#they would think of each other as stupid and think they are better than the other

[swanimagines]

Hi! Could you write a short Eddie Munson x reader blurb where it's just morning cuddles and kisses in his bed 🥺 Please and thank you!

A/N: Makeout scenes always feel weird to write to me, but I did my best haha 😅

GOOD MORNING METALHEAD

When the first flickers of light penetrated through the windows of Eddie’s trailer, it illuminated your and Eddie’s sleeping bodies. Tangled in blankets and in each other’s bodies, his bed far too small for two people, but you still, somehow, had managed to fit.

You were the one stirring first, squinting to make sense of the alarm clock beside you and groaned — you should get up within fifteen minutes and leave for school. At least, if you wanted to take care of your hygiene before leaving.

You turned your head to look at your sleeping boyfriend and sighed, lifting yourself up to your forearms. You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and stared at his face for a moment. You knew you should get up already, your teachers already weren’t thinking too fondly of you two as you had lost the track of time and (more or less accidentally) skipped classes because of making out somewhere.

But you just couldn’t help it, looking at Eddie’s face, laying there, in warmth… it just always pulled you towards staying with him and pushing your responsibilities back for him. Someone might say he’s bad company because of that, but it was really just teenage love.

“Mm, you’re staring at me,” he suddenly murmured, making you flinch slightly and sit up straighter.

“I didn’t know you’re awake.”

He opened his eyes a crack. “I had the most amazing dream,” he murmured, blinking at you lazily. “I was in my bed with a literal angel.”

You pouted. “Disappointed it’s just me?”

He snorted. “Why would I be disappointed? My dream turned out to be better than reality.”

You felt yourself blushing and bit your lower lip. “You’re such a sap.”

He shifted, raising himself up a little to lean his head on his hand, before he grinned. “Only for you, baby.”

You were quiet for a moment, just basking in the morning warmth, before you sighed. “We should really get up.”

He pouted. “Don’t ruin the mood.”

“I wouldn’t, unless we weren’t an inch away from failing in our classes again.”

He flopped back down onto his bed, pulling you against him. “Eh, we still have our whole lives ahead of us. Being left on class won’t hurt just yet.”

You didn’t argue with that, even though you knew that way of thinking was madness. But you couldn’t help but think how in his arms, your grades didn’t really matter.

You felt his lips trailing down your jaw, so you tilted your head to return the affection, kissing the corner of his mouth before he pressed his lips against yours. Soon, you had rolled over, your lips moving together and you were giggling every time you parted. You threw your other leg across his while his hand trailed up and down your bare back, slightly pulling you closer.

It was always as addicting, kissing with him. Time always seemed to fly by, which wasn’t always a good thing, but you at least pretended not to care.

It took a while, and your positions changed at least ten times before you finally parted to glance at the clock again.

The school was starting in twenty minutes, no chance of making it in time. You groaned and flopped back against the pillow. “Shit. We should really stop doing this.”

Eddie snorted again. “Kiss each other stupid each morning you’re over? Not a chance.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know I sound like I’m nagging, but it’s really messing with our school and possibly our future through that. Teachers aren’t going to take ‘our lips were glued together for an hour, sorry’ for an explanation.”

He hummed, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Let’s make up another explanation, an acceptable one, and make out for one hour more?”

You should have said no. Everything in you screamed a no. It wouldn’t be a good idea.

But, as expected, you were in his arms half an hour later too. Being late wasn’t that bad, at least if your stupid lovesick teenager brain was asked over your reasonable part of your brain…

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[sugusama]

hii, i loved your Katsuki fic and wanted to submit a request. katsuki x american gf reader, where he’s never met her but they try to talk throughout the day by texting or calling despite time difference. then they meet at the end of the fic as a surprise for katsuki (still UA au please). tyy :)

꒰🫧꒱﹒ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ﹒⟢ featuring: katsuki bakugo ‧₊˚ . ꣑୧

sypnosis ☆ bakugo never expected to fall for a girl halfway across the world… especially one with a six-hour time difference and a laugh that lives in his head rent-free. between classes at ua and her busy days in america, they text, call, and fall a little deeper with every message. but what happens when time zones and screens aren’t enough anymore? ⸝⸝ ᰔ ̫ ᰔ⸝⸝

content warnings ☆ fluff, comfort, a little angsty, ua based, black female reader, she/her used, lowercase intended, not proofread, bakugo has broken english, italics = japanese ๑•́ ₃ •̀๑

word count ☆ 1.1k

authors note ☆ hello hello! thank u so much for ur kindness 🌼 here you go! i hope you like this one just as much! if u would like anything else let me know!!

katsuki didn’t want to be part of any dumb online chat.

he hated talking for no reason. hated random people. especially hated wasting time when he could be training or doing something that mattered.

so when denki shoved his phone in his face during break and said, “bro, you gotta try this,” katsuki’s immediate response was no.

