#still busy but made one entire meme

[felinecyan]

When The Night Calls

[Izuku Midoriya x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your best friend leaving the hero course was enough to make you lose your mind. Especially when he’s suddenly standing across from you with nothing but a tired smile.

WC: 2978

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Vigilante!Deku

Please give this one extra love!! Somehow Midoriya is also very suspiciously difficult to write 👀 (Also, that 3rd-degree burn I gave my hand today is making me want to cry and throw myself in a river. Damn you, AO3 curse!! )

『••✎••』

Seeing that letter taped on your door broke you in more ways than one.

He had been gone for almost a week, but his note left behind made you realize just how long it'd been. How long he had left you with nothing more than a simple explanation of his departure and how it felt like he was never coming back.

The entire class had been on edge ever since. The note even threw Bakugo for a loop, as much as he would deny it. It had everyone wondering where he was and if he was okay.

It hurt you the most, though. He was the closest friend you had and the only one who truly understood your feelings.

But now he was gone.

Aizawa still continued teaching, but with Midoriya absent, the class just couldn't focus. He wasn't as good at making things seem less depressing or stressful, and his lectures were just boring without a green bush to lighten the mood. Or at least, you thought so.

You haven't been paying much attention lately, and you're too busy thinking of your missing friend. Your grades had been slipping, but it wasn't like anyone could blame you. Even if your friends could, they didn't say anything.

They had tried talking to you, but all you could do was give them a half-hearted smile, shake your head, and tell them, "I'm fine."

You weren't fine, and you knew that. But what were you supposed to do? Cry about it? It’s not like he’d come back if you did that.

Ironically, he did technically come back.

That day, Aizawa decided to keep the pain everyone felt about Midoriya buried beneath the surface, so he assigned you all a ten-page essay about the history of quirks.

So, here you were, writing a half-assed essay close to two in the morning. Kaminari was blowing up the group chat with memes and random jokes, but no one seemed to care or even respond.

Well, that was until Bakugo started yelling at him to stop texting because he was trying to sleep.

That went on for about a solid ten minutes, with everyone getting annoyed at the two idiots, but eventually, it died down.

You took a glance at the clock, which now read 2:12 a.m.

Sleep just couldn't come to you. Not now, not when your brain was filled with thoughts of the broccoli boi.

Then, there was a tiny patter against your window, almost like a knock. If it hadn’t been so quiet, you might not have heard it.

You ignored it at first, of course, but it continued, the knocks getting louder and more urgent.

Finally, you stood from your chair, deciding to investigate, but then, the knocking stopped.

You paused, confused, but shrugged, figuring you must have been hearing things.

Yeah, right, because hearing knocks on your dorm window at 2 a.m. is normal.

It turned out to be a good thing you got up because when you turned back around, a figure was directly behind you.

You jumped back in fear, letting out a short shriek before slapping your hands over your mouth. The side eye glance to your window, now open and curtain rustling in the slight wind, had you regretting not locking the damn thing.

The figure let out a small chuckle, his shoulders shaking a bit, and your heart rate sped up.

You could see the person a lot better now that they weren't in the shadows, but the moonlight still kept their face hidden.

All you could see was the curly mess of green hair and a large hoodie with a black mask pulled over the bottom half of their face.

But you didn’t have to see his eyes to know exactly who it was.

Your hands fell limply to your sides as the boy stepped closer. His hand reached the hood of his suit, slowly pulling it off, and his bright, emerald green eyes were staring straight into yours.

The only thing you could do was stare, dumbfounded.

"You did lock it, by the way," the boy's voice said. It sounded hoarse and scratchy as if he hadn't spoken in days. He probably hadn't.

Still, his intuition never failed.

You continued to stare, eyes wide and unblinking.

Midoriya's brow furrowed, a look of worry replacing his smile.

"They really should put more difficult locks on these things. I mean, honestly, all I had to do was twist it, and it opened. If I were a villain, then— hmph!"

Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, cutting him off. His eyes widened, surprised, but eventually, he relaxed, wrapping his own arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"I was so worried," you said. You could feel your body starting to tremble, tears pricking your eyes. "Everyone was."

His arms tightened, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I couldn't think of any other way."

You leaned back a bit enough to look him in the eyes. His tired, determined eyes.

"Wait, if you’re here… does that mean...?"

"I need my notebook." He kept his frown, and a sigh escaped his lips. "You have my old notes, right? I need those."

Oh.

That was it.

That was why he was back.

"Oh," You failed to hide the disappointment in your tone. "Right, uh, hold on…"

You pulled away, your eyes looking away from his. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head as you walked over to the desk, rummaging through the drawer.

Speaking of, your desk was an absolute disaster. If allowing students in your dorm room wasn't against the rules, Iida would have broken down your door a long time ago, screaming at the top of his lungs about how your room was in utter chaos.

Eventually, you found it. It was covered in sticky notes, and some of the pages were folded. Makes sense, considering the fact that you'd spent the last week reading it, studying, and hoping to find some kind of clue about his whereabouts and the league itself.

But even if it was in your hands, screaming for its owner, you hesitated. He was going to leave again, wasn't he? He wasn't going to stay.

But common sense hit you. You couldn’t force him to stay. It would be selfish of you to even ask.

You turned, walking back over to him. He was staring intently at the ground, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and he had a small frown on his face.

When you were a couple of feet away, he finally looked up, his hand reaching out for the book.

"Here," you said, trying not to let the sadness seep into your words. "Don’t mind the added stickies. Simpler terms, easier to understand, you know?"

"Right, thanks," he murmured, his eyes darting over the cover before flipping through the pages. His brows were scrunched together, and his fingers fiddled with the pages, flipping through them with a practiced speed.

He was so concentrated on the notebook that he didn't see your frown, and he didn't see the sadness in your eyes.

But then, he froze.

His eyes scanned over one of the pages, his fingers tightening around the spine of the book, and his breath hitched.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and his lips were set in a tight line.

"You read this?"

"Huh?" You blinked, taken aback. "Was I… not supposed to read it all?"

"What? No, no, I meant this page."

He flipped the book around, opening it to a certain page, and held it up for you to see.

Oh, yeah, his page. The one where he wrote about himself. Which, proudly, you knew most of what was written in it, anyway. Some things caught you off guard, but not many.

"Oh, yeah, I skimmed over it," you admitted.

"And... how much did you skim over?"

"Um... all of it? I mean, I'm in your hero notes, too. I took a lot more of my time on the page dedicated to me, I have to admit, but uh… What's the big deal?"

Midoriya looked at you, and his gaze was intense. "Did you… miss me that much that you would study my hero notes that closely?"

"Well, I wouldn’t say closely—"

He tilted his head in an almost sarcastic manner, and his eyes narrowed as he leaned over to point at a section in his notes.

A bright pink sticky note, covered in stars, was stuck onto the paper.

It was a small part, a very short paragraph, and you had given your analysis of him and not of his quirk either. It was a list of his attributes, his personality, and the type of hero he was.

To someone else, it would be pretty informative about what kind of person he was and what kind of hero he would be, but you both knew the true meaning behind the note.

Because it was all the things you missed about him.

"… oh, " was all you could say.

The air around you two suddenly became awkward, the silence becoming heavy.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But, as expected, Midoriya broke the silence.

"I figured since you’re still awake, it must mean that you're working on homework or studying, and you wouldn’t do that at night if I weren’t gone," he began. "I thought that maybe it would be too soon to come back, or even that I should have stayed away, but, well, I really needed my notes, and, honestly, I wanted to see you, and—!"

He was rambling again. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, his brain spitting out more words than his mouth could.

At least he was still himself, you thought.

You decided to cut him off, placing your hand on his arm, and he jolted at the sudden contact, his head snapping back up to yours.

"I’m sorry," you said, looking down.

He looked confused, tilting his head. "What for? You have nothing to be sorry for; you didn't do anything wrong."

"No, I—" You cut yourself off, biting your lip, and looked away. You took a deep breath before speaking.

"I'm sorry," you started. "For not stopping you. For not coming with you. For not helping you. I had no idea what you were going through, and I was too worried about myself, and I didn't—"

"Hey, hey, stop," Midoriya said, placing his hand on your shoulder. You hadn't realized you were shaking. "This is my fight, okay? It's not yours, and I was the one who didn’t want to bring anyone else into this mess. This isn’t your fault, so please don’t beat yourself up about it."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." You looked back up at him, tears blurring your vision. "I don’t know how to help."

He was silent for a moment, but then, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you once again, and you buried your head in his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

"It's okay," he said. "I don’t expect you to know how to help, and I didn’t come here for your help. Well, technically, I did since you had my notebook, but I’m speaking on a—"

“I know, I know," you mumbled.

Another moment of silence, and then, he sighed, a puff of air brushing your ear.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back, if I ever will, but I promise," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear and his words making your heart skip a beat. "I promise we will be fine. We all will. Me, you, everyone else. It might take a while, but we will be okay."

You nodded, your grip on his hoodie tightening. This was the sound of a goodbye, and the finality of it terrified you.

"It’s just…" you mumbled, and his brow furrowed.

"Just what?"

You hesitated, a lump forming in your throat.

"What?" He repeated, pulling back to look you in the eye. "Please tell me."

You took a deep breath, swallowed the lump, and looked him in the eye.

"It's just that... You’re my not-alone buddy, remember?”

Midoriya froze, his eyes widening.

It was a little game you two had back when things weren’t so complicated. Back when you were just normal students.

You both struggled to make friends, so you made a pact. Obviously, that thought disbanded when everyone else got close, and now you all were pretty good friends, but the friendship between him and you was different. It was a bond between you two that was just special.

Not even ‘Kacchan’ could ruin that, as close as he and Midoriya grew.

You never called him Deku, even after Bakugo and the rest of the class started calling him by the nickname. Sure, it was his hero name, and you could call him that, but you just never felt comfortable.

Todoroki didn’t either, but then again, Todoroki didn't call anyone by their nicknames.

But, back to the point.

"We made a pact, and... that was one of the things I wrote on the sticky notes." You gestured to the book. "It was during my angry denial phase, so I’m not that proud of it, but… it was still true."

"You were angry?" He asked, confused. "Why?"

"Well, first of all, I was worried sick. I knew you were going to go do something stupid, and obviously, I was right.”

He winced at that.

"But I was angry because you didn’t trust me, and I felt like you were leaving me, too," you said, biting your lip. "I know that sounds stupid and selfish, and I get that this was your battle, not mine, and I can't change that, but... I guess I was just scared. You didn’t even tell me before you left, and the note was just..."

You trailed off, a lump forming in your throat again, and your eyes burned with tears.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, so you buried your face in his chest again, and his grip tightened around you.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

You shook your head. "Don’t apologize. It's not like you're changing your mind."

He was quiet for a moment, his head lowering and his lips resting on your forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. "Izuku, please don't say it."

He pulled back, and his face was unreadable. He looked determined, his eyes burning with passion, and it hurt. It hurt to know that, despite everything, he still had his mind made up.

"I have to go," he said, and his voice was quiet. "I don’t want to leave you alone. I really don’t, but I have to, and you need to stay safe. Me being here isn't doing anything good, and I can't keep coming back and putting you in danger. So, for now, at least until the Shigaraki is dealt with, please just be safe. Don’t try and find me, and please don't let anyone else know I was here."

He paused, his eyes glancing towards the window.

"Actually, I might come back just to get rid of that lock. I mean, seriously, I barely even touched it, and it came right off. You could easily replace it with something stronger, maybe one of those new locks that only respond to fingerprints! But, then it can be traced back to you, and they can use you to— oh, man, I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

You didn't bother to respond. Instead, you leaned up, pressing your lips against his cheek.

Midoriya's entire face went bright red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

You could feel your face burning, but it was worth it to see his reaction.

"Be careful," you said. "Please, Izu, don’t be stupid."

"R-Right."

He stumbled a bit, his hand coming up to touch the spot where your lips were. His eyes flickered back to you, and you swore you saw him blushing, but then he turned, heading towards the window.

"Oh, uhm, b-by the way," he said, reaching the window. He placed his hand on the frame, glancing back at you. "For Aizawa's essay, you have to also analyze the strengths and weaknesses, not just the evolution of quirks. Make sure to read the whole paragraph in that book he gave us at the beginning of the semester."

He gave you one last smile, pulling the mask over his mouth and the hood over his head. You looked in befuddlement as he stepped out onto the roof, and your hands were wrapped around the edges of the open window.

"How did you—"

"It's Aizawa," His mask was muffling his voice, so he lifted it up a bit, and his eyes twinkled. "What else do you expect from him?"

And then he jumped.

He let the mask drop back down and became just another shadow in the night, with his green lightning trailing behind him.

You didn’t have the energy to laugh, and you didn't have the heart.

You leaned against the windowsill, letting the cool night air wash over your face. You sighed, watching the clouds drift in the sky.

"You're still an idiot," you whispered, closing your eyes.

When the sun rises, this encounter will only be a distant memory.

But for now, the cold night was enough to convince you otherwise. For now, his green eyes were staring up at the same night sky, and he was thinking of you, too.

That kiss on the cheek, as tame as it was, was still enough to make his head spin. You were still his friend, his not-alone buddy, and nothing was going to change that.

And you both were okay with that.

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Nine - Cough Cough I'm Sick

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.3K

(idk who sorts out the media stuff so i just said marketing manager)

Series Masterlist

Here's the thing, it was exactly what it looked like. Max let out a laugh as he looked at the papaya drivers panicked. "Relax," he said quickly and walked out of the driver's room. "I'll meet you both outside."

Y/N and Lando looked at each other as Max shut the door. "Fuck," she whispered as she pulled her clothes back onto her body. She swapped Landos shirt for her own.

Wordlessly, Y/N left his drivers room. She pushed past Max and sped walked out of the track. She was so fucking stupid - this was why they had those rules in the first place!

And now that Max knew, what was going to happen?

She didn't sleep that night, anxiety overtaking her. For the first time of the grand prix weekend, Y/N checked her phone. She went onto her private account, went to the for you page (for the memes) and was immediately flooded with pictures of her in Landos hoodie. Fuck, that was right. She was wearing Landos hoodie.

She didn't know if Lando went to the club with Max, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around her pillow and tried to get some sleep.

***

They'd been home for two days and they hadn't slept together. It was unusual, but Lando couldn't blame her, especially after what had happened in Spain.

He missed her. Which, this time just a few months ago, would have felt impossible. But he really did miss her, everything about her.

She didn't entirely avoid him, but it felt like she didn't want him anymore. They hadn't properly spoken since the grand prix, almost like they weren't even friends anymore.

Lando kept himself busy. He gamed and streamed a lot, rarely giving himself time to think about the little hole in his heart.

It was an overreaction, Y/N knew. But she was terrified of the consequences that they'd inevitably get. So far, nothing had happened. But that didn't mean it wasn't coming.

The next week was the Canadian grand prix. For every grand prix since they began living together, Y/N and Lando had travelled together. One of them would usually drive to the grand prix, taking it in turns.

This time, though, Y/N travelled alone. She made her own way to the grand prix, over thinking and then sleeping on the flight.

Lando hadn't realised she'd left. He knocked on her bedroom and pushed it open. "Y/N?" He called, but she wasn't there, already on her way to Canada.

Obviously, Y/N arrived before him. She’d slept on the flight, sure, but she still made her way to her bedroom for a nap. Exhaustion gripped her as she got under the blankets and closed her eyes, still in her travelling clothes.

When Y/N woke up, there was insistent knocking on her hotel room door. “Fine, alright!” She shouted, her voice croaky. Her throat killed as she pulled open the door and came face to face with the McLaren marketing manager. “Hey,” Y/N said, rubbing at her eyes.

“You’re meant to be doing media things with Lando,” the marketing manager said quickly.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath and checked the time on her phone. Had she really been asleep for that long? “Okay, I’ll get dressed.”

She shut the door and got changed. What she would have loved to do was take a shower, but with the way the marketing manager was talking, she definitely didn’t have time.

As soon as she was dressed, Y/N followed the marketing manager down to the lobby of the hotel. Outside there was a car waiting for her. She climbed into the back seat and pressed her head against the cool window as they drove towards the track.

Somehow, she fell asleep in the car once again. She woke up to somebody shaking her shoulder, and was quick to follow them into the McLaren hospitality unit. Her had swam as she walked, but she ignored it; she had a job to do.

It was the first time she had seen Lando since she left their apartment. “Hey,” she said through a croaky voice as she sat in the seat beside him.

“Are you okay?” Asked Lando, his arm resting on the sofa behind her.

Y/N quickly moved it. She nodded her head and looked at the camera in front of them as a member of staff past her and Lando question cards.

***

She was sick. That was clear to anyone as she threw up into her bathroom. But to her, it was just stress. She’d had a taste of her first win and she wanted more. Th thought of trying to keep being consistent was making her so stressed that she was coming across sick.

She threw up before qualifying. How she made it all the way to Q3, she didn’t know, but she struggled to qualify in the top five. As soon as qualifying was done, Y/N rushed back to the hotel room while the team at McLaren took care of the media for her. She managed to avoid fans as she was driven back to the hotel.

As soon as she was in her room as she asleep on her bed, still wearing the McLaren shirts and shorts that she had left the circuit in. She didn’t even climb under the covers before falling asleep, her head just about on the pillow.

Again, she woke up to somebody knocking at her door. Again, she reluctantly stood up and pulled open the door.

Only this time, it was Lando on the other side of the door. “Shit,” he whispered as he looked at her. “You look…”

“Like shit,” Y/N answered for him.

“Are you okay?” Lando asked again and Y/N nodded, leaning her forehead against the wood of the door frame. But Lando clearly didn’t believe her. He stared at her, raising his eyebrows, waiting for her to take it back, to tell him that she was feeling as terrible as she looked.

Still, she couldn’t admit it. Lando tried to walk past her, to get into her room, but she stood in his way. “What do you want, Lando?”

“I want you to admit that you’re sick and let me take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me,” she said, somewhat stubbornly.

So, Lando grabbed a hold of her shoulders and forced his way into her room. He sat the door behind him and sat her on the bed. “Talk to me,” he said, kicking off his shoes and laying back against her pillows.

“About what?” She spat back, crossing her arms as she looked out of the window.

“About why you’re not talking to me.”

