#tablemate-table

[tablebuddy]

TABLE BUDDY ® |Adjustable Multi Position Portable Folding Table | Black

TABLE BUDDY®-regular

[kashmirichaiwithmehr]

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[zarnage]

Beach Style Deck - Deck Example of a large beach style backyard deck design with a pergola

[pomefioredove]

a private meeting

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"

The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.

Leona yawns.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"

Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"

"Look who's talking,"

Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.

"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"

"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."

Malleus shakes his head.

"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"

A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.

"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.

"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.

"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"

The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"

"...Alright,"

"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."

Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.

"How rude,"

"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."

"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."

"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.

"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"

Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.

He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"

Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.

"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."

Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"

Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.

"Open it!"

"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.

"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."

"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.

"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.

"Can I just leave?"

"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."

"Rook, don't,"

"Rook!"

The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.

"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"

"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."

Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"

"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"

Everyone in the room nods.

"Alright. Rook, read it,"

Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.

The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.

Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.

Vil gasps.

"Grim! Put that down!"

The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.

And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.

Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"

"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.

A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.

"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"

"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."

"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.

"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"

The prince rolls his eyes.

Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"

Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.

Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.

"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"

Malleus beams.

"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."

He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.

Slowly, everyone turns to each other.

[closerstars]

small favors

mingyu x oc reader

fluff, friends to lovers

note: this is purely self-indulgent because i have a big fat ass crush on mingyu. havent got the time to proofread and fancify everything but pls enjoy!!!

—

"This is my third glass already. If that girl in the red dress doesn't stick around, I'm tapping out," you sigh, your face resting on your hand while the other holds onto your margarita. Mingyu had come up with the plan for you both to team up and help Wonwoo find a date at Seungcheol’s sister’s wedding party, and you had readily agreed.

You've known Wonwoo since childhood, introduced by his mom at the playground, and you've been the best of friends since then. Mingyu joined your circle in high school, and the three of you have been inseparable ever since.

"Hang in there. I think the girl in red might be the one. They’ve been chatting for a good ten minutes now," Mingyu remarks, checking his watch.

"Yeah? Let's see," you reply skeptically.

"Such a pessimist. Remember, she's your candidate," Mingyu teases.

"I don't know, I just don't see Wonwoo fully engaged in the conversation. She had that charm when I talked to her," you admit, though it's hard to tell from three tables away whether Wonwoo's truly interested or just politely listening.

As you both observe, Soonyoung joins in with his drink. "What are you both up to now?" he asks, following your gaze to Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress, looking at you and Mingyu with a confused expression.

Turning to Soonyoung, you ask, "Soonyoung, what do you think? Will the girl in the red dress be able to break through Wonwoo's defenses?"

He takes a sip and frowns at the aftertaste. "How come you never set me up? We're friends too, you know, both of you."

"Just answer the question," you roll your eyes.

Soonyoung takes another look at Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress. "I think she might," he finally answers, earning a nod of agreement from you.

"Hey, look! They're laughing!" Mingyu giggles at the sight of Wonwoo saying something that earns a laugh from the girl.

"Oh my god," you gush with Mingyu. "She just handed him her phone."

You playfully slap Mingyu’s arm. "Dude, they're exchanging numbers!"

Both matchmakers celebrate with high fives until the girl in the red dress exits their view and waves goodbye to Wonwoo.

"Wait, where's she going? Is she heading home already?" you wonder aloud, checking the time on your phone. When you look back up, the girl in the red dress passes by your table and greets you with a nod, saying, "Nice to meet you again, Y/N. Gotta go."

Wonwoo follows after her, approaching your table. As he sets his drink down, you immediately ask, “So?”

Wonwoo takes a sip of his drink. “She was alright,” he says nonchalantly, earning a disappointed expression from you, which he finds amusing.

"What do you mean she was alright?" Mingyu prompts.

"Well…" Wonwoo tilts his head, trying to recall the details. "She’s a photographer. So that’s a good start."

Impatient with his lack of detail, you sigh. Typical Wonwoo, a man of few words. "Okay. And?"

Wonwoo takes another sip. “She suggested I visit her photo exhibit sometime. So she gave me her Instagram page and I gave her mine too.”

Realizing your mission was a success, you grasp Mingyu's shoulder. Mingyu raises his glass, proposing a toast among the four of you.

"I'm so happy right now, I need another glass," you giggle, taking a sip of your margarita.

“Okay. Wonwoo’s got a date. How about me?” Soonyoung pouts, making you laugh. You then ask Mingyu to switch seats so you can play matchmaker with Soonyoung this time.

As you're in the middle of interviewing Soonyoung and scanning the crowd with him to find someone he’d want to talk to, Dami, Seungcheol’s sister in lawapproaches and grabs your arm, pulling you to her.

“Y/N! I have someone you should meet!”

With wide eyes, you look at your tablemates and mouth "Help," but they only laugh at you.

“Bye!” Wonwoo teases, waving to you.

Meanwhile, the three guys left at the table continue drinking and talking over the jazz music playing in the background. Mingyu notices you at a table with Seungcheol as Dami walks through the crowd with her arm looped around some guy in a tux.

He figures maybe this is the guy Dami wanted to introduce you to. Guess they aren’t the only ones playing matchmaker that night.

Wonwoo notices his best friend looking intently from afar. He turns his head back to see you shaking hands with a handsome stranger. Mingyu’s eyes start to wander, trying to distract himself from the hint of jealousy he was feeling

“When is the DJ set going to start? I am so bored,” Soonyoung pouts as he scrolls through his phone, then gets nudged by Wonwoo, directing his attention to you observing something from a distance.

Soonyoung couldn’t help but tease. “Oh wow, Dami’s got good taste. I’d like to see how Y/N would play the game tonight.”

“What?” Mingyu snaps out of it and pretends not to hear.

“Good luck stealing her back, man. Just letting you know I’m always Team Mingyu.” Soonyoung pats Mingyu's back, gripping his drink and takes off.

Wonwoo then slides closer to Mingyu. “You know you’ve always had the advantage, right?”

Mingyu looks at him, confused. “Advantage? What are you talking about?” Mingyu knows what his best friend was talking about. Wonwoo is direct, but this conversation feels different. They've never discussed about him and Y/N before.

“Oh, come on, Mingyu. I've noticed the way you look at her lately. If you like her, just tell her and let it happen the way its fated to happen,” Wonwoo says, taking a sip of his drink, as though confessing to Y/N were as simple as ordering another round.

If telling Y/N what he felt was that easy for him and her, he could’ve done it sooner. But no. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just some sort of crush.

“Okay, let's calm down,” he chuckles nervously. “I’m just taking my time, hyung. And I also want to give her all the time and space she needs if…” he pauses. “… if she ever feels the same way.” He adds hastily, gulping down the rest of his drink. “This stuff is good. I need more.”

Conveniently, Seungcheol appears out of nowhere with two glasses in hand, setting them down their table. “I thought you might need another round,” he says, chuckling softly.

Mingyu thanks him, but before he can even grab his drink, you swoop in and snatch it from his hand, leaving the three of them surprised.

“Thanks,” you say, taking a sip and letting out a relieved sigh. You hadn't expected to meet one of your biggest radio DJ crushes, Joshua, at a wedding party. As the brief conversation with him ends, you hurriedly excuse yourself from Seungmi, feeling your face grow warmer by the second.

As you return to your table, Cheol gives Mingyu a teasing glance while sipping on his drink. “Y/N's pretty cute when she's flustered.”

“Oh shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes and then offered to get Mingyu a new glass which you did.

As you stepped away, Wonwoo chuckles at Cheol’s comment, earning an eye roll from Mingyu. “This is so annoying.”

“Why are you annoyed? Oh, I see. You know I heard that Joshua invited her to visit him at the radio booth sometime.” Cheol prods.

“She'll probably be too busy to go,” Mingyu counters.

“How would you know? Are you her manager?”

“What if I am?” Mingyu retorts, trying to play it cool.

They stop abruptly when you came back with a new drink in hand and gave it to Mingyu. “Gentlemen. I am back. Here’s your drink, sir.”

“So how’d it go meeting one of your celebrity crushes?” Wonwoo asks. He wanted to see how his bestfriend will react.

“Oh. Pfft. Yeah I think I played it real cool. Did I?” You turn to Seungcheol for affirmation but he laughs at you instead.

“You were good. Charming at least.” He winks at you and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ You then proceeded to rambling about Joshua’s radio show Sunday Mornings aired every Sunday morning.

“So annoying.” Mingyu mutters as he side eyes Seungcheol.

Wonwoo tries to hold in a laugh, covering his mouth with his drink. Mingyu takes another big sip from his drink thinking this was going to be a long night for him.

—

The tension Mingyu was feeling inside eases off as the night progressed. He has the alcohol to thank for that as well as when the dj finally starts his set for the after-after party.

You, however, was on a high and was extra loud for the night. Never in your life would you think you’d have the energy to goof around and match Soonyoung’s on the dancefloor considering that you weren’t that good of a dancer.

With your confidence at its peak you even pulled the bride to dance with you twirled her over to her now husband. The warmth and joy you felt was incomparable as you watched the newly weds dance and then seal everything with a kiss as the song ended.

Another song plays as you wanted to rest because your feet was starting to hurt already so you head to the bar for another drink as if you weren’t tipsy enough. You scan the room for somewhere to sit on but all you found was the flight of stairs from where the bride and groom had their grand entrance earlier that night.

Wonwoo was sitting down a step checking his phone. He then notices you approaching. He scoots a little and sweeps the space beside him with his hand for you to sit on.

“Tired?” He says with a welcoming smile.

“Yeah. A little.” You sigh as you carefully take a seat.

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” He asks like a dad asking his daughter if she had fun.

“Yes, dad. There were lots of boys hitting on me though.” You joke and scrunch your nose waiting for his reaction.

Wonwoo chuckles and plays along. “Ah my pretty daughter. The boys must’ve had a hard time getting your attention.”

“They’re just boys. I’m here for the party.”

“Really? No one caught your eye?” He points to the small crowd of people enjoying the music, dancing, having drinks.

You casually pretend to scan the crowd until you notice Mingyu was fast approaching still looking to be at full energy.

“I dunno. This guy seems pretty decent.” You shrugged. “Pretty. Decent. Kind.” You said that in a very smug way but heaven knows you meant it.

You’ve developed a skill of being friends with Kim Mingyu. And that was suppressing even the slightest infatuation that eventually grew over the years. Who wouldn’t have a crush on Kim Mingyu anyway?

You’ve had plenty of experience with girls befriending you just to get close to him, some would bribe you with coffee to have you give them his number. You get the coffee, ask Mingyu for permission if he’s comfortable with his number being given and then hand him the coffee you got for free.

With your sibling-like dynamic, he was so comfortable with sharing even his dating life sometimes it wasn’t as fun anymore because you realize how good of a person he was it’s almost unreal that some girls think of him as too naive when he’s really just that kind of person who always believes there is something good in everything.

You were glad to be his friend. You continue to learn a lot from him. There’s an internal struggle however, when that dreaded question “what if you wanted something more than being friends” comes to mind. It scares you. Scared that he might get to close to see through the cracks.

“What are you two doing?! Sitting down?! Really?!” Mingyu reaches for your hand while his other hand reaches for Wonwoo’s and then pulls the both of you up like his ragdolls.