“it’s a server,” denki explained, grinning. “for, like, international hero fans. some of them are trying to get into schools like u.a. and they ask the weirdest shit.”

“not my problem.”

“c’mon. you can mess with them. they’ll lose their minds when you answer.”

“fuck off.”

but that night, katsuki couldn’t sleep. his shoulders ached from drills. his head was too loud with thoughts he didn’t want to think. and his phone, tucked under his pillow, kept buzzing with notifications from that stupid server denki added him to.

he stared at the screen for a while. thumb hovering over the app. then—he opened it.

a flood of posts. some boring. some weird. some flat-out wrong.

and then one message caught his eye.

|“so like… do students at u.a. really spar? like actually hit each other?”

the username was unfamiliar. your profile picture was a blurry sky—probably taken from your phone. and your bio just said “sleepy. always.”

he stared at your message longer than he meant to as he tried to decipher it.

then typed, slowly:

|“yes. we fight. real hits.”

a full six minutes passed.

he didn’t think you’d respond.

but you did.

|“wait WHAT. like actually?? is that even allowed???”

he snorted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

| “yes. is real. allowed. strong hits.”

your response came quicker this time.

| “dude! i’m american. our schools make us wear helmets to run in gym class. this is unfair.”

he let out something close to a laugh—just a small huff of breath—but it surprised him.

he didn’t answer. didn’t need to.

he already bookmarked your name.

he didn’t expect to hear from you again.

but the next night, just after dinner and before study hour, you were there.

| “hi again, explosion boy. (you got a better name?)”

he stared at the screen for a second before replying:

| “bakugo.”

| “ooh. that sounds cool. you sound cool. are you?”

he hesitated, then typed:

| “yes.”

you sent back the laughing emoji. then:

| “humble too.”

he didn’t know why it made his chest feel tight.

from there, it became… a thing.

late-night messages. voice notes. pictures.

you sent him one of your lunch—a sandwich and chips, nothing fancy—but you added,

| “i ate thinking of you. does that make me weird?”

he didn’t answer for a full hour.

then wrote:

| “no. i like that.”

you replied with a blushing emoji.

he stared at it too long.

he never liked phone calls. they were too much. too close.

but your voice was—soft. kind. playful in a way that made his chest ache.

your first voice note was just:

“hi. it’s weird hearing myself talk to you, but i wanted you to know what i sound like.”

and he listened to it.

three times.

the first time just to hear your tone. the second to understand every word. the third because… he missed it, even if it had only been a minute long.

his reply was rough. hesitant.

“hi. uh. i… don’t like talk. much. but… i like yours. voice.”

you sent back:

| “that was the sweetest thing ever, actually.”

after that, you started calling.

not every day. not long.

just enough.

he’d lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, half-listening to your rambles about work and siblings and the weather. he didn’t talk much. didn’t know how to say all the things he was feeling in a language that always made his tongue trip.

but you didn’t mind.

you’d say, “you don’t have to talk. just stay on.”

so he did.

it happened slow.

your voice became part of his routine.

your good morning texts came while he was getting ready for class. your “i’m heading to bed, katsuki” messages always landed when he was on patrol.

you started sending pictures of things you loved. a book. your porch light. a sunset from your window.

he started sending them back.

once, he sent you a picture of his hand after training—bandaged, calloused, rough. and you wrote:

| “ i hope you rest, even when you think you don’t need it.”

and that line just… stayed.

for days.

he reread it during class. during silence. during nights when his head was too full and nothing felt steady.

he didn’t say he missed you.

but he did.

quietly. constantly.

time difference was cruel.

he hated that you were waking up when he was falling asleep.

he hated how sometimes he’d send a long message and forget what he wrote by the time you answered.

he hated how his chest twisted when he saw your name and couldn’t respond.

but you always made it easy.

“ i know you’re tired. you don’t have to talk. i just wanted to say i’m thinking of you… i’m still here. still cheering for you. always.”

you made it feel like you were closer than you were.

and yet, the space between you ached more with every week.

he didn’t notice when he fell.

not until kirishima asked him why he was smiling at his phone.

not until his chest ached when you didn’t text.

not until he caught himself learning english phrases just to tell you things the right way.

he didn’t tell anyone.

not even you.

but he sent you a voice note at midnight, after a long day, voice hoarse and quiet:

“i… i like talk to you. always. i wait for you. even when late. just so you know.”

you didn’t reply with a voice note.

you replied with a text:

| “me too, katsuki. every day.”

he didn’t sleep that night.

it came suddenly, the text message read:

| “if i ever came to japan… would you wanna meet me?”

he sat up in bed like he’d been punched.

heart pounding.

he typed.

deleted.

typed again.

finally, he sent:

| “yes. i want. i wait for you.”

and then he waited.

one hour.

then two.

you didn’t reply that night.

and he told himself it was okay.

even if it wasn’t.

two weeks.

that’s how long it took.

two weeks of silence. of almost texting you. of wondering if he’d said something wrong.

then—midnight.

his phone buzzed.

| “come outside kats <3 ”

his hands shook.

he ran.

didn’t care who saw. didn’t care that he was barefoot.

and there you were.

standing at the gate. hoodie on. suitcase by your side. scarf he mailed you wrapped around your neck.

you smiled.