She visibly deflated. Fuck, she had missed him, but their last time had scared her enough to keep her away. No, he was just asking to get into her head before the race.

“Max hasn’t told anybody, you know,” he said, leaning forward and placing his large hand on her shoulder. “He’s not going to.”

Y/N twitched her head towards him, but she didn’t say anything.

“We could go back to the way we were, you know,” Lando continued. “I… I miss you and I want to go to how we were.”

She let out a sob and wiped beneath her eyes. She missed it too. Missed him. “I-“ but she couldn’t say more than that.

Wordlessly she crawled towards him. she laid down beside him, placing her head on his chest. “Lando, we can’t tonight,” she said.

“I know,” he responded with a nod. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick!” She insisted.

“You’re sick.”

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

[mmani-e]

Hello! After all this effort, behold:

DANGANRONPA DEMIX, THH EDITION!

Dr Demix 2

Finally got the talentswap designs I have for the THH characters one and done with! You can click through the read more section for some fun design insights. I'm intending on uploading a doc containing short lore bits about them eventually.

Kyoko Kirigiri - Ultimate Affluent Progeny

So Kyoko's design was both kinda simple, kinda not, wanted to give her a very fine and regal kinda attitude to her but not arrogant as that's very much Byakuya's thing. Her story is that she loves her dad more than the family business and her grandpa so she abandons detective work and just uses her brain to help her dad out.

Makoto Naegi - Ultimate Novelist

Makoto is a wonderful guy, just great all around. He loves writing children's books and happy stories. This is his main coping mechanism so he doesn't have to process any negative emotions he gets, the rest he can't process… well they go into a murderous psychopath alter.

Aoi Asahina - Ultimate Lucky Student

Shoujo protagonist Aoi. Cute, headstrong, affective, competitive, these are all the traits that make her fight for her friends and clash with Kyoko (and more often than not Byakuya) in the killing game, even when all hope seems lost… she pushes through, unafraid to let tears spill from her eyes for all those lost, but pushing all the same.

Byakuya Togami - Ultimate Detective

This one, I wanna go into more lore territory, cause I kinda memed around his last desc I gave him so here goes:

"A disgraced heir of the Togami household, Byakuya lost the competition that would've secured his riches. Disdainful and bitter, he sought out to get to the bottom of why he lost, uncovering a rabbit hole in the process. By the end, he proved his sibling a cheater, but it didn't matter because by the end as he found the sweet satisfaction of uncovering secrets and crushing liars and cheaters under the weight of their hubris far more satisfying than any inheritance."

Sayaka Maizono - Ultimate Spirit Medium

So Sayaka isn't a clairvoyant at all like Yasuhiro, in fact her entire skillset is completely different, first of all she is like an actual psychic, and I based her design off of the japanese Itako, quite loosely. Very interesting group, look it up, also she'll never use these powers in the killing game because I dunno how to even approach these rituals or what they look like or how to write them while remaining respectful, so she won't do it in a killing game for the express reason of her not having the right tools available and not wanting to disrespect her traditions.

Leon Kuwata - Ultimate Swimmer

I really wanna draw him again, all these characters again tbh, and I wanna show off the patterns on his wetsuit. It's a whole coral reef under there, that anemone and clownfish bit is only one part of a whole reef stretching his midline.

Sakura Ogami - Ultimate Programmer

Sakura has installed chips into her body to help optimize her body processes and also cause why not. As for the muscles, she's an Assembly programmer, the programs she's made can run on calculators she loves it.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Ultimate Martial Artist

Chihiro's design here with the two belts is an explicit nod to his preferred martial art - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, so unlike Sakura in canon who'd be easy to imagine cracking someone's skull in half with a chop, Chihiro's approach is more crawling onto someone and bringing them down to the floor with grappling like an angry halfling monk. As for the belts themselves, on his head is his final junior belt, while around his waist is his current belt, he's not a black belt yet because he's still too young for it.

Celestia Ludenberg - Ultimate Baseball Star

Celestia actually isn't a legend in this AU, Taeko is. Celestia hates that and wants to start a baseball career going international, whatever the hell that means is up to her own definition, but she wants to be remembered forever as Celestia, not Taeko. Also extra sentence, but this is the SINGLE hardest design I've ever had to deal with here, I think in the future I'll be drawing all her little accessories and I have an alt costume for her I have in mind.

Hifumi Yamada - Ultimate Pop Star

So I changed Hifumi's story as I originally outlined in the OG post with him. He was friends with Aoi all his life, pretty much his only friend at all, and ever since he was little he had an obsession with writing songs, because he was obsessed with stuff like anime openings and was content to just keep the songs to himself. It wasn't till Aoi convinced him to share some of his songs that he started his journey to success, but bc he's not traditionally attractive, his first hits were literally just… his voice being played over other more attractive singers and it wasn't until very very recently that he even performed a song of his for the first time.

Toko Fukawa - Ultimate Fanfic Writer

So while Hifumi was clearly a Doujinshi but due to weird translation, ended up as fanfic creator, Touko is straight up a FF then Wattpad then AO3 girl, who would get obsessed with this really shitty, tripe manga that she didn't even like reading. It did however have super hot dudes in it, so she wrote good stories of those characters when she got frustrated with the actual authorial content - which was always.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - Ultimate Gambler

Quite LITERALLY the never stop gambling meme personified into a guy. He can lose 3 mil on slot machines but always comes out fine because it means if he keeps gambling he'll eventually run into his 1/3 and win giga millions, what he needs to pay off his debts. It isn't just with luck though either because his personality and lack of intelligence or understanding of most the rules of the games he plays means he'll never react the way he should when getting a good hand in poker or a bad draw in blackjack, so he wins those games almost always through just… stupidity.

Mukuro Ikusaba - Ultimate Biker

She's number 16 in her gang, and is easily the most loyal enforcer and taskman of the gang. She does anything she's told, to a grim and disciplined degree not typical for hooligan bike gangers, she doesn't really desire a seat as top dog of the gang though, after all she's got school to worry about, and her sister.

Mondo Owada - Ultimate Warlord

So his relationship and Kiyotaka's is gonna be interesting, because I don't want him to be exactly like Mukuro at all, who was just sort of an all-obsessed Yandere. It's more like he's always chafing under Taka, who is less than friendly with him in this AU, really the main way he even lets Taka boss him around is because he pays incredibly well and helps keep his gang members from devolving back into the unstructured, chaotic criminal life, the same that took his brother years ago.

Oh and yeah, he still looks like Guile, as he should.

Sparkling Justice - Ultimate Killer Killer

Yeah it's a reference to Killer Killer, sue me I love the manga. He has Hajirahara's ahoge, and I thought it'd be cute to also give him a mask just like the other Makoto from a Kodaka game series (Raincode.) Also, while Genocide jack stuffs all her scissors in her skirt, Makoto keeps a truth gun with "truth bullets" as his main weapon, the gun he stores inside the big book in the chibi of just Makoto, and the bullets kept on his person as the red buttons all over his body, which he pulls out when he needs to reload.

"Kiyotaka Ishimaru" - Ultimate Fashionista

Unlike Mukuro and Junko, Mondo absolutely cannot hide the fact that he acts nothing like Kiyotaka, though this is surprisingly fine to everyone else, because unlike Junko who plastered herself onto literally everything, Mondo always obfuscated himself from the public spotlight, at most showing only his suits while he hid his face behind something conveniently placed. Which played primarily to his vision of an ultimate fashionista, who was above everyone and catered to the rich and powerful.

Junko Enoshima - Ultimate Moral Compass

This was a fun one, I decided to let her have her red hair because I believe it to be the "natural" look of her hair, while attaching little clips of dyed hair to her buns as a replacement to keep her shape sorta and keep the strawberry blonde somwehere on her. Understand that while she is the "moral compass" she is still pretty deranged, and the only reason she focuses so much on keeping everyone on their best behavior is because it's endlessly entertaining to her to make her fellow moral committee members upset when she blatantly makes a mockery of the rules while still keeping kids on their best behavior to make a point.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Ultimate Fashionista and Tyrant, the Iron Hand of Despair

Taka's design I wanted to sort of focus on this sort of, holier-than-thou idea, where I wanted to make him look a lot fancier and upper-class than Junko does in his standard highschool fit compared to him. I wanted him to have an upper-crust sort of look

If you're reading this after reading this all, thanks! You're a wonderful person :) Signing off...

Mani

[pixiesfz]

sorry I haven’t been posting much guys I have been MAJOR busy

first meet n.c x reader

plot: how you first met your girlfriend

warning: none

Niamh sighed as she sat down next to Emma, bored out of her mind.

Just one more interview she told herself as she got comfortable in her seat.

She hated interviews with Emma, they always just asked her questions and it left her with nothing to do but just look around.

Plus Jessie had left recently and she was still trying to get used to it.

Sure she still had Z but she’s usually on the other side of the field.

The interview started and Niamh gave her fake smiles to the men and women around her before Emma started off.

She started answering questions about transfers and Sams injury and how it might cost the team but Niamh wasn’t really paying attention.

It wasn’t until you called her name.

“This question is actually for Niamh” you raised your voice whilst Niamh was looking at her microphone, her head snapping up at the sound of her name, only to be met by the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

“Oh” she said out of realisation that everyone had been looking at her, causing a genuine laugh out of Emma.

“Tik Tok will love this” she joked lightly, gathering a chuckle out of the room as Niamh still looked at you.

She shook her head to shake any thoughts away before she smiled “uhm ask away”

You smiled before asking “How do you feel about the media’s response of the recent departure of a good friend of yours Jessie Fleming?”

Niamh could answer the question in her sleep but with your eyes staring at her she found herself stuttering “I uhm- I find that the media is correct in the way that I uhm- that I will miss one of my very good friends but I wish her the absolute best in Portland and now we share a number so uhm- that’s uhm- good”.

Niamh was blushing bright red by the time she finished her answer, she wasn’t even sure if it made any sense. Emma, next to her was trying hard not to laugh at one of her players and the fact that it was very obvious that she was nervous by you.

“thank you Niamh” you smiled and wrote down in your notepad

“Thank you” Niamh repeated before realising her mistake “I mean you’re welcome” she quickly corrected herself and decided she wanted to swallow herself whole as she saw you laugh.

“I think that’s enough” a man said from the back and Niamh had never been so grateful for that man in her entire life as she got out of her seat quickly and walked out.

Getting the answers you needed you tucked your notebook away and stood up yourself to leave, a small blush on your face as you looked back onto your interaction.

Emma wasn’t wrong when she said that Tik Tok would love the interview as screenshots were taken and Niamh’s nervous answer became popular on many platforms.

And very popular in the changing rooms.

“I have never seen you stutter so much” Guro laughed at her as Erin recreated it “You don’t get it” Niamh responded as she thought back to it.

“Caught lacking” Same yelled from the other end of the room

“I’ve heard enough from Jessie” she said, throwing her head back as she remembered her Canadian friend going through the trouble to make the video into a gif and constantly sending it to her as a meme.

“Did you at least get her number?” Aggie asked, now interested in the conversation

“What?” Niamh said “no I was so embarrassed I went straight home”

Guro dropped her mouth open “You didn’t get her number!”

Niamh winced “no…should I have?”

A loud chorus’s of “yes” followed.

“Oh”

The next time you appeared was after the national break and you had been chosen to interview on the pitch this time for one on one time with the players.

As Chelsea won on their home ground with their opponents having to wear their own socks it was a very lovely stadium, filled with Chelsea blue.

When you walked onto the pitch with a microphone and a camera man behind you Niamh’s mouth dropped.

“You’re catching fly’s Charles” Sam laughed at her friend before she followed her eyesight “who is it?”

“That’s- girl- girl interview”

“Holy shit!” Sam realised, somehow getting her friends horrid sentence “go ask for her number!”

Niamh looked at her friend in horror “no!”

“yes!”

“No!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Sam laughed at her victory as Niamh groaned “she’s coming over anyway” Sam pointed out and the English player immediately went red.

“Hi, do you mind if we do an interview with the captain?” You asked and Sam nodded “absolutely”. and walked off.

“Nice to now have an actual conversation” you started as your camera man set up “uhm yeah”

You started your interview quickly after as Niamh took her time answering, having to stop herself from just looking at you the entire time which she failed at

When the camera turned off you smiled at Niamh who stood still, fidgeting with her hands as she looked up at you with her blue eyes.

You weren’t an idiot, you had seen Niamh in interviews and she had been a lot less fidgety and a lot more better with her words, and also her Scottish teammate had dm’d you a video of her gushing about a ‘pretty journalist’.

So you blushed before opening your mouth.

“Do you have something you want to ask me?”

[seohwang]

Bedroom mishaps. (Hyung line)

An Ateez reaction to getting into an embarrassing/awkward situation while intimate

Genre: fluff, smut (nothing too explicit, though)

Word count: 6 401

Warnings: mature themes (obviously), embarrassing moments and just awkwardness in general, lol

Dynamics: mostly sub!ateez-leaning or with no dynamics, except for mild dom!Seonghwa

A/N: So, this whole idea randomly came to me when I was reading @blu-joons​​‘s fic about Ateez getting a massage (which is why Yeosang’s scenario is kinda similar to theirs in the beginning, hope that’s okay!!) and my mind just kind of went on from there, haha. I’ve always loved reading fics about the more awkward/funny/weird parts of sex, so I’ve decided to write my own as well ♥ Hope you enjoy!

A/N 2: I’ve just posted the maknae version of this fic as well! You can find it here.

Hongjoong

Hongjoong is a busy man.

In fact, he can get so busy with his work that you barely even see him during the entire week

You knew what you were getting into, though

After all, he’d made sure to tell you about twenty times when you first began dating

You obviously decided to step up to the challenge nonetheless, knowing full well that it wouldn’t stop you from wanting to date him in any way

And while that still held true for both you and Hongjoong, it definitely did get pretty lonely at times, especially during the past few weeks

Your boyfriend was working on a huge song project this month, meaning he barely even had the time to care for himself, let alone to properly indulge in you as his partner

You didn’t seem to mind, however, cheering him on from afar and bringing him food to the studio whenever you had the time

And even when you didn’t, you still made sure to let him know you were thinking of him through the occasional texts you’d send him

And while it didn’t really seem like much to you, to Hongjoong, your love and care were an absolute lifesaver

Whenever he was having a hard time or finally decided to take a short break from working, he always made sure to check his phone first and foremost, looking forward to everything that had accumulated in your private chat by then

It didn’t matter whether it was a cute message of encouragement or a random meme you’d stumbled across

To Hongjoong, it was the closest feeling of home he would probably be able to afford that day, if not that week

But as encouraging and heart-warming as your gestures were, after a while, he couldn’t help but feel guilty

Guilty for being away for so long, for not giving you nearly as much attention as you gave him and rightfully deserved, and just for everything in general

So, when he was finally done with everything and had a few-day break after what seemed like forever, he was rushing home to you, ready to make it up to you in any way he could

Luckily for him, you were already home when he got there, relaxing on the couch after a long day with the whole weekend ahead of you

He didn’t get to see you like that, however, as by the time he closed the door behind him, you were already rushing to the entrance yourself, thrilled to finally see your boyfriend home again

“Hongjoong!” You called out excitedly as you ran to him, jumping into his arms when he turned around at your voice

Barely managing to catch you in time, Hongjoong let out a small grunt, which was quickly followed by a chuckle as you snuggled impossibly tight into him

“Hi, baby,” he muttered into your hair, giving the crown of your head a small kiss as he held you in his arms

Sooner or later, though, you had to pull yourself away from him, letting him take off his hat and jacket properly

Your affection didn’t cease one bit, however, as you then proceeded to follow him all around your apartment, giving him little hugs and kisses as he did his usual routine after returning home from work

At last, the two of you found yourself in the bedroom, with you sitting on the bed while Hongjoong went on to change into something more comfortable

One would think he’d be a bit more apprehensive or shy about you watching him change, but, honestly, after being together for so long, there really weren’t any more secrets between the two of you

With a small, tired sigh, Hongjoong finally managed to take off his hoodie, only to realize he still had another layer of clothing underneath to take off

He let out a dissatisfied whine at the realization, making you chuckle as you watched the whole thing unfold before you

“Hold on babe,” you suddenly spoke, making him stop in his tracks as you got up and walked over to him, “let me help you.”

Any other time, Hongjoong would have probably rejected your help, fully capable of taking off his own clothes, thank you very much

But right now, after countless hours of stiffly sitting at his computer, it felt as if his arms had turned into stone, tired and sore whenever he raised them up too high

So, with a soft “thank you”, he let you grab the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head carefully before tossing it into the hamper

“Want me to take off your pants too?” You asked him, not realizing how your question sounded until you saw the blush spreading across Hongjoong’s face

“I, uh, s-sure,” he managed to stutter out, feeling his entire face heat up at the sudden glint in your eyes when he said that

Without wasting a single second, you dropped to your knees, hands swiftly unbuckling the belt of his pants before pulling them down fully

Hongjoong let out an embarrassed sound at your actions, the visual of you like this being too much for him in that moment

He hadn’t seen you properly in so long, so to see you like this all of a sudden? He was positively melting

You definitely knew what you were doing, that much was obvious

From the increasing handsiness to the playful spark in your eye and your teasing smile, which only seemed to widen when you noticed the growing bulge in his pants, Hongjoong could tell that there was only one thing on your mind right now

Getting back up, you moved closer to him, giving him a sly smile as one of your hands wrapped around his waist, the other pulling his own hand up to do the same to you, effectively pressing the two of you together

“Y/N...” Hongjoong said in a mere whisper, only now realizing just how much he’d been missing your touch

“You wanna take this further?” You asked softly, eyeing him up and down as you spoke, “if you aren’t too tired, that is.”

Hongjoong grinned shyly at your words, heart fluttering at the care in your voice and actions

Gently cradling your cheek in his free hand, he brought you into a sweet, chaste kiss

“I’m never too tired for you.”

