped in his tracks as he felt your hands clasp around his hoodie, pulling him close so that you could hug his torso. He laughed at how clingy you could be while being so sleepy, his hand patting atop your head as a form of affection.

“Wow, you really are.. sleeping,” Reki’s voice trailed off as he looked down to be greeted by you completely passed out against him. Your arms held your boyfriend close, your face buried within the fabric of his yellow skater boy hoodie. Soft snores escaped you, your breathing slowed and calm as you finally let your consciousness slip out of your ever fleeting grasp. Reki’s face began to bloom with colour the longer he stared at you, panic setting in as he realized what was truly happening.

You had fallen asleep against him. Oh shit. Oh god. You were asleep against him. That meant you were so comfortable that you just so happened to pass out in his arms. Reki bit back a giddy smile, warmth cascading through him in a form of nothing but love radiating solely for you at nearly three in the morning. His heart thumped rapidly against his rib cage. No matter how long he had been with you, he kept discovering new things about you that made him absolutely lose his mind. You falling asleep against him definitely being one of those many things. You looked so peaceful, so unbothered and safe within his embrace. This warmth you had given him overtook his will to keep working, his hands moving your hair out of the way of your face to kiss your forehead.

“Sorry for making you stay up, sweet baby,” he apologized in a quiet tone. His hands moved your arms to around his neck, using his strength to lift you up and wrap your legs securely around his waist. “I can’t say I’m not grateful for you being here for me, though. You could have left too, yet you stayed here for me,” Reki spoke to your sleeping form. The fact that you had stayed up with him this late made him even more grateful to have you. Reki grunted a bit as he adjusted to the newfound weight of you around him, your hair getting in his mouth and his eyes squinting to find the light switch so that he could flick it off before leaving. Reki was always careful with you, handling you as if you were a sort of glass figurine he barely even had the permission to touch.

“You look so damn cute like this, y’know,” he continued to speak as he maneuvered his way about his house, trying his best to subdue his footsteps and make as little noise as possible. He didn’t want to wake up his mom or little sisters. “Man, I’m so lucky. Seriously really lucky to have someone like you in my life.”

In your sleep, you subconsciously nuzzled your head against his chest. He melted a bit, holding back a tiny noise of happiness as he began to beam like an idiot holding his partner. You were the most amazing person, the person who made him happy every single day without fail, the person who picked him up no matter how much he bailed or got hurt. He loved you more than anything, and he wanted to treat you as well as you treated him. Even if it meant carrying you to bed after a late night of him talking your ear off about skateboarding for three consecutive hours.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

wanna be on the taglist? see this post!

[cafedanslanuit]

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

✖   —   summary:  porco wasn't surprised when you called him at three in the morning because you were too drunk to drive back to your place. he would always be there when you needed, both as your best friend and the guy who was completely head over heels for you. and both of them were sure zeke jaeger was cheating on you.

✖   —   pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖   —   tags/warnings: so far it’s sfw but rating will change in future chapters, college au, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, unrequited love, cheating, toxic relationships, friends to lovers

chapter one: save your love

“Thanks for picking me up, Pock. You didn’t have to.”

“Tch. Of course I did,” Porco replied, putting his arm on the back of your seat on his car and reversing, getting out of the bar’s parking lot. You took your time observing him and noticed the bags under his eyes. You shouldn’t have been surprised. What were you expecting when you called him at 3 am asking him to pick you up from the bar because you were too drunk to drive home?

Porco rested his arm on the open window of his car, his other hand handling the wheel with ease. There were very few cars on the highway and the chilly air refreshed your body just right, making the ride home a lot more comfortable than you pictured. You closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of safeness you always felt whenever your best friend was around, plus the sweet dizziness on your head from the vodka and Porco’s cologne.

“What did the fucker do this time?”

It didn’t last long.

“He didn’t do a thing.”

Porco scoffed. “Yeah, right. Are you really going to pretend you didn’t end up in that bar because of what Zeke’s ‘friend’ just posted on her Instagram?”

“Porco, please.”

“What was the caption again? Oh, right. ‘Movie night’, devil face emoji, fire emoji,” he recalled with a snicker, his eyes fixated on the road. “She even tagged him on it, her legs resting on his lap and shit. Was it the same girl he took to the cat shelter for some ‘volunteer work’ last week or another?”

You didn’t answer. You knew Porco already knew who she was.

“She’s very pretty,” you mused. “It makes sense.”

“Please, have you looked at yourself?” Porco asked, taking a right turn.

Jokingly, you took the rearview mirror and angled it towards you. Your mascara was a little worn off and there were only traces of the red lipstick you had put on before heading to the bar. Your hair was messy as well and you look like you desperately needed a bottle of water.

“I look like shit,” you laughed, putting the mirror back to its original place.

“Shut the fuck up, you look good.”

“Pock, look at me. Whatever is going on here,” you said, gesturing at your face, “ain’t good. If you think so, your taste is really lacking.”

Porco chuckled, eliciting a soft smile from you.

“I like to think I have really good taste.”

“If we’re being serious, you have way too high standards,” you yawned, extending your arms and feeling some cracks on your back.

“How so?” he inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since I know you, which is what— a year?”

“And?”

“And I’m starting to think you’re afraid of commitment. Maybe you’re just afraid of a relationship,” you shrugged.

“Are you done, Freud?” he teased, sparing a quick glance at you before looking back at the road again.

“All I’m saying is you’ve had both beautiful girls and boys at your disposition and you have never even tried to date them. Well, no, my bad, you did take this one girl on a date. And what happened next?”

Porco chuckled. “Look, it’s not like that, we just didn’t click and—”

“You told her you were better off as friends and to this day I haven’t listened to a solid reason as to why you would drop such a pretty girl like her.”

“She just didn’t have what I was looking for,” he shrugged innocently.

“See what I mean? Unbelievable high standards. None of us is worthy of the mighty Porco Galliard, the lacrosse team captain who can fit seventeen marshmallows inside his mouth.”

Both of you broke in laughter, not caring about waking up someone from the houses alongside the road. You looked around and immediately recognized the neighbourhood, your laugh ceasing immediately. You patted Porco’s arm, trying to get his attention.

“Can you turn left at the next intersection?”

“We need to keep straight to get to your place.”

“I want to go to Zeke’s for a minute.”

Porco’s face twisted into a scowl. “Why would you want to go to him right now?”

“I— he told me he was watching movies by himself. I just want to check on him, we don’t even have to step off the car.”

“Hey,” he said sternly, catching your attention. “Don’t do this. You saw her Instagram post, you know what happened between those two. Are you really going to believe him after you just saw fucking evidence?”

“I know him,” you insisted. “He wouldn’t just flat out lie to me, not like that.”

“And the photo from tonight? How do you explain that?”

You took a deep breath, a sharp pain in your head making you close your eyes tightly.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “Please, just— drive past his house. If his lights are out, then he must be sleeping after watching those movies by himself, just like he told me so.”

Porco scoffed.

“Porco, please,” you pleaded, squeezing his arm as you got closer and closer to the intersection. “Please.”

Rolling his eyes, Porco turned left as you asked him to and started driving to Zeke’s house, following your instructions. He didn’t try to come up with conversation again, instead, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he pulled up crossing the street, a couple of houses away from your target.

Your heart immediately relaxed when you looked at Zeke’s window: the lights were off. You let out a long, tired sigh, letting your forehead rest on the glove compartment of Porco’s car.

“I don’t understand you,” Porco sneered, resting his chin on his hand, his elbow pressed on the open window of his car. “Him having the lights off means nothing, he could—”

Porco turned to you as you sat back up, your eyes meeting his. He bit his tongue, silently cursing and looked at his wheel, setting both his hands on it.

“He could what?” you insisted.

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, passing a hand through his hair. “His lights are off. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you whispered, sitting back against his passenger seat and getting comfortable.

Right when Porco was reaching for his keys, a noise in the quiet neighbourhood startled you. Both of you raised their heads as a black car passed alongside them and parked in front of Zeke’s house. A tall, blonde girl exited the same house, accompanied by none other than your boyfriend. You recognized her as Yelena, who had begun appearing more and more frequently in his pictures at the same time he started posting less and less about you.

Zeke walked her to the car and you watched in horror as she pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips before getting in the car. He closed the door after her and patted the roof of the car twice before sending her off. Porco gripped the wheel tightly as Zeke stretched his arms and walked back home, dragging his feet without a care in the world.