“hey.”

he didn’t say anything. just stared.

you stepped forward. nervous.

“you’re taller than i thought,” you teased.

he swallowed hard. voice rough.

“you’re… real.”

you laughed. tears in your eyes.

“told you i’d come.”

the aching, the quiet missing, the longing—

and then he held you.

and everything he’d been holding in— spilled into the way he buried his face in your neck and breathed like he could finally exhale.

[lopata-four]

Androw Farman and my OC — Rosalie Piper 💖

Rosalie is 20 years old and lives during the time of Jaehaerys I. She is the younger sister of Melony Piper. The one who was Rhaena's best friend and whose family was the most active in supporting Aegon the Uncrowned. Rosalie is very gentle, kind, but at the same time cowardly and not very smart. She can't lie, can't stand arguments. She's used to closing herself off and ignoring people who make fun of her or otherwise offend her. She can often be absent-minded and despite the fact that she knows manners and etiquette well, Rosalie sometimes has a hard time being in high society. She can say/do something inappropriate or be disrespectfully honest. But not because of insolence, but because of her mindset. Many in the family consider her simply stupid. Her hobbies are playing the flute, walking through flower gardens and meadows, making wreaths and watching birds. She says that sometimes when she plays the flute, the birds sing along with her. She is a simple, somewhat naive girl who takes the criticism she feels from her family hard (due to her lack of intelligence, late marriage age and excess weight).

All of these things are considered by those around her and by herself to be shortcomings, obstacles to a successful marriage. That is why Rosalie was sent to Dragonstone in the hope that Rhaena's patronage would help her get married sooner.

But Rosalie obviously never joined Rhaena's group of friends. They naturally considered her strange and stupid, but princess felt a duty to the Pipers and tried to avoid conflicts. Even when she noticed how sincerely sympathetic Rosalie was to her husband. Rhaena's friends noted that they were quite worthy of each other. Two pathetic, narrow-minded people who absurdly bore the name of a noble family. Two humiliated and love-deprived souls.

Androw has been surrounded by people all his life who were better than him in some way. His sister, brother, wife and many others. They were braver, stronger, smarter, more influential and simply more loved by the people. And Androw was always worse compared to them. He acutely felt his shortcomings and suffered humiliation.

That is why I think that Rosalie suits him. Because she is not an outstanding person at all. She is just as simple, cowardly, kind. She and Androw are approximately on the same level, they have the same experience of bullying, they understand each other perfectly. They can support each other, since both are sensitive and empathic people.

I apologize for possible mistakes, I rely on Google Translate.

[rafesed]

10:36

“i didn’t think you’d fall in love you’re just a warm body to hold at night when im feeling all alone”

warnings: fwb, mentions of sex, angst

it started off as a drunken mistake. you were just supposed to have fun and get wasted with your girlfriends. nothing could’ve prepared you for what came next.

you woke up the first morning groggy with a headache that felt like your head was splitting open. your head hurt so bad you didn’t even register the warm weight of someone draped on top of you.

you glance over to see non other than rafe cameron resting his head on your bare chest, arm slung over your torso, his soft breaths echoing through his room. the sheets were warm and soft with the scent of expensive cologne and laundry detergent. you took a deep inhale of his scent before sliding out from under him and quickly putting on your clothes.

you knew that rafe cameron didn’t do relationships. you didn’t want to be the clingy girl that sleeps with a guy and falls in love immediately. of course you had a little crush on him, i mean- look at the man! he was six foot two with muscle and a smile that could make any girl topple over with desire.

you took your bike and rode it back to your house where you collapsed onto your bed and fell back asleep for the remainder of the day.

that’s how it all started.

then, it happened again. simple “u up?” texts and lingering gazes from across the room. you tried to tell yourself that it meant nothing. that you would be an idiot to think he would ever want anything more than your body. logically, your brain was yelling at your heart to shut up.

you two would spent hours tangled in the sheets sharing each others body warmth while talking about everything from your childhood to stupid embarrassing moments that occurred when you were drunk. at this point he knew you better than anyone. you had shared the deepest most vulnerable secrets with him that you hadn’t even thought about telling anyone else.

one night, you were hanging out with your friend, laughing about something she said while swirling your wine in your glass. you glance up and see rafe. you two spare lingering glances before you decided to get up and say hello. you excuse yourself from the table and approached him.