Well-

It would soon turn out that maybe, just maybe, possibly,

Hongjoong can sometimes be too tired to give you the attention you both craved

You were lying under him, one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping at his back, pulling him into a deep kiss as he thrusted into you

And although Hongjoong was loving every second of his current situation, after a few minutes, he could quickly feel the stiffness and fatigue from his work creeping up on him again

He tried to accommodate to each of your commands, going at whatever pace you desired

But as time went on, the tension in his thighs started to hurt, until it eventually became too much to keep up properly

He could feel his arms starting to give out as well, making it even harder for him to hold his balance above you

So, when you moaned out another “faster” to him, Hongjoong stilled instead, dropping his head to your chest as he caught his breath

“Joongie...?” You softly called out to him, watching your boyfriend’s hunched-over form with a worried frown

You moved your hand up to fix his sweaty, messy hair before lightly grabbing his face to make him look at you, “you okay?”

Hongjoong let out a small, sheepish chuckle at the question and sluggishly sat back up again

“Of course, don’t worry,” he began, letting one of his fingers trace shapes against your thigh absentmindedly, “there’s just this...slight issue.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress any nervousness rising within you at the cryptic comment

“Which is...?” You questioned, trying to get him to elaborate

“Which is that I might actually be too tired in the end like you said,” Hongjoong admitted with a chuckle, though you could tell he was embarrassed by the blush spreading all the way down his neck, “sorry.”

You let out a chuckle of your own at his words, finding his flustered expression utterly adorable, “okay, and?”

"Huh? Well, uh, that’s it,” Hongjoong replied, confused by your question

Moving to sit up as well (or at least as much as you could, given your current position), you gave Hongjoong a small, understanding smile

“Then what are you apologizing for, baby? It’s okay. You’ve been working so hard lately I was surprised you were even still up to do it tonight.”

Hongjoong smiled bashfully at your words, once again being reminded of how foolish he was to feel embarrassed about this with you

Taking his shy silence as your cue to continue, you spoke again: “Do you want me to get on top then?”

Moving off of you, Hongjoong nodded sheepishly, “if you’d be so kind.”

You laughed at his awkwardly formal words of appreciation, sitting up to move into his lap, “why are you so polite all of a sudden? You’re acting like this is the first time I’ve been on top.”

Hongjoong’s blush seemed to get even deeper at that, one of his hands coming up to hide his red face

“I don’t know, okay? I guess I just wanted to treat you after being gone for so long, but it turns out I can’t even do that now,” he whined, the pout on his lips audible even with his face covered

Your eyebrows furrowed at his self-deprecation, gently pulling his hand away from his face to look at him sternly

“Hey now, don’t say that,” you chastised him, making his own expression soften, “I’m not the only one here who needs love and care, am I now?”

Hongjoong conceded with a small shake of his head, casting his eyes down

“Exactly. There’s no need to push yourself when I’m perfectly fine and happy to take care of you instead. Got it?”

Hongjoong smiled softly at your words, moving his hands to interlace them with yours, “got it.”

Leaning down, you pressed a loving kiss to his lips before straightening back up with a warm smile, “good.”

“And now, let’s show my boyfriend how it’s done, hm?”

Seonghwa

“Ah,” you whined, feeling your thighs tremble for the nth time, “Seonghwa-”

Seonghwa just grinned, meeting your eyes as he looked up at you from between your legs, gripping your thighs even tighter to hold them in place

You’d had a long day today, coming home from work absolutely exhausted

Which didn’t exactly match the energy of your boyfriend, who was elated after an unusually fun and smooth day

He’d hoped to celebrate it with you, but upon seeing how tired you were, he knew that a nice, peaceful evening would suit you a lot better

And so he did everything he could to make you relax, focusing on you and you only for the rest of the night

From cooking your favorite dish for dinner and letting you vent about everything that had happened to you today, to giving you an amazing massage on the couch, to then gently scooping you up into his arms and bringing you into your bedroom to let you relax in a slightly different way

Which is how you ended up like this - lying in the middle of your bed with your bottom half completely naked, legs spread just enough to allow Seonghwa between them while he ate you out like a man starved

You could tell how hard he was trying to make you come, doing everything perfectly to a T, just as you’d taught him over the course of your relationship

So, to say you were feeling incredible would be a big understatement

You could practically feel all of the stress within you melting away with each movement of his tongue, letting you forget all the bad events from today

And it’s not like you were trying to hide your pleasure either, if the way you tugged at his hair while his name breathlessly fell from your lips was anything to go by

But as the minutes passed by and you were still teetering right before the edge of your orgasm, you knew it wasn’t enough for you

Or, rather, that there wasn’t anything for you to get past that edge right now

Because normally, if Seonghwa pulled on you what he was just doing, you’d be coming within a few minutes without a miss

But now, as the imaginary timer neared 20 minutes and you were still stuck in that same spot, you knew you’d have to call it a day

Unfortunately for you, it seemed as though Seonghwa misunderstood you, brushing your whines of his name off as just another sign you were feeling good (all thanks to him, of course)

And so, you had to try again, being a bit more pointed with your voice this time

“Seonghwa, please,” you spoke again, using the fingers tangled in his hair to gently tug him away from you

“Yes, honey?” He asked in a sweet, teasing voice, panting as he finally parted from your core after what felt like ages

“I, um, I think we should...” you trailed off, unsure of how to phrase your troubles without hurting your boyfriend

“Yes? What is it?” Seonghwa spurred you on, giving you a genuine, warm smile this time

“Ah, it’s- it’s nothing, really,” you began again, trying your best to focus as his thumbs softly brushed the insides of your thighs, “I was just thinking that, maybe, we should stop for tonight?”

The second you finished your sentence, you could see the smile on Seonghwa’s face drop, replaced by a look of concern instead

“What? Why?” He asked in a quiet, confused voice, eyebrows furrowing as he looked up at you, “did I do something wrong?”

You panicked at the sudden sadness in his voice, seeing you’d managed to do exactly what you were trying to avoid doing - hurting the man’s feelings

“No!” You blurted out, getting up on your elbows to face him better, “no, you did nothing wrong, not at all, just- come here.”

You beckoned him over to you, to which he quickly obliged, crawling from between your legs to lay down by your side

You turned onto your side as well to face him again, noticing the small, hopeful sparkle in his eyes as he watched you nervously

Unable to stop yourself, you leaned in to steal a short, chaste kiss, catching him off-guard just enough to distract him from his worries before pulling away

“You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” You repeated your words from before, reaching out with your hand to caress his cheek, brushing the skin with your thumb affectionately

“If anything, you were really good, actually,” you uttered, feeling your face warm at the admission, especially when you noticed the small smile on Seonghwa’s lips as a reaction

“It’s just that I don’t...I don’t think I can, well, come, tonight,” you finished, finally expressing what you were feeling properly

Seonghwa let out a quiet hum at that, letting the information settle in his head as a small, adorable pout subconsciously settled on his lips

“I see...” he began, before meeting your gaze once more, “but why do you think that is? Is it because you’re so tired from work or...?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you agreed, mirroring the pout on his lips without realizing, “I just feel like the stress is preventing me from being able to let go completely, you know?”

Seonghwa hummed in understanding, finally comforted enough to reach out and rest his hand on you as well, bringing you closer to him

“Oh well, if eating my girlfriend out isn’t going to help her destress, is there anything else I can do to make her relax?” He suddenly asked, giving you a confident smirk

Your mouth opened in shock, surprised by his sudden bluntness, “okay, first of all, how crude of you to say that,” you retorted sharply, lightly shoving him away in faux annoyance

He just chuckled, amused by your reaction as he let you continue

“But yes, there is something,” you admitted, watching as he perked up at your words

“And what would that be?” He urged on, looking at you expectantly

“Well, it’s not exactly as exciting as ‘eating your girlfriend out’“, you explained in false dejection, looking apologetically at Seonghwa, whose turn it was to blush now, not expecting you to use the same choice of words against him so suddenly

“B-but?” He asked, noting the glint of mischief in your eyes as you silently got your petty revenge on him

“But do you think we could take a shower together?” You requested, giving him your best puppy eyes, “I’m just feeling way too tired and cuddly right now to do it alone.”

Seonghwa just smiled at that, finding your wish utterly adorable

Reaching forward again to grab your waist, he gently pulled you on top of him

“Of course we can,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before sitting up, still cradling you in his arms

Carefully, he moved to stand up from the bed, holding you comfortably as he began walking over to the bathroom

“Just let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Yunho

It was quite late already, the clock on Yunho’s nightstand nearing 9 PM

Glancing over at it, he quietly sighed to himself, turning another page of the book he was currently reading

Today was one of the few rare days when you would come home a lot later than him, switching the usual dynamic you two had going on

At first, he didn’t see it as a big deal, killing time by playing games, watching TV, cooking, eating, you name it

But as the hours dragged on, he was steadily growing more and more lonely, longing for your voice, touch, and just company in general

At last, he had found himself in your shared bedroom, picking up a random book to read through out of sheer boredom

It felt as though nothing interested him anymore, not when you weren’t there to join him and hang out together

Zoning out and looking away from the pages before him, he suddenly began wondering just how the hell you managed to do this every time he was the one to come home late like this

The thoughts of you moping about just like him every time you were alone in your apartment for too long made a small pout appear on his face, suddenly getting too sappy and emotional for his liking

Luckily for him, before he could get any softer, the door to your bedroom suddenly opened, revealing your tired, yet oddly happy form

Yunho’s eyes widened in surprise, having been too distracted by his own thoughts to hear the front door opening and closing

He immediately sat up in his spot, not even bothering to mark where he’d left off in the book before setting it aside with a bright, adoring smile

“Hi!” He greeted you warmly, watching you approach the bed with a playful grin

“Hey there, honey,” you replied, pulling the thick sweater you were wearing over your head as you walked over to him, “how have you been?”

“Oh, I was so bored without you, you wouldn’t believe it,” he sighed out a small chuckle, the happy smile never leaving his face as he spoke

“Is that so?” You questioned absentmindedly, too focused on undoing your pants to pay him your full attention

Yunho began shuffling over to the side, wanting to get up to welcome you properly, but you quickly stopped him with a hand on his chest, making him look up at you in confusion

“Now, now,” you chided softly, looking down at your boyfriend with eager, lidded eyes, “no need to get up just yet. There’s something I want us to do first.”

Finally noticing the sultry tone of your voice and the way your eyes roamed all over his body, Yunho took the hint, a small blush rising to his cheeks

“N-now? Are you sure?” He inquired surprisedly, though not stopping you from pushing him down on the bed, watching as you quickly discarded your pants before straddling him on the bed

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, letting your hands wander all over his broad chest while looking up to gauge his reaction, “been thinking about doing this all day, actually.”

The sudden brazen confession took Yunho off-guard, the blush on his face deepening as he felt his own pants tighten

You let one of your hands slip under his clothes, fingers splaying across his stomach as the other hand gently grabbed at his hair, making Yunho whine

“What do you say, hm? Wanna make up for all that time apart today?”

You never got a proper reply to your question, as the next thing you knew was Yunho planting his lips on yours, feverishly kissing you as he held you close

Sooner or later, the two of you moved to the middle of the bed, giving you all the necessary space to continue

Yunho had made no attempt to take over, enjoying the view of you on top of him far too much to put up any fight

It’s not like you minded either - very much the opposite, in fact, as you watched your boyfriend gradually lose himself to the pleasure, resting an arm over his eyes as he panted loudly

You were starting to get out of breath yourself, but for an entirely different reason;

As much as you loved being on top like this, the position proved to be far too much to do for someone who had just come back from a grueling day of tireless work

And so, after a few more minutes, you slowly came to a halt, hands resting on Yunho’s chest as you tried to catch your breath

Pulling his arm away, Yunho looked at you confusedly at first, before an amused grin made its way onto his lips

“Tired?” He asked, and though there was a teasing edge to his tone, you knew he was just being playful and caring

“Yeah,” you sighed, a small smile of your own gracing your lips at the way his eyes sparkled when he looked up at you

“Want me to help?” He continued, to which you only let out a tired, agreeing hum

Without any further ado, Yunho shifted his legs on the bed to get more leverage, grabbing your hips carefully but firmly before starting to move for you from below

The sudden change of pace and angle made you whine loudly, propping your hands next to Yunho on the mattress to support yourself

Closing your eyes, you slouched over Yunho, mind empty as he lightly jostled you on top of him with his thrusts

You were positively blanking out at this point, only able to focus on the almost delirium-inducing pleasure coursing through you

Slowly but surely, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer, and judging by the way Yunho’s thrusts became even more erratic, so was he

“Yunho, I’m-” you tried to speak up, only to interrupt yourself with a wanton moan as he managed to angle himself just right

The reaction from you made him smirk, the grip on your hips tightening as he tried to squeeze out the last bits of energy left to make you get over that imaginary edge

“It’s okay, babe, I’m about to- OW!”

The sudden cry made you instantly open your eyes, startling you out of your daze completely

You watched the pained expression on Yunho’s face, feeling confused and panicked at the same time

“A-are you okay?! What happened?” You asked worriedly, unsure whether you should get off him or not

"Ah, fuck, holy shit,” he hissed, sitting up as much as he could with you still on his lap, one hand staying on your waist to keep you stable while the other reached somewhere behind you

“What? What is it?” You questioned again, lightly resting your hands on his back to stabilize yourself, but not too hard in fear of potentially hurting him more

“I-I’m sorry,” Yunho began, pausing momentarily as his face scrunched up again in discomfort, “but I have the craziest leg cramp right now.”

It took you a second to process his words before you turned to look behind you, and sure enough, his hand was holding onto his calf, and you could see the muscle in his leg tensing

“Oh- oh!” You exclaimed, everything finally setting in, “I’m so sorry, let me get off-”

But before you could try to move, the hand on your waist rose up to your shoulder, gently pressing down to stop you from getting up

“No, no, it’s okay!” Yunho reassured you firmly, letting his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, “just- just wait a bit, it’s starting to go away now.”

You wordlessly obeyed, leaving the two of you to awkwardly sit on top of each other as Yunho tried to catch his breath

After a few moments, he finally pulled away with a deep breath, letting himself fall back down on the bed

“You good?” You asked, the concern in your voice making Yunho’s heart flutter

“Yeah,” he sighed, though you could still see the cogs in his head turning as he tried to process everything, “yeah, I am. Sorry about that.”

You chuckled at his apologetic words, making him look up at you curiously

“What are you apologizing for? You didn’t do anything wrong,” you consoled him tenderly, idly drawing invisible shapes on his chest with your finger as you spoke: “you were just being a good boyfriend and fucking your girlfriend into the next week like she’d asked you to.”

Yunho let out a heartfelt chuckle at your words, a precious, cheeky smile spreading over his lips, “yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You were about to say something, but then a surprised yelp left your lips as you were suddenly being flipped around, Yunho now hovering over you with that giddy, playful look in his eyes that you adored so much as he spoke:

“And I’m about to do it again.”

Yeosang

You heard the front door open and close, followed by a series of heavy footsteps and panting echoing down the hallway

Turning your head away from the TV, you watched as Yeosang made his way over to you, barely keeping himself upright with the heavy duffel bag over his shoulder

Quickly springing to your feet, you ran over to him, helping him take the big bag off his sweat-drenched shoulders

“Hun, are you okay?” You asked worriedly, cringing at the loud thud of the dumbbells inside the bag hitting the ground

There was a moment of silence as Yeosang desperately tried to catch his breath, holding a hand up weakly as a signal for you to wait a bit

“Leg day at the gym-” he paused again, taking another big breath before continuing, “almost missed the bus, then the elevator didn’t work and-”

“Baby, slow down,” you stopped him, letting out a small chuckle, “it’s okay, just take your time to calm down and then you can tell me everything, alright?”

Yeosang gave you a tired, dazed look, taking a while to process your words before finally resorting to a small, compliant nod

“Good,” you said, relieved to see your boyfriend’s breathing finally starting to even out, “now, is there anything I can do to help you?”

Yeosang shook his head at that, waving his hand dismissively before speaking again, “no thanks, ’m just-” another exhausted sigh left his lips, ”tired, sweaty, gross-” huffing again, he decided to just put it simply, not having enough energy to elaborate: ”shower.”

You giggled at that, amused by your boyfriend’s spastic thought processes, making Yeosang’s lips curve into a small smile as well

“Alright then, off you go,” you replied, giving Yeosang a light pat on the back to get him moving

And even though he did get going, you didn’t fail to notice how he tensed at your touch, face scrunching up softly in discomfort

You didn’t say anything, however, deciding to just let him go for now and deal with it later once he came back

Fortunately, you didn’t have to wait too long before the bathroom door opened again, revealing a tired, but seemingly content Yeosang

You watched (or stared, rather) as he stood in the doorway, swiftly tying a towel around his hips which left little to nothing to the imagination

Almost as if feeling your gaze on him, his eyes flitted up as well, meeting yours with a small, unassuming smile

He then made his way over to you on the couch, carefully sitting down next to you before looking at the TV curiously

“What are you watching?” He asked softly, resting his still slightly damp hair on your shoulder

You couldn’t help but chuckle, amazed at how innocent your boyfriend could get sometimes

Did he really not realize what he was doing to you by all this?

“Well, I was watching a Netflix show, but not anymore, damn,” you replied brazenly, not even bothering to hide the interest in your eyes as you ogled his exposed body

Yeosang lifted his head up from your shoulder, turning to you with a confused look on his face

Until he saw the way you were staring at him, that is

“Y-Y/N,” he stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up at the sudden feeling of exposure, hands fumbling in his lap

It was then that your gaze fell to his sculpted back, however, reminding you of your previous plans

“Oh, right! I almost forgot,” you suddenly exclaimed, standing up from the couch before lending your hand to Yeosang, “come with me.”

“Um, may I ask why?” He asked back, even more confused, but accepting your hand nevertheless

You helped him stand up, taking note of another wince washing over your boyfriend’s face before being quickly suppressed again, just like the last one

“You, sir,” you began, giving him a playful grin as you began leading him down the hallway, “are coming to the bedroom with me.”

Walking in the front, you didn’t get to see his reaction, and yet the surprised hitch of his breath told you more than enough

Without another word, Yeosang let you pull him into the bedroom, his free hand holding onto the slowly loosening towel

“Alright, lie down on your stomach for me,” you commanded, gesturing to the bed

Only then did Yeosang pause, giving you a puzzled look: “Wait, on my stomach? But...why? What exactly are you going to do to me?”

You only chuckled at the question, paying it no mind as you spoke again: “You’ll see soon enough. Now lie down for me, will you?”