Sighing, Porco turned to you, who were already dialling Zeke’s number.

“No, c’mon,” he said, trying to take your phone away but you swatted his hand away, putting a finger on top of your lips, asking for silence.

“Hey baby,” you greeted in your fake, cheery voice. Porco couldn’t believe after spending two years with you, Zeke couldn’t realize that when your voice got too high-pitched, it meant you were faking every word. “Yeah, I know it’s late. Sorry. Sorry. Yes, I just— I know. I know it’s too late to call.”

Porco could feel his blood boiling at every apology that came out of your mouth even after witnessing Yelena leaving his house not even five minutes ago.

“I just wanted to ask how you were doing? Were the movies fun?” you made a pause, your smile tight on your face. “Ah, I see. Wasn’t it boring to watch all by yourself?” you pressed and not even you could maintain your smile after hearing his response. “Mhm, I do know you prefer to watch movies alone. Anyway, it is quite late. Talk to you later, I love—”

You looked at the screen on your phone and noticed the call had already ended.

“Well, there’s that,” you mused to yourself before putting your phone back on your jeans.

Silently, Porco started his car again, driving away from the suburbs and heading to your place as he had intended in the first place. The comforting silence was now poisonous, his eyes flicking from the road every minute to check on you, who was looking outside the window with your eyes lost. your mind probably too full of thoughts that he couldn’t begin to understand.

It didn’t mean he didn’t want to, though.

He kept driving in silence until he reached your apartment, parking in his usual spot. He left the engine running, even if you knew he always waited until you entered the building to drive away. He unlocked the doors and let out a long sigh.

“Drink some water before getting to bed,” Porco reminded you, both his hands on the wheel.

You didn’t move a muscle, eyes lost on his glove compartment, the events of the night running around your head. Yelena’s Instagram photo. Zeke’s text telling you he was alone. Him kissing her goodnight at 2 am.

“Hey,” he called, startling you. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth but then closed it, not knowing where to start. You pursed your lips and tugged at your fingers in discomfort.

“Talk to me,” Porco insisted.

“Can you stay tonight?” you asked in a small voice. “Annie is out and I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts tonight.”

Before you could finish your sentence, Porco was already killing the engine.

It was a silent walk to your apartment. You checked yourself in the elevator's mirror, realizing how awful you truly looked. Your eyeliner was smudged along with your mascara and the bags under your eyes were more noticeable than ever. As you inspected your face, Porco grabbed your cheek between his thumb and index, playfully pulling it from side to side until you were laughing, asking him to stop.

When you entered your apartment, you immediately walked to the bathroom, in deep necessity of a shower. Porco knew your apartment like the back of his hand, so after a quick detour to the kitchen, he made his way to your bedroom. He saw your laptop on your bed, messy sheets and clothes on the floor, probably how you had left it after seeing Yelena’s post on Instagram and decided to go to your favourite bar and forget about it for a while.

Porco took off his shoes and started picking up your clothes and put them on your spare chair, your laptop now on your desk. While he made your bed, he listened to you using your hairdryer in the bathroom and figured you would be out soon. He took out his phone from his pocket and looked at this schedule. It was already four in the morning and he had classes at nine. It was okay, he told himself. He had a hoodie in his car he could change into the next morning, and no one would say anything about him arriving in sweatpants. Well, no one that cared enough about their reputation to try and make fun of one of the golden boys of the university, at least.

You stepped off your bathroom already wearing your pyjamas, a tank top and small cotton shorts. Being friends with Porco for so long, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in your pyjamas but it was truly the first time he saw you so small while wearing them. Maybe it was because of everything that happened that night, your tired eyes or the way you were standing, but Porco had to fight off the urge to put his arms around your body and protect you. From what? He wasn’t quite sure.

He handed you a bottle of water he had grabbed from the kitchen and you drank it all in one try.

“The only true secret to avoid being hungover tomorrow,” he reminded you.

“I know,” you smiled, leaving the empty bottle on your desk. “C’mon, let's get to bed.”

Porco had slept with you before, sure. You had travelled to the beach together with some friends and your sleeping bags were always put next to each other, which only prompted you to talk all night, telling each other embarrassing stories from your younger years. You had also fallen asleep in Porco’s dorm before, after a party that left you too tired to go back to your place. He would always let you crash on his bed and you slept soundly, knowing you were safe if he was around.

Zeke had never liked that. But Porco couldn’t care less.

He got into bed first, scooting to the wall and making space for you. You laid next to Porco, facing him and sighed happily when your head finally hit your pillow

“Thanks for making the bed, Pock,” you smiled.

“Why are you still with him?”

You averted his gaze, your smile dropping in an instant. “I love him,” you muttered.

“Do you? Do you really love someone who is lying to you like this?” he insisted. You felt a knot forming on your throat. “You understand he was fucking Yelena, right?”

You nodded softly, hugging the pillow under your head.

“Then why waste your time with an asshole like him? What are you waiting for, what do you want him to do so you finally leave him? What’s your tipping point, huh?”

Porco’s voice was gentle yet firm as he tried to get to you. He watched you as you laid still, not willing to answer any of his questions. He wondered if maybe you didn’t want to know the answer either.

“You’re smart. You’re— fuck, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Why are you letting him treat you like garbage? Why are you allowing him to hurt you like this?”

Once again, he was met with silence.

“You’re are fun, beautiful and yet you’re drunk at 4 am on a fucking Wednesday because your boyfriend is cheating on you and not only that— he’s fucking her and letting everyone know. Why are you doing this to yourself?” he inquired, his voice getting a little desperate. “You should be with someone who treats you right, who— fuck, someone who knows how much you’re worth. Someone who would never hurt you like this.”

You couldn’t suppress a cold laugh.

“Yeah, like who?” you scoffed, nuzzling your face on your pillow.

“Like me.”

You snapped your head to Porco, eyes open wide and lips parted, trying to form words.

“W-what?”

You looked at Porco, his eyes looking intensely at you. He opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, almost to himself, shifting on the bed and propping up on his elbow, his body still facing yours. “I said what I said. I… I love you. Have loved you for quite some time now,” he admitted. You watched heat rising to his cheeks, tinting them deep red.

“I— I love you too,” you said softly. “You know that. I always tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life and that I—”

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I don’t love you as a friend,” Porco muttered, rolling his eyes.

You stayed in silence, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your eyes scanned the bed sheets between both your bodies. Even if Porco was being crystal clear with his words regarding his feelings towards you, somehow it didn’t make sense in your head.

“Why?” you whispered.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why do you… well—”

“Why do I love you?” Porco asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched you nod softly. “Well, ‘cause it’s you. Ever since we met, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, your weird sense of humour and your irrational fear of panda bears,” he said, making both of you laugh, helping in releasing the tension both of you were carrying since his confession. “C’mon, you honestly thought I was so full of myself I didn’t think anyone was worthy of dating me? Fuck, I—,” he let out an honest chuckle, passing a hand through his hair. “I was just in love with you. And trust me, it’s not fun going out on a date with someone when all you can think is ‘Oh, she’d love this place’ or ‘I would be having much more fun if she was here instead’.”

“You really did that?” you asked in a small voice.

Porco smirked, cocking his head towards you. You knew his confession was playing a big part but you couldn’t stop noticing how handsome he truly was. Sure, you had always known he was good-looking, you knew this when you teased him for not going out with other people, but you never realized how truly beautiful he was.

Looking at him lying on your bed, the moonlight coming from your open window and hitting his face, it was as if you were looking at him for the first time, noticing the smallest details you had been ignoring for so long. Like how his eyes weren’t hazel but golden and that he had a few freckles on his cheekbones, decorating his slightly tanned skin. His lips also looked soft, even for someone who had woken up in the middle of the night to pick up their drunk friend. The white t-shirt he was wearing exposed his toned arms, making you feel the need to bury your face on his chest so he could put them around you.

You hadn’t realized you were moving forward until you felt Porco’s hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting closer. You should have known you wouldn’t have been able to notice his freckles from afar. Porco’s eyes went from your lips back to your eyes and you sensed how bad he was rethinking his choices as he gently pushed you back on the bed.