This was always the dynamic between you three. Mingyu being the energetic golden retriever, Wonwoo being the calm black cat, you being the confused chihuahua to balance them out.

—

Later that night, you find yourself assisting a drunk Kwon Soonyoung to his hotel room.

As you search your purse for Soon’s key card he has entrusted you earlier that night, Wonwoo was trying to restrain Soon who was trying to kiss him while he laughs and giggles. Same with Mingyu. But he just talks to Soon in his state.

The door beeped and clicked open so you successfully assisted Soonyoung to his room. You help remove his blazer and then finally made him lay in bed.

Thankfully, your rooms were on the same floor so you all went your separate ways for the night.

Once you settled in and changed to a shirt and sweatpants. You were in the midst of removing stubborn makeup when you decided to open a bottle of beer to cap off the night

As you were quietly browsing photos you took in your hotel room you notices Mingyu’s coat that you lazily hung to a chair.

You text him.

“You still awake??? forgot to give your coat back sorry”

“i’ll go get it in a minute” he replied

You continue browsing the photos you took for tonight and you stop at photos Soonyoung took of Mingyu and you making funny faces. Your lips curl to a smile as you remember this was taken after you sent Wonwoo off with a girl to talk too.

You heard knocking so you toss your phone to your bed and set the beer bottle down. You get Mingyu’s coat and open the door.

“Hey.” You were greeted with Mingyu hair still a bit wet from the shower, obvious from the droplets of his hoodie.

“I was going to give it later in the morning but you were eager to get it.” You hand him your coat.

“You can just tell me you’re gonna hug it to your sleep if you want to you know.” He reaches for it and your hands slightly brush together.

Your face contorts. “Ew. Why the hell would I do that? Creepy.”

“So you can dream of me. Duh.” He is still at it.

“I’ll pass. Good night, Gyu.” You were not having enough of it you rolled your eyes and was about to close the door but his hand stops it.

There was silence between you two for a few seconds. He then takes a step closer, height towering over you. At this moment you felt as if you were put under his spell. Unable to move, you focus on his forehead since your legs might just give up if you look straight into his eyes.

His eyes traveling from your eyes nose and lips.

He softly touches your fingers, moving up your arms barely touching it with his fingertips then tracing your jaw.

You feel your breath slowing down. Your eyes trying to read his. Was this really happening? Should you let it happen?

“Can I kiss you?” He says quietly.

You nod slightly, closed your eyes then it happens. You felt the warmth spread to your face.

Mingyu smiles as he pulled away. Both your eyes meeting each other. You sigh a little. Your foreheads against each other.

“You taste like beer.” He giggles softly and you let out a shy laugh.

You weren’t sure what got to you as you reached for his neck to kiss him again.

After you break it off there was a pause and then you both go back to laughing faces against each other. You have no idea if it was just the high of finally doing what both your hearts wanted to do for a long while. And finally meeting halfway with what the score is between the two of you.

You were both interrupted with the sound of the door being opened. You both straighten up as if nothing happened.

“I-uh…” Mingyu clears his throat. “Goodnight, Y/N.

You touch your nape and avoided eye contact. “Yeah uh. Good night, Gyu.”

—

It was another long day for you and Mingyu at work. While you were busy writing and revising scripts and trying to help your editor with the video editing, Mingyu was busy shooting new content for the project you were working together for. He was the director this time and you were one of the writers.

No one has said a word ever since that kiss. You were at your best at pretending that it did not bother you at all and kept busy at work.

He asked you to eat lunch with him at your favorite sandwich place.

The whole time you sat there were complaining about how you were frustrated at one of your scripts keep getting scrapped by one of the hosts you were shooting.

“Can I talk to you about something” He asked softly.

You peel off the wrapper of your subway BLT “Yeah go on.“ And then you took a big bite.

“About that kiss.” His eyes not leaving yours. Observing how you’d react.

You somehow mastered controling your reactions being with Mingyu for years.

“What about it?” You said nonchalantly. “I was pretty drunk that night.” No you weren’t. You were having a beer and completely aware.

“You…were?” He tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Okay. But I remember you kissing me back.” He was taken aback by your reply. You were clearly not as kissing anyone she sees drunk level as Soonyoung.

“Yeah, cause I was drunk. We do and say stupid things when we’re drunk. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” You meet his eyes this time to make your lie more convincing to him but moreso yourself.

Mingyu was left confused. You were not drunk that night.

He raised an eyebrow because you were obviously lying. You were more stern, retained more eye contact when you lie. It’s the same strategy you do when you’re pushed to do revisions to scripts that you did not want to do because it’ll only change the story.

“Look I just want to you to know that I don’t regret doing that.”

“Mmhmm.” You were busy chewing your sandwich and back to avoiding eye contact.

“And that I have liked you long enough for me to have the courage to do that.”

He can see your eyes widen and proactively try to avoid his. Your gut goes crazy until your eyes meet his. You stay there and your gut eases.

You were about to say something but couldn’t find the words so you just closed your mouth and looked into his eyes now and sighed.

“But please don’t say anything. You don’t have to answer.”

“And just tell me if you’re not comfortable with this. I mean we do work together almost all the time.” He then takes a big bite of the sandwich he barely touched after all that.

“It’s fine. I mean… It was a drunken mistake on me. I just-” You sighed again and wanted to say something but your emotions were all over the place. “Thank you. For telling me this.”

“Are we cool?”

You smiled. “Course we are.”

—

“So… Wonwoo told me something earlier before he left.” You peeked through your laptop and glanced at Mingyu who was cooking.

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing. He just told me that he… saw us kiss that night at the wedding.” You shrug trying to keep your tone as casual as you can.

“Okay. And?”

“He said that whatever that was, it’s safe with him. It’s none of his business.” You stood up from your seat and walked to their fridge.

“I just told him that it was nothing. I was drunk.” You said as you searched for a can of soda and then reached for it.

Mingyu’s eyebrows were raised at the sound of you saying you were drunk excuse again. He turns to face you with arms crossed across his chest. “It was nothing huh? And you were drunk.”

“Yeah. I was. Haven’t we talked about this?” You opened the soda but almost fizzed out but you drink it up with your mouth before it spills.

Mingyu scoffs. “You can’t keep convincing yourself that you were too drunk to kiss me back that night,” Mingyu finally snaps, his frustration boiling over. He’s tired of you dismissing your kiss as a drunken mistake. It wasn’t just about the kiss he was frustrated about.

You were a mess. You were going on this push and pull game of yours. You would be sweet one day and then the next one push him away. It wasn’t as if Mingyu didn’t see this coming knowing you.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“You were sober,” Mingyu states firmly, taking a step closer to her. “You kissed me back.” He removes his apron this time and carefully sets it aside.

Your arms cross defensively. “And what if I did?”

“Just admit it,” Mingyu insists, his voice tinged with exasperation. “I kissed you because I like you, you kissed me back, and now you keep saying you were drunk and it was nothing?”

“Stop saying the word ‘kiss’!” You retort, your irritation becoming more obvious.

“Stop acting like a child!” Mingyu shoots back, his frustration building up.

“I was just experimenting, okay? Can we drop it now?” Your tone softens slightly as you resigns herself to the conversation.

“Experimenting? For what? You’re unbelievable! Are we guinea pigs now to experiment your feelings on?” Mingyu’s disbelief is palpable.

“I was trying to see if it was real,” you admit reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What is?” Mingyu’s gaze softens as he meets her eyes.

“You and I,” you replie quietly, your defenses crumbling. “Whatever this is.”

There’s a moment of silence as they both process your confession.

Finally, you sigh, tone resigned. “I was just checking. Making sure what I felt was real. So I can confront it and have the guts to tell you.”

“But you kissed me, so I kissed you back, and then I went crazy, so I wanted to think about it for days, hence me trying to convince myself and you all that I was drunk!”

Mingyu’s eyes soften, a hint of understanding dawning in them as they trail from her eyes to her lips. “Well, do you want to check again?” he asks softly.

You chuckle, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re so stupid,” you murmur. “I’m not kissing you again.”

“You want to,” Mingyu insists, leaning in closer.

You place your palm on his chest, stopping him from closing the gap. “Yeah, I kinda do,” you admit, before leaning in for a short kiss.

[junrenjun]

8:13 PM

lee jeno x reader

“These are so cute,” you mutter, lifting another one of the pictures off the table. The wedding is finally settling down a bit, a few people out on the dance floor while others talk amongst themselves at the tables. The rest of your tablemates have scattered around the room, leaving only you and Jeno. 

Your boyfriend has his arm wrapped around the back of your chair, gazing down at the picture in your hands. “Mhm,” he hums, “should save that to a Pinterest board for our wedding.” 

He says it so casually you almost choke on air. “Our wedding? You want to marry me?” you question. Now, you and Jeno have been dating for quite some time now. But not enough to truly, seriously talk about marriage. Nothing more than a few casual conversations about what the future could hold. Yet he says those words like you’re already engaged. 

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “You do want to get married, right?” He seems a little tentative now. Like he’s worried that he scared you off.

You’re quick to ease the tension. “Of course I want to get married. I just didn’t think you’d bring it up so nonchalantly like that.” 

He smiles back at you with that crinkle in his eyes you love so much. Removing his hand from the back of your chair, he reaches out to grab the picture from you. He looks down at it with admiration. “I can already think of the pictures we could use,” he admits. “Like that one of you sleeping in the laundry basket. That one is cute.”

You giggle at his statement. “Okay,” you concede. “But only if we get to include the one where you are blowing bubbles with that weird pinwheel hat on.” 

He sets the picture down, ruffling your hair a bit. “I think someone has had one too many of these,” he teases, pushing your champagne glass further away from you. You roll your eyes at him. 

Jeno goes to say something once again, but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see your little cousin, her eyes pointed bashfully toward the floor and rocking on her heels. “Hello Aria,” he says, provoking her to actually look at him. “Whatcha need?”

She looks at you hesitantly before looking back toward your boyfriend. “Can you…dance with me, Jeno?” she whispers. The question has you realizing that the song has now switched to something slower, a few couples adorning the dance floor. How cute, you think to yourself. 

“Of course,” he responds, grinning down at the girl. Before she knows it, Jeno is scooping her up, carrying her to the dance floor. You can hear her giggles fade as they reach the other side of the room. 

Taking a breath, you look back toward the table, grabbing your champagne glass and another picture. Your moment of peace doesn’t last long though, because someone plops down in the seat next to you less than a minute later. When you look up, you spot your grandmother. “It’s a shame you didn’t participate in the bouquet toss. I was hoping you two would be next,” she taunts, looking pointedly at you. 

You set the items down, opting to run your hands over your face in embarrassment. “Ah, grandma!” you complain. “You know we don’t believe in superstitious stuff like that. We’ll get there in our own time.” 

She nods in understanding, but still smirks. Leaning closer to you, she begins to whisper. “You two would make me some beautiful grandbabies.” 

Now you’re really blushing. Thoughts of having a mini Jeno running around your grandmother’s house flash through your mind. You try your best to push them away. “Seriously, amma?” you exclaim, though there’s no malice in your voice. 

She points across the room. You follow her movements to find Jeno with a bright smile on his face, Aria twirling around in his arms. He reaches down to brush a strand of hair out of her face. You can’t help but gaze longingly at the scene, wishing that it was a daughter of your own. Your grandmother calls your name once more and you turn back to look at her. “If the next wedding I attend isn’t yours, that boy is getting a serious talk from me,” she says smugly. Without another word, she scoots back in her chair, walking back toward her own table. 