Understanding he didn’t have much of a say in this, Yeosang sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time today (though this one was more out of being flustered than exhaustion), finally giving in and laying down the way you wanted

You watched on with a triumphant smile, waiting for him to get comfortable before climbing on the bed to straddle his hips

“Y/N, seriously, what are you-” Yeosang began once more, only to be cut off by his own groan as your hands started massaging his shoulders

You just giggled at his reaction, content with the effect your skilled fingers had on him

“What did you think I was gonna do to you, huh?” You teased, “look at you, jumping right to the dirty thoughts.”

Yeosang could only moan in reply, feeling the knots in his upper back slowly beginning to relax

“Ah- shut up. You’re lucky you’re so good at this, I don’t even have the energy to get mad at you right now,” Yeosang grumbled, words getting partially muffled by the pillow under his face

“Hm, you’re right,” you hummed in agreement, “and to think I’m giving you this incredible massage for free? That’s almost criminal, you know.”

Despite having his face buried in the pillows, you could still hear Yeosang’s faint chuckle, accompanied by a slight shake of his shoulders

“Is that so?” He asked, finally gathering the strength and willpower to lift his head up from the bed to speak more clearly, “is there a way I could repay you for such a generous service, then?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at the suggestive question, halting your massage in order to lean down, pressing your chest flush to his back as you spoke

“I think I have an idea, actually,” you said in a sultry whisper, making a shiver run down Yeosang’s spine

“A-ah, is that so?” He replied, though his voice was noticeably less stable than before, “and what, uh, what would that be?”

You grinned at the response, thinking he was getting weak for you already

Which, to Yeosang’s defense, he absolutely was, feeling his mind spin at the sudden seductiveness in your voice

It’s just that there was another thing making him nervous as well, maybe even more than the sudden shift in atmosphere

This thing, uh, how should he put it

He wasn’t getting hard

Like, at all

Even as your nails slowly raked down the expanse of his back, lightly scratching at his sides just the way that gave him goosebumps every time, his dick was just refusing to perform

He could feel the waves of anxiety washing over him, both from the confusion of what and how and why this was happening

As well as the horrifying realization that you were definitely going to notice he wasn’t hard whatsoever and what if you’re going to think he doesn’t find you attractive or doesn’t want to have sex with you and-

“Yeosang?”

The sudden, concerned call of his name caught him off-guard, effectively bringing him out of his quickly spiraling mind and making him turn around to look at you

“Y-yeah?” He asked back, failing to keep his composure in front of you, which only served to worry you further

“I just asked you to turn over for me but you weren’t responding,” you repeated, patting his hips gently, “are you okay?”

Silence filled the room as Yeosang stilled, unsure of what to say

“Hun?” You spoke again after a while, growing increasingly worried, “you know you can tell me anything, right? I won’t judge you or get mad, I promise.”

Yeosang only whined at your words, dropping his face back down into the pillows in a strange mix of guilt and frustration

You were about to say something again when you suddenly heard a quiet, muffled voice mumble something you couldn’t quite decipher

“Hm? What was that?” You asked again, getting off your boyfriend and sitting down next to him to hear him better, “I couldn’t hear you, sorry.”

“I said I can’t get hard,” Yeosang replied, a bit louder this time, face burning with humiliation

“Oh.”

The room fell silent once more as you processed the information, unknowingly making Yeosang’s stomach churn even more from the embarrassment of the situation

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes at that moment, honestly feeling like he was going to burst into tears if you didn’t say anything very soon

But, of course, you did

“It’s okay,” you suddenly spoke, voice surprisingly calm in contrast with Yeosang’s anxious expectations

Finally mustering up the courage to face you again, he lifted his head, looking at you hopefully, “really?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the hopeful twinkle in his eyes, finding him way too adorable considering the current situation

“Um, yeah? Of course it’s fine,” you assured him, raising a hand to card through his hair gently, “this kind of stuff happens sometimes, it’s no big deal.”

Yeosang couldn’t believe what he was hearing, genuinely taken aback by how calm and understanding you were being just now

But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense

"Yeah,” he conceded at last, “I guess you’re right.”

You chuckled at the look of absolute concentration on his face, ruffling his hair a bit

“Obviously,” you replied confidently, “you’ve had a stressful day today, Yeo. Not to mention how exhausted you were just an hour ago when you came back home. Honestly, it probably would have been more surprising if you did still get it up after all that.”

Yeosang whined quietly at the bold expression (much to your amusement), but nevertheless, he agreed with your reasoning

“So you don’t feel disappointed by it or anything?” He hesitantly checked one last time, wanting to make sure you genuinely weren’t feeling hurt

“Of course I don’t, bub,” you replied, leaning down to softly peck the cute birthmark on his temple that you’d always adored

“Besides, we can always try again later anyway,” you continued, offering him a warm smile, which he shyly returned as well

“Okay,” he replied quietly, feeling his eyelids growing heavier by the second, the stress and exhaustion of today finally beginning to catch up with him

Not missing the little faces of pain from before, you were definitely able to notice how drowsy Yeosang was getting now, words slowly beginning to slur more and more with each response

“Someone’s getting sleepy, huh?” You whispered with a grin, to which Yeosang could only nod weakly, feeling himself drifting off

“Alright then, let’s get you cozy, shall we?” You asked quietly, not even expecting a reply at this point from your half-asleep boyfriend

Sitting back up slowly, you carefully untied and removed the towel off Yeosang’s body, throwing it off the bed before draping the blankets over you both

As you lay back down, you noticed that Yeosang was still trying to stay awake, watching you with tired eyes and a small smile

“Goodnight,” he whispered, reaching over to hold your hand under the covers

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, leaning forward to kiss your boyfriend’s lips one more time

“Goodnight.”

Thank you for reading! And remember, feedback is always appreciated! ♥  

[bobohu4eva]

Golden

Part 2/2

Characters: Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: College AU, Baekhyun as an adorable art student and campus heartthrob, shy OC, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, angst, smut

WC: 8.8k

Warnings: smut

Masterlist

Sobs shook your body as you walked the darkened streets on your way back home. 

You felt so stupid. He wasn’t even your boyfriend, just a cute boy who was nice to you, yet you’d grown so attached that just seeing him kiss someone else was enough to send you spiraling. 

When you got home you told Heejin everything, and she did her best to comfort you, though it didn’t help much. You were so bitter, too, that of all people, it was Sumin. She was friends with him, and obviously had a thing for him, but ever since that first day it seemed he wasn’t into her like that. Maybe he’d been drunk, but even then, it stung more than you ever could’ve anticipated. 

It was early morning by the time you cried yourself to sleep, granting you some peace, at least until you woke up.

Of course Baekhyun didn’t see any issue with what had happened, and kept texting you throughout the rest of the weekend, but you didn’t have the heart to respond to anything. It was mostly just memes, he would often send you things he thought were funny, and usually you loved it, but now, it made you feel even worse.

Sunday evening when you still didn’t feel any better you finally did text him back, though it was only to tell him that he didn’t need to walk with you the next day. You’d have to face him later during class, but hugging him and walking with him didn’t feel like something you could handle. 

You expected him to sit with Sumin when the time came, but he didn’t, taking his usual seat next to you.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, “Why didn’t you want me to walk you today?” 

You just shrugged, trying way too hard to steady your voice despite the lump rising in your throat. “I've kind of missed walking and listening to music, and there's some albums I've been wanting to catch up on.” 

It was an obvious lie, but it was all you could come up with in the moment. He nodded, but by the look on his face, he could tell something wasn’t right with you. From your seat next to him you could sense the uneasiness, the tension, now that he knew you weren't being truthful. Concentrating on the lecture wasn’t possible, and Baekhyun, too, seemed disengaged, lost in thought. Thoughts about you, without a doubt. 

For an hour you both faced the professor, knowing well that neither was paying any real attention. 

When he asked if he could at least walk you home, you made up another lie, saying that you were meeting Heejin elsewhere on campus later. 

He was quieter than usual for the rest of class. You knew he'd be at your dorm again in the morning, and you wanted to make something up to keep him away, but you just couldn't do it. He was still your friend, and already seemed plenty bummed with how things were. 

You kept waiting for him to turn around and say something flirty to Sumin, but he didn't speak to her at all for the entire class. It didn't make much sense to you, but it was a bit of a relief. At least you wouldn't have to see them constantly doting on each other. Maybe it really had just been one drunk kiss, but even then, the mental image of it was burned into the back of your mind and brought with it an unbearable ache in your chest. 

Every time he'd ‘flirt’ with you, it just reopened the wound, so you decided that you would avoid even giving him the chance. 

That next morning was what did it for you. Maybe he’d already sensed the way you were starting to withdraw, because he was even sweeter than usual. The hug was tighter and lasted longer, and he told you how pretty your hair looked, that he loved your sweater, and even the perfume you wore. You didn’t say much, since you were too busy trying not to cry in front of him.

His hand would often brush against your own, as it always did, only that morning, he actually held on for a second. Until you pulled your hand away, crossing your arms over your chest. After that, he was quiet. He didn’t hug you when you got to class, and the absence of his arms surrounding you made the early morning air feel empty and dull. 

You made up more excuses as to why he didn’t need to walk with you, and eventually, he stopped asking. 

He still sat with you during class, though he wouldn’t say much, not unless you talked to him first, which rarely happened. It was weird to you that he didn’t talk to his friends, either, Sumin included. 

A week passed like that, and finally you thought that maybe you were starting to get over him. That same day, however, he stopped you when you were about to leave the building on your way home. 

He’d been walking just a few steps behind you when you felt his hand on your wrist. He stopped, and so did you, giving him a confused look. He tugged you down a hallway, where there was a bit more privacy. 

He gazed down at you, swallowing, his concerned frown making your heart lurch into your esophagus.

 He took a deep breath before asking, “Why are you pushing me away? Did I do something wrong?” 

His voice shook slightly as he said it, which didn't help your condition at all. You continued to stare, wordlessly. 

“I miss you.” He added. 

I miss you too!!

You wanted to scream it, but nothing came out. You missed him so badly, you could hardly get yourself to class anymore, dragging what felt like a hollow shell from one campus building to the next, until finally collapsing back into your dorm, day after tiresome day. You were miserable, and it was written clearly on his face, he was too. 

“Sorry, you didn’t do anything, I just.. Want to focus on studying. I’m sorry.” 

Somehow, his face fell even more. If he was miserable before, you’d somehow managed to make him feel worse. 

He knew you were lying, for whatever reason. He wanted to call you out, to demand you just be honest, but the desperate way you looked at him told him not to. The weight of so many unspoken words hung thickly in the air, until it became too much. You turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, alone and confused. 

Part of you had wanted him to press on, to insist you tell him the truth. Maybe if he made you say it, it wouldn’t be so bad, but you also imagined the rejection. He would be extremely nice about it, of course. He’d probably apologize for making it seem like he was more interested than he actually was, that he just liked complimenting people and making them smile, but it was nothing more than that. Somehow, though, that would be even worse. If he was an asshole about it, at least you’d be able to get over him quicker. 

The walk back home was bleak, silent, and lonely, with neither him nor your music lending you some company. Most of the songs on your playlist were likely to make you cry, and keeping the tears at bay was all that seemed to matter.

As soon as you were back in your room you let it all out, sobbing into your pillows at how broken he’d looked. Ruining your friendship with him, without being able to tell him why, was cruel, and you knew it. The guilt that came with that might’ve been the worst part of all. 

The next day in class, he sat with his friends again. 

But as the days went on, something about him felt different. He wasn't his usual bright, bubbly self that you'd fallen for so easily. He didn't joke around as much, or even really talk unless someone asked him something.

You did your best to just focus on class, but he always made his way back into your thoughts, given the proximity. You still missed him, and occasionally at the beginning or end of class you'd meet eyes. He always smiled, and so would you, but that was the extent of your interactions. 

Days turned into weeks, and you expected him to lighten back up again eventually, but he never did. 

On your way to and from classes you listened to music, usually songs that reminded you of him and how he made you feel, both during the good times, and more recently. Whatever it was, it entered your brain through the speakers of those amazing headphones he’d so generously gifted you. 

You’d see him outside of class every now and then, and he would still smile and greet his friends, but he always looked a little down. The light in him that had always shone so brightly now dimmed to a mere flicker, as if a small rain cloud permanently hovered over him. 

You wanted to ask him why, worried that he could be going through something terrible. He never said much about his family, but you assumed it had something to do with them. You wanted to be there for him, even if just as a friend, but the heartbreak you knew you’d feel kept you away. 

Others noticed it, too. Heejin told you about her friends, and how they worried about him, wondering why he didn’t talk to and flirt with them the way he used to. They all insisted that he must’ve been hung up on another girl, which only made you feel worse. Heejin often insisted that it must be you, but you didn’t believe her. If he really had feelings for you, he wouldn’t have kissed another girl, knowing you were at the same party. 

Whatever it was, you hoped he'd be able to get past it. You still only wanted the best for him. Even if only from afar, you kept an eye on him, wondering what was wrong and when he'd finally be able to return to his former self, the bright, shining artist you fell for so easily. 

Though finals were still a few weeks away, you threw yourself into your studies, needing something to distract yourself. Getting over Baekhyun was proving to be much much harder than you thought possible. Your grades came first, and it did help, at least until you were done for the day and had nothing better to ruminate about. Falling asleep had become a chore, and when possible, you slept on the living room couch, passing out to some movie or show. 

It was during one of your usual afternoon study sessions that a loud voice pulled you out of it. 

“Y/n!” Heejin shouted. 

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Come here!” 

You groaned, having just gotten settled in at your desk with a good snack. 

You dragged yourself into the hallway where you stared at her unnervingly excited expression, before she ran to her room, leaving you standing there perplexed as you stared at her door. 

You heard someone clear their throat, and stepped into the common area. The front door was open.

It was Baekhyun. He stood in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in hand, and a nervous look on his handsome face. 

A sharp intake of breath. Disbelief crept its way through your body, making its way into every last piece of your psyche. 

You couldn't move, let alone speak. 

“Hi, Y/n.” He spoke in a voice so soft, it almost got lost with the warm breeze that flowed in from behind him. 

“Wh- What are you doing?” You finally got out, barely above a whisper. Unlike his, your voice, however soft it may have been, was clear, too sharp to miss. With trembling hands, and legs you feared could give out at any moment, you stepped closer. You moved slowly, worrying that if you were too quick, you’d disrupt the mirage of him in your doorway, that he would disappear into thin air.

He didn’t disappear. The closer you inched, the more vivid he became.

His eyes were glued to the flowers he held, hands fidgeting with them tirelessly. 

“I know you've been ignoring me, for whatever reason, and I probably just look like a huge idiot to you right now, but I like you. A lot. Even if you don't want to talk to me anymore, I want you to know that.” 

It didn’t make sense, but you knew you’d heard him correctly. 

“You… like me?” 

Finally his eyes met yours and he nodded, extending one arm to hand you the flowers. “A lot. And I thought you liked me back, I’d been thinking about how to tell you how I feel, but then you stopped letting me walk with you and wouldn’t text me back, or talk to me, and I just really, really, miss you. I still don’t understand why or what happened, but I know how I feel and I had to tell you, on the off chance you might still feel the same way.” 

His voice was shaky, as was his breathing. The threat of tears in his eyes brought about your own, heart shattered to pieces at the sight of his fragile state. The same features you’d grown to love for their kindness, their lack of rude judgements, now appeared so unsure. You took the flowers. 

“But.. What about Sumin?” 

“Huh?” 

His expression changed completely, brows furrowed in confusion. He was caught off guard, without a doubt. Still, you wondered if he really didn’t know what you were talking about. 

“I saw you kissing her, at your friend's birthday.” 

His eyes went wide, face pale, and after taking some time to register and process your words he began to try to explain himself. “I don’t remember that, I mean- I don’t remember a lot of that night, I blacked out, not that that’s any excuse, but I don’t like Sumin like that at all. I don’t know how that happened, seriously.” 

“Really?” 

He quickly nodded, “You’re the one I’d been looking forward to seeing that night. I kept telling myself that I’d finally confess how I felt, and I ended up drinking way too much cause I was so nervous. When you stopped talking to me, I thought that I came onto you too strong while I was blacked out or something, and you didn’t feel the same way so you cut me off. At first I thought maybe I could eventually get over you, but I can’t, you’re all I think about. I just miss you so fucking bad.”

He was rambling, out of breath, eyes glassy. You were crying too, though they weren’t entirely tears of sadness. You hated to see him so hurt, that was half of it, without a doubt, but the euphoria of knowing he liked you back bubbled up with force, tears of joy mixing themselves into a mess of confused happiness and grief. 

You couldn’t think straight anyway, so you let your heart take over. The flowers were tossed aside, and you tugged on his hand, arms wrapping tightly around him. 

“I missed you too, I just like you so much, when I saw you kiss her back that night, it wrecked me. I didn’t want to push you away, I just couldn’t stand how sweet you’d be, thinking you could never see me that way.” 

You felt him relax into your embrace, all of his fear and doubt melting into nothingness now that you finally told him what he’d been hoping to hear. He held you tighter, repeating your words to him over and over in his mind, savoring them best he could. 

“Of course I like you, though. I thought I made it so obvious. I can’t possibly walk everyone to class, or buy them new headphones, or fall asleep on the phone with them, or-” 

“Okay, okay, but you’re always so nice to everyone, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” 

He pulled away to look at you, those soft brown eyes holding every bit of reassurance you could possibly need.

“I’ve had the hugest crush on you since the second week of class.”

When he blinked the tears spilled over, though now they signaled nothing but happiness. Still, you were quick to intercept them. His cheeks beneath your hands were soft, red and hot with the evidence of everything he was feeling. 

“Baekhyun…” 

He showed you a hint of a smile, and you laughed, knowing now that there was no more reason to hide, to lie about what you felt. As you both moved closer, the rapid pounding of your heart rang loudly through your skull. But that didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Baekhyun was inching closer and closer and finally, he was kissing you. 

When your lips met, you both came alive. Months of unspoken affections were conveyed effortlessly, and the knowledge hit both you and him, that something more than friendship was beginning, something you’d both been holding out for so dearly.

He was soft and bright as he always was, even in the way he kissed you. He was an artist, and he painted every ounce of desire he’d hidden from you onto your lips without as much as a moment of hesitation. It was needy, the way you both clung to one another, feeling that no amount of physical touch was enough to convey what you truly felt. 