“Listen, I—” he started, his blush only getting more noticeable, now making the tip of his nose turn red as well. “I’m not going to be your rebound, neither someone who you fuck out of spite or to get back at your boyfriend. Fuck, I don’t even know why I told you this,” he sighed, putting down his propped arm and laying his cheek on the pillow next to you. “Just… do better. For yourself. You deserve much more than that monkey man who hasn’t realized he’s a four dating a ten.”

You giggled at his remark and he smirked, proud of himself. Porco and you looked at each other’s eyes, a soft smile lingering on your lips. Tentatively, you reached for his hair, his golden locks feeling soft under your touch. Porco stayed still as you played with his hair, even closing his eyes as you did so.

After a few moments, your hand travelled to his cheek, making him open his eyes again. Your thumb gently stroked his skin, soft and tender under your touch. Porco’s eyes were fixed on your face as you caressed him silently. Your other fingers started running over his skin with a feather-like touch, entrapped in the sweet moment between the two of you.

Porco turned his head just enough for his mouth to meet your palm. He pressed a kiss on it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your heart skipping a beat and a smile creeping on your face.

“Can I hug you?” you asked in a whisper.

Porco nodded, opening his arms for you. You scooted closer to him, sliding your right arm around his waist, bending your other arm and flushing your head against his chest. Your legs tangled together, not taking too long before finding a comfortable position.

Once you were settled, Porco’s left arm draped around your body, pulling you closer to him gently. He pushed his right arm under your pillow, loving how easy it felt to be like this with you. It was as if you were always meant to sleep like this, with your face against his chest and your hand on his back. He looked down at you and pushed some of your hair away from your face

“Are you comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, taking a deep breath and sighing contently against his chest. Porco’s cologne filled your senses and you couldn’t help but smile at the homely feeling.

He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Goodnight,” he whispered, closing his eyes. You imitated him and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

...

When Porco opened his eyes the next morning, he felt as if only a couple of seconds had passed since he had closed his eyes. He sighed. Well, it wasn’t the first time that he had sleeping problems but a part of him innocently hoped it would change after he got to sleep by your side. He looked at your sleeping face. It was way too innocent from him to think just because he got to rest by your side he would have had a good sleep.

He looked down at your sleeping face and couldn’t help but smile a little. He recalled the moment you leaned into him, searching for a kiss before he had to push you away. Porco exhaled, his eyes travelling to your lips. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to kiss the girl of his dreams— hell, he had dreamt about that for almost a year now.

But not like that. Never like that.

Porco took his phone on your bedside table and checked the time. Seven in the morning. He yawned, burying his face in the pillow. He hated his inability to go back to sleep after he had already woken up. His first class was in three hours and while you didn’t have any classes in the morning, he knew you would probably wake up regretting having drunk so much the night before.

Carefully, he pulled away from you and headed to the kitchen. You had mentioned Annie was going to be out and he figured either she hadn’t come home yet or she was asleep as well. Just in case, he tried to be extra silent while preparing coffee. He thanked Annie was the closest thing to a coffee connoisseur he knew, because he couldn’t help but let out a happy hum when the smell of coffee filled the kitchen.

As he watched the coffee drip on your mug, he leaned on the counter, his mind going back to the night he’d spent on your bed. How your fingers traced his hair, how your hand felt against his cheek and the way you looked at him when he kissed your palm. Even if he had stopped you from kissing him, somehow the tender moment you shared had felt even more intimate. Like it was always supposed to be like that: just you and him.

It wasn’t until several minutes later that Porco realized he had been smiling the whole time. He had told you he loved you. You hadn’t pushed him away after knowing how he really felt about you— not only that, you had shown him tenderness by cuddling with him the whole night. Even if Porco was aware things were far more complicated than that moment, he also knew it was a step in the right direction. He could almost see you sitting on the counter in front of him, morning light hitting your face and your legs swinging while you looked at him with a soft smile.

A shuffling noise made Porco snap out of his daydreaming. He peeked from the kitchen door, thinking Annie was back home but instead he found you stepping out of the room, wearing shorts and a big hoodie while you checked your phone.

“Thought you didn’t have class until later today,” Porco said, walking into the living room and startling you.

“Hey Pock— and no, I— Zeke called. He said he wants to talk, that he needs me, so I… I called an Uber, I’m going to his place now.”

“Are you serious right now?”

You looked into his eyes and immediately back to the floor, his glare too full of the truth for you to endure.

“The Uber is waiting,” you said in a small voice. “Thanks for… driving me home and staying. I have to go.”

In silence, Porco watched you walk past him to your apartment door and carefully close it behind you. A part of him wanted to think it was nothing but a joke from your part, that you would open the door any second now.

The song of the coffee machine turning off let him know he should have known better than to hope.

[elareine]

If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.

[peonyneko]

Didn’t Mean It | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Request:  hello! I was wondering if you could do a Bakugou x Reader (if requests are open ofc❤️). Maybe Bakugou said something he didn’t mean to the Reader, and she like leaves the middle of class to go to the bathroom to cry- and like some of the girls go to comfort her/ask if she’s doing fine. But that doesn’t help- so Bakugou ditches class and goes to comfort her in the girls bathroom, and the other girls are like “cUtE”. Sorry if this made no sense but I thought it would be cute 😳. love your writing!

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@blveteaaa I’m really sorry for taking so long. Please do let me know if this is what you had in mind. I also appreciate any feedback. 

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Noise. The class was filled with noise, per usual. Mr. Aizawa was sleeping in the corner. Hm... Seems like he didn’t sleep well again. I wonder what night trouble popped up this time. Mina, Momo, and Uraraka were chatting away near me. The next class should start in about 30 minutes. Until then, Mr. Aizawa told us to complete the assignment and place it on his desk. Getting up from my seat, I head towards Katsuki, Eijiro, and Denki. To avoid disturbing them, I decided to wait behind them until they finished talking. 

“Yeah, I don’t get why that’s irritating,” Eijiro was facing Katsuki. His back was, currently, facing me, The other two immediately acknowledge my presence. Their eye widen and their shoulders tense up.

“Of course you don’t. She’s not with you,” he began. Was it about me?

“It’s especially when she wants to tag along on days I go out. It would’ve been better if she just stayed home. Damn it. It’s so irritating.”

Oh.. Huh. I felt my heart tighten at his words. The room got a little quieter. The light even seemed dimmer. After noticing the change in my demeanor, Denki coughs. Before the duo can say anything, I lift my finger to my lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that! You both act like you’re the ones dealing with it,” Katsuki’s ignorance of my presence did not help. With a heavy heart, I turn back around and walk back to my desk.

We were all occupied with our assignment. For this class, we were completing an in-class group assignment. Currently, I am sitting in front of Katsuki, with Mina and Tsuyu sitting on the side. I can already feel his irritation. He probably did not enjoy being forced into a group, especially with me. Normally, I’d feel chipper about it. However, after knowing how he feels, I felt that me presence was annoying. I decided to talk less to avoid agitating him. While the group talks, I write down their ideas for the work and jot down my own, as well. 

“You know this is a group effort, right?” I look up to see Katsuki’s eyes locked on me. I nodded. 

“Really? I haven’t heard any input from you for it, Becoming lazy, are we?” he words stung. MY face warmed from embarrassment. 

“Well, I... I was, uh, writing my ideas down with the groups in here,” I hesitantly lift my notebook. The room’s mood began to tense up. Slowly, the quiet room become quieter. 

“____... This is a group effort. Do you not know what that means? Share you damn ideas. God, he rolls his eyes, not noticing his voice made the class focus on our group. I could feel their eyes centering me. I attempted to tell my ideas but they went all over the place in my mind.

“Yeah, nevermind. You’re not helping with shit,” he interrupted. The warmth of my face was traveling down to my neck. My throat constricts a bit. I can feel inklings of anxiousness rising.

“That’s not nice to say,” Mina told him. He simply rolled his eye at her comment. Mina signals for Denki to come to our table. They both whisper between themselves. They eye Katsuki a bit so I assumed it was about him and I. Tsuyu looks at my nervous state and reassures that she’s there if I need to talk.

“Kaminari, since you’re here, why don’t you and _____ switch? Some braincells is better than none,” he chuckles. My mood worsens at his joke. Little tears were forming but they were unnoticeable. There class was still focused on us. Clearing up my throat, I get up from my seat. I slowly walk up to the front.

“Is it alright for me to go to the restroom?” my voice cracks when asking Cementoss. He nods in return, noticing the waviness in my voice.