“hey” you smile, kissing him on the cheek

“hello pretty girl” he replied with his classic smirk

“just came to say hi and see if you were free later to hang out?” you asked

“yeah for sure. i’ll text you” rafe answered

over the span of the few months you and rafe had been sleeping together, it stopped being about the sex. you two enjoyed spending time with each other. you would meet up with the intentions of hooking up but ended up talking for hours at the beach until the sky turned pink with the sunrise.

you walked back to the table where your friend sat giving you a knowing look. you blushed and looked down at the table reassuring her that it wasn’t a big deal. it was something… casual. at least, that’s what you kept trying to tell yourself. the way your heart beats out of your chest and butterflies erupt in your stomach say otherwise.

as much as you tried to deny it, you had fallen for rafe cameron and you couldn’t shake the hope that he felt the same way for you.

you didn’t think that you were delusional. it was obvious to anyone who looked that you two had a special connection. you had even been referred to as a couple when the lady at the store said, “you two are a beautiful couple.” and neither of you corrected her.

you were shaken from your thoughts by the sound of a loud, dramatic, fake giggle. your head turns and your heart sinks at the sight before you.

rafe, his arm wrapped around another girl, whispering in her ear while she looked up at him with those stupid “fuck me” eyes.

you felt your lips tug into a frown, waiting for him to push her off and walk away. but he doesn’t. he invites her to sit down and they spend the remainder of the night talking and laughing with one another.

your vision blurred as you felt hot, salty tears roll down your cheeks. you apologize to your friend before quickly leaving the venue.

you cry your whole way home. scolding yourself for even thinking of the possibility of anything more happening with you and rafe.

after a few hours of you grieving the loss of the spark you both shared, your phone lights up with a notification.

“hey, u wanna meet up?”

you open the message before turning your phone off, forgetting that your read receipts were on.

approximately thirty minutes later, you hear a knock on your door. you padded down the stairs and swing the door open to find rafe standing before you.

“you didn’t answer my text” he accuses

“my phone was off sorry” you reply shortly

“you read the text. i’m not a dumbass”

“well you were having fun tonight so i assumed you would be busy tonight with whoever that was” you said shortly, implying that the conversation was over.

“what is this? this attitude? where is it coming from? did i do something?” rafe questions

“i don’t know. maybe you should go ask your little girlfriend” you tried shutting the door before he shot his hand out, blocking the door from closing.

“what is going on? talk to me”

“am i a joke to you?” you ask, your voice trembling despite your nonchalant front.

“no? what? i have fun with you! you’re my friend”

friend.

your heart aches at the label.

“i’m so fucking stupid. i really thought you had feelings for me. that you wanted me. i should’ve never started something with you,”

“i thought you knew that we were just fucking around! we were just having fun you know? if i had known you’d catch feelings i would’ve-“

you cut him off, “you would’ve what? never taken me home?”

“listen, you know i don’t do relationships”

“i know, but i can’t be casual. i thought i could but i cant. so please just… just leave and don’t text me or call me. please don’t make this harder than it has to be” you sigh

“i don’t want us to be over. i have fun with you! i like you i just… can’t be with you. i can’t be with anyone.”

“well i can’t be ‘friends’ with someone who just thinks of me as a warm body to hold at night when you’re feeling all alone”

that was the last thing you said before you shut the door on him.

and this time, he let the door close.

[turnaboutfix]

Hey! Your blog makes me very happy, I love the relationship Phoenix has with Maya. However, I have a question about them in canon that I'm not sure who else to ask, it looks like you know a lot abt them and it felt like you were the person to go to. I hope you don't mind.

This sweet relationship they have, is it really like that in canon?

I've played the first trilogy and I really don't get the impression they're as close in canon as fanon says they are...?

Phoenix thinks rather poorly of Maya a lot. In 2-4 despite being so worried about her, he thinks he'd need to explain what a watch is to her, unlike Pearl, which kinda implies he thinks Maya's dumb. That's the case in which he's most worried about her too.

He ignores her during most of aa1, he's constantly body shaming her internally and out loud too. He calls her a glutton after she was starved for two days.

In 1-3 Maya's sprite has tears when Sal Manella harasses her and Phoenix ignores her too. In 3-2 he doesn't do anything again when Larry gets pervy with her, and in 3-3 he essentially offers her up so Kudo can perv on her too.

It isn't until 3-3 too that Phoenix realises Maya has a lot to think abt. Despite all she's gone through and him thinking to himself that Maya always gives him crucial evidence in 2-4 he thinks she's stupid or immature all the time.

I know he cares abt her cause he does a lot to save her a lot of times. But is the bond that deep if all the times Maya isn't in deadly danger