The touch of his hands at the nape of your neck and small of your back were everything you'd been craving for so long, and you only sank deeper into him. Somehow you both made it to the couch, the warmth of his body pressed to yours as the kiss deepened. 

Still, neither of you did anything to take it further. It was already so much, just being able to kiss and hold each other. The taste of him was sweet and somehow familiar, with every touch of his tongue and lips to your own blurring the world around you into irrelevance. You could've stayed like that forever, sandwiched between him and the couch without a care for anything else in the world. 

That was, until Heejin left her room again. 

She laughed a little and cleared her throat. Baekhyun quickly detached himself from you, both looking back at her, embarrassed. 

“I'm happy for you two, don't get me wrong, but do you think you could take this into your room or something?” 

You nodded sheepishly, grabbing Baekhyun’s hand to lead him towards your room but he interjected. 

“Let's go to my place.” He whispered, only for you to hear. 

You looked back at him for a moment, surprised, but nodded. 

On the walk over he held your hand, squeezing a little too hard, but he couldn’t help himself. It still felt surreal, he feared if he didn’t hold on tight enough, you'd run away, or vanish like he never even knew you. 

He’d mentioned that he had his own place, so there wouldn’t be any roommates to interrupt. It would be your first time being truly alone with him, and the possibilities urged your feet to move faster. 

Luckily it wasn’t too far of a walk, and you soon stood at his front door. He put the key in the lock, and looked at you before moving any further. “I’ve wanted to bring you here for a while now, but never knew how to ask.” 

Your lips pressed themselves to his cheek, and you smiled your most reassuring smile. You weren’t sure why Baekhyun seemed to be getting shy now, but you just wanted to reassure him, to be close to him. 

He unlocked the door, pulled you inside, and you loved the place, right away. 

Canvases bathed in colorful whirlwinds lined every wall, many of them familiar to you, but he didn’t give you the time to fully appreciate them. A gentle hand on your chin brought your attention back to him, guiding your lips back to his own.

He was smiling so big now, barely able to keep up with your kisses because of it. Of course you noticed, and soon he did too, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. 

“I’ve never invited anyone else here,” He told you, “so I’m sorry if it’s kind of chaotic, I didn’t think I would get this far.” 

Your hand found comfort atop his warm chest, looking up at him quizzically. “Not even your friends? Why?” 

He pulled you down onto a nearby couch with him, and somehow your head ended up in his lap. You smiled up at him when you felt him start to play with your hair. 

“I… don’t actually like showing people most of what I paint. Of course plenty of people see the stuff I do for my classes, but that’s different. Usually I just try to paint what I see in my brain at any given time, like putting what I feel on the canvas. It's a bunch of abstract nonsense, but for some reason it still feels way too vulnerable to share with the world.” 

As you looked around, most of the paintings were, in fact, completely abstract. Though you still found them beautiful. Most used similar color schemes as the works you’d seen prior, they just didn’t contain any clearly discernible figures, just lines and shapes. Sometimes they were more flowy, sometimes sharp, sometimes dark, sometimes bright. 

“They don’t look like nonsense to me.” 

Without saying a word he got up. You pouted at the loss of contact, but he returned soon enough, holding a stack of canvases he’d picked up from the corner of his living room. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, looking down at the swirls of red, pink, and gold that covered what he held on his lap. 

“I painted these while thinking about you.” 

You looked at him, not knowing what to say, as he laid them all out on his living room floor. 

“This one is the first day I walked you home.” 

The bright colors all flowed into each other beautifully, effortlessly. Peachy pinks were most prominent. Overlaying it all were slivers of shimmering gold, the same color that speckled much of his clothing. It looked joyful, bright and full of hope.

“This was one of the nights we were on the phone.” 

Dark blue, golden stars, and red shapes that swirled about like wind. It reminded you of what a nonsensical, more lust-driven version of Starry Night might’ve looked like. 

“And this was a few weeks ago.” He said, quieter than before.

No gold, dark blues and reds. Sharp edges. A shape like a tunnel, with no light at the end. 

He went on to show you several more, but your mind kept falling back to that dark tunnel. Uncomfortable pangs of guilt crept their way in. You’d really hurt him, even worse than you originally thought. 

“What about now? What do you see in your head right now?” 

He closed his eyes, leaning back into you. 

“You. Just you.” 

You brought your lips back to his, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way you were starting to get choked up again. This time you ended up atop of him, straddling his waist on his paint stained couch as his hands gripped your waist. 

You both took your time, wanting to learn every tiny nuance there could possibly be about the other's lips. He liked to trap your bottom lip between his teeth every now and then, mirroring the way you’d smile when he did. You liked the soft, non intrusive touch of his tongue, giving you just a little taste of him at a time. You loved how his hands wandered, from your waist, to your hips, ass, and eventually, chest. You loved the intimacy, and he loved the softness. Despite his wandering hands, he never made any other effort to take things further. He was keenly invested in just mapping you out, needing to know how every inch of you felt beneath his palms.

It was unclear how much time had passed by the time you realized you wanted more. When you asked him to take you to bed, he pulled away with a surprised look. 

“Are you sure?” 

You grinned at his sweetness, and nodded. 

Your legs remained wrapped around Baekhyun’s waist as he carried you the short distance, strong hands steady on your thighs. His lips, still smiling, peppered kisses onto every inch of your face. 

Baekhyun sat at the edge of his bed, keeping you perched atop his lap. His eyes held your own with a newfound seriousness. 

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” 

“What happens after this?” 

You stared for a second, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, with us. What will we be?”

Since the moment he’d appeared in your doorway, that one simple question had somehow slipped your mind. Now that he’d said it aloud, the answer seemed obvious, yet you still remained silent. 

“I’d like to be your boyfriend, if you’ll let me.” 

Your cheeks rose into a wide smile, and you nodded, “I’d like that a lot.” 

He let out a long, shaky exhale of relief, and his hands began to wander again. His lips soon traveled from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. He claimed you, possessive in his need to leave his mark, to leave a physical sign of his time there. Meanwhile you let your eyes roam the expanse of his room, taking in all of the art. Both his own pieces and the famous prints he had on display, all fit him so well. Just looking around gave you a better understanding of the man who was taking ownership of your body, and made you want to give yourself to him even more. 

“Have you ever done paintings like that?” You questioned, nodding your head towards one particular picture on his wall. 

It was a rather famous piece, one you’d seen before while googling Gustav Klimt in that first week you met him. The woman was naked, a common theme for the artist. It was a little odd to you at first, seeing that on Baekhyun’s wall. For half a second, you thought of frat guys who put playboy posters on the walls of their dorm rooms. You knew better than to equate it to anything of the like, though it still caught your attention. 

Baekhyun turned and looked at the picture in question, then back at you, confused, mostly wondering why you’d interrupted his kisses. 

“You know, nudes.” You pressed on. 

“Oh..” he was so quiet, you almost missed it. “Well, Klimt, he had real life models to use for reference. I’ve never- I mean, no ones ever been willing to do that for me, not that I’ve asked.”

“You could ask me.” 

His eyes widened, holding your own, trying to find some semblance of trickery. “You’d really let me do that?” He muttered in disbelief. 

You nodded, biting your lip at the mere thought of laying yourself out before him in that way, knowing you’d have his undivided attention. 

When he realized that you were being completely serious, something inside of him sparked to life. His lips on yours were far more feverish now, holding your face to his own while he let you taste the intensity of his neediness. 

The second he pulled away for some air, you abandoned your place on his lap. He turned to observe as you sat in the middle of his bed, and began to pull off your shirt.

“Wait, you mean right now?”

He was just so cute, you couldn't get over it, laughing as you confirmed, “yeah, why not?” 

You took your time as you peeled off one item of clothing after another, and all the while Baekhyun stared, almost as if he was in some sort of trance. His mouth hung open slightly, skin turning a lovely shade of pink. 

As excited as he was to paint you, he was starting to worry that he wouldn’t have the patience. Just watching you, on his bed, as you took off all your clothes for him, turned him on a little too much for comfort. But you asked, so he would deliver. He just hoped he would be able to focus enough to do a good job. 

Your underwear were the last to go, and once they were off, you let your eyes meet again. He held them for a few seconds, but naturally, they began to wander. It did make you a bit shy, knowing that he could see every piece of you, even the parts you were insecure about. 

Baekhyun couldn’t understand why, when you began to pull the blanket over yourself. He knew he’d been staring, but was that not to be expected? You’d been beautiful to him before, but now that he could see all of you, there was even more for him to become infatuated with. In his eyes every curve, every inch you slowly began to conceal again, was perfect.  

“Don’t” He said, taking a handful of the blanket. “I swear to you, there is nothing you need to be shy about, you’re beyond gorgeous. Truly.” 

You hid your face in your hands, but allowed him to remove the blanket, throwing it off the bed entirely. When you looked at him again, he wore a small reassuring smile. 

He came closer, the sight before him too good not to try and touch. When you stopped him, he pouted, confused. 

“Don’t you need a canvas? And, I don’t know, some paint?” 

He blinked a few times, already having forgotten the reason you’d undressed in the first place. “Right!” 

Tearing his hands and eyes away from you to get up and find his supplies felt like a special new form of torture. After what felt like a lot longer than a few minutes, he finally positioned himself a few feet away from the bed where he could comfortably sit in his desk chair with a full view of your body. 

You moved up his bed a little, resting your head on his pillow and bringing one arm over your head, posing yourself for him. “Is this okay?”

Without saying a word he came to you, the light touch of his hand on your arm causing a sharp inhale. A chill ran down your spine when he gently took hold of one thigh, just above the knee, making you bend your leg. He so badly wanted to keep touching you, to trace his way further up the soft skin. His hand lingered, before finally tearing himself away. 

Before sitting back down, he asked, “Are you comfortable?” 

You nodded. It wasn’t a lie, but with the tsunami of overwhelming emotions brought on by your nakedness and his fleeting touch, it still felt like a silly response. 

You kept your eyes on him, watching how he scanned every inch of your body as he started putting the brush to the canvas. 

Being so exposed in front of him was even more of a rush than you'd anticipated. You’d experienced intimacy before, you’d had sex with other boys, but now, without Baekhyun even touching you, it reached a harrowing intensity you weren’t yet familiar with. 

Baekhyun felt it course through him in waves, having to pause every now and again to calm himself down. He was certain that he’d never wanted to touch someone that badly in his entire life. Committing to memory every curve that you so generously showed him, and putting them onto the canvas, felt like a dream. The best kind, perfectly weightless and disorienting in its intensity.

You noticed the way he occasionally squeezed his eyes shut and took deep breaths, “Are you okay?” You asked teasingly. 

His smile was bashful, cheeks somehow growing an even deeper shade of pink. “I am fantastic, I just really, really want to touch you. It’s making it kind of hard to focus.” 

“Well hurry up so you can join me, then.” 

Again, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before letting it all back out. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” 

He seemed to pick up the pace after that, his hands moving impatiently as he did his best to finish the painting so he could finally get his hands on you. Still, he tried his best, deciding to simply go with a slightly messier, more abstract approach. 

The minutes kept ticking by with him only losing his cool even more, and he told you, “There's no way I can take my time with this right now, do you think we could do this again sometime? Maybe when I feel a little less crazy?” 

You beamed back at him, “Of course.” 

He shifted around in his chair and you saw it, the obvious bulge in his pants. Seeing how he was watching you as closely as you watched him, he knew by your smirk that you'd gotten a good look. 

He huffed a small laugh of embarrassment, moving once again, this time bringing one hand to his crotch to properly readjust. 

You smiled even wider, and he looked bashful as ever. 

“Stop looking.” He whined, soon bringing the brush to the canvas once again 

“Hm?” Your eyes snapped up to his, and you had to laugh, “You want me to stop looking at your dick, when you still have pants on, and I’m literally naked on your bed?” 

“Well… It sounds dumb when you say it like that.” 

“If anything, I’d be a little offended if you weren’t hard right now.” 

“Then you definitely shouldn’t feel offended in the slightest.” 

His hand continued its fevered motions, and you devoured the sight of him, now sitting with his legs spread, the obvious bulge straining against his zipper. His skin was coated in a damp sheen, giving him a gorgeous glow. His neck and clavicle bone, his strong forearms, the way his hand held the paintbrush. Every little piece of him was so alluring, your own patience was disappearing with unnerving speed. 

“How much longer do you think?” You blurt out, feeling hotter by the second, struggling to keep your eyes off the line in this pants. 

“Almost done.” He says, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

You wonder if he’s noticed the labored rise and fall of your bare chest, and the way you now struggle to keep a consistent rhythm. His thighs looked so strong and firm, it would be easy to sit yourself onto him and rub yourself into an embarrassingly quick orgasm. You knew that the slightest touch would set you off. 

At long last he put down the brush, sitting back and tilting his head, observing his work. 

“Done?” You asked, and he nodded.

He picked up the canvas, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he moved closer. You sat up to meet him halfway, letting him curve a hand around your jaw and pull you in for a long awaited kiss. He whined when you pulled away sooner than he wanted, still too curious about the painting. 

At last he took a seat on the bed next to you, and showed you the canvas. 

He chewed on his bottom lip as you got your first look, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to produce something more refined. “I know it’s kind of messy, but I swear I did my best given the circumstances, I’m not usually so distracted.” 

You exhaled a small laugh. The picture in front of you was beautiful, you were beautiful, in a way no photograph could ever capture. He didn’t paint you from the point of view of a camera, or even just any other person. What he put on the canvas was how he saw you, through the lens of his own admiration, and it was impossible not to feel beautiful when he captured you in such a generous way. 

It was a bit messy, but that didn’t matter. You loved the way it captured the hurried lust of the moment. 

“This is amazing.” You told him, “You’re amazing.” 

He watched as you stood, leaning the canvas against a bare stretch of his wall, where it would be easily visible from his bed. Your eyes were still on the painting, but his remained fixed to your nude body. 

You slowly came closer, watching how his legs parted to make space for you between them. His hands were delicate on your waist with their first touches, soon taking hold to drag you in closer, letting his face meet the skin beneath your breasts.  

“Fuck” He murmured, “You even smell perfect.” 

His arms wrapped around you tightly, hugging you against him from where you stood between his legs. Your hands were in his hair, tugging just a bit, to bring his attention back up to your eyes. 

He stood, and you moved in quickly for a kiss, letting your hands push beneath his shirt. 

“Wait.” He said, lips turning up into a hint of a grin at the way you pouted. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. Whatever you’re ready for is okay, don’t worry about me.” 

“I want you to fuck me.” You told him without hesitation, taking hold of his shirt to start dragging it over his head. 

“Oh thank god.” He sighed, and allowed you to start undressing him. 

When your hand moved to his pants he helped you get them undone, pushing them down and stepping out of them. After what felt like ages he finally pressed himself to you, bare chests relishing each other's labored breaths, and he began to lay you down. 

Seeking more contact, you wrapped your legs around his waist, sighing at the relief of his weight above you as you settled into the cloud of pillows beneath. The first thrust of his hardness between your legs conjured up a small gasp, though you welcomed it, pulling him impossibly closer. His kisses became more desperate, all tongue and breathy moans while his hands wandered, exploring every inch that you’d laid out for him. 

Finally getting to touch after only having his eyes on you for so long brought some relief, but it also heightened the increasingly inconvenient need for more. He wanted to take his time, to savor you, but the unbearable tension pushed him close to his breaking point. 

The touch of your hand when it snaked its way between your bodies, stroking him over his briefs, nearly did him in. The moan he let out came from deep within, a sound of pure and uncontrolled bliss. 

He leaned up slightly, catching your wrist to pull your hand away. “Fuck, I can’t- It’s too much, too quick.” 

You watched in awe as he held himself back, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t care. If he was going to cum already, you wanted to watch him, to feel it, to revel in how badly he needed you. 

One hand tangled its way into his hair, bringing him into a kiss, before parting just enough to whisper, “You can cum, we have all night.” 

This time you tugged his underwear out of the way, and he didn’t stop you when you wrapped your hand around his length. You could feel the throbbing, the moisture already pooling at the tip, and when you slowly began to move your hand up and down, he did his best to muffle his sounds of delight in the crook of your neck. 

His lips smashed themselves into yours, moving in a hungry, adrenaline fueled haze, until seconds later, he shuddered above you as he let go. Your belly and hand were coated in his release, still moving as you indulged in the sounds he made. When it came to be too much, he rolled off you, chest moving rapidly as beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his flushed face. 

“Fuck..” He muttered, mainly to himself, finally prying his eyes back open when he felt your lips on the side of his neck. 

Without another word he got up, finding a damp towel to clean you up with.  As he did so, he wouldn’t look you in the eyes, his expression regrettable. 

“What?” You asked, sitting up to close some of the distance. 

“Embarrassing,” He mumbled, but you could make out a hint of a smile. “I swear I can last longer, I’m not used to sitting and staring for an hour before getting to touch. I also just really fucking like you.” 

The second he was done cleaning you up, you pulled him closer, reassuring him with a long, needy kiss. You smiled into it, too taken with him and the moment to feel anything but joy. 

“I really fucking like you too, Baek.” 

With determined grace he laid you down, his lips exploring every bare patch of skin within reach. He kissed down your jaw, gentle at first, but as he moved, he grew bolder. When he reached your clavicle bone, he took the delicate skin between his teeth, biting, sucking, soft enough to keep you wanting more, but firm enough to make your heart race. 

His hands, which had remained at your sides, joined his lips when he reached your breasts. The softness was too tempting, he couldn’t help himself. 

As he showered you in his affections, your mind wandered, thinking back on the many times you’d imagined exactly this as you lay awake at night. Now that it was real, he was real, his weight between your legs pinning you to his mattress, you wondered how you ever ignored him, how you possibly could’ve been so cruel, both to him, and yourself. This was perfect, and the fact that you’d nearly ruined any chance there had been to get here, was a sad reality to face. 

The sensation of his mouth as it tugged on one of your nipples, a hand diligently taking care of the other side, pulled you back into the moment, but only temporarily. You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this good, to need someone else’s touch so deeply. Again, you cursed yourself for nearly pushing him away forever, and this time, your pain and the pleasure built into a confusing and blinding cocktail that had tears blurring your vision. 

Baekhyun didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the feeling of your chest in his hands and mouth. When the first sob shook you, he assumed you were reacting to his touch, which you were, but not in the way he expected. 