As soon as I got permission, I run out the classroom. I hear a faint “ ___! You can’t run in the hallway,” which sounded like Iida. I don’t stop until the ladies restroom in in front of me. With heavy breaths I open the door and rush to one of the stalls. My eyes burned and tears began slipping down my cheeks. I tried to hold myself together but his words were playing on a loop.

Does he really think I’m irritating? What do I do that annoys him? Gosh, I need to stop it.

After a couple of minutes, I hear footsteps echo throughout the bathroom. Someone knocks on my stall’s door. Calming myself down, I open the stall to face all the girls in front of me. 

‘I swear boys can be really meaning without even trying,” Kyoka looked at me with soft eyes. Right when Ochaco step forward to hold my hand, the sting in my eyes return. I try to blind the tears away but it could not limit the amount that wanted to escape. My rigged breathing returns, which only worsens my embarrassment.

“I really...I really don’t mean to be... a bother for him,” I choked out in-between my heavy breaths. To give me space, they all gently pull me outside of the stall. Their eyebrows were slightly furrowed yet their eyes were soft.

“No. No. You are not at fault here,” Momo replies as she helps me sit down on the bench to the side.

“But I heard him say it. Gosh, I do sound irritating. I should stop tagging along too much. No wonder he returns angry.”

“You do not follow him anywhere. It isn’t all the time, either. You mostly go with him when you know you did not get to spend time together,” Tsuyu attempts to help me look at it from another perspective. Sadly, my mind overrides them to Katsuki’s complaints.

“W...What if he’s tired of me? What if he wants to break up?”

My heart hurt at the mere thought of our separation. Our relationship is relatively fresh. We started dating a year ago, yet I fell for him. Hard. I could not fathom to be with another guy.

“If I hadn’t been so dense about his irritations over my actions, I would been a much better girlfriend. I couldn’t even do that,” I was vomitting my mind out.

My breathing was still irregular, and I couldn’t see past the tears that blur my eyes. I wiped my cheeks and eyes to get a better view. The girls were trying their best to comfort me. Toru patted my back. Mina stroked my arm. Momo tried to plan out a mini recovery session from today. Tsuyu and Ochaco tried to convince me that he loves me enough to confront me about the situation. Kyoka even tried to make me revert my self-deprecating comments and thoughts. However, nothing helped. I really appreciated their kind attempts yet his words stayed printed at the front of my mind.

“I would love to battle Bakugou, right now. He needs to be held accountable for his horrible comments,” Momo exclaimed, standing tall with her right hand on her hip. 

“He does. He made a huge deal out of the group assignment. You were clearly stressed when you tried to share your ideas,” Kyoka looked disappointed when remember the incident in the classroom.

“But he doesn’t like having me around too much. I should stop. I don’t want him to be constantly annoyed,” I sniffled as I wiped my eyes. 

“I’m going to stop,” I whisper. I hear small mutters and grumbles throughout he bathroom.

“I won’t dicated you becuase it is your relationship. I do want to say that it is a part of who you are. You like spending time with him. You don’t need to stop that. I think you and him should talk about it,” Ochaco looks at me with his big, comforting eyes. The others nod in agreement. 

“I don’t know. I don’t want any more complications rising because of me. If he’s annoyed by me, I should try to fix it. I’ll need to sort this out myself,” I quietly announced.

Who gave you that right?” his rough voice echoes through the walls. All of you heads turn to the left. Katsuki, Eijiro, and Denki were standing next to each other near the entrance of the bathroom. 

“I didn’t think you overheard my conversation with those,” his points his rough finger at the duo behind him. 

I looked at him, unsure of what to say. Noticing my tense behavior, he talked as gently as he can, “ I did not mean to make you think horribly about yourself.”

“Yeah, you have traits and habits that are weird to me,” he started. A jolt spiked throughout my body. I don’t think I’m ready to hear the end of it.

 “But I like that about you,” he struggled to get the words out in public. My face flushes at the sudden confession. He looks directly at me.

“Never take issues, like this, on your own. I know how hard it can be but it’ll help us,” noticing that our conversation was getting private, the others began to hed back to class. It was almost the end of the school day, as well. Everyone waving and blurted a quick “bye” before heading out of the bathroom. 

Katsuki turns around to shut the door. He locks it to make sure no one walks in on our conversation.

“Come. Let’s sit there,” he tilts his head to the bench I sat at earlier. 

As soon as we sit, Katsuki exhales a loud sigh. Alarms went off in my mind. He’s irritated. I immediately began panicking.

“H..Hey, Katsuki. I really don’t mind leaving you on your own when you need it,” I started. I turn to face him but was suddenly embraced my his arms. He sets his chin on my neck and gently tightens his hug.

“Don’t... Don’t stop doing what you do,” he whispers near my ear. Warmth engulfed me. I felt safe in his embrace. His voice held no anger or irritation.

“But it’s irritating, isn’t it?” my hands wrap around his back, as well.

“No no no. It’s not. At least not the way you think. I complained to Kirishima and Kaminari about the perverts and jerks who stare at your and bother you when you come with me. That’s why I felt irritated,” he reveals. Then, it clicked. He must’ve noticed all the times I felt uncomfortable because of comments from boys and their stares. I never complained but... He noticed.

“I would rather have you stay back instead of dealing with those situations. I know you’re strong enough to take care of yourself. It’s still annoying when they don’t know their limits. I can’t even fight them properly,” he pulls back to look at me. I avoided his eyes but he lifted my chin up with his hand.

“Don’t stop doing what you do. Don’t stop being yourself. Having you with me makes my day better. I know I can be gnarly and cruel with my comments. Just don’t hesitate to tell me I’m hurting you. It’s not my intention to make you doubt yourself,” he rambles on.

“Even the cruel jokes I made back there are not meant from a serious place,” he reassures me as much as he can. His breathes were rigid and fast. His eyes were dilated, as well.

“Just... let me know, alright? I want you to feel safe and loved not hurt,” he whispered. With every sentence, my previous worries were fading away.

“Talk to me about anything that bothers you. Talk to me about any issues that come up.”

I couldn’t stop my heart from melting. He really is the best, huh?

“I know...I’ll try. You know me. It can be hard to confront people with anything I think is wrong,” I replied while taking his hand into mine. 

“Mhm. Let’s work on that then,” he firmly stated. It shocked me for a bit.

“If I say anything that hurts you, hold me accountable. Tell me right away,” he looks at me for an answer.

“Okay, ____?” I nodded in return. I noticed his stance was relaxed. He seemed less tense about the situation. It must’ve been a huge baggage to get off his back.

“I will. I’m sorry for worrying-” he cut me off before I could end my apology.

“Hey! Don’t feel sorry for it. You’re not at fault for feeling the way you did after the classroom incident. I was an absolute asshole for that. There may have been a small misunderstanding but I still shouldn’t have embarrassed you with my comments,” his hands cup my cheeks.

“I’m really... I’m really sorry,” my throat tightened. Why does he have to be this... great?

“I understand. Thank you for apologizing,” I smile at him. My emotions were all over the place today. It went from neutral to extremely low to extremely relieved. Still, I am glad he and I were able to sort this out before it got worse.

“Don’t go crying on me now. I don’t want to see anymore tears today. Come on let’s head back,” he spoke softly. 

Right after, stood up and held out his hand. His face held his usual daily expression, except there was a glow to it. I gladly laced my hands with his and we carefully exited the girls bathroom.

“Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble,” he said looking around to make sure no one saw our actions.

Today, Katsuki and I were able to have dinner together. It’s been a while since it was just the two of us eating dinner. Upon returning to the dorm, the atmosphere felt normal. The ones who were worried earlier looked glad when Katsuki and I entered the dorm happily. Mr. Aizawa did ask us about the situation. We informed him that everything was sorted so he let it go. Cementoss must’ve told him about the the classroom occurrence. 

While I made my way to my room, I noticed all of the girls in front of my room. Their eyes held excitement and the look of ‘hurry up’.

“You don’t need to tell us everything,” Mina grabbed me so I can quickly open my room. 

“Okay okay let me just,” after I heard the click, they all ran inside of my room. 

They all chose the spot they felt most comfortable in. I climbs into my bed and chuckled with embarrassment.

“Do I have to tell you what he said? Because...” 

“Well...” Momo began.

“I may or may not have bee made to create a device the let us hear what was going on,” my eyes widen at her confession.