You steal a glance at the bride and groom’s table. They’re lightly making conversation, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder with his hand hanging down to brush comforting strokes down her arm. Maybe that could be you and Jeno sometime soon.

Startled out of your thoughts once again, you see your boyfriend plop down next to you. Your cousin is nowhere to be found, likely back with her parents once again. “What were you and your grandma talking about?” he asks. 

“Just about how she thinks you and I should be the next ones to be married. Said that we would make beautiful grandbabies.” you say, repeating her words with your own smirk.

It’s Jeno’s turn to blush, looking down at the floor. “We would,” he admits with a shy smile.

[scary-grace]

the crying game - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

You gave up on love a long time ago, but you keep getting invited to weddings, and after eleven receptions spent at the single's table, you're almost at the end of your rope -- until first-time wedding guest Shigaraki Tomura asks you to show him how it's done. (5.7k words, modern AU, no quirks.)

This fic is for @arslansenkai, who saw my milestone post and requested the prompts ‘holding hands’ + ‘listening to the other’s heartbeat’ + ‘whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin’ from this list. Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing it and I swear all three of your prompts made it in here or there.

You hate weddings. You don’t remember when you started hating them, but you know why you started – right around the time when you realized that you’d never have another one of your own, that you’d always be attending someone else’s, and doing that all by yourself, too. Add in the cost of a new dress and new shoes (God forbid you wear the same thing twice in one year) and travel accommodations and a wedding present, and weddings become a big, expensive, depressing waste of a weekend. No matter how much you like the people who are getting married.

And you do like them, this time, even though they’re the twelfth couple from your department at Ultra, Inc. to get married in the last three years. Ochako and Himiko are the kind of couple who shouldn’t make sense, but somehow do – the kind of against-all-odds couple who’d make you believe in love if you didn’t know better. You were rooting for them, you’re glad they’re together, and getting their save-the-date still made you want to drown yourself in the toilet. You opted to drown in vodka instead. You need help.

You need help, and you’re going to get it. After this wedding. So you can figure out how to say no the next time you get an invite. Because out of all the indignities about going single to a wedding, getting stuck at the same table at the wedding reception as the other people who couldn’t snare a date is possibly the worst.

Most couples have at least a few single friends, but Himiko and Ochako are the last of their respective circles to couple up. Or almost-last. The singles table at their wedding included exactly five people at the start of the reception. You, an older woman named Magne, a guy your age whose place-card says Todoroki Touya but insisted that he goes by Dabi, another guy your age whose place-card says Takami Keigo but insisted you call him Hawks, and one more guy your age whose place-card says Shigaraki Tomura and who barely looked up when you introduced yourself.

It wasn’t the worst singles table you’d ever sat at, at the start. Then Magne bailed to sit with somebody she knew at a different table, and Dabi and Hawks hit it off and then snuck off to God knows where, and then it was just you and Shigaraki sitting at your table in the far back corner of the reception hall. That’s how it’s been for an hour, and the only interaction the two of you have had is when you’ve passed the table’s bottle of champagne back and forth, filling your glasses and then draining them out of sync. It’s depressing. After going to eleven weddings in two years, you can hang in there with the best of them, but you’re pretty sure you’re about to crack.

Your glass is empty, and when you reach for the bottle, you find that it’s empty, too. You want to get more, but you’re not going to look like a lush in front of your weird tablemate. “Hey,” you say, and Shigaraki looks up from the screen of his Switch. “This is empty. I’ll go get more if you want it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki says. You raise your eyebrows. “This will suck just as bad whether I’m wasted or not.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But then you’ll be able to pretend it sucks because you’re wasted, not because you’re stuck at the singles table yet again.”

“Yet again? Sounds like you’re projecting,” Shigaraki says. You shrug. It would hurt more if you hadn’t heard the same thing from at least one person at the last three weddings you went to – usually towards the end of the reception, usually when everybody’s getting weepy and ridiculous. You’re ahead of schedule this time. “Sure. I’ll take more.”

Two tables over, a group of happy couples have abandoned their champagne bucket in favor of the dance floor – or the photo booth, or something. You swap your empty bottle for their full one and come back over, hoping Shigaraki will have gone back to his game and forgotten you existed. No such luck. He’s sitting up, watching you, as you sit down, fill your glass, and slide the bottle back across the table to Shigaraki. “Yet again,” he repeats. You down half your glass in a single swallow. “I’m only halfway through the first one of these stupid things I’ve been to and I’m already done. How many times have you put yourself through it?”

“Eleven,” you say. Shigaraki’s red eyes widen. “No, that’s just people from work. If I count friends from school, it’s, uh – sixteen.”

“If you’re this miserable, stop going.”

“Is that what you do?” you challenge. “When your friends invite you to celebrate the happiest day of their lives, you just don’t go?”

“My friends know better than to invite me to shit like this.” Shigaraki copies you and drains half his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t have come to this one, except Toga critical-hit me with this guilt trip about how we’re her family and she needs her family to be here –”

You did notice a conspicuous lack of parents or relatives on Toga’s side of the aisle. “And I said I’d go if I didn’t have to go alone,” Shigaraki continues. “Dabi was supposed to be doing time with me. Figures he’d score a hookup and bolt.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you say. They barely talked when Dabi was sitting here. “How do you know Himiko?”

“Juvie,” Shigaraki says, and you’re not sober enough to keep the surprise from showing all over your face. He snickers. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head. “Is that where you know Dabi from?”

“And Spinner,” Shigaraki says, pointing out a purple-haired guy at a different table. “And Twice. Magne was a peer counselor or something. If I hadn’t met them I probably would have killed myself in there.”

You can’t stop your surprise from showing this time, either. Shigaraki grimaces. “Don’t read into that.”

“No promises,” you say. Shigaraki snorts and lifts his glass partway, then drains it. “So you’ve known each other for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re friends with the girlfriend. Wife.” Shigaraki refills his glass again, but leaves it alone for the time being. “How long have you known her?”

“Work,” you say, then facepalm. You’re lucky you manage to do it with the hand not holding your glass of champagne. “Two years or so. I already worked there when she was hired. I kind of watched the whole thing with Himiko from the sidelines.”

That’s how you always watch relationships play out at work, or anywhere, really. Pretending to be happy, really being happy, and still feeling like you’re pulling a tarp over the sinkhole in your chest. “So the wife invited you and you showed up even though you knew you’d hate it,” Shigaraki concludes. “You’re crazier than me. I’m never going to another one of these things again.”

“Not even your own?”

“Do I look like the kind of person somebody marries?” Shigaraki finishes his whole glass in a single swallow. You were thinking about trying to keep up with him, but if you try that, you’ll throw up all over the dress you had to buy, which is probably dry-clean only or something worse. “I don’t get why anyone goes to these things.”

“They’re supposed to be fun,” you say. You feel bad picking on Ochako’s wedding. It’s not Ochako’s fault that you’re single, bitter about it, and this close to drunk on alcohol she paid for. “But they’re usually only fun if you go with someone.”

“I went with somebody. He ditched me to hook up with a guy who named himself after a bird.”

You snicker at that. “I meant a date,” you clarify. “If your date ditches you to hook up, then you’ve got bigger problems than whether you’re having fun at a wedding.”

“He’s not my date. I’m not gay.” Shigaraki looks up. “Did you think I was gay?”

“I really didn’t – think,” you admit. You didn’t come to the wedding looking for a hookup. If you had, you’d have tried to put a move on Hawks before Dabi could. “The activities are more fun with a date.”

“Activities?” Shigaraki asks. “Like games?”

“Uh, sometimes,” you say. You know Ochako set up lawn games outside, and the sun won’t set for a while. “Sometimes there’s an art project you’re supposed to do for the couple, as a keepsake or something. I went to one last year where you were supposed to write a good wish, fold it into a paper crane, and then hang it off a branch of this tree they’d bought.”

“Too much work. What else?”

“Dancing,” you say, although you felt like that was pretty obvious. “And Himiko and Ochako have a photo booth.”

Shigaraki’s nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“As a keepsake for the guests, I guess,” you say. “Again. More of a couple thing.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki pours half a glass this time but still finishes it in one swallow. Then he stands up. “Let’s do it.”

You freeze in the act of pouring yourself another glass. “What?”

“I’m never coming to another wedding. You’re bored and drunk –”

“I’m not the one who’s been treating glasses like shots.”

“So let’s do it,” Shigaraki says, like you didn’t say a word. “If this is the last one I go to, I want to get my money’s worth. Do you have something better to do?”

You were this close to taking out your phone and opening up Tinder. You shake your head. “Finish that,” Shigaraki says, and you finish the half-glass you just poured and get to your feet. “Where’s the stupid photo booth?”

You lead the way. Even in heels, you’re faster than Shigaraki – he’s meandering a little bit, possibly due to all the champagne. You reach out and grab his hand to pull him back on course. He jumps, stumbles into an empty table, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted the wedding date experience. Holding hands is included.” At least you think it should be. If you had a real date you’d want to hold hands with them. Shigaraki follows you a little more closely than before as you make your way up to the photo booth. “It looks like they have props. Should we use them?”

Shigaraki hasn’t let go of your hand. He picks up a fake mustache on a stick. “Who would use this?”

“Me, maybe?” If you had a wedding date, you’d want to be spontaneous and fun. You lift it out of his hand and hold it up to your face. “What do you think?”

“No.” Shigaraki takes it away, puts it back, and picks up a flower crown. “Here.”

“No, that’s for you,” you say. Shigaraki argues, but you pluck it out of his hand and settle it on his head anyway. “See? It looks great.”

“If Dabi sees me wearing this stupid thing –”

“He’ll be jealous,” you say. The crown would look stupid on Dabi’s spiky black hair, but the pastel shades of the flowers look nice with Shigaraki’s blue-grey hair. “Okay. Now you can pick one for me. I’ll even do the mustache.”

“No,” Shigaraki says again. He sorts through the props and comes up with a headband with bunny ears. “This one.”

You two are going to look ridiculous. It’s hard not to laugh, and you haven’t even seen the full effect yet. You put on the headband, thankful that you went for a low-effort hairstyle that’s easy to fix, then pull the curtain on the photo booth and wedge yourself into it. Shigaraki follows you in.

It’s a really tight fit. You were pretty sure the photo booth was a couple activity, but now you’re sure – you love your friends, but you wouldn’t want to end up most of the way into any of their laps. You have to stop holding hands to try to get situated, and while you’re still trying to figure yourselves out, the photo booth takes the first picture. Shigaraki grimaces. “Wait. That probably looked stupid. Where –”

The booth takes the second picture while he’s talking, and you snort. There’s about a ten-second interval to get positioned correctly. You manage to face front in time, but your elbow lands on Shigaraki’s thigh as you’re trying to steady yourself, and he flinches away. You drop out of the frame as the booth snaps the third photo, and it occurs to you that the only part of you visible in the picture will be the bunny ears. Based on the location of the ears in relation to Shigaraki’s body, it’s going to look pretty compromising. You hope no one sees that picture. Ever.