The second time you let out a small cry, and now he detached himself, staring in wide-eyed shock and confusion at the tears streaming down your face. 

“Y/n? What’s going on? Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?” 

Did I do something wrong? 

It was the same thing he asked you that day after class, after you’d started shutting him out, the day you lied to him about wanting to focus on school. You remembered how hurt he’d looked, how guilty you’d felt, and it had all been for nothing. The tears came faster, harder. 

Baekhyun didn’t know what to do, and started to panic when he realized you were in fact crying, and whatever he’d said had made it worse. 

His hands both quickly reached your face, frantically wiping away tears as he continued to ramble. 

“What’s wrong? I’m so confused, please, say something, anything, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I did, please-” 

You pulled his face closer, making him kiss you hard, needing something to show him what you were feeling before gathering your thoughts. 

“I’m so sorry.” You blurted out, “This is perfect, you’re perfect, and I almost ruined everything, I was so mean to you, I’m such an idiot.” 

“Huh?” Baekhyun tried to get his thoughts straight, still too turned on to think clearly. You put a hand over his heart, and it was pounding. 

The bewildered look in his eyes gradually softened as he realized what was happening, and he continued wiping away the tears.

 “Why are you sorry?” 

After a deep inhale, you explained, “I ignored you, I lied to you, I tried to cut you out of my life completely. That was just so stupid, I feel terrible. This feels so good, so right, I’m so mad at myself for being so dense.”  

“None of that matters anymore though, we’re here now, everything turned out okay, it’s okay.”

The tears had slowed down, but the look on your face still worried him. Not knowing what else to say, he just kissed you, first on the forehead, then on both cheeks, before finally reaching your lips. 

“I was an idiot too,” He whispered, “But right now, I just want to show you how much I’ve wanted you, how special you are, how I haven’t stopped thinking about you in weeks. You’re literally a dream come true.”

When his lips met that one spot on your neck, the spot that always makes your eyes flutter shut, that pulls a soft gasp from your lips, you sank back into it, back into him. He did all the right things to keep you there, dedicating himself to keeping your full attention

“Just focus on me, yeah?” 

You nodded, and his wandering hands were the final pull, keeping you securely in his embrace, an embrace that didn’t allow any doubt, any grief in such a wonderful moment. 

Originally he’d wanted to take his time. He wanted the first time with you to be special, unrushed. He wanted to indulge completely, and yet his patience was running out. His lips kissed down to your chest once again, lingering for a little while, until he moved further. Each kiss was feather light, barely making contact, but driving you insane nonetheless. When he reached the skin just below your belly button, he paused, this time kissing you a little firmer, but it was his face that did it for you. The way he smiled up at you, almost innocently, as he finished moving down your body, set every nerve ablaze. 

The need was mounting quickly. Your hands laced themselves into his fluffy black hair, trying to tug him the rest of the way, but he resisted. Instead, he began to nip at the skin of your inner thighs. Each time you would tense up, squirm, and tighten your grip on him, and he fucking loved it. No part of him could care even the slightest bit about the sting of your hands tugging at his scalp. It told him that you wanted more, that you wanted him, and that was all he craved. 

Laid out before him like this, him between your legs, he felt the first waves of possessiveness crash through. You were his. His girlfriend. He was the only one who got to see you like this, and he hoped it would stay that way, for as long as he was around. 

Fueled by his blinding lust and need, he let you have it, diving in with greed. The way you arched at the first touch of his tongue on your clit had him smiling into you, pleased by the tremendous effect he had. He knew then, you were just as fucked for him as he was for you. 

Just like him, you found yourself dancing on the edge far sooner than what felt normal or right. Still, you let him take you there, lost in every little motion of his perfect mouth. He ate you out like he’d known your body for years, like he'd always been meant to be right there, between your thighs. 

His hair was soft between your fingers, now fully intertwined, tugging carelessly. He moaned into you, delighted by the sting on his scalp, and the taste on his tongue. 

“Cum for me.” He mumbled, hardly taking his mouth off of you. 

You nodded, frantic, and when one finger slowly slid inside you, it was closer than ever. Only a few pumps later you shuddered apart, releasing into his mouth with a gasp and a sigh.

 He smiled, still keeping up the rhythm of his tongue and finger, pulling you through it until you couldn't take it anymore. Over sensitivity set in, and you pushed him away with the little strength you had left. 

Still panting, you met his eyes, and his smile was instantly contagious. Both hands grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him closer for a long, messy kiss. 

As he pulled away he kept your face in his hands, just admiring you. His thumb was barely there, so gentle as it touched your cheek. 

“You're so beautiful.” 

Your smile grew even further, but as his eyes remained glued to your own, you became shy. Ever so slightly, you started to shake your head. He stopped you.

“I could paint every little part of you, from every possible angle, in every possible light, and still never get enough of you, that’s how beautiful you are to me. I didn't know it was possible to be this obsessed with just looking at another person.” 

“I want you to do more than just look at me, Baek.”

His eyes sparkled, “I know.” 

Again, he kissed you, but this time he didn’t stop. He guided you up the bed, until your head was comfortable among the pillows and he could lay between your thighs. An involuntary push against you let you know he was hard again, and he only pulled away to take off his last remaining clothing, holding your gaze with intent as he came close. 

The first bit of pressure from his tip as it slipped through your folds set you ablaze, needing him more than ever. One more kiss was pressed to your lips before he pulled away to look down at you, keeping your eyes fixed to his own, and then, he was pushing inside.

Finally, you both achieved that last bit of closeness, relieved at the connection, the skin pressed to skin. He filled you up so well, like he’d somehow always been missing, and with every further push as he started to move, that feeling grew. Time blurred into a meaningless haze, just him and his hips on your mind as they pleased you so expertly. You clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into the toned muscles of his back. 

Baekhyun made love to you the way every girl dreams of. His hips were steady and precise, listening to you, learning how your body reacted, and making sure he brought you every possible bit of pleasure he could. Amidst his intoxicating thrusts his kisses brought you even further towards heaven, filled with uninhibited passion and hunger. Baekhyun, too, was feeling the intensity, the way the shared pleasure bonded you to him, and him to you. 

“My beautiful girlfriend, so perfect, so good to me.” He whispered, his hot breath on your ear sending jolts of excitement down your spine. You just nodded, urging him to keep going, knowing that the edge was again inching closer. Every time he filled you, reaching the furthest possible depths, before pulling out almost completely, his length hit just the right spot. Each push got you closer to the feeling you now chased desperately, and Baekhyun wouldn’t rest until he got to see you cum for him, and around him. 

Seconds later you half moaned, half sighed with delight as your orgasm took hold. He didn’t stop, and every additional thrust made your high that much more overwhelming. Baekhyun let out breathy moans of his own at the way you squeezed him, still rolling his hips to pull you all the way through your pleasure. 

As he watched you, red faced, sweating, completely at his mercy, and so lost in ecstasy, it hit him, too. As your pussy throbbed in the aftermath of your high, he reached his own, filling you with his release. 

Only then could you register the sticky, sweaty mess of limbs you’d become entangled with, and yet when he rolled off you, you still immediately kept clinging to him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Even the smell of him like this was massively comforting to you. 

You only detached yourself when he softly called your name, his smile easily reaching his eyes as he beamed back at you, brighter than you’d ever seen before, like golden sunshine spilling out around him and illuminating the room in a gorgeous, warm glow. 

“You’re finally mine.” Baekhyun spoke, and you nodded. 

“All yours.” 

[steveharrington]

can you elaborate more on steve being abandoned by the narrative?

yes <3 so i think there are two very unfortunate circumstances surrounding steve's character that have led to the current state of his plotline: 1. after not killing him in s1 like they originally planned, the duffers have never really had a plan for steve and 2. they are extremely influenced by audiences. when they were conceptualizing steve to fit in among the ensemble cast, the duffers were picturing him as a douchey boyfriend who unceremoniously dies. lonnie was originally going to come back to the byers house to save jonathan and nancy. there was no need to picture where he'd be 4 seasons down the road, so they just didn't account for that. then joe keery charmed them so hard that they literally couldn't bear to kill him, so steve ends season one still somehow alive.

but we've already established the nancy/jonathan plotline, because jonathan was once the duffers' self-insert who must defeat the evil jock and win over the girl. they couldn't just backpedal on that right away, so they needed to give nancy and jonathan a plotline alone, away from steve. but steve only ever functioned as an extension of nancy until this point, so what do we do with steve now? in an accidental stroke of genius that the duffers have admitted was a last second decision, they pair him with the children and make him into a babysitter. it almost instantly boosts steve into being tied with hopper and el for most popular character from the show, potentially even beats them both out. in 2017 when s2 aired, you could not escape mom steve jokes. it was everywhere, steve was everywhere, joe was everywhere, it was arguably the second coming of #justice for barb, which, in netflix business-y terms, was the exact viral meme type situation that the show wanted and needed to sell merch and remain relevant and say "see we still got it!!!"

you know who has the 2nd most lines in the entirety of season three? directly behind hopper? ahead of winona ryder? steve. think for a second about how absolutely insane that is. the character who was written specifically to die in season one. joe keery's name wasn't even in the season one credits, because he wasn't considered a series regular. and now he has the 2nd most spoken lines in the big blockbuster season because he rocketed up in popularity so intensely. season three marketing features the mall so heavily, creates a literal physical shrine to 80s nostalgia, and when the very first promo is released an entire year before the season airs, who's the star of that teaser trailer? and who, pray tell, is featured in the main brand sponsorship ad that plays in movie theaters worldwide? thats right its america's little darling steve harrington.

but here is the issue. the duffers look at what made steve popular and they see: funny exasperated babysitter, heartthrob action hero. they're like oh okay so we should keep putting him directly in the center of the action, bang him up every season to give him his classic bloodied aesthetic, but. he still needs to be funny. we can almost kill him, but we can't actually kill him because he's profitable. we can let him get horrifically injured because it's badass, but we still gotta let him crack jokes. it creates this very weird tone to steve's role in the story starting in season 3 because he's both the action hero and the comedic relief and protected by plot armor, so we get scenes where he's being literally tortured until he's begging for his life and gasping for breath but the tone is still.......fun? comedic? light and goofy? i think the duffers also forgot he's supposed to be a teenager.

now this is partially me making educated guesses but i feel pretty confident about this: once again, like gollum, joe keery uses his big shiny eyes and manages to evade death again in season four by being so likable and charming and marketable that netflix execs or shawn levy or maybe even the duffers themselves were like oh fuck we just can't do it. they were obviously tossing around the idea of taking mom steve all the way by letting him die sacrificially for dustin, so in season four they make eddie, transfer steve's relationship with dustin directly onto him, ctrl f steve's name in the death scene and just type in eddie instead, and once again steve is alive but he's directionless.

so what does he have now, in season four? i think the duffers have a whiteboard somewhere with steve's name and around it are little circles that say "funny" "cool" "DO NOT KILL" and steve is now stuck in this endless cycle of getting beaten up, popping back up somehow unharmed like a looney tune, saying something cute and oblivious, rinse and repeat. because that's what worked, that's what made him popular all the way back in season two. that's what the duffers are obviously keeping in mind when they're writing steve: popularity. not realism, not depth, not growth, just literally how to continue making him popular. meanwhile, other characters get to be part of the actual story. other characters get to serve a purpose other than selling merch. when el is bitten by a monster, she gets to actually feel pain and need help because that's realistically what any human would need. when hopper is tortured, he gets to suffer and ponder his existence and reflect on the relationships in his life. steve never gets any of that, because the writers just don't see steve as the 19 year old boy on his 4th straight year of traumatic events that he actually is.

they literally just see him as a money maker, there for cool viral moments and witty lines and maybe the occasional emotion experienced but only if it's about his romantic prospects. and the narrative that other characters get to have and be apart of just kinda runs parallel to steve. he's there, technically, but he's not really in the story. and it's like actually crazy because you'd think after all the funko pops he sold, he'd have earned an actual storyline!!!

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Now that there's an animated adaptation of Midnight Sun coming, and given the industry's recent track record (see: Minecraft Movie), what's the worst, bad faith, cash grab adaptation idea you can imagine? I figure if we inoculate ourselves then the reality won't suck so much.

My nightmare: Streaming has a long history of making shitty attempts at "adult animation", so we'll get an Edward who constantly cusses and does lewd jokes. It'll be like the HBO adult animated Velma (Scooby Doo) show where the writers' disdain for the characters fills every scene. The first episode will focus on how Carlisle helps plan a murder of some overly suspicious deputy so they can keep living in Forks.

Anyways, worst case theories? So we can feel better when it's not THAT bad? Or else use the apollo prophecy meme on your post a year or two from now.

My 'realistic' prediction

Twilight: The Edgy Animated Adult Series with Twelve Times More Drugs and Swearing

Oh man, yours is worse than mine. I mean this guessing the future business is a little silly in general, but I think that wouldn't happen as Twilight's not...

How do I put this?

Scooby Doo is a beloved, vintage, IP that's so well-known it's a part of American culture/Americana. It's in that weird place where it's acceptable to do edgy reboots of it because everyone already knows the premise of the Scooby gang, each individual character, the bad guys, and their mysteries.

You don't have to explain who any of the characters are supposed to be, so you get a "ah ha ha ha isn't it funny that Velma swears now?" because you know she's from a 1960's cartoon.

Twilight's not quite old enough for that and, at least in my opinion, not pervasive enough for that. It was a huge sensation, but was never as big as HP, and dominated only a subset of the YA audience (female-targeted YA romance). Ask a person off the street and the most they can probably, maybe, tell you is "sparkly vampires and Team Edward and Team Jacob". So, at best you get riffs like we saw when Twilight came out with the Simpsons and various other parodies where the parodies... really didn't know what to do with the characters or what it was even about. "Milhouse turns into a poodle, I guess? Is that funny? It's funny, right?"

Twilight just isn't old enough and as big as it was, I don't think was widespread enough.

So, I think we're going to get an earnest reboot.

But you do now have me concerned. And I may be eating my words later on this post and reblogging with a clown face.

Other Theories

Alright, let's see what we've got/what we can come up with:

Yours: HBO adult comedy horror fest

Mine: Boring, Snoozeville, Tame, Generically Arted Palatable Twilight that is Designed to Be as Appealing as Possible

Other options I can think of are...

Interview with a Vampirepalooza/Oh God I Don't Know What's Popular: given the recent success of Interview with a Vampire, an edgier adult story with adult characters, Netflix will look to make Twilight their exact own version of that. Except they won't understand what made it work there. We sexy it up but in a CW way, the kids are all still in high school but the fact that the Cullens are fucking each other is brought up relentlessly in an edgy way. The vampires all look hot, hot, hot but in a normal human way where you're not terrified they're some crystal robot out to eat your limbs. We'll keep some of the artsy weird dialogue, but Edward will be both somehow made more sympathetic (as he is the lead we end up with) and 'dark' where he's dangerous in a sexy way and not in a "you smell like my personal heroin way".

The Buffy Route: remember that one teen show from the 90's that was so good it spun off an entire genre of television that essentially hadn't existed before? Twilight becomes a fun teen oriented show where the characters say witty, fun, teenage-like things and get into episodic mysteries while somehow trying to remain in the realm of Twilight. Edward loses his edge, Bella loses her unrelatable nature, and we really play up every time a character has a funny line and write a lot more in there. Unfortunately, it's not a well written teen comedy show and so the lines are just generally bad and the plot never seems to go anywhere and it's just boring.

Hannibal the Twilight: some really artsy director gets involved and we now have a show where the symbolism of Edward walking around as a man-deer takes over the entire fucking thing. Nothing ever happens, Edward just shows up in Bella's dreams as a snarling man deer. When characters talk to each other, it's in artsy nonsense dialogue where it feels like both are reading 2000's era chatbot scripts to one another as they mix metaphors about ponies, china pottery, and dust motes. The plot is so non-existant the only important episodes to watch in a season are the premier and finale, except even then it's unclear what happened.

Audience Input

Anyone else got any wild guesses here?

[highfantasy-soul]

So my friend saw a meme about Osha's saber turning red so quickly despite Anakin's remaining blue all through killing the younglings, choking Padme, and fighting Obi-Wan and as I talked through it with him, the more I realized why the prequels never showed Anakin with a red saber.

To keep with canon, Luke gets Anakin's old saber and the kyber is BLUE not red. The writers probably didn't want to open another canon of worms by then having to retroactively explain 'so Vader's red saber isn't his original red saber and Obi-Wan somehow purified the kyber and made it blue again for Luke' rather than just....not doing that and having the saber remain blue

A red lightsaber on Mustafar? Visiually would have been a terrible choice for that battle, so blue it remained

Vader bleeding his crystal deserves its own story - just like Osha bleeding hers had it's own story. I really liked the comic where Vader bleeds his crystal [not giving more detail as spoilers in case everyone hasn't read the comics - and if you haven't, I really recommend Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith, it's only a 4 volume run and I thought it was great]

Anakin had a LOT going on through that entire movie - it wasn't a situation where he'd been repressing his emotions for so long and then was able to point to a singular cause of so much of his pain - his trauma was spread out so it makes sense that one singular act wouldn't be focused enough to bleed his crystal right then and there - Osha, on the other hand, had the singular cause of so many of her emotions right there in that courtyard, and the one who fostered her unjust hate toward her sister is standing right there revealing the truth.

Maybe there is a whole thing where the kyber has to be exposed, not fully in a lightsaber, in order to properly bleed it - in Jedi: Survivor [spoilers] Dagan pulled his crystal out with the force and bled it right in front of us (just as quickly as Osha, I might add), in the comics, Vader holds the crystal and bleeds it, and in The Acolyte, the saber is busted to the point where the crystal was literally touching Osha's hand - as Anakin is a little busy at the moment, he didn't really take the time to take apart his saber to bleed the crystal in the moment.

So idk, people complaining that 'so sabers are like mood rings now and just change that quickly? Guess Anakin wasn't actually all that upset at the end of episode 3!!' just seem so silly to me.

The entirety of The Acolyte's story was Osha dealing with her emotions she had been repressing for 16 years - and the reveal that what she thought was true (which led to the emotions she was told she needed to repress) had always been a lie. The bleeding of her crystal wasn't a quick, easy thing, it took literally the whole season to build up to that point.