“Don’t worry we promised to turn it off if anything... else... happened. We wanted to make sure he didn’t say anything horrible,” Kyoka spoke. The others nodded in agreement.

“His comforting action were too cute,” Mina chuckled.

“Exactly! I was shocked. Did you hear what he said?! ‘ Having you with me makes my day better.’ Aaahh! That- Just wow,” Uraraka gushed while quoting Katsuki. All of the girls flailed around or squished the pillow in their lap.

“Wait! Remember the...What was it? Right! ‘I want you to feel safe and loved not hurt’ That was so adorable, too, ” Momo immediately brought up another. Once again, the girls let out ‘awe’s and small chuckles. They did tease me about his words. However, they still appreciated that he was able to relive me of my doubts.

“I’m glad Bakugou cleared things up. That was very mature of him. You two are cute together. I really did not want the incident to separate you,” Tsuyu looked happy at my recovered state. 

“Me too,” Hagakure agreed. Next to her, I noticed Mina had a tiny bit of mischeif in her eyes. 

“How about we listen to the audio again?!” she suggested. A series of ‘yes’ echoed throughout the room.

“W-what?” my eyes widened.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Mina continued.

“I have the a player for it, if we want to,” Kyoka held up the device to play the audio.

“And you can have it after we analyze and listen to it,” Momo added while exaggerating ‘analyze’ with air quotes. 

“Gosh... alright. I hope I don’t sound weird,” I agreed to their request.

As soon as Katsuki said, “Don’t... Don’t stop doing what you do,” Uraraka paused it.

“You can’t tell me he does not want to marry her,” she commented. Immediately afterward, the others made their own comments and agreements.

This process continued throughout the playing of the audio. With every pause, the were analyses and comments. Amongst all the chat about Katsuki’s soft side, I had the urge to check my phone. What I read immediately made the night better than it already was.

Katsuki: Let’s go out tomorrow. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. 

Katsuki: Don’t worry about people staring. I’ll take care of it.

Katsuki: Unless you want to, of course.

Katsuki: The girls are making you tell them about what happened in the bathroom, aren’t they?

Katsuki: Anyways, make sure you get proper rest 

Katsuki: Goodnight

My hands quickly responded so I am able to reply before he sleeps. All those messages made me my stomach bubble with excitement. 

Me: I’m glad we’re going to hang out. See you in the morning

Me: Goodnight

Me: I love you

...

Katsuki: I love you too

The heat on my cheeks that gradually grew with every text grew tenfold. My heart fluttered intensely as I gazed at those four words. I can hear the girls speaking about the audiotape of Katsuki in the background, but my phone had my attention. Katsuki always proved to be a great boyfriend. He never did it for show. Ever since the start of our relationship he’s been honest about how he felt. Both of us expected stumbles, but we made sure to work it out. Today was one of those day.

I’m just glad he never let go of me. I know him well enough to know that he will always listen to me. He will always want to fix things so we don’t end.

[sevlgi]

bubblegum pop

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: sana x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: rich girl!sana, college!au, cashier!reader.

warnings: none

synopsis: An unfortunately hostile encounter with the school’s sweetest rich girl might just lead to more than you ever expected.

a/n: inspired by @pearicot​‘s mean girl rosie series! (by the way, i’m not trying to feed into the “dumb sana” stereotype with this; i just thought that her personality fitted the character i was trying to achieve! does anyone wanna request continuations or scenarios in this universe 👀

word count: 3.3k

Something about Mondays the week of finals always got you in a bad mood, especially when you had  to work double shifts at the same stupid ice cream shop you’d worked at for the past 2 years of college. 

So maybe, just maybe, there was reasoning behind you snapping at the love of your life during your first meeting.

Actually, there really, really wasn’t.

There were plenty of mean girls on campus who you wouldn’t regret yelling at whatsoever, but you just happened to blow up at one of the considerably nicer rich girls.

Minatozaki Sana didn’t mean anything bad when she innocently held out a hundred dollar bill to pay for a $5 ice cream. She didn’t mean to seem pretentious, nor did she mean to mock you and your minimum-wage job, but you just so happened to take it that way.

“Really? You have to rub it in my face like that?”

Sana stared at you, the money that she held out wavering in the ear. “Sorry?”

Pinching the space between your eyebrows, you huffed out an exasperated breath. Luckily, there was no one else in the shop about to witness the stupidest meltdown of your life. “You think I don’t know that I’m poor? It’s five dollars for God’s sake, no need to bring out the big guns. Oh, or are you doing this to avoid seeming more pretentious with your daddy’s black card?”

The brunette’s hand retreated quickly, the heels of her Louboutins clacking softly against the pastel-toned linoleum of the ice cream shop. Fuck, you hated that linoleum. “I... I didn’t mean any of that, I swear! Um, is there an ATM near here?”

Once again, the girl meant well, and you took it badly. You scoffed, glaring disbelievingly at her. Some part of you was screaming out that you were putting your entire job at stake, and your morals as well, but you disregarded any common sense remaining in your brain. “An ATM for 5 bucks? Dude, just don’t.” Dipping your hand into the tip jar, you scrounged out a lousy crumpled bill and threw it down on the counter, shoving the bubblegum-flavored sweet to Sana. “Okay? Now get out, I don’t want to see your privileged ass anywhere near here.”

The dense gray clouding your mind somehow missed the hurt expression on the girl’s face as the staff door swung open. Wendy’s hands, though gentle on your shoulders, shoved you behind her with surprising force. “I am so sorry, Sana, it’s finals week. Surely you can understand? The ice cream’s on the house.”

“No, of course it’s okay!” Sana sounded genuine enough, that was for sure; you caught her glancing worriedly at you a couple times, nothing malicious whatsoever in her eyes. “I can pay though, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. See you in class,” Wendy called out, smiling all the while until the girl disappeared into the Lamborghini parked by the curb. As soon as that happened, she turned back to you, concern tugging at the corner of her lips. “Y/N...”

“Yeah, I know,” you mumbled as you crossed your arms. Already, you were regretting what you said, though you were far too stubborn to actually apologize on the spot. “No arguing with customers about capitalism. Sorry, Wendy.”

The girl bit her lip, scanning the store to make sure that there wasn’t about to be an influx of customers. Usually she enjoyed working with you; you just had absolutely terrible mood swings sometimes, and those days were nothing short of hellish for her to deal with. “Just head home. Focus on your finals, and come back next week. Okay?”

You hesitated to agree, knowing that you needed the money, but the grim expression on Wendy’s face told you that you had no other option. “Okay. Sorry.”

As you snatched up your stuff and shoved the door to the street open, you missed the sight of Sana watching you through the tinted windows of her 6-figure car.

“Really? Sana?”

“I know,” you groaned, biting down on the plastic spoon in your mouth. The flavor of the month (the only one you could eat completely free) lingered unpleasantly on your tongue, the taste of it oddly salty. “She was so nice about it, too.”

Jeongyeon and Mina exchanged glances, not touching their respective cups of “Ocean Caramel” either. It was extremely kind of them to come and accompany you on the slow days, both of them even offering to suffer through the gross ice cream with you.  “If it was Park Roseanne I might understand, but Sana,” Mina winced. Jeongyeon nodded in agreement; after all, everyone on campus knew about the reputations of Roseanne and Sana.

On one end of the “rich girl” spectrum, Roseanne was quite possibly the bitchiest one of all. She and her Bugatti Veyron, the college upgrade from her old McLaren, absolutely weren’t to be messed with. People who went to high school with you often told story of the G Wagon she smashed, the locker room she lit on fire, and so many other horror tales of a spoiled girl gone wild. You were sure that had you gone off on her, even Wendy wouldn’t have stopped you.

But on the other end, Sana was notoriously kind. Sure, her family raked in an income close to that of the other girl’s, and her wardrobe was just as expensive, but she made a point to donate to charities every time she went shopping. She tipped in the hundreds, and she didn’t ever ask for her designer clothes back when she lent them to strangers. She paid any dinner bill in full when she was there, and sometimes even when she wasn’t invited.

No one was entirely sure about the relationship between the two, but Roseanne seemed to hate Sana more than she did other people. The two fought publicly occasionally, but Sana’s kind heart made it so that even Roseanne couldn’t carry a fight very long. She didn’t respond to insults, it seemed, nor did she ever seem to actually take them personally. 

Stirring her half-melted soup, Mina continued, “Hopefully she doesn’t hold it against you. She doesn’t seem like the type, but...”