Shigaraki’s snickering as you sit up. “Nice one. I want a copy of – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him on purpose this time, just in time for the fourth photo. The fifth photo’s probably going to be blurry. You’re both lightly shoving each other, trying to get each other out of your personal space without pushing either of you out of the photo booth itself. The sixth photo’s probably the only one that’s worth anything, and it won’t be very good, either – Shigaraki’s flower crown is off-kilter, and you’re pretty sure your headband’s falling off. The printer begins to whir, and the two of you sit in silence as the booth prints out two sets of photos. You pick one up. Shigaraki takes the other. A second later, you’re both laughing.

The photos look even worse than you thought, and somehow that makes them better. The photo where it’s just your ears in the frame features Shigaraki staring down into his lap, looking all kinds of startled, while the photo where you’re pushing each other is blurry enough to be a still from a found-footage horror movie. In your opinion, the first photo is the funniest. “We look like that meme with the cat,” you wheeze. “The one with the loading circle over its head.”

“The last one looks like a mug shot,” Shigaraki says, his laughter so raspy that it borders on a witch’s cackle. “After a bar fight –”

The idea of getting in a bar fight in your wedding outfit sets you off. You slump sideways at an angle and end up with your head against his chest for a few seconds, surprised that you can hear his heartbeat and surprised at how fast it’s beating. “Which of us won?”

“We both lost,” Shigaraki says, and you laugh harder. The two of you look disheveled as hell, and not from anything fun. “Number two is the worst one. You look good and I look like a dumbass.”

“You just had your mouth open,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’re probably smearing your makeup, but who gives a shit. You didn’t do that good of a job on it anyway. “Anyway, that’s the wedding photo booth experience. What do you think?”

“I want to go again,” Shigaraki says. This time, you manage to turn to stare at him without throwing any elbows. “For good ones. No way do people’s girlfriends let them leave with just the stupid ones.”

You would, but then again, there’s not a big enough difference between how you look in bad photos and how you look in good ones for it to matter. “We can do one more,” you agree. “Let’s lose the props.”

Without the flower crown and bunny ears, the silliness factor drops significantly. Now you look less like a couple of drunk clowns pretending to be a couple and more like two people who could actually be together. It weirds you out, but you promised the whole wedding date experience. In the seconds before the first flash goes off, you tilt your head onto Shigaraki’s shoulder.

Shigaraki startles, and as soon as the flash goes off, he pushes you away – but only so he can tilt sideways. He’s taller than you, enough so his cheek rests against the top of your head. Four photos left. When you glances over at Shigaraki, you see that his tie’s crooked, so you fix it for him, burning another photo in the bargain. The fourth photo is Shigaraki shifting the neckline of your dress to cover your bra strap, which is weird but plausible for a couple’s photo booth experience. He has a birthmark just below the right corner of his mouth. You aim for it when you kiss his cheek quickly for the fifth photo.

Shigaraki startles again, and you sit back – but not too far. You’re still close enough that Shigaraki only has to lean forward a few inches for his lips to meet yours.

You weren’t planning to kiss him. It’s not much of a kiss, and it doesn’t last long, but your heart is still racing as the booth spits out your second sheet of photos. You’re almost scared to look. Shigaraki’s hesitant, too, and when you both flip the sheets over to check, he says exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit.”

The first set of photos were a joke. The second set – either you and Shigaraki are really good actors or you’re both really drunk, because they look way too plausible for comfort. The ones where you’re fussing over each other’s clothes are probably the worst offenders on that front, but you’re most alarmed by the last two. You’re smiling as you kiss his cheek. You can see the corner of your mouth turned up. And you didn’t see where Shigaraki’s hand was when he kissed you, but the photo’s preserved the evidence. It’s right by the side of your face, curved like he wants to cradle your jaw in his hand.

Exactly sixty seconds ago, the two of you were screwing around in here. Now it feels like there’s static running back and forth between you, and you scramble out of the booth in a hurry, almost tripping over your feet. Shigaraki gets out, too, leaning against the booth to steady himself. Without a word, he takes both of your sets of photos and tucks them into his suit jacket along with his sets, then fills your suddenly-empty hand with his own. “Now what?”

The static shock is between your hands now. “My hand is humming,” you say, like an idiot, and Shigaraki tightens his grip. “Um, I think there are some games outside.”

“Fine.”

It’s warm outside, but getting cooler as the sun begins to set. There are a lot of games, and most of them are being ignored in favor of a bunch of the goofiest guys from your office playing cornhole while their girlfriends/boyfriends watch. You determine instantly that you’re not coordinated enough for anything that involves throwing something, which leaves you exactly one option. “How about that one?”

“Jenga?”

“Jenga XL,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “My hand-eye coordination’s too bad right now for a throwing game. This will be safer.”

Whoever was playing the oversized Jenga last left the blocks in a heap. You and Shigaraki can’t hold hands while you stack them up, and as you do, your assumption that Jenga would be safer than something else gets tested in the most embarrassing way possible – and of course Shigaraki points it out. “You’re short. If this thing falls on you it’ll flatten you.”

“It won’t fall,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “I’m good at this.”

“Go first, then, if you’re so good at it.”

You get a block out without trouble, but you have to rely on Shigaraki to re-stack it for you, which he does, wearing a really frustrating smirk. “You should have worn taller shoes.”

“I can’t walk in taller shoes,” you say. “Or dance. Are you going to want to dance?”

“If it’s part of the wedding date experience, yeah.” Shigaraki carefully extracts his block and sets it on top of the tower. He’s not all that much taller than you. If the game goes on long enough, he’ll have trouble re-stacking. “They don’t exactly teach dance classes in juvie.”

“It’s not that kind of dancing,” you say. Shigaraki looks relieved. “If it’s going to be that kind of dancing, they warn you on the invitation. A friend of mine who got married last year only played swing music at her reception. She sent out a certificate for free lessons with her save-the-date.”

“Control issues?”

“I think she just wanted stuff her way,” you say. You ease another block out of the tower and hand it over to Shigaraki. “Hers was nice. Everything ran on time, and she sent out thank-you notes six weeks after the wedding.”

Shigaraki stacks your block, then pulls out one of his own. You realize with a jolt that he’s missing the index and middle fingers from his left hand. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been to?”

“Um.” You don’t want to say this. You really don’t – but you drank too much, and you should be honest. “Mine.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced,” you say. “Three months after the wedding. I didn’t have the ring on long enough to get a tan line.”

Shigaraki doesn’t say anything. The tower is getting unstable, so you’re careful as you wiggle out one of the side blocks on a row about halfway up. You keep an eye on Shigaraki’s shadow as you do it, bracing yourself for him to walk away. Would you walk away if he told you he was divorced? No, but you’re divorced, so it matters less to you. “Three months,” Shigaraki repeats. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re lucky you aren’t asking me that six years ago,” you say. “With how much I drank tonight, I’d have gone off.”

“Go off. I want to hear it.” Shigaraki actually looks interested. “Anyone who fucks this up deserves it.”

He’s gestures at you. You don’t know what to make of that, and you’ve got a block halfway out of the tower. You go back to work on it. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“I know,” Shigaraki says. “How’d it happen?”

“This is pathetic,” you warn. Shigaraki gestures for you to go on. You sigh. “We were together since high school. Midway through college I got a bad feeling that we were drifting apart and I couldn’t take the suspense, so I tried to end it. And he popped the question. We got married six months later and three months after that he knocked up my cousin.”

“Damn,” Shigaraki remarks.

“They’re still together,” you say. “The kid’s in primary school this year. And every year around the holidays my aunt and my cousin pick a fight with me about how I need to be nicer to him, because we’re all a family now.”

You finally manage to extract the block, and Shigaraki takes it from you before you can offer it to him. You can’t read his expression, and just like when you sensed things with your ex were falling apart, you can’t take the suspense. “Pathetic?” you prompt.

“Your ex is a loser.”

“You haven’t seen what my cousin looks like.”

“He’s still a loser,” Shigaraki says. He pulls out a block. “I get it, though.”

Your stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was leaving me because I was dicking around, I might do something like that, too.” Shigaraki sets his block on top of the tower. Your options for blocks to pull are getting slimmer by the turn. “Popping the question. Not knocking up your cousin.”

“I have other cousins,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”

“I said nobody was going to marry me,” Shigaraki corrects. What’s the difference? “Your turn.”

You’re out of blocks at shoulder height. And chest height. And waist height. You crouch down instead, doing your best to balance in your heels, and start trying to wiggle a block loose on the fourth level up from the ground. Shigaraki’s voice follows you down. “If you were ready to ditch him, why did you say yes?”

Now you’re at a real risk of crying. Six years of intermittent only-when-you’ve-got-the-money counseling hasn’t made a dent in this one thing. You remind yourself that Shigaraki can’t see your face and work on keeping your voice steady. “I was the one who asked him out in the first place, back in high school. I always had this weird sense that we wouldn’t be together if I hadn’t. So when he proposed I thought it meant he was choosing me, like I chose him. Which was a stupid reason to say yes.”

You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe so badly that you were worth it, and now you’re divorced at twenty-eight, barely talking to the half of your family that took your cousin’s side, going on a grand total of one real date in the entire time since then that you got up and left partway through because you couldn’t fake hope or excitement for one second longer. The kiss you planted on Shigaraki in the photo both was the most action you’ve gotten in two years, and you’ve put more effort into the fake wedding-date experience than you have into even looking for a hookup. You’re pathetic. This is pathetic. You should be embarrassed, and you are.

But you got your stupid block out. You straighten up and hold it out to Shigaraki, who stacks it for you. You can’t read his expression, and you’re a little too dysregulated to be anything but blunt. “That’s my tragic backstory. What’s your damage?”

“What, going to juvie doesn’t count?” Shigaraki crouches down to pull a block from the opposite side of the same row you just weakened. He’s doing it right-handed; he’s waving his left with its missing fingers at you. “This doesn’t count? The fact that I don’t have eyebrows doesn’t count? Your problem is being a dumb kid with a shitty family and a shitty ex. My problem is that I exist. We’re not the same.”

He straightens up and drops his block on top of the tower. You can see that he’s tenser than before, and you can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound patronizing. “I didn’t notice about the eyebrows until you said something.”

“Great.” Shigaraki won’t look at you. “Your turn.”

You crouch down again. The row below the row Shigaraki just knocked down to one block seems like the safest bet. You start pulling at it, frustrated at the way it sticks. “Careful,” Shigaraki says after a second. “If you don’t watch out –”

The tower topples. You’re crouched down, with no chance of getting out of the way in time, and all you can do is sit there, stunned, while three dozen giant Jenga blocks crash down around your head. The corner of one catches your temple, digs in, and you flinch. But the blocks are light. You’re startled, and humiliated, and possibly bleeding a little bit, but you’re fine. “Are you okay?” Shigaraki asks. You give a thumbs-up, and he crouches down next to you. “I don’t believe you. You look – shit, your face is bleeding.”

“I’m good,” you say. “It’s a good thing we took pictures already. This is not part of the wedding-date experience.”

“I’m done with that,” Shigaraki says, and your heart sinks. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though none of this mattered to begin with, even though you know better, you hoped. You weren’t hoping for anything much – just to keep having fun, just to not spend the rest of the wedding alone. “You have a purse, right? Do you have napkins in there or something?”

“Your suit comes with a pocket square.” You pluck it out of his pocket and press it to your temple. “I’ll pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t bother. It was my dad’s. He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

Shigaraki helps you up while you’re still processing that one and tugs you away from the wreckage of the Jenga tower, onto a bench. The view of the sunset is really good from here. Further down the lawn, you can see Himiko and Ochako and their photographer doing a last round of pictures, and you slide your feet out of your shoes. It’s that point in the wedding. You’ll probably stay here for the rest of the night.