And the aftermath when she's collapsed on the ground shaking - holy hell, I love when intense emotions are shown in 'unconventional' ways. Not all of us feel intense emotions and show it through huge, loud, and expansive displays. Some of us collapse in on ourselves and experience it in 'quieter' ways that are still just as intense as screaming.

Anyways, The Acolyte is really good.

[witchhazelevesque]

I’ve talked about Hazel and Nico picking up stray cats in Rome and about Leo having a shop cat and I’m gonna squish all that together.  

These three are prob the most secretive ones on board and they would prob by default hide any pet. So there’s just three secret cats on board. The cats know about each other obviously and thankfully for everyone involved like each other. 

They hang out together in little hiding places which leads to some run ins with their people when they’re trying to find their cat. Sitcom level stilted conversation and side eye. 

Anyway Leo figures it out first since he’s always squeezing his way into obscure places on the ship to do repairs and work.

He’s rebuilding Festus inside the wall one day and looks up to see this pile of way more cats than he knew about and his first thought is- “Did you have babies and how fast did those babies grow up?”

The cats decide to be funny and lead Leo to Hazel’s cabin, but Nico’s the one that opens the door to find Leo and his cat and two other cats that Nico doesn’t recognize and his first thought is “Did you invite your friends without telling me, and now the ship captain has found all these unwanted guests?”

He considers playing dumb but his cat comes up and starts weaving around his ankles and purring and reaching up to be held and Nico- he can’t ignore her obviously.

So they’re just standing there holding their respective cats, this other third one sitting between them unconcerned and licking its paw and then Hazel comes around the corner to find this scene and her first thought is “What spies has Hecate sent now and put these boys under thrall?”

Three pointing spider man meme

The truth comes out and they’re like, oh cool.

Alternatively:

When Nico’s  leaving with the statue he passes by Leo and a pair of eyes peeks out from his partly unzipped backpack and Leo spots them and shouts  “I see you Frank!”

Because the thought that made the most sense to him is that Frank got swept up in the praetor duty thing and wanted to clear his camps name but didn’t want to disappoint the rest of them by leaving. 

This is of course not the case, and Nico jumps and the cat jumps and yowls and scratches her way out of the pack and takes off down the hill.

Where Hazel and Frank are standing looking at this scene. 

Leo tries to help Nico find the cat but gets distracted by Frank asking if Leo actually thought he’d leave the quest like that.

“I don’t know man! It was just the first thing that made sense! I see an unidentified animal hanging around, I assume it’s you!”

As Leo explains the very scientific (but not at all possible) theory that popped into his head in that split second that maybe Frank turned himself into one of those starfish that could regrow their entire bodies from one leg- “That’s not an actual thing, Leo.”- and then regrew himself and then turned back human and then one of him turned cat, he manages to get Nico’s attention and tosses him a bag of cat treats.

Maybe this doesn’t work and because of the timing of the shadows Nico has to leave without his cat, so Leo promises to find her before the Argo leaves. Which yeah in the long run staying on the ship is the safest option, but Nico’s still peeved about it by ToA and that’s why he’s mad- though it’d be more like annoyance at that point- at Leo.

Or maybe it works too well and all three cats appear, and this isn’t the most opportune time for that. They see how attached the cats are to each other and Nico’s like 🙄 fine whatever, she better make it out of this without a scratch, Leo.

Which she does, obviously.

Just imagine Hazel doing witchy business with the shadows of three cats hanging around her, she feels very badass and very adored. Arion is displeased at his person’s attention being divided from him but they’re cats so of course not even he is going to win anything against them. They sometimes just ride around on his back and he trots around slow enough to be comfortable for them. 

If you wanna be sad and yearning about it then Nico taking care of Leo’s cat after his death and all those Associated Feelings and then being peeved all over again when his letter arrives and muttering to the cat(s) at like every opportunity, “When your father gets home-“ just to have a reason to talk about Leo.

(Percy does confirm at some point that those regenerating starfish do in fact exist and Frank is Not Happy about losing that debate)

[scekrex]

An idea? Did somebody just say they have an idea? Oh wait, that would be me! Hi, hello, love, me again, the little pretty devil on your shoulder that encourages you to sin, or rather, create ✨

Just Adam, reader and Lute playing UNO. You probably knew this was coming. It's basically them just playing it like that one video on Smii7y's channel where everybody basically just yells at each other. Honestly it would be so funny to read about them playing, the reader placing a card for Lute, a nice +4 (Fucking hate that bitch, the sole reason for my misery during that game), what he didn't think of was the possibility of Lute having another +4. She put it down on top of the reader's (They play by the rule where the +4 or +2 stack) and Adam just goes "I can't believe you've done this!" (Like the meme with the British dude in sunglasses getting punched in the face), reader laughing and mocking him with "Oh, I cAn'T bElIeVe YoU'vE dOnE tHiS!" with a British accent, but then Adam finds another +4 in his cards, places it down and looks at reader with a satisfactory smirk. When readers sees it he just goes "Fuck, I actually can't believe you've done this. You fuck" with an accusatory tone, realising he has to pick up 12 cards and just flips his cards like Steve Harvey sometimes does at stupid answer during Family Feud saying "Man, fuck this, I ain't playing with you no more! You best believe I'll get my revenge. No damn sex for you" while walking away, obviously directing it for Adam, but Lute just going "DISGUSTANG" and Adam just going "He was not speaking to you, bitch. Mind ya business. This one is mine, there's my life on the line😭". I just see the possibility of them playing UNO while bored in Heaven would be the funniest shit ever 😂 UNO destroys relationships, kids... AND emotionally damages you 😭

Nah bc they'd roast the living shit outta each other. Just imagine how they'd react when playing Mario Kart, they'd tear open each other's throats.

Tired Games

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, crack fic comin' through whoop whoop

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

All you had wanted was a chill evening with your husband and Lute, to relax and enjoy the day off. So you three sat on the floor of your and Adam's apartment, in front of you there was a stack of UNO cards. You had been playing for a couple hours by now and slowly all of you were losing your patience. UNO was one of the games that always ended in fights, either because Lute was convinced the ‘you can stack a +4 on a +4’ rule was entirely made up - she had once shown you a tweet from the company that said doing so was against the rules - or it was like today.

“Hurry up babes,” Adam poked you in the side which caused you to flinch away from his touch and bat his hand away, “Stop that you touch starved bitch.” You slapped a +4 onto the stack, offering Lute the most wicked grin you had in store, “Sucks to be you, bitch.” Lute however was having none of it, she returned the grin, equally wicked and pulled another +4 out of her deck.

The look the first man gave you was priceless, he looked truly betrayed while a bit of annoyance gleamed in his golden eyes, “I can't believe you've fucking done this.” You chuckled to yourself as you poked him back, a small giggle escaped you as he flinched away just like you had. “Oh, I can't believe you've fucking done this, go cry about it bitch,” you mocked him as you laid down. You were starting to get tired but you also wanted to finish the game. The problem was when you grew tired you also grew short tempered and so you knew it was only a matter of time until things would escalate. Still you continued as you put your head in Adam's lap. The brunette looked down on you and offered you a small smile, then his hand was in your hair and for a tiny moment your eyes fell shut as you embraced the warm touch your husband gave you.

The first man stayed silent for a long time as he went through his cards, clearly thinking hard about whether to play the card he had or not. “Hurry up, old man,” Lute grumbled and kicked his shin, that made Adam yelp in pain and scoot backwards a little - he made sure to move drag your body with him so that you could continue to use him as a pillow - to get away from the executor, “Geez, the fuck is wrong with you?” he complained as he played yet another +4 card. The smirk on his face was sweet, so sweet that you genuinely wanted to tear it off and throw it in the trash. You looked at the stack of cards, then up at Adam and back down at the cards. That meant you had to draw 12 godforsaken cards. Fucking 12.

“Fuck that,” you flipped your cards over in anger and pushed yourself up - away from Adam - so that you sat on the floor before you fully got up, “Fuck you,” you flipped Adam off before turning to Lute, “And fuck you too.” With crossed arms and in a shitty mood you walked over to the couch and wrapped your wings around your body in order to hide from the people sitting on the floor. “I ain't playing with you with you no more,” you grumbled quietly, then raised your voice a little so that Adam could hear your threat, “No fucking sex for you.”

Lute's face twisted in disgust and she wrinkled her nose at your words, “Disgusting.” Adam raised an eyebrow and side eyed her, not sure if she truly thought you had addressed to words to her or if she was playing, “Bitch, he was talking to me, this is my punishment, my fucking life's on the line here,” the first human soul in heaven whined and got up from the floor as well. “Don’t forget so is your dick,” Lute reminded the brunette who just groaned at that as he walked over to you. He carefully nudged the tips of your wings apart and really couldn't help the smile when he saw your pointing face. “Aw, c’mon babes, it's just a stupid fucking game,” he hummed as he kneeled down to be on eye level with you, his hands were resting on your knees which were pressed against your chest. “Fuck off, I said what I said,” you mumbled as you were avoiding eye contact. You knew too well that he could plead so prettily with them golden eyes of his, looking straight into them meant risking taking your words back and letting him win. He put a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head slightly, he basically forced you to look at him. All it took was one glance and you were done for, you simply knew you lost.

Your eyes must've given that away because Adam leaned in to give you a short yet soft kiss, “That’s a good boy.” You turned your face away, grumbling something about how he should watch his mouth. “You two done with your shit? Can we continue?” Lute interrupted and while you loved her like a sister, you would've loved to grab her by the wings and throw her out the window. You might save that for later though. You pushed yourself away from the soft fabric of the couch and right into Adam's arms, “Actually,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck so that he could carry you, “I think I’m going to bed.” Tiredness had won you over once again but Lute understood, of course she did. “Feel free to crash on the couch, danger tits,” Adam offered the exorcist but she shook her head, “I’d rather not want to wake up to the sound of you two fucking again, thanks. One time was more than enough.” Adam shrugged, he thought that was fair. And while the two of them had that little conversation, you had already fallen asleep in Adam's arms.

[ruumirmir]

𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘔𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘘𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘺

ੈ♡˳ Author's note - I simply have too many unfiltered thoughts about them Sorry not Sorry. This is entirely self-indulgent and completely male-reader centered. Don't worry ladies,, If you're imaginative enough!! You too can self-insert into this yaoi!!! If any of these don't make sense to new readers Don'tttt worry about it :) Probably didn't make sense to ME either but the vibe matched. @eluxcastar my trusty co-pilot for this ship,, do you have any memes to add perchance 🎤🎤 I'd love to compile everything here.

If you think Pantalone isn't a possessive prick you're WRONG. Lucky for him some people are into that.

Being gorgeous and evil go hand-in-hand one cannot exist without the other

*Sighs dreamily* Dont we all

Synopsis of my first two Pantalone x Male reader requests everybody:

Im sorry but it would be fucking hilarious for the plot. Loverboy being soooooooo normal about the rumours going around that Dottolone are Such Close Business Partners,,

but actually dottolone fucking hate each other. Group projects tend to do that to people. Its the biomechanical malpractice doctor vs business unethics banker. And dottore getting a massive kick out of this one fatuu agent hating his guts . Idk Just a Thought :0

What being microwaved does to a man. Dont worry guys Pantalone can manipulate and gaslight me into a killing machine anyday bc he's hot <3

Hoyoverse canonizing Pantalone's anger-issues is the best thing that happened to me. you can never trust an anime snake with a (^‿^) face

One does not simply work in close proximity with a hot guy and Not think about getting boned atleast once.

Somebody save childe

Makes zero sense in hindsight but the lore is coming. trust 🙏 Something so delicious about finding your way back to the person that changed you forever.

Hes just a pathetic little guy your honor. Let us all enjoy his extreme sad boy demeanor and sopping wet meowmeowism before we put him through the HorrorsTM.

Synopsis of literally the most recent Loverboy one-shot by riri:

Something something blatant favoritism.

Reminder that Loverboy joins the Fatui as a part of mandated service right after graduating school at the fresh age of 18 and kills a guy roughly 3 years later :D

Peak dynamic btw. He can be your angle or yuor devil. As long as he's behind over your shoulder 👍

"I learned my passion in the Good Old Fashioned School of Loverboys"

Thankyou homoverse they made Pantalone a certified Yapper. Him and Loverboy are just the "Talks a lot" vs "Listens" ship

No caption. This was just funni

Hey guys can anyone tell that I love a good corruption arc.

Despite his increasingly worsening state of ethics, don't forget that deep down hes still going to be a sopping wet meowmeow💕

Idk blame @/eluxcastar riri they put the devil's temptation thoughts into my brain

[dalekofchaos]

The bastardization of Life Is Strange

I thought things couldn't get worse than the D9 Predatory business practices, toxic work environment, rampant misogyny, homophobia, transphobia and protecting a fucking Nazi Expose.(this apparently wasn't the red line for some folks and still insisted on buying the game anyway)

Well, it's not worse than that, but now?

The entire game has been leaked.

You can't make this up.

They made Life Is Strange, a Indie developer's passion project into MCU Lite.

Safi is a shapeshifter and the final choice in Double Exposure is "will you join forces with Safi" and Max joins the dark side or some stupid shit like that. Or refuse like the Max Caulfield I know would actually fucking do. Who wrote this fucking shit???

“i'm going to find other people like us, max, people with powers. i spent my whole life thinking i was the only one, knowing i could never tell anyone because they would look at me like THAT. but now there's you. you... and me... time traveler and a shapeshifter”

literally why is there even an option to side with her in the first place, she's clearly out of her mind, if there ever was a "morally bad and morally good decision" like d9 wants to assign to the endings of lis1, THIS WOULD BE THAT what a crock of shit.

How did Life is Strange go from melancholic, artsy slice of life to fucking Avengers? HOW!?

at the end max gets a nightmare just like in LIS 1

Texts are assumed to be apart of the nightmare

Silver lining. One final Chloe message after alienating the core fanbase and D9 think scraps will make up for it?

In hindsight.....they warned us what they were planning.

Dude took the "Elsa join the X-Men" meme a little too serious and literal.

But wait, it gets worse.

....I FUCKING APOLOGIZE. I once dreamed of all the protagonists coming together. But not like this. NOT FUCKING LIKE THIS!

BUT WAIT. IT GETS FUCKING WORSE!!!

Life Is Strange going from one studios passion project to the fucking Avengers is the biggest fall of grace I've ever seen.

There was a charm, chemistry and likability of the original game.

It was never about a character having superpowers. It was about finding oneself in the world, friendship, love, tragedy and making the hard choice. LIS 2 is about brotherhood, family and learning to make the best possible choice to give your brother the best life. TC is about trauma, family, finding a better life, corruption. It was never about the powers. That was a background noise and a small part of the overall story.

You know, the worst part of all this is that Hannah Telle sold her principals and credibility for DE.

Thinking about things better and from certain comments I've read about her, such as the nervous breakdown, it leads me to believe that Hannah is a hypocrite just because she's nervous.

Think about it: early 2016 she says she likes Grahamfield. But in 2018 for Farewell she says she likes Pricefield and her favorite ending is Bae because she knows Max couldn't live without Chloe (and Farewell made her come to that conclusion) and now saying she couldn't think of anyone else doing Max... dude... better say you need the money, and you didn't want to deal with the angry fandom and that's why you changed ships.

It bothers me (or rather I see it as hypocritical) that they say "nobody bothers Hannah, poor thing" poor thing? But she accept all that! She's accepting not even saying "Chloe" in interviews anymore. Poor thing, why? I mean, they can attack the other AVs but not Hannah? What the hell privileges does she get when NO ONE DESERVES to be harassed. Damn, even Max's Japanese AV is afraid of being harassed when she goes to play DE!

At least Ashly Burch has some principals. She knows her worth and when the direction of the story is shit. She stands up for her fellow VA and the only reason BTS was remotely successful is because she was a story consultant and Farewell because she stood up gor her fellow SAG VAs.

Ashly even said that she prefers Bay and sees Chloe more with Rachel. And there she is, living with her principles. It makes me think that if Hannah accepted the whole DE disaster, it's because she agrees that Max is like that and she liked everything and that to me is worse, that Hannah sees the complete bastardization of Max Caulfield and Life Is Strange as a whole and went "yes, this is the complete direction I can see for Max and I completely accept this superficial soulless garbage, why no I am not a complete and utter hypocritical sellout".

I take back what I said about the Pricefield breakup being realistic because it was done out of malice to hurt Ashly Burch for standing up for herself and having an ounce of self-respect and principals and alienate Chloe's fans. Fuck SE and fuck D9.

Anyways I stick with my headcanons.

Post-Bay. Max and Warren are successful Photojournalist and Science Professor, married and living their best lives while keeping in touch with their friends from Arcadia and visiting Chloe's grave on her birthday and the anniversary of her death.

Post-Bae. Time shenanigans happen which results in Max saving Rachel and because of saving Rachel she saves Chloe and Arcadia Bay. Max, Chloe and Rachel ride off in the rainbow and get their happy ending. Max is a successful Photojournalist, Chloe is a mechanic and owns her own Tattoo Parlor and Rachel fulfills her dream as an actress and model. They often visit Arcadia to visit old friends, run into Alex and Steph, even join their band for a few gigs and are just living their best lives.

[nights-at-crystarium]

on authenticity

My mood in the recent months keeps going from bad to worse. Today I randomly fell into the rabbit hole of checking out other patreon artists, which always grounds me in reality and cheers me up, perhaps in a weird way. Essay incoming \o/

Authenticity is a blob of a word that sounds almost pretentious nowadays. It gets sneered at. You either sell your soul, or you don't earn with your art.

What's authentic, being true to yourself, will vary from person to person. It's like a sliding scale of suffering that you will tolerate in exchange for a coin, while convincing yourself that you have fun.

The harsh truth of modern world is that if your art pays for your living, you've already reached success, no matter how you may feel about the type of content you actually make for that money. Insert the meme furry nsfw art here. Or not furry. Or even sfw, but comms, lots of comms every month. Or merch. Anything that sells. Products first, art second.

Marrying passion and profession is virtually impossible, yet I'm doing it, only thanks to your support. I'm acutely aware that, even as I choose to be "real" and talk about an artist's money-making in a raw way, it's still patreon talk, and yes, I'll plug the link as well, so technically this entire post is an ad *fingerguns*

I just feel so privileged being able to create whatever the fuck I want, literally, I take no comms/requests/guidance on what and how should I draw/write, I post experimental, sometimes provocative stuff, and still make enough to survive. This sole fact should get me through the day, whatever other struggles I may be facing currently (I am. I don't wanna talk about it rn, instead I distract myself with this text), I should always remember the unique place in life I managed to carve for myself.