Jeongyeon shook her head, opening her mouth just as the doorbell rang. You froze when you looked up to find a designer-dressed bombshell, a sweet smile outlined in Chanel Rouge Allure. She looked completely out of place amidst tired college kids spending their last paycheck on ice cream, white gauzy sleeves and blue dress shimmering under LED lights. If you were being honest, you’d say that she was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life, but you were always well versed in lying to yourself. “Y/N, you better go.”

“Why?” you whined, pouting at your much more responsible friends. They ignored your puppy face, though; Jihyo was usually the only one you could sway, Momo sometimes if she was feeling merciful. “I’m on break.”

“Only when there’s no customers,” Mina argued, shoving you to stand. Jeongyeon smiled at you, waving you away. “Go, and don’t screw it up this time.”

You forced a smile onto your face when you reached the counter, bowing and adjusting your name tag. “Hi, what can I help you with today?”

“Hi, Y/N!” Sana grinned, bowing back. The fact that she remembered your name only made your guilt worse; if she forgot who you were, you could at least pretend that she didn’t remember the incident at all. “Ah, could I have the same thing as last time? Bubblegum Pop ice cream, on a sugar cone today. 3 scoops?”

Nodding, you moved to open the case, avoiding the girl’s gaze as you did. “Of course.” She was quiet at that, staring at the ceiling so as not to rush you. Without prompting, you blurted, “I’m... I’m really sorry about last week, by the way. I don’t know what I was thinking, blowing up at you like that.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” she protested, waving a manicured hand in the air. “I promise I understand you. We all have our bad days.”

You wanted to apologize again, if just to assuage your guilt, but you held off on it, joking, “How do you deal with them? Yell at Gucci assistants?”

Sana looked honestly offended as she accepted the cone proffered to her, eyes widening in shock. “I’ve never done that, I swear! Besides, I don’t like Gucci much.”

A light smile quirking at the corners of your lips, you handed the receipt to her as well. She didn’t ask for it, probably not caring about the measly price or having the space for it in her tiny bag, but took it anyway. “I’m sure you don’t. Your total is $5.23, will that be cash or card?”

“Cash!” She held out a 10 dollar bill, pride shining behind that gorgeous face as you raised your eyebrows in surprise. When your hands brush together, you were reminded of how much better she was than you, how you probably weren’t worthy at all to be touching her with your shop-issued baseball cap and grimy apron. But Sana doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling that airy smile at you and not moving away. She broke your stare by offering, “I don’t want to sound rude, but keep the change.”

“Not rude at all,” you fully laughed that time, dishing out the remainder to stuff in your tip jar. You still felt terrible that she felt the need to apologize about such a normal comment, asking, “Are you sure it’s okay? You can have this one free too, if it makes up for me shouting at you...”

Sana shook her head, sugary light pink already mixing into her lipstick. She walked away, still waving with that gorgeous smile on her face. “It’s okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N, you look really pretty today!”

Turning back to your friends, you whispered, “Damn. She’s really nice.”

You planned on spending your one day off from school and work cozied up with a good book and your favorite hot drink, but you supposed that getting into a fight with Park Roseanne wasn’t the worst way to go either.

As soon as you entered campus, book in hand and blasting music in your earbuds, you found a crowd of at least 3 dozen people right in front of the library building. It was unlike you to butt into others’ business, especially when it might lead to a ruined day, but Roseanne’s voice carried loud over the hushed whispers of everyone else. “--huh, Sana?”

It wasn’t any of your business, but for some reason, Roseanne’s tone when saying Sana’s name angered you immensely. Frowning, you shouldered your way through the crowd. The closer you got to the center, the more expensive the clothing that brushed against your own rough jean jacket was, cotton and leather becoming silk and velvet. You originally planned to just fit in with the other spectators, but with a shove at the small of your back, you were thrust into the center too.

To your shock, Sana’s eyes were red and shining with tears, the tip of her nose cherry-colored as well. Her head was almost bowed as she stared at her shoes, but she looked up to you when you almost bumped into her. You stuttered out, “H-hey. What’s going on?”

Instead of an explanation from the Japanese girl, though, your gaze was drawn to the blonde across the courtyard. “Didn’t you hear? Little Miss Perfect here got broken up with,” Roseanne scoffed, an infuriating smirk on her perfect face as she tilted her head at you. “By a future CEO, no less. I guess she isn’t a gold-digger, or maybe there’s some other reason that he didn’t want her anymore.”

Your hand shot out to protect Sana, a scowl making its way onto your own face. “Excuse me? From my standpoint, any future CEO is still way outta her league, so forgive me for doubting that he’s the one who didn’t want her. You’re the one dating someone who makes a tenth of what you do.”

Roseanne rolled her eyes, lips thinning. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that, Y/L/N, or you’ve got another thing coming. There aren’t many lesbians in this damn school.”

“You know me, don’t you?” Sana’s voice was wavering as she spoke, but it was strong enough to echo in the courtyard. To your surprise (and somewhat satisfaction), the blonde  girl’s eyes widened as Sana stood forward, her lips jutting forward. “That’s why I’m not dating him anymore. I like girls, too.”

Somehow, you’d never expected that Sana was attracted to girls, but it made perfect sense. An irrational part of you wanted to cheer, but instead, you forced yourself to speak.

“R-right.” You continued to glare at Roseanne, who finally seemed to be speechless. “Yeah, so how come you’re tearing Sana down? We should be supporting each other, but you’re being so rude to someone so kind, and that says all I need to know about you.”

Reaching out, you latched onto Sana’s upper arm and pulled her out of the circle, people parting to let the two of you through as Roseanne wasn’t able to conjure up something to respond with. You didn’t stop walking until there was only silence surrounding you under the shade of a swaying tree, finally stopping to let the girl sit. “Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowed as you knelt to be mostly face-level with her.

Somehow, there was a smile on her face; a slightly snotty smile, but nonetheless the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. You ignored the uncomfortable leap of your heart when you reached out to take her hands into your own, somehow forgetting about the hostility you’d felt towards her from the beginning. “You- you stood up for me.”

“Yeah. I did, I guess,” you shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’m sure that was rough, though, to come out. How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly, much better,” Sana sighed. She leaned back, fingers curling slightly around yours as the afternoon sun shone golden brown in the locks of hair spread out on her shoulders. “It was good to get it off my chest. I didn’t even know you were into girls, you know.”

Reaching up to scratch your head, you chuckled, “Well, I am, if it makes you feel any better. What happened between the two of you, by the way? She seems to hate you so much.”

The girl laughed, as bubbly and airy as her regular voice. “I may or may not have dated her girlfriend before. But it was a long time ago, and I’m still friends with her! Roseanne just can’t forgive me.”

You feigned shock, swatting at her arm. “How terrible of you! I’m so disappointed.”

You were stuck simply smiling at each other for a good minute or so before you looked away, picking at your shoelace for something to do. “So. Uh, Roseanne knew the whole time?”

“She did,” Sana confirmed, nodding. “She just never talked about it.”

“Well, it’s good to know that she isn’t the only other one in the school with me,” you sighed, sitting back on your heels.

Sana lurched back forward, hands clasping together at her chest. “Then we should celebrate! We can go shopping or something, and we can just be happy that we aren’t alone anymore.”

It suddenly struck you how quickly you could change the girl’s entire outlook, a smile coming onto her face with no effort from you whatsoever. But even more surprising, you smiled even larger than she did just looking at her. 

Laughing, you sat back on your heels and shook your head lightly. Seeming to take it as a rejection, Sana’s eyes widened. “Oh, only if you want to, of course! We can go wherever you want, we don’t even have to go shopping if you don’t want to!”

“No, we can go shopping,” you answered, reaching back over to squeeze her hand and pulling her up with you when you stood. “Come on, then. Let’s go celebrate.”

Sana wasn’t a great driver, but you didn’t expect much else. You were practically sick to your stomach by the time that you reached the mall, face green as you swayed out of the car.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m sorry!” Her hands rubbed lightly at your back as you squatted in the parking lot, fist held tight to your mouth. It wasn’t like you were actually going to throw up, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the girl’s expensive shoes. “I’ll let you drive next time.”

Next time? you wanted to ask. But you managed to stand, nodding quickly to ease Sana’s worry. “Yeah. It’s fine, I’m fine. Should we go?”