“Do you need ice?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe the fact that the sinkhole in your chest is eating the tarp you put over it just hurts more. “Do you still want to dance?”

“You said you were done with the wedding date thing.”

“Yeah. I’m done with the part where it’s fake.”

Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought you did. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki sounds annoyed. “I let you put a flower crown on me.”

“Is that some kind of mating ritual in juvie?” The instant you say it, you feel bad, but Shigaraki laughs. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t do very well with ambiguity on my best night and I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Same here. Otherwise I’d sit on this, and my friends would spend the rest of their lives listening to me bitch about how I didn’t ask out the girl from Toga’s wedding.” Shigaraki’s hand lifts from his lap, rises to his neck, then falls back. “I want to dance with you. Toga and her wife are having an after-party at their place, and I want you to come to it with me. And I want your number so we can hang out again sometime when we’re not wasted. Because I like you.”

You must have hit your head really hard. “We met three hours ago.”

“So? Toga said she knew she was going to marry the wife the first time they made eye contact,” Shigaraki says. That sounds like something Himiko would say. You’ve met her a few times at work parties and she’s always struck you as a little intense and a little off-the-wall. “Do you want to dance or not? Make up your mind.”

You want to say yes. What comes out is something really stupid, so stupid that you can’t look at him while you say it. “This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.”

“What, meeting somebody who asks you out?”

It sounds stupid when he says it like that. You keep his dad’s pocket square pressed to your temple and try to explain. “The whole thing where you meet somebody when you weren’t expecting to meet anybody and things click, at least on your end, and since you know it’s just on your end you try not to get your hopes up – but the other person tells you that it clicked for them, too –”

“That’s dumb.” Shigaraki doesn’t sound like he’s being mean. You could almost call it affectionate. “Forget who it happens to. I’m asking you out. Do you –”

Screw it. If this is some kind of hallucination, you want to enjoy it. If it’s real, you don’t want to miss out. You turn back to face Shigaraki. “Yes.”

He grins, and you notice a scar over his mouth, too. “Good. Now what?”

You think about kissing him. You decide to try hugging first, which involves getting at least as close to him as you did when you were in the photo booth, on purpose this time. Shigaraki isn’t particularly tall or bulky, but when you hug him, you’re surprised to notice that he’s hiding some muscle underneath his suit jacket. Kind of a lot of muscle. Huh. Shigaraki notices that you’re investigating a little bit. “What?” he asks, his mouth against your ear. “Did you think all I do is game?”

“I don’t know what you do all day,” you say. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“We will.” Shigaraki draws back from you, and you loosen your grip even as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. This time you see the kiss coming from a mile away, and this time, you lean in.

Everything’s different this time, except the thing that startles the two of you apart – the bright flash of a camera going off. “Tomura-kun!” Himiko squeals from somewhere nearby. “I told you you’d have fun at my wedding. Who is that? She’s so cute!”

For a second you’re worried Shigaraki doesn’t know your name, but he must have been paying more attention than you thought he was when you introduced yourself, because he introduces you to Toga without missing a beat. “She’s one of my coworkers,” Ochako explains, smiling at you. Even through the smile you can see the incredulity on her face, and you know you’ll be getting a lot of questions about this when she gets back from her honeymoon. “I’m so sorry we had to put you at that table. I wanted to put you with everybody from work, but they all had plus-ones –”

“It’s fine,” you say faintly. Himiko’s photographer takes another picture, this time of all four of you talking. “It worked out.”

“She’s coming to your party,” Shigaraki informs Himiko. “I invited her.”

“Oh, good!” Himiko turns her attention to you. “It’s going to be so fun! We have games and movies and we’re going to stay up all night.”

“You should come inside now,” Ochako says. “There are mosquitos out here, and we’re supposed to have cake soon –”

“And we’re going to do the Time Warp. I put that on the playlist for you special, Tomura-kun,” Himiko says. She glances at you. “It’s the only dance he knows.”

Shigaraki flushes, grimaces, but you tilt your head against his shoulder again, lacing his fingers with yours for the third time tonight. You don’t know what he does all day when he’s not at weddings he doesn’t want to go to. You don’t know if what he said about his dad being in solitary confinement was a joke or not. You don’t know what happened to his hand or where he got his scars, or even where his eyebrows went. But you know he likes you. You know you like him enough to give things a shot, at least for tonight, and that’s better than you’ve felt in a long time.

And you know he can dance, even if it’s only the Time Warp. For right now, you don’t need to know any more than that.

[billwidoll]

Sweet as Cherry

Summary: You reject yourself to be with Rafe and when he finds out about this, he was ready to make your life hell Until you get a date

Warnings: for over 18s, verbal violence, physical violence, psychological violence, Toxic and aggressive relationship

Author's Notes: This story is a little heavy and if you don't like it, don't read it

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It all started on a normal Thursday afternoon, you were at college waiting for the next class to start. It turns out that there was only you in the room, you were like the nerd in the room, so you were always the one He arrived earlier. but incredibly Rafe Cameron was there too And it didn't take long for him to talk to you

"Hello... you and Y/n?" Rafe says smiling at you

You were surprised by Rafe's greeting, he was the popular one in college and a bad boy, obviously you didn't like these types of things or these types of Boys

"Oh hi...I'm Y/n" you say with a friendly smile at Rafe

And he smiles with his smile

"Aren't you going to ask who I am, doll?" Rafe speaks with a disgusting smile

You laugh at this comment causing Rafe to hiss in confusion

"For God's sake, who doesn't know who Rafe Cameron is?" You say smiling and that also makes Rafe laugh a little.

"okay... so I'm famous to you?" Rafe speaks, sitting on a chair that was next to them.

"and...like that. But it doesn't fit that much!" You say in a joking tone.

In reality, you didn't even know why you were being so attentive to Rafe, you knew what he was like and how he treated people. Maybe he was just trying to be nice to you to just copy the homework he didn't do.

When Rafe was about to say something else, the teacher and some other students arrived at the time, interrupting them.

It was obvious that Rafe was frustrated, he was winning you over, he was feeling it. Rafe had his eye on you for a long time, but never tried anything, so he decided this was the time

You sat at a table you always sat at, but this time Rafe was your tablemate and you didn't understand because he always sat in the back, far away from you.

"ae! Y/n! How about you meet me at my house at 5pm? I have a surprise for you" Rafe says in a whisper because of the teacher

"Sorry Rafe...but I'm going to study today" you say giving him a friendly smile, you weren't lying you were really going to study

"Ah, come on? This is a chance for us to meet, don't you think?" Rafe speaks with a hopeful look

"how about another day, hun?" You speak last, turning your attention back to the books

And Rafe couldn't deny that he was very upset and sad about it, you were the first girl to not accept an invitation from him. But he wasn't going to give up

Fourdayslater

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After two days, Rafe couldn't stop and think about you. He was always stalking you on Instagram or any social network, He was always going to the coffee shop you worked at.

You were at work on another normal day and Rafe ended up showing up there, you thought he had just stopped by to say "hi" but Rafe's intentions weren't like that.

"Hi Rafe! What are you doing here?" You ask, giving a friendly smile from behind a counter.

"Ah...I came to see you.” Rafe says giving you his best smile and it ends up leaving you embarrassed

"Well... I won't be able to pay attention to you now because I'm working..." You say, your cheeks turning red.

"what's your problem with y/n? Always avoiding me, always making an excuse..." Rafe speaks frustratedly to you and that makes you angry

"I'm sorry if I'm too busy a girl for you!" You shout, but then restrain yourself because you are at your workplace

"okay... and so?" Rafe says it like you and he were having a lovers' fight

"Rafe...What do you want from me, hun? I would do anything for you to leave me alone now!"

You talk already stressed to him

"A date!" Rafe says simply

"a date?" You repeat and he nods

"Yes! Me and you in a restaurant, what do you think?"

Rafe speaks, approaching you and increasing a smile on your face.

"no, I don't want to go on a date with you, Rafe"

you say, lowering your head, you've never turned down a date. But going out with Rafe was too much for you, you didn't want to be another prize in the His

When you refused Rafe's invitation his physiology simply fell, Rafe's eyes quickly darkened, he was starting to break out in a cold sweat

"what? Are you saying you won't go out with me?" Rafe speaks sounding like a robot that was about to attack you and you were scared there

"and that's right Rafe, I don't want to go out with you now or ever, okay?" You speak harshly, ready to serve the next customers, leaving Rafe alone and angry.

Fourdayslater

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After you didn't want to go out with Rafe, he decided to make your life hell. When you woke up he was there somewhere watching you and you knew it, he was making fun of you From you somewhere in college, he kept treating you like a slave when he went to his work place. But the worst part is when he followed you on the street or when he sent you gifts and love letters or Threatening

You were already tired and fed up with everything Rafe was doing to you, but the worst was going to happen on Wednesday night.

You were in your apartment with the doors locked and the windows too. Everything was calm, so you went to the bathroom to take a shower, going there you ended up taking off your clothes and getting into the hot, bubbly bathtub.

You lay down in the bathtub and closed your eyes, resting. But out of nowhere you end up hearing a voice behind you

"so beautiful...it's a shame it's not mine" Rafe says standing in the doorway smiling, this makes you get up quickly showing off your naked body

When you realize it, you immediately grab a towel that was close to you.

"What are you doing here Rafe?! Can you leave me alone!" you say, screaming desperately, covering yourself with the towel

"no, honey, don't cover yourself, I was seeing a beautiful view" Rafa says walking slowly towards you

"Rafe...please...leave me alone...please" you said with tears in your eyes and slowly moving away with each step Rafe took

"Leave you alone? Why would I leave the most beautiful girl alone?" Rafe speaks with his threatening voice and dark eyes

Now, finally you and Rafe were face to face. Looking deeply, Rafe looked at you like a predator, but you only knew how to be afraid

"...what do you want from me?" You speak with the tears slowly coming down

"I just want a date, my doll" Rafe says almost in a whisper, running his hands over your red face

"Okay, okay. And I'll go out with you, okay?" You say accepting almost desperately

"Do you understand? It's so easy to accept being my girlfriend" Rafe says, smiling like he's crazy and holding your face

"What? Rafe...and just a date, I'm not your girlfriend." You say amazed and Rafe shakes his head no

"Yes, you and my girlfriend yes, and then you will be my wife" Rafe says smiling but squeezing your face, Making you have tears in your eyes even more

"You don't want to make me angry, right? You know what I do when I'm angry." Rafe speaks clearly threatening you

Soon after, he kisses you desperately and madly, the kiss had fear, passion, love, aggression, all emotions flowed from that kiss. Now you were definitely Rafe's

[megistusdiary]

…I fell for it 😭 I’m so gullible 😔

just for you? i wrote you something because i saw your comment 😓😓

dom!yelan x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, slight exhibitionism, cunnilingus, deep throating, strap usage

yelan likes to keep you close to her at all times. her 'lucky charm' she's deemed you, perching you so pretty upon her lap every time she gambles.

she's a calculated risk taker, though with you around, she's got everything she needs.

sometimes, she even uses you to distract her opponents at the table. teasingly sliding her fingers up your thigh, fingertips sneaking beneath your shorts, grinning wickedly at how her tablemates start to shift around.

because she knows they're imagining it's them holding you. them with a pretty girl on their lap. them who wins the bet and gets the girl. but as long as yelan sits at the table, it's hopeless for them.

oh, too bad.

you don't think it's so bad, though. not when yelan spoils you right after a winning hand. not with how she strips you down, fucking you on the balcony of her hotel. oh, and she can't forget your pretty blue collar and leash to match!

she lays you down on her bed, her clothes disheveled, but at least she still has them on unlike you. how she grabs your thighs, spreading them wide to compliment her treat.

she spits right on your clit, using her tongue to drag the wetness across your pussy, indulging in your mewls and encouraging you to get louder. to let the entire damn hotel know who's fucking you.

she'll ease you through one orgasm and then another for good measure before she even considers having you prep her strap. the best prep, she always decides, is shoving it down your throat. she likes how your teary eyes gaze up at her from the floor, nose pressed to her pelvis as she coos at you, gripping your leash tighter to keep you in place like a good girl.

she likes how your glossy spit coats the strap when she pulls away, the soft gasps you make, and the louder one when she flips you on all-fours and fucks you like an animal.

you just can't help but think it's not so bad being her lucky charm.

[gunnerfc]

Did it Hurt? (When You Fell From Heaven) | Hayley Raso x Matildas!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend spends the entire day telling you terrible pickup lines after you jokingly said she was bad at flirting.

Warnings: bad pickup lines from google! 🥴

WC: 1.6K

AN: currently down bad for her (shoutout to all the tiktok edits I’ve watched 😩), so more fics for her are coming soon I fear 🥴😩

Waking up this morning, you were thankful you weren’t allowed to room with Hayley during camp. You had decided to tease your girlfriend about her ‘bad flirting’ last night during a small team bonding session. The mandatory curfew had saved you last night and you didn’t have to be questioned by the Real Madrid player. 

That is until you were up and ready to head to the team breakfast. Hayley had been waiting for you, still in disbelief that you said she was bad at flirting. When you opened your hotel room, you were greeted by your girlfriend impatiently tapping her foot with her arms crossed.

“Good morning, babe,” you sang as you exited your room, hoping you could get Hayley to focus on anything other than your previous comments.

“Yeah, yeah good morning. What do you mean I “can’t flirt”? Hayley questioned as you walked side by side towards the banquet room at the end of the floor that the team was staying on. 

“Umm..” you started, your voice higher than normal as you felt the glare from the winger. “I was just joking, baby. Don’t worry about it,” you laughed nervously right as you reached the opened doors. You could hear most of your teammates already eating and you hoped that maybe Ellie or Teagan would call Hayley over to their table and you wouldn’t have to explain further.

Ellie was your saving grace, shouting Hayley’s name the moment she spotted the shorter of the pair. You let a sigh of relief escape your lips as you fixed your plate and found a seat with your three Arsenal teammates.

“Rass still upset about your little comment,” Caitlin teased when you sat down. You sent the forward a glare, not bothering to respond as you started eating.

“What little comment,” Steph asked from her spot next to you. She had opted out of the bonding session last night in favor of calling Dean back in England. 

“Y/n/n said Hayley was bad at flirting,” Kyra said with a mouth full of food. Her actions earned an eye roll from you and Steph and a laugh from Caitlin.

“Why’d you say that,” the older of your tablemates questioned, having zero context to the conversation that took place without her.

“I was joking… for the most part. I don’t think she’s bad at flirting now, I just think her pickup lines were a bit cheesy when we first started dating,” you answered before continuing. “She’s way better now, but no one let me finish my sentence last night before they started making jokes.”

Caitlin and Kyra took it upon themselves to repeat some of the jokes they made last night, giggling even more each time they said something. You shook your head at their words, knowing you would have to make it up to your girlfriend sooner rather than later.

While you were recounting the events from last night to Steph, Ellie was still teasing Hayley at their table. “I need to know what some of the things you say are,” the blonde laughed, ignoring the glare your girlfriend sent her way.

“I don’t know what Y/n considers “bad at flirting” so I don't know what to tell you,” the winger groaned, trying to rack her brain for what she could have said that made you think that.

“Well, why don’t you just make your flirting extra bad, that way Y/n can see that whatever you were saying before isn’t actually terrible,” the defender offered even though she changed your wording. 

Hayley didn't respond but was considering what Ellie was saying. If you thought she was bad at flirting, then she’ll show you bad flirting. You split after breakfast, everyone heading back to their rooms to get their things for training. You didn’t see Hayley again until she got on the bus and took her usual seat next to you. 

“Did it hurt?” your girlfriend's voice pulled you from your thoughts as she sat down. You sent her a confused look, having no idea what she could be talking about. “When you fell from heaven,” she continued, a teasing grin and a raised eyebrow gracing her features.

You took a deep sigh knowing you had started something you were going to regret. You just shook your head at Hayley’s words, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t say anything else for the rest of the bus trip to the field and you thought she had just made a one-off comment.

You were proven wrong as you sat in one of the cubbies in the locker room with Hayley to your left. As you were trying one of your boots, you felt Hayley lean closer until she was almost level with your ear. “Y’know even if there was no gravity on earth, I’d still fall for you,” the winger whispered in your ear, a bright smile on her face as she held back a laugh at your shocked face.

“My god, rass..” you groaned quietly, knowing she was saying the worst pickup lines she knew to drive you crazy.

Hayley is normally extremely focused on training, always wanting to do her best even if it wasn’t a game. Except today, she was on a mission to annoy you and so far, she was succeeding. Though you weren’t entirely annoyed, you found her cheesy pickup lines cute.

Tony had started training with some stretching and a few light jogs around the pitch to get everyone ready. During each activity you were told to do, Hayley was right beside you with something cheesy to say. Her bright, teasing smile never left her face.

You found a moment of hope that you wouldn’t have to hear anymore when Tony split everyone into small groups to play a few scrimmage matches. You weren’t in the same group as Hayley which for a moment meant no new cringe pickup line being sent your way. Until your two groups were facing each other and your side got a corner. 

As you stood inside the box waiting for Steph to send the ball your way, you felt your girlfriend move to defend you. With your focus solely on the ball, Hayley took the opportunity to distract you. “I hope you know CPR because you’re taking my breath away,” the winger mumbled so only you could hear her just as Steph sent the ball into the box.

It was a perfect ball for you to head into the back of the net if you hadn’t been shocked by your girlfriend’s words. Hayley laughed as the ball was cleared by her side and patted your side as she ran past you. You shook your head to refocus and took off towards the other goal in defense. 

Training ended soon after and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You were mentally preparing yourself for more lines the entire time you changed before heading back to the bus but they never came. You thought that Hayley might have decided she had said enough cheesy things to you to last awhile but you were once again mistaken when the winger took her seat next to you.

“Aren’t you tired, baby?” Hayley’s voice was laced with what seemed like genuine concern as she sat down. 

You went to answer that you were feeling fine but she beat you to it. “You’ve been running through my head all day,” the teasing smile made its reappearance. You groaned with an eye roll at her words, knowing she wasn’t going to give up that easy.

The ride back to the hotel was spent with numerous teasing lines from your girlfriend that didn’t stop until you were back inside your separate rooms. You were rooming with Charli at this camp and she graciously offered you the shower first. You quickly took a shower so Charli could also have time to take one before team dinner. 

You offered to wait for the blonde but she knew you and Hayley were inseparable and would be walking to dinner together and she didn’t want to hold you up. Just like this morning, Hayley was waiting outside your door though this time in comfortable clothes and with wet hair. You didn’t comment on the fact that she was wearing your Arsenal hoodie. 

“Your hand looks lonely, baby. Can I hold it for you,” she giggled while holding her hand out for you to take. All you could do was laugh softly as you intertwined your hand with hers.

“Y’know… you never let me finish what I was saying last night,” you stated with a raised eyebrow as you two walked hand-in-hand down the hall.

Hayley didn’t respond verbally, but you saw the questioning look on her face. “I was saying that you were bad at flirting in the beginning, when you were too nervous to speak to me, and instead made up cheesy pickup lines. But now, you’re better because you aren’t nervous anymore,” you explained, pulling her to a stop in front of the doors.

The look on Hayley’s would have made you laugh normally but you found it adorable in the moment. Her eyes closed as her cheeks had a dark tint of red coat them. With your hands still intertwined, you pulled her smaller frame into yours, giving her a quick kiss on her lips.

“But even if you were absolutely terrible at flirting, I wouldn’t care. I’d still love you the same,” you whispered against her lips when you pulled away. 

“I would’ve made up for it in other ways,” Hayley winked as she backed up, her words meaning something way more inappropriate than anything she’s said all day.

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words, your cheeks heating up this time. You let her pull you into the dining hall, bright smiles gracing both of your faces. She might have annoyed you a tad bit with everything she said today but you wouldn’t actually complain. You meant what you had told her, you would have loved her regardless if she was the best at flirting or not.

[luvrodite]

NEW ROMANTICS JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ of course there's an attractive guy who sits a row ahead of you the one time you decide to swear off boys

You approach the beginning of the new semester with the same level of excitement reserved for doing the dishes. The only class you remotely look forward to is the literature elective you’ve chosen, a stark difference from the rest of the subjects you’ve got lined up, all incredibly dreary and tedious. The students in the arts faculty are, you find, significantly easier to tolerate than the finance bros, prep school daddy’s money boys that look right through you when you speak in class. 

Spring’s approach is near and evident this morning as you walk across campus, a gentle warmth on the back of your neck and the slow budding of jasmine outside the buildings, sweet smelling and pretty.

You dream for a moment, as you walk into the lecture theatre, of a life in which at seventeen you had chosen this. Sitting in an old, wooden hall of a lecture theatre, students in colorful and kitschy clothing, it’s nothing like the sleekness of the professions faculty. It’s a welcome change. You sit by yourself, and a wistfulness stirs up in your chest when a trio of students sit a few rows ahead of you, chatting excitedly to each other about their classes and the break. 

The reminder of your own break makes you cringe, the text messages on your phone radiating through the leather of your bag. 

It hadn’t been your greatest moment, choosing to go out with a boy from last semester’s econ class, but you’d gone through with it if only to put yourself out there. It had felt momentous at first, if only because you didn’t feel quite so wallflower-like and shy for accepting it, but in the end it had been nothing less than abysmal. The message you’ve been screening weighs heavy on your conscience, pressing into your stomach in demands of being acknowledged. 

You’d reply to it later, you vowed. But you were so swearing off dating.

You suspect that you are something of a joke to the universe, that there must be some entity somewhere that takes pleasure in your misery. The moment you make such a vow is when the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life crosses into your line of sight and you go still when he looks over at you momentarily, before sitting in the row in front of you. 

You have about two seconds to gather yourself, when the lecture begins, and it is not nearly enough time to recover. You force yourself to pull your attention to the front of the room, and away from the dark haired man that sits only a few feet away, typing diligently on his laptop. It’s ridiculous, that you’re so overcome, and more so by a mere stranger. 

But you can’t help the way your eyes slide over to him, several times, sneaking looks through your lashes at the curl of his hair and the lines of his jaw. The watch around his wrist glints as he types, large hands moving in fluid, controlled movements. 

You sigh. 

He walks into your class later that week, and you determinedly avoid eye contact, thankful that he sits at a different table even if you wish he’d sit at yours. You have very little doubt in your making a fool of yourself should he so much as look your way. No, you think. Better to keep your head down and try to enjoy the class.

It’s difficult when, going on a month later, you’ve only become more enamoured. Jason, you learn his name, is kind. It horrifies you. You might’ve stood a chance had he dismissed you completely, but you get assigned to a table together and he is attentive when you speak, so good at coaxing your opinions out of you that you don’t even realise you’ve spoken until your other tablemates reply. It unnerves you, when his mouth quirks up into a half grin, smiling at you across the desk like you’re sharing a secret, and you don’t quite know what to do with it. 

The streak of white that ribbons through his black curls, the scar that bisects his brow and jaw–all of it intrigues you. But still…you hesitate. There is comfort in not disrupting the routine you have built, even if at times it gets to be a little lonely. Better to admire from a distance, even if sometimes it feels as though maybe he thinks well of you, too.

A few weeks into the semester, when the assignments have begun to loom ahead of you, and midterms grow closer, you walk out of the classroom and hear your name called out from behind you.

It startles you, and when you turn your stomach dips at the sight of Jason slinging his bag over his shoulder as he catches up to you.

“Hi,” he says, a little breathlessly, falling into step with you. You blink, offering him an unsure smile.

“Hi,” you reply. When the both of you pause, you raise your eyebrows, stepping to the side of the busy hallway. “Is everything okay?”

His eyes widen and his face breaks into an easy grin. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I wanted to say, I thought you made some pretty good points, earlier in class. Are you doing anything, now?”

You blink at him, biting at the inside of your cheek. He waits patiently, and you’re struck by how pretty his eyes are, teal and bright, framed by thick, sooty lashes. A freckle below his eye moves with every blink.

“I was going to study,” you say, and it sounds a little embarrassing to say, when you look away and catch sight of the lawns out of a window, sun soaked and green with spring’s approach. 

Jason doesn’t seem to mind it so much, only nodding his head when you look back at him. He looks a little unsure, then, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Do you mind if I come with?” he asks and you blink again. He offers up a rueful sort of grin. “I’m writing my essay on that Keats poem you kind of mentioned in your presentation, so I wanted to pick your brain a bit on that.”

“Oh,” you say, a little stunned. The aforementioned presentation had been nerve-wracking, and you’d felt the weight of his stare throughout what felt like the longest five minutes of your life. It almost made you long for the disinterested stares of the finance students. Almost. “Yeah, no, sure.”

“Cool,” he dips his head. And then he lifts it, looking a little sheepish. “Do you mind if we make a stop to get coffee, though? I’m kind of dying.”

You can’t help a grin at the way he admits that, letting out a small laugh. “That’s fine. I need to eat something, anyway.”

The campus cafe isn’t too busy when you enter, and you’re grateful for the lack of a rush. Jason leans down to peer at the desserts on display, and looks at you. 

“What are you getting?” he asks, and you shrug, telling him your usual coffee order. He nods absentmindedly, muttering a “That sounds good.”

He steps up to the counter, and lingers by your side while you give your order. You try your very hardest not to pay him too much attention, but the brush of his jacket against your arm makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you stutter over your order. When it comes for you to pay, you’re taken aback when a hand moves in front of your own and a card that is very much not yours taps against the machine. 

You look up at Jason, baffled. “Hey! You didn’t have to do that.”

He looks dead serious and unabashedly unapologetic as he steers you off to the side to wait for your order and explains, “I’m crashing your study session, it’s only fair.”

“I said it was fine, didn’t I?” you bluster, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“You can get it next time, if you want,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “But my dad would never let me live it down if I asked for your help and then made you pay for your own coffee.”

Your indignation pauses at the mention of his dad, a little charmed by the serious wide-eyed look he gives you, shaking his head at the thought. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, then, even warmer in the face by the implication that there’ll be a next time. But it feels like the right thing to say when he nods, a slow, pleased smile blooming across his face.

The both of you find a table in a quiet corner in the library after, sunlight spilling in through the window to warm your fingers as you pull out your planner, nodding as Jason speaks in low tones about the essay topic he’d chosen for his midterm. He sits across the table from you, long legs stretched out next to yours and you’re careful as you stretch your own under the tabletop. 

For all he’d worried about crashing your study session, Jason does not speak much except to ask your thoughts on a line or two, spinning his laptop around so you can read over the lines he’s written. He’s a good writer, succinct and poetic without it reading too flowery–for an academic paper. You bite back the urge to ask him if you can read the whole paper when he’s done. It doesn’t feel so much like you’re helping him, than studying in his company. It feels a little surreal, and utterly comfortable at the same time. The silence is content, and settles over the both of you like a light cloak.

By the time you call it quits, it is late afternoon, and you feel a little drowsy. You part ways at your bus stop, climbing onto your bus after he insists on walking you there. He waits there as you board, and you offer a hand up in goodbye as the bus pulls away, pocketing the sight of his own raised in return.

The next week finds the both of you at the same table, and so does the week after that.

BLANK BLOGS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

reader in this au u r so beloved to me shy and a little lonely pouring one out for the wallflowers everywhere u r so loved (reader in my other series is probably more outgoing so i wanted to switch it up but i think she'd be friends with reader in this au)

[rottendeadpan]

hello! I'm saving up art to post something that isn't just scribbles, but until then I wanted to (finally) share this little Tagalong I'd drawn/designed a bit ago

She's a will-be-adopted white bunny girl twisted off Tagalong from Robin Hood that comes into Deuce & Faure's life when they're much older. Say... 'would have been on post-school career path for a couple years to stabilize as adults', years older. I won't be using her much (especially since I still haven't chosen a Proper name yet), but I wanted to introduce here about as properly as I could given what details are missing. In these pictures, she'd be 7 or 8

Small facts! - Was set up for foster care when she was super little, and she was happy just Spadepiano Foster until she decided for herself this is her Family now - Still in touch with birth family and on good terms; she was the youngest baby who her mom needed extra help with. Spade's soft heart for single moms had him stepping in before he could fully work out How they were gonna do this (Faure was 100% okay with it, nonblood families are commonplace with him) - She has a very Strong personality, and tries to be the leader of most situations. Despite wanting to be leader, she's quick to "let" others do things for her instead. In a spooky situation, she'd be the type to say "Yeah lets do it! You go first." - Her bunny-bag is designed after a softtoy her birthmother gave her as a baby. The original plush still exists in her bedroom, the purse is just a custom the Chantelles had made for her. - Dylla has not stopped being excited that of any child her son could've adopted, he managed to land on a White Rabbit. - Kind of a copycat; she'll watch the older kids or her parents/parents' friends do things and try to mimic it. It makes her great at the dinner table, as long as her tablemate has manners, but it can also be a problem if one of those friends happens to do something 'dangerous', cause she'll still want to follow right along.

[wolfythewitch]

can't get over how the table next to yours is anime,, and then yours is literally the iliad and the odyssey and the bible. but are they that different (especially the iliad and the odyssey)

Haha my tablemate sells kpop and valorant/overwatch(?)

We are the spectrum

[missmoonfrost]

A bad date - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic

June 5 - Gold Words: 730 Warnings: Alcohol, Threats of violence, Threats of sexual abuse

The pub is unusually crowded, as were the two they passed because of lack of room. Remus notices a woman trying to squeeze past and takes a step back to let her through, only to bump into someone behind him.

“Watch it!”

“Sorry, sorry!

How the other man manages to both steady him and avoid spilling the three beers he’s holding is a mystery. He flashes Remus a stunning smile.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you celebrating the gold?”

“The gold? Off course. Eh… Which sport?”

The man throws his head back laughing. It’s a beautiful carefree sound.

“Actually, I’m on a date.” Remus admits.

“Oh. Whit whom?”

Remus grimaces awkwardly and points to the man drunkenly arguing with the bartender.

“Oh… Wanna come sit with us?” The man points to a table where a sporty guy in glasses smiles at him and a friendly-looking redhead waves.

“Really?” Remus takes one quick look at his poor excuse of a date, that’s now lying half across the counter, and does not feel too bad about ditching him.

“This is Lily and James. I’m Sirius.”

“I’m Remus.“ He makes a half-hearted wave, places his gin and tonic on their table, and slides into the outer corner of the sofa. He doesn’t want to intrude but is thankful for somewhere to sit.

“So, where did you meet this… eh… charming guy?”

Remus chuckles at the disdainful tone. “Grindr,” he admits. His default is to lie to people he doesn’t know. But they have already seen the guy, so what’s the point?

“You can do better.” Sirius takes a big swig of his beer.

“I sure hope so.” The man in question is now singing loudly and Remus hides his face with a hand to further underline how embarrassed he is.

Sirius smiles at him. A small secretive smile that gives Remus butterflies.

The three soon dives into a discussion about the newly won match. Remus is still not sure which sport, but he prefers quietly watching his unexpected savior over getting involved in the conversation anyway.

His shiny black hair is held in a loose bun, that a few strands artfully has escaped. He wears a plain white button-down with the arms loosened just enough to give a glimpse of tattooed forearms. A pentagram around his neck and earrings all the way around the cartilage makes him stand out. As if the sharp features and flawless skin of his face aren’t enough.

The peace is broken when the buffoon unfortunately being Remus' date spots him and promptly staggers over.

“C’mhere. Let’s go!” He demands and pulls briskly at Remus' arm.

To avoid disturbing his tablemates too much Remus stands up and takes a step while apologising. “Look, it’s not working out. I’m sorry.”

“Wadd’you mean?”

“Just… I’m not interested anymore. Have a good night.”

“Well, I’m not done with ya.”

The tone makes Remus shudder despite the hot air in the crowded room. He stumbles backward and grips the table top behind him with both hands.

“Is there a problem?” Sirius’ voice rings crystal clear over the murmur. In the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius exchange a look with James and start rolling up his sleeves in a very deliberate fashion.

“M’not talkin to you, am I? Just want my boy’ere. He's mine.”

He smiles a greedy smile, making Remus' mouth go dry. Remus closes his eyes and shakes his head.

Sirius gets on his feet with James not far behind. “Leave him alone.”

“Just ‘cause you wanna fuck’m!”

“Maybe I do.” Sirius replays calmly as he gathers the front of his shirt in his fist and drags him close to his now intimidatingly cold face. “That’s none of your business. Now leave.”

The arse finally seems to grasp the threat and totters off.

“Thank you,” Remus whispers. He sits back down and tries not to shake too much. Everyone is quiet and Remus anxiously wonders if they are mad at him for ruining their night.

“Bloody hell” Sirius whispers.

One by one, they all start laughing from dispersed tension. James buys them all a round of beers, deaf to Remus' protests. Sirius starts making one joke after the other, intent on making Remus laugh.

And when he two beers later walks home with his new bodyguard Sirius’ arm around his shoulders, he feels like it’s he who won the gold.

[fairykazu]

top six things i hate about you ft. scaramouche

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, modern au, it goes from hs to college (in the order of the reasons) | mlist

if anyone knows you, they'll know the list, the list of top five things you hate about the infamous straight-a, cocky student named scaramouche raiden. you and he go way back when he was used to be called kunikuzushi... well, actually, when he went by kabukimono. scaramouche is his new brand now. you hate how he was a sweetheart to a "badass" delinquent, hanging with the group that named itself, the "fatui". whatever that means, you just hate the aftermath of your former best friend, scaramouche.

the list might be petty but hey, it's definitely a list. the list officially started from in middle school when he began to mix with the bad crowd. his saccharine voice that used to talk sweetly to you as you two were best friends changed into something that could only be described as egotistic. whatever group he's in then, it made him think that he's the shit. when really, he was the shittiest friend in eighth grade. only a sweetheart when you two were alone but the rudest boy you'll ever meet in front of his buddies.

number one: you hate the way he talks.

scaramouche talks in such a condescending voice, it sounds too whiny and it's so annoying when he's near your ear. he always acts like he knows better than you and sometimes, you wish someone would put him in his place for the satisfying look of defeat adorned on his face.

you remember once when he saw you lose an academic event against him. after putting up his thankful facade with the staff and the audience, he walked up to you. your friends were comforting you, saying that you got second place. yes, second place to scaramouche. he said your name as one of your friends, kokomi, gave him a dirty look and the other ignored him, averting their attention to you. you looked in his way and he said something like "you snooze you lose" or something so elementary to you. regardless of if it was or not, it still pissed you off.

number two: his smile

you couldn't even classify his smile as a smile when it's always been a smirk. like he was a doll and the only face mold he has only been a smirk. you wish you could remember when he smiled so brightly you used to engrave it into your brain and dream of scaramouche being yours. alas, he's an asshole who's only emote is to laugh like his brain has been removed and chuckle like a manic or smirk whenever something oh-so-great has happened to him.

number three: the way he stares

you two somehow managed to be in the same two classes together each year. it's like he pays the school to sit near you too. this one time in class, miss linyang's liyuean history class, each table was a set of two and had to be coed. you were paired up with a tablemate named kazuha kaedehara. he was very cute as you could remember. but everytime you and kazuha had interacted, you could feel daggers being stared behind you. each time you turned around, it was scaramouche and he turned to his own tablemate, haypasia, pretending to be doing classwork.

during the second semester of history, you were paired up with another student, chongyun, who was a bit quiet but had amazing work ethic. each time you two was working together, chongyun would always look terrified and guess who was behind you two....

scaramouche.

it's actually so sickening how he manages to annoy you. always stuck in your head, rent free. when you brought this up to kokomi, she laughed at you a little and asked a question that annoyed you just a little.

"name, don't you think these points are petty? are you sure it's out of pure hatred?"

you and kokomi were sitting in your bedroom while you debriefed midway through the list. she sipped on her tea quietly as you paused. are this pure hate or... wait? why are you second guessing yourself? kokomi doesn't know what happened to the two of you and why is she even asking that question? "pfft, kokomi, of course, it's a tad-"

kokomi placed her tea down on the nightstand and raised a brow.

"- petty to list these as actual reasons to hate him. but i'm defintely sure these are out of pure... uhm, hatred. nothing else."

"if you say so."

number four: you hate it when he lies

before the identity changes, you remember how his mother lost her twin sister, miss makoto. how that situation of his life has been flipped upside down and how that affected how he treated you. not pinning this hatred on his mother, of course. but you wish things were different.

or at least, there could been a universe you two were still buddy-buddy despite it all. when you asked him what happened, he told you everything was fine in a sweetish voice, so you believed him. even though, you knew it was a lie. you tried to coax the truth out of him, but he never broke it to you.

only when you asked his stepmother, yae miko, she told you the truth out and plain. however, she only told you because she believed you were his girlfriend, and you deserved the reason why he started to ghost you. but you two?

it kind of makes you laugh a little that she believed you two were together. kind of stupid, isn't it? by the time you found out, it was too late. scaramouche ghosted you for a newer crowd and it was fine. you didn't really need him anyway.

number five: you hate it when he's not around

as much you didn't want it to, your routine wasn't the same without him. his presence lingered in the school hallways, in your house, near your bed and next to you. you could only live off of glimpses of him in school and sometimes looking at your archived posts on instagram. sometimes when the thoughts get to you, you go through series of denial again. but you managed to stop yourself from actually sending a text to scaramouche or contacting ever.

you settled for less of him in your life because that's what he has given you. but was it worth it? you don't want to second guess it because if you do, regret would seep into you and linger in your brain until you rot to death.

well, kokomi was right. none of these are out of hatred. there isn't just five reasons you hate him, there's a sixth which was:

number six: you hate it that you don't actually hate him, just miss him

school was over and the summer has started, maybe, it's time to get over this. your group of friends suggested that you should get out more often. during the school year, you were swamped with your job at the cat's tail, studying and responsibilities were piled up. eventually you did fell for their nagging and had a one day off, you spent it with kokomi, yelan and kaeya. in the mall, debriefing sessions and just overall, quality time. however, yelan brought up the fact she was invited to a party hosted by the infamous itto. but you knew if it was hosted by itto, it's likely to seen scaramouche again. not like you couldn't handle it, it's just that... yeah, you couldn't handle seeing his face again. in the tevyat uni, you could because it was school. but out of school, it's over.

yelan saw the look of your face fall as she sighed, "name, you need to get out more. just because the one who could not be named is going to be there doesn't mean you shouldn't know."

kaeya agreed with yelan, "why are you letting a man get in way in fun?" you knew this is how your friends were going to gang up on you. kokomi added, "and we haven't seen you outside of your dorms or even videocalls. please, name, we could have so much fun at the party."

you replied, "just give me three reasons to go." the three of them made eye contact with each other just before blabbering out reasons why you should go.

"you could stop stalking him on instagram!"

"okay, low blow, yelan." you huffed.

"you could finally pull a guy!"

"hanging out with us, the gang???"

"talking to people face to face instead of text to text?" "you keep reposting sad shit on tiktok, it's not healthy to surround yourself with that negativity."

you won't lie some of these things do hurt to hear and they're right. you should go out. it doesn't help being depressed everyday when you only got two months of the summer left. "alright alright. i'll come."

they celebrate with a cheer as you were thinking if you would regret this decision.

you already regret it and the emotion settled on your shoulder. you're at the party, in a corner, and somehow, your friends who preached being by your side disappeared into the crowd who was raving to the music. you were left alone, holding a red solo cup. since it was actually shinbou and yelan's house, not itto's, you knew your way around the house. you saw people making out half-hazardly in the hallways, you winced at the sight of that as you made it out to upstairs, near yelan's beloved koi fish tank. a familiar face saw you, you nearly flinched at the indigo eyes but alas, it wasn't him. it was venti, already tipsy, holding an empty bottle in hand.

"aha! name, i knew you would be there." he said, walking to you, holding onto your shoulder for balance. "c'mere, do you wanna play a party game? you don't have to, of course, but you look a little bored here, standing near..." he paused to look at the pinky and blue colored fish and a white pearlescent fish. "mimi and gojo. woah, how sad was yelan when she was watching jjk?"

venti wasn't a bad person but you knew he was heavily associated with scaramouche. you didn't really want to see him even though your friends encouraged him to face him because he's just a man or something. you ignored the offer for the game and replied with a short answer, "yeah, she was really sad about the anime."

he nodded as he took a tiny swing of the bottle before realizing the bottle was actually empty. he changed the subject back to the game, "anywoo, are you joining us in seven minutes in heaven? or speculating?"

you knew that he wouldn't give up on the offer. he's quite stubborn. you gave in, "the latter."

"alright, follow me." he gave you a cheeky smile.

you saw familiar faces like kazuha and he waved at you. you smiled back. the rest of the people sitting in the circle didn't look familiar to you. venti laughed, "whoops, guys, this is name and name, this is xiao, the star twins, aether and lumine, yoimiya, nilou, albedo and so-and-so!" he placed the green tinted bottle down in the center of the circle, "we are playing spin the bottle."

you glanced at each person in the circle. xiao looked like he was forced to be there. lumine looked indifferent to the situation while aether was giggly... tipsy? you weren't sure why venti said so-and-so but you're sure scaramouche wouldn't play a game like this. after a couple of rounds, only some of the people came out disheveled while the others were just getting to know each other. you feel like this game might be a set up, but you brushed it aside. feeling the fomo get to you, you joined the game. venti cheered as you laugh a little. it was your turn to spin, and you landed on...

the guy venti called so and so. something is wrong, you thought, as venti pushed you two into a random room together and locked it from the inside. you flickered the lights on and the other person in the room looked in your direction. you two were on the opposite sides, the gap between you guys could be compared with the sun and planet uranus. you couldn't make it out who it was in the room with you as he wore clothes that covered any features of him. you just know who it is from the bottom of your heart, "scaramouche."

he chuckled just the way you hate it. how it gets stuck in your head and forever played in your head, how it picked at you. how irritating. "took you long enough, name."

"you're not the type to play this game." you replied, your voice was not warm like it was before outside of this room. it was cold like when you lashed out on him long time ago. he doesn't reply for a while until he took off his mask and retorted, "how would you know? we haven't talked in a while."

"'a while'? it was highschool. that's more than just a while."

he huffed, "whatever."

"'whatever'!" you mimicked his voice. "you're the same guy in highschool."

you noticed how your words pricked at him. you saw the look on his face before, he's riled up. you've seen this face on him before but never as expressive as this. he grunted, "i've changed." you let out a sarcastic laugh, "yeah right."

the room was silent. you were sure these seven minutes might go on for decades now. you were waiting for the time to be over. he broke the ice, "you know what? why are you always pissed to see me?"

"what?"

"you think i'm stupid? why do you always annoyed when our eyes meet or whatever."

"you seriously don't remember?" you're in disbelief. how does this asshole not remember anything? is this how he lives life blissfully.

he rolled his eyes as you clenched your fist. you will knock out his eyes out first before he utters some bullshit excuse. "i remember that you betrayed me first."

his sentence made you confused. betrayed him first? what kind of drugs is he on? baffled, you questioned,

"what?"

he doesn't even flinch but just looked at you with the same face you gave him earlier, "you broke the promise."

"well, you ghosted me and never explained why!" you replied. the gap between you and the indigo haired male slowly got lessen. he opened his mouth until he noticed that you were agitated. he closed it and inhaled. "okay, i'll tell you why i did that and i'll tell you about he promise. don't try to figure out what it is. it was pretty stupid."

"your... emotions aren't stupid, scaramouche."

"it's fine. i ghosted you because i didn't want you to see me at my weakest and i thought you deserved better than me."

"i don't understand."

"i didn't understand it either but i guess... nevermind."

"what???" he changed the subject before you could interject. "the promise was to be together. i guess, you didn't break the promise. i did. i'm sorry for what i did. i think..."

"you think?" you motioned with your hand to tell him to get to the point.

"i think i have feelings for you, name."

"wait what?" were you really getting a confession from your ex best friend right now? if he was really someone you hated, then why were you flustered? "repeat that again?"

"i have feelings for you." you reached for the phone in your backpocket and asked him to repeat it. he saw your phone and refused to tell it again. you wanted to laugh. but you couldn't. your feelings are all over the place and even though, you knew in your heart, you like him back. that kokomi was right. you never hated him and only said so to protect yourself. you couldn't bring yourself to forgive him.

"as much as i accept your feelings, i can't." you noticed how scaramouche looked like a sad, wet cat. "but if we become friends again and iiff one thing leads to another." he interuppted you and smiled. but not in his weird smirking way but in his sweet way, "i understand."

"okay."

the sweet moment between you two ended as soon as venti knocked on the door, "that's very sweet that you two finally made up but get out, it's been longer than seven minutes!"