There are madmen (gender-neutral) who toss $10-20 at me every month. The majority "only" pledges $1, the notorious tier that gets treated as a tip jar with no rewards by many other creators. All of my rewards are the same at $1 and $20 (save for the one-time digital artbook download at $10, just to be perfectly clear), it's a conscious choice and a risk I continue taking because it's how I am. I used to split rewards between tiers in the past, before xiv, and it was a lot of busy work while it made me treat my art less as art and more as product. This pic goes into the cheap box, this pic goes into the expensive box. Every month. It's. Definitely not for every artist.

Logistic hell of splitting and delivering rewards, different posts with less comments per post, also my discord roles/channels would have to be split, nowadays it's just patron, whether you give me $1 or $20, there's no visual disparity, you're hanging out in the same cool kids' club, and collectively making happy noises on Fragments Fridays.

Could I be making more money if I got rid of the $1 tier? Yeah. But, mercifully, after 2 years I don't need to. I legit make enough currently, my only worry is to keep what I have. Patrons don't stay forever, 2-5 people would leave every month, about the same number would join (hence my patreon ads, I need to keep people reminded of it, even if it makes me feel guilty every damn time). I did Research (tm) in the past to find out that my "bleeding" numbers are below average, i.e. it's good, people generally tend to stick around.

I put a lot of emphasis on the $1 because I'm kinda proud of what I managed to accomplish while staying self-detrimentally humble. Literally doing an impossible thing in a world that keeps burning down. So yeah if you've been feeling bad for only giving me $1, what matters is that there's enough $1s to make a difference. Together you're creating a phenomenon, and you should be proud.

There are many stupid little principles, hills that I'll die on, that make up my authenticity. I chose to speak of it here and now in order to sorta sell myself, so it feels hypocritical x'D But if I don't shine a spotlight on this, who will. I'm old and jaded and increasingly terrified of how insincere the internet's becoming. Everything's fake, sugarcoated, polished for sale. My art's always been a scream of defiance against all that, now that I'm more or less established, I wanna scream louder. Thanks for hearing my screams. You can scream with me too if you want.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter eight

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: sorry I just get too excited about chapters and have to post frequently...I have like 13 ish chapters written (so like 5 after this one) and feel confident enough to keep posting quickly! I also just like...love this chapter. I made Bruce Wayne say a line I personally think is hilarious and just want to share it. Anyways I loooove feedback!!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.7k

It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

Except, as much as she hated to admit it, he did.

Y/n was starting to look like a crazy person. 

All of her Batman articles, crime scene photos, and as much information as she could print about the Gallo family covered one entire wall of her bedroom. She’d bought red string to be funny–delivered to the lobby along with other groceries for security to inspect–but had ended up actually using it. 

She was standing before that wall now, a week after her visit to the crime scene. 

As she stared at it, hands on hips, she felt like a crazy person. She hadn’t left the tower in a full week and it was definitely starting to get to her. Sure, she worked on the case, occasionally called and badgered Gordon for information, texted Officer Martinez when Gordon was stubborn. But that wasn’t enough. 

She was trapped in a cage. A gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless. Everything reminded her of her grandmother or of happier days with Bruce. 

To make matters worse, Bruce ignored her. He literally fled rooms when she entered or darted around corners when he saw her coming. Not to mention that stupid elevator still wasn’t working so she couldn’t corner him like she wanted to. She couldn’t force him to talk to her, because he was never in his room and the elevator button never worked. 

Which meant y/n had no one to talk to except for Officer Martinez–who had a love for memes, she discovered–and occasionally Gordon, who was a lot less interesting. She hung out with Alfred, sometimes, but now that she suspected he was covering for Bruce’s secret girlfriend, every conversation felt awkward and stilted. 

She rubbed at her eyes, the red of the string blurring before her. When was the last time she had showered? Probably two days ago when she had been bored out of her mind without any other things to do, but she couldn’t remember for sure. 

Her mind was going fuzzy from turning the same information over again and again and again. But she looked again anyway. 

Her tired eyes fell on one article about the Gallo family, a piece written in New York by a relatively famous reporter. She’d managed to get an interview with a distant cousin who was in prison for drug running. It was a brilliant piece, more of a personal feature about the cousin himself than an exposé. Jerry Gallo, young and handsome and charismatic, had made the article a hit. 

At this point y/n could practically quote it from memory. 

For some reason, her brain latched onto an offhanded comment he had made about a bar–no, a pub–that had become an unofficial meeting place. Official business was held in the more secret locations. Jerry Gallo didn’t give those locations, though.He didn’t want to die, after all. He had made a brief comment about “the family’s reach” that everyone knew meant they could kill him, even in prison. He also made sure to note that he had gotten permission to do the article, since he was doing his time for the family. Permission from whom, he didn’t say. 

But the pub had a familiar name. 

“Maverick’s,” y/n muttered as she stared at her wall of insanity. 

She grabbed her laptop and leaned over it as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

Gotham had a Maverick’s too. 

Maybe it was a coincidence. 

But maybe not. 

So she started digging for information about the pub. 

Her heart stopped when she pulled up the public property records a few minutes later. 

It had changed ownership only six months ago, bought by some company that was obviously a shell corporation. 

Her nerves sang as she called Gordon. 

“I think I found something,” she said breathlessly. 

“Tell me you didn’t leave home,” Gordon said instead of a hello. 

“No, I’m still at Wayne Tower, but if you don’t follow up on this lead, I will.” She sat on the bed next to her laptop and pulled it closer. “I was reading this article from a Gallo cousin in New York, one who went to jail for them and got permission to do a piece about how much he loved his criminal family.” 

“Okay…” Gordon said. She heard a siren in the background and wondered where he was. Had there been another murder? But no–she still kept the scanner app up as background noise and hadn’t heard anything. She was jumpy at a noise as common as a siren in a city as big as Gotham. 

“He talks about some pub they liked to use for meetings. Maverick’s. There’s a Maverick’s in Gotham.” Gordon stayed silent and somehow still made it sound skeptical. “The owners sold it six months ago. It was bought by a Galway Atlas Luxury Co. Obviously a fake name–it doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Could be nothing,” Gordon said after a beat. 

“Could be something,” she countered. “Like I said, if you don’t want to look into it, I will.” 

“And show your face at a potential mob spot? I don’t think so. I’ll let you know what we find.” 

When he hung up, part of her was disappointed. She had kind of wanted to visit the pub and see what would happen. But he was right–if her hunch turned into something, the Gallos knew what she looked like. It would be a bad idea. A terrible idea. 

It didn’t stop her from wanting to do it, though. 

Her stomach growled. Satisfied that she might have actually found a clue, y/n decided it was time for lunch. And more coffee. 

Maybe she could buy a wig, she mused as she walked down the quiet hallway towards the kitchen. Do her makeup different, wear heels to look taller. Maybe they wouldn’t know. Maybe it would be enough of a disguise. 

But then, if Gordon was investigating, maybe her presence would screw that up. Maybe they’d send someone undercover who would recognize her. And with her luck, it would all go to shit, ending up with her and a cop both dead. The cop in her imagination looked a lot like Officer Martinez in street clothes. 

Maybe, instead, the Batman would do some reconnaissance. He could sit on a nearby roof like a gargoyle and spy on the place. Or whatever it was he did. Maybe he had fancy gadgets, like a spy. 

She smiled to herself as she imagined Batman on the edge of a roof, hunched over, cape blowing in the wind.

She scrounged in the fridge for some leftovers from…two days ago? Or was it three? Definitely not more than that, so the Chinese food was probably safe to eat again 

She closed the fridge door and screamed. 

Bruce simply stared at her as he sipped a coffee. He was wearing sunglasses inside like a douchebag and had bare feet half-hidden under baggy sweats. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, which set her heart racing more than the startle had. 

Her cheeks grew hot and she desperately prayed he didn’t notice. 

She quickly whirled to grab a plate. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Bruce,” she said as she dumped her food onto the plate and slid it into the microwave. 

“I was here the whole time,” he said. She tried not to think about his abs on full display or the slight layer of hair across his chest. “You were daydreaming.” 

“I was working,” she said, voice almost a snap. She wasn’t sure why she was defensive. 

“Work makes you smile? I always knew it was your one true love, but…” His voice trailed off and she finally looked up at him. 

She wondered if they were thinking the same thing. It had been a joke about her work, but he had always been her one true love. Her entire body flushed with heat this time. 

“I was imagining catching the son of bitches who are after me,” she said after a moment too long. Her eyes trailed down, down, down without her permission, from Bruce’s eyes to the waistband of his sweats. 

She had to bite the inside of her cheek, hard, to focus again. Bruce was ripped. She had seen it before, had seen the broadening of his shoulders, the way even his baggy clothes couldn’t hide it. But it was another thing entirely to see it in all its naked glory. She had thought a six pack was a thing of myth, only seen in movies. That, and that delicious v-shape of muscle pointing like an arrow below the waist. She didn’t know those kinds of muscles existed on real people–and especially not on Bruce. 

The microwave beeped, startling her again. 

“Jumpy today?” he asked. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice her ogling. Or he had, and was putting her out of her misery. She wished she could see his eyes. The lenses were dark, reflecting her own face back at her in miniature. 

She turned back around with her plate and started scarfing. She hadn’t had breakfast and she hadn’t had dinner the night before, either. When she was working, it was hard to remember mealtimes. All she remembered was coffee. She eyeballed the coffee machine and wondered if anyone would notice if she stole it to put in her room. 

“Happens when a mob family wants you dead, I guess,” she said around a mouthful of noodles. Bruce leaned back against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankle. He lifted his mug to his lips and those two simple movements made his muscles ripple. She shoved more food into her mouth to help hide her staring. 

Her chewing slowed, then stopped. 

Bruce was covered in scars. 

Covered might not be the right word. But Bruce definitely had several scars she’d never seen before. Though he wasn’t one to frequently run around half naked–he’d always been shy, even after his slutty college phase had given him more confidence and her more of a broken heart–she had seen him shirtless a few times. Mostly it was when he was working on a car and got grease or oil or some other car fluid on him and had to change before going upstairs. 

“Jesus, Bruce,” she said. She gestured to his torso with her fork. “What happened to you?” 

Another too-casual sip of his coffee. “I started doing sit ups,” he said wryly. 

She almost choked on her food. Laughing, she said, “No shit, but I meant the scars.” 

God, it felt so good to joke with him. So normal. Bruce had always reserved his sense of humor for her, and she had missed it. 

He took off his sunglasses. He looked down at himself and seemed to contemplate it. “A few things,” he shrugged. He poked two different scars. “Car accident. Among other things.” 

“A car accident?” she asked. Her brows furrowed. Her grandmother had never told her about a car accident. As far as she knew, Bruce hadn’t been in any car accidents as of three years ago, including his street racing days. “Why didn’t I…?” She trailed off. She knew, though, why she didn’t know about it. 

She was no longer important to Bruce Wayne. 

“A lot can happen in three years,” he said softly. His bright blue eyes bored into hers. She took back her wish for him to take off the sunglasses. 

Tears welled, unbidden, in her eyes. 

The words were like a barb. They stuck in her chest, drawing blood, breaking open all of the hastily stitched wounds there. 

“Yeah,” she agreed softly as she put her plate in the sink. “A lot can.” She had to grip the edge of the sink for a moment to compose herself before facing himself again. 

It hurt to look at him. Especially when he was standing there, looking at her, his face more open than she’d seen it in…well, forever. He didn’t seem upset with her but he wasn’t making any moves to apologize for three years ago either. God, he was probably leaving to see a secret girlfriend, for all she knew about him these days. Maybe he was getting his knuckles banged up working on her car or something. That seemed like the kind of boyfriend Bruce would be. He’d only pay for something if he couldn’t fix it himself. 

“For instance,” he said, seemingly ignoring the suddenly heavy atmosphere in the room. He poured himself more coffee as he spoke, eyes carefully averted. “I don’t even know if you have a boyfriend or anything. Or girlfriend.” 

Y/n blinked at his back. It was the last question she expected him to ask, and the question she most wanted him to answer. 

She’d dated in the past three years but nothing had stuck. And oh, how hard she had tried to fall in love. But just like when she was sixteen, none of the kisses she had gotten were from Bruce Wayne, and her brain never let her forget it. There had been one guy, two years ago, that she had dated for six whole months. He was perfect on paper, really, and would have been perfect for anyone else. He was a news anchor, charming, charismatic, made decent money. He was funny and kind and surprised her with flowers. 

But he hadn’t been Bruce Wayne. 

He had asked her if there was someone else when she had broken up with him. She had said no, but they both knew it was a lie. 

“No,” she said after a too-long silence. “No boyfriend or girlfriend right now. Kind of hard to keep up with dating when your life is in danger.” Instead of sounding like a joke, it sounded…dead. Her hurt was creeping into her voice. She cleared her throat. “What about you? That where you’ve been sneaking off to all the time?” 

His gaze was sharp, calculating, when it met hers again over the edge of the mug he held to his lips. “No,” he said. “No girlfriend right now.” 

Then why did y/n get the sense he was lying? 

She nodded idly before grabbing a mug–her grandmother’s favorite, one that y/n had ordered online that she had covered in pictures of herself as a joke. Her heart ached at the sight of it, but holding it made her feel closer to her. She could imagine the warmth seeping through the ceramic, her grandmother’s hands curled around it, her eyes kind as she listened to y/n. 

Bruce made no move to get out of her way as she aimed for the coffee pot. Their bare elbows brushed as she poured a mug. She shivered at the electric contact, more than she’d had with him in forever. 

Even if he was telling the truth, the right now implied that there might have been someone, once. Someone who wasn’t her. Or maybe he had someone in mind. Someone, again, who wasn’t y/n. 

She inhaled deeply to calm her nerves but that only made it worse. The scent of coffee and Bruce assaulted her nostrils. He smelled clean, freshly showered, manly in that way all men’s deodorant smelled. Her heart skipped a beat. 

She replaced the coffee pot with a shaking hand. 

When she looked up, Bruce was staring down at her. She hadn’t remembered how tall he was up close. Three years was a long time, and the details of him had started to blur in her memory. Like how blue his eyes really were, made bluer by the long, dark lashes that any woman would envy. 

She swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. Her stomach swooped. Here he was, shirtless, less than three inches from her. But he had never felt farther away. 

“I should get back to work,” she said. Her voice cracked embarrassingly. “I have a lead to follow up on.” 

She hurried away before she could say or do anything stupid. She wasn’t sure what, but if her love confession three years ago was anything to go by, it wouldn’t end well for her. 

“You’re leaving?” Bruce asked, his voice dipping lower. Something in the back of her mind noted it, but she was too busy trying to run to the sanctuary of her room to figure out why it rang a bell. 

She paused at the threshold of the kitchen but didn’t look back. “Not that it’s any of your business anymore,” she said, the words clawing up her throat. “But no. I’m not. I’m going back to my cell, don’t worry.” 

He said something she didn’t catch on her way out. 

It sounded a lot like, “It’s always been my business to keep you safe.” 

But she knew those words weren’t true.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard

[hereticaas]

Back when I was working on that danlou fic with transfem lou for the kink meme, I did actually attempt to write it as a human au too. I preferred the canon adjacent version though, so that's what I posted.

But here, have a snippet of 70s human au danlou on this fine september evening:

Daniel met Lou for the first time at a bar on McAllister Street, when she sat down next to him and asked what’s in the bag? He'd looked at her, at her pretty face and her cool gaze, her carefully applied makeup and her short leather skirt, and felt like he'd missed a step going down the stairs. 

He'd never been so immediately attracted to anyone in his entire goddamned life. 

She'd breathed out a plume of cigarette smoke and smiled a little, like she'd known it, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

She always seemed to know what he was thinking, like those brown eyes could peer into the very soul of him, could peel back his brain and flip through it like the morning paper. It was intimidating. It was hot.

He'd asked to interview her and she'd laughed at him and said yeah okay, sounds fun. And they'd gone back to her place, to this little apartment on Divisadero with laminate floors, and muted yellow lighting, and the original stained glass still in the upper arches of the windows. An apartment, it turned out, that she owned because apparently she had it like that, and he'd fucked her on her green floral couch, her skirt pulled up to her waist and her heels digging into the small of his back; her nails in his shoulders and her soft moans in his ear, and he'd come almost embarrassingly fast. 

She'd laughed at him for that too. He hadn't even minded.

Anyway, he doesn't know how he got lucky enough for her to let him keep coming around after that. Crazier still that, months and months later, she agreed to move into his much shittier apartment with him.

I can put the other place up for rent, turn a nice profit, she'd said easily, like it was all opportunistic convenience, a business proposition fallen perfectly into her manicured hands. But then she'd looked over her shoulder and smirked at him and he’d rolled his eyes and kissed her.

Daniel knew, could tell from the passing references she sometimes made to past relationships, that Lou didn't usually go for guys like him. Shitty kid from Modesto, a little too into hard drugs, though he’s trying to work on that; a broke boy struggling to make it as a writer. Meanwhile, Lou owned fucking property–she had to be used to better men than him. 

“Hey, what were those other guys like? Your exes?” he asked her one night, not long after they'd first started hooking up. They were over at his place, smoking in bed, him leaning on his elbow in just his boxers and her sitting up against the headboard in Daniel’s oversized Berkeley T-shirt and her underwear. Lilac and lace—the peek of them from underneath the hem of his borrowed shirt made Daniel’s mouth water.

“Oh, are we finally doing that interview?” she asked mildly, ashing her cigarette in the cheap tray on the bedside table. 

“It's just a question,” he responded, just as mild, sensing that he should tread careful. Half journalistic instinct, half a hope that he was maybe starting to get her just a little bit. He reached across her smooth brown thighs to get at the tray, ashed his own cigarette. “Maybe I just wanna know if I'm your usual type.”

“And why would you need to know that?”

“Competitive advantage?”

She huffed a little laugh. “You're not like my exes.”

"Oh." 

She took another drag on her cigarette. 

“Didn't say that was a bad thing,” she said eventually.