Immediately, she latched onto your hand, swinging between the two of you as she started to rush forward. “H-hey, lock your car first!”

Sana had unsurprisingly expensive tastes, but also surprisingly understated ones. She was fun to shop with, that was for sure- she loved to offer you clothes and also to offer to pay for them, but you didn’t necessarily hate a pretty girl telling you you’d look gorgeous in a certain sparkly dress.

She didn’t do any of the typical stuck-up things you expected her to- Sana carried her own bags, and she never forced you to follow her instead of doing what you wanted to. She did like to try on outfits and show them to you, but that could be ignored when it was just another opportunity for you to stare at her.

Eventually, you ended up having ice cream at one of the stores in the mall. You balked at the price, but Sana swiped her credit card without hesitation. “I have to admit, this bubblegum doesn’t taste as good as yours,” she pouted.

Chuckling, you savored the rich flavor on your own tongue. “You should’ve picked an expensive flavor then. Vanilla and chocolate are always good in these kinds of stores.”

“You know a lot about ‘these kinds of stores’ for someone who claims to be poor,” she teased, eyes widening as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you smiled, leaning on your palm. “I’m good with it, since we’re friends now.”

Sana grinned at that, her eyes curving charmingly. “We’re friends? Most people don’t want to be friends with me, I’m really glad you’re willing to.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Looking down for once, the girl mumbled, “They say I’m dumb. You know that everyone says I’m nice, but they also think I’m dumb because I pay for everything. I just want to be kind, but no one takes me seriously.”

A wave of guilt rushed over you for previously feeding into the stereotype. The more time you spent with Sana, the more you realized that she was as brilliant as any other, and far more kind. “Well, that’s stupid. You are kind, Sana, and you’re amazing. I’m lucky to be your friend.”

She clasped your hand over the table, soft skin warm over yours, pink flushing in her pale cheeks. “Thank you, Y/N. You know, this is the best time I’ve had in a while. My boyfriend didn’t even listen to me this well,” she laughed.

Despite the fact that she treated it as a joke, you felt horrible. She was all too used to thinking the worst about herself and not believing that she was worth any better, and that was the worst possible thing you could imagine for a girl with a heart of gold. Jabbing your spoon into the remaining ice cream, you blurted, “Then go on a date with me. A proper one, not just a normal hangout like this.”

Sana instantly blushed, looking down as if it’d hide her face at all. But she missed the heat that rose to your cheeks too, the nervous biting of your lip as you waited for a response. “I would love nothing more,” she smiled, her eyes shining brilliantly. “And I can’t wait.”

[mostly-marvel-musings]

What changed?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warning: Slight angst, fluff!

Word count: 978

Tom Hiddleston, Loki Masterlist

Tom Hiddleston/Loki Taglist: @delightfulheartdream @what-a-flammable-heart

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @marvelgirl7 @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @just-the-hiddles @tom-hlover @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf

Tags are open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be in any of these lists.

.

The rising sun cast a rosy hue across the morning sky visible from the window you faced. Sleep ridden eyes focused on the distant horizon and yet so distracted, thoughts running a mile a minute, a mild headache showing early signs.

Occasional breeze littered your skin with goose bumps, making you wrap the sheets around your naked form a little tighter, your obsessive train of thoughts never wavering once.

As you snuggled deeper into the sheets, the dull ache between your legs made itself known, a pleasant yet abominable reminder of last night’s activities. The faint even breaths coming from your left radiating warmth, almost too tempting to not move over and let that warmth embrace you in those strong arms you’d grown to love so much, let his familiar scent overwhelm your senses, let that velvety smooth voice persuade you into letting your guard down once again like it had last night, along with all those nights you’d caved.

Why were you back here?

Right where you promised yourself you wouldn’t end up no matter what went down. Why did you convince yourself this time it might just lead to something real rather than a night of such passion, it had almost made your fears and worries disappear. Just like it always had all those other times you’d found yourself in his bed.

There wasn’t a name to what you and Tom had. Actually that wasn’t true, it was friends-who-occasionally-end-up-fucking-but-never-talk-about-how-they-really-feel-about-each-other. A trope you both dissed on whenever it was televised or shown in a film, and yet somehow miraculously you’d ended up in that trope.

Your thoughts abruptly halted when Tom’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, his soft breath playing against your neck. He was so warm and inviting your natural response kicked in, making your eyes flutter close as your body moulded against his, a content sigh almost slipping past your lips before you stopped yourself from giving in.

Peeling his arm off of your torso, you moved away effectively stirring him awake, your erratic heart pounding.

“Good morning love.” Tom’s voice laced with sleep, making him sound even sexier.

“Oh h-hey.”

Uncertainty so clear in your reply, you cursed yourself internally for not being cool and composed like you’d practised. Just like you feared, he shifted closer, placing a concerned hand against your bare shoulder, waiting for you to face him.

“Everything alright?” his thumb swiping soft patterns against your skin.

“Of course, just headache you know.” You mumbled, sitting up too fast not helping the headache, letting the sheet fall.

“Maybe rest a little longer? I can make breakfast.” Tom suggested, eyebrows knit together in confusion as to why you wouldn’t meet his eyes. You usually weren’t like this.

When you didn’t answer, he got up and around over to your side kneeling in front, palms on your knees, brilliant blue eyes searching yours. He left you alone only after you promised to lie back in bed while he prepared something to eat, he’d said you had to share what bothered you over some food. You on the other hand weren’t so sure how that’d go.

You went over the impending scenario in your head five times by the time Tom returned, balancing two cups of steaming hot tea and some delicious smelling bacon and eggs. He noticed you had put on clothes, though not the ones he’d secretly hoped you would.

“You’re not wearing my clothes.” He blurted before he could stop himself, glancing at his haphazardly disposed T-shirt by your pillow from last night.

“No, that’s what couples do. And we’re not a couple, remember?”

Your answer seemed to be directed more towards yourself rather than Tom, it was what you repeated like a mantra over and over again. The reality of the situation hit the two of you, leaving the quiet apartment even more silent. Your gaze was fixed downwards, picking off invisible lint from your clothes, waiting, praying for Tom to say something that wouldn’t result in tears.

“What if we were?”

“What?”

“What if we were a couple?”

Finally facing him for the first time since last night, you searched for signs of humor. Finding none, your brain struggled to form words in response to what the man you were so hopelessly in love with just asked of you.

“I...w-what are you saying?”

Tom placed the tray on a small table beside his bed before sitting next to you, keeping safe distance in case you felt differently, but grabbed your hands in his, in reassurance in case you were too overwhelmed.

“I’ve been wanting to say this for the longest time (Y/N). I am hopelessly, irrevocably and utterly head over heels in love with you. Our relationship over the years was never physical, not for me. And you know me better than anyone, I—I just figured you’d know without me having to tell you and for that I am terribly sorry. I’ve been the biggest idiot on the planet and I hope you forgive me. I cannot imagine my life without y—”

Your lips crashed against his abruptly halting his speech. As much as you would’ve loved to hear the rest of it, communicating your own feelings through the kiss was your top priority. Tom felt the tears streaming down your cheeks as he returned your kiss with equal fervour, pulling you into his lap to deepen the kiss.

“What changed?” You asked, panting after he’d reluctantly released you to speak, foreheads touching while you both got your breathing under control.

“I guess I got tired of your friendship.”

A gasp and a pillow hitting his face was what Tom felt before you had him pinned underneath you.

[firelxdykatara]

gods, ok, apparently i’m not done.

atla fandom? we need to have a chat.

(....ok that made me sound pretentious as fuck. and maybe i am, but this needs to be said, cause i’m getting....real, real tired of a Certain Corner of this fandom and as a result, this is gonna be a discourse-heavy post so feel free to scroll past if that’s not your bag. as always, my salt posts all carry the catch-all #salt for ts tag, which you’re free to blacklist/filter at your leisure. i’m Very Annoyed at the moment, which will probably come through in the following post, so just. yknow. be prepared for that. or ignore it, that’s perfectly valid too.)

under a cut bc i do care for my followers and their sanity i swear lmao

there’s a real serious issue in this fandom with not understanding what queer terminology actually means or implies, especially when applied to a fictional narrative.

i’m specifically talking about ‘coding’, here. (if i were in a more meme-y mood, i might have said ‘the atla fandom found out about the term “gay-coding” and haven’t shut up since’.)

to the people who say ‘zuko is gay-coded’, i have this to say: you keep using that word. i do not think it means what you think it means. because he isn’t. i’m sorry, but he’s not! and the fact that this is such a prevalent claim in this fandom is distressing, bc it says to me that none of y’all know what gay-coding is or when and how to apply it! please, i’m begging you, go and look up these terms and what they mean and when they should be used before actually trying to plug them into your critical analysis, because when you misuse them and then call other people delusional for disagreeing with you it casts a pall over the entire fandom and is, i think, the root of some of the worst toxicity this fandom has to offer.

and the thing is, there are cases where gay-coding would apply--for instance, a couple series that are famous for queerbaiting their audience by coding their main characters as being attracted to one another (sometimes even despite their openly stated sexualities) come to mind, but those shows bare no similarities at all to atla and how zuko was written and portrayed! (and it would be funny, if it weren’t so obnoxious and infuriatingly wide-spread throughout the fandom, because the only queer couple we actually seen on-screen in either show wasn’t even queer-coded in any respect, and they’re canonically bi! [yes, i’m shading korrasami, or more accurately i’m shading bryke for refusing to give ka the build-up and development they deserved].)

this absolutely isn’t to say that headcanoning zuko as gay is a bad thing or invalid in any respect. (although the tendency for zukka shippers to do this specifically to keep zuko away from katara and/or invalidate his canon relationship/attraction to girls is more than a little eyebrow raising. especially since sokka is usually allowed to be bi, bc fans have no problem letting sukka stay in the background bc it’s no real threat, while jetko shippers are happy to have both boys be bi. [possibly bc katara is less a threat to jetko bc jetkotara is every bit as valid as any single ship between the three, but zukka can’t exactly let katara join in, and if the potential exists for zuko to be attracted to her then canon giving them the far deeper emotional bond becomes a threat to zukka’s existence? idk for sure--you be the judge.]) i prefer to hc zuko as bi (and always have, long before the atla renaissance), bc i don’t think zuko being attracted to boys is outside the realm of possibility, and it isn’t a threat to my ship since zuko&katara had a deep and emotional bond in canon that is very easy to develop further into something that becomes explicitly romantic--but the headcanon itself isn’t really the problem (although what it’s often in service to can be).

it’s the strange insistence that this is the only way to read his character, bc he was coded that way and so anyone who doesn’t see it must be too straight to understand--and i really shouldn’t have to say why and how that is so incredibly fucking insulting. (the ‘hetero lenses’ comment wasn’t cute when it came from bryke six years ago, and the same sentiment being repackaged and delivered by zukka shippers ain’t cute now.)

calling zuko gay-coded not only demonstrates ignorance as to what the term actually means, and how to usefully apply it in critical analysis, but also validates the frankly bullshit insertion of institutionalized homophobia in the world of atla where it was neither needed, nor wanted, nor ever hinted at in canon. as a queer woman i’m still infuriated by one fucking comic panel shoving institutionalized and systemic homophobia into a world where it was entirely unnecessary (and doing this in the first installment of the franchise showcasing a queer relationship??? making korra and asami worried about ‘coming out’ when they could have just gone on to have cute adventures together and tell people ‘hey we’re dating’ and have everyone else be ‘that’s awesome =DDD’ [because it is, in fact, possible to just have a world without homophobia i promise!!!!!] double yikes, i’m still pissed at bryke about it), and i doubly hate that ‘zuko is gay coded’ has become so widespread that ‘ozai hates him bc he’s gay’ has become a staple in that part of the fandom.

not only does making zuko gay and implying (or outright stating) that ozai hated and abused him because of it completely undermine zuko’s character arc by making his abuse about his sexuality rather than ozai’s toxic pride and anger at seeing himself reflected in his ‘weak’ son, but it comes very close to outright stating that abuse and trauma are inherently gay experiences, and they aren’t!!! they really aren’t, i promise!!!

abuse and trauma narratives exist outside of ‘my dad hates me because i’m gay’. and, quite frankly, there are MORE THAN ENOUGH queer trauma narratives out in the world. we do not need to start trying to retroactively make them canon in a series where they didn’t exist! if you’re gay and see yourself in zuko and project your own experiences on him, that’s understandable and valid. that does not make zuko gay-coded. and honestly, the insistence that he is makes very little sense to me, because you’re essentially trying to give the show credit for work you put into interpreting the characters! why would you want to do that? why not own your own headcanons and take credit for them, rather than insisting they are canon and everyone else is wrong for not seeing them??? like, i’ve said before that i’ve always headcanoned zuko (and katara) as bi, and even support it with my interpretations of evidence from the show, but the difference between ‘i think zuko is bi’ and ‘zuko is definitely gay-coded’ is that i know that bi zuko is my interpretation of canon, and that it is work i’m putting into the show that wasn’t actually intended by the creators/writers, no matter how much sexual tension i read into the jetko swordfight.

and like, zuko’s character arc doesn’t actually parallel a queer one all that well to begin with. it’s easy enough to do the work and twist it sideways just enough to make the general points fit, but the fact is, zuko’s arc is not one of self-discovery. it’s not one of coming to understand something fundamental about himself that he can’t change, that he was hated for, and coming out to his father in a dramatic confrontation where he shows that he understands himself and doesn’t need his father’s acceptance to be fulfilled.

zuko’s arc is actually one of trauma and healing. and those can (and often are--like i said, there are more than enough queer trauma narratives in the world, atla really doesn’t need to be one of them) be part of queer narratives, for sure! but they aren’t uniquely queer. and zuko’s confrontation with ozai during the eclipse doesn’t read like a ‘coming out’ at all. (yes, i’ve seen that post. yes, i rolled my eyes and moved on, bc unlike some people, i’m capable of not clowning on correctly tagged posts i disagree with.) zuko is specifically confronting ozai over his abuse, because his arc wasn’t about discovering anything fundamental about himself (and therefore realizing that ozai was hating him for something he couldn’t change)--it was about realizing that he was not at fault for the way his father treated him. it was also about realizing that the fire nation was broken and corrupt at its core, and that his father was an aspect of that he needed to break away from so that he could help the world begin to heal.

he says it himself:

Zuko: No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it! We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

making this about zuko being gay and rejecting ozai’s homophobia, rather than zuko learning fundamental truths about the world and about his home and about how there was something deeply wrong with his nation that needed to be fixed in order for the world to heal (and, no, ‘homophobia’ is not the answer to ‘what is wrong with the fire nation’, i’m still fucking pissed at bryke about that), misses the entire point of his character arc. this is the culmination of zuko realizing that he should never have had to earn his father’s love, because that should have been unconditional from the start. this is zuko realizing that he was not at fault for his father’s abuse--that speaking out of turn in a war meeting in no way justified fighting a duel with a child.

is that first realization (that a parent’s love should be unconditional, and if it isn’t, then that is the parent’s fault and not the child’s) something that queer kids in homophobic households/families can relate to? of course it is. but it’s also something that every other abused kid, straight kids and even queer kids who were abused for other reasons before they even knew they were anything other than cishet, can relate to as well. in that respect, it is not a uniquely queer experience, nor is it a uniquely queer story, and zuko not being attracted to girls (which is what a lot of it seems to boil down to, at the end of the day--cutting down zuko’s potential ships so that only zukka and a few far more niche ships are left standing) is not necessary to his character arc. nor does it particularly make sense.

(and before anyone brings up his date with jin--a) he enjoyed it when she kissed him, and b) he was a traumatized, abused child going out on a first date. of course he was fucking awkward. have you ever met a teenage boy????)

anyway, uh, that was a lot of words, so have a tl;dr: zuko is not gay-coded. there is nothing uniquely gay (or even uniquely queer) about his character arc or characterization, and he was certainly not coded gay in an attempt to sneak a queer character past the censors. if anyone involved with atla was gonna try that, it would’ve been in lok, and as established, they didn’t even manage to queer-code the actual queer relationship before the last few minutes of the final episode. headcanoning zuko as gay is absolutely fine (though if it’s only done to keep him away from female characters he may otherwise be attracted to, that smells more like misogyny than anything else), but insisting that this reading is the only one that makes sense, and anyone who doesn’t agree must be straight (hello, queer woman here making this insanely long thinkpiece) is very much not.

ship what you like, but stop trying to invalidate other ships and other interpretations of characters just to make your ship seem more plausible. it’s really not a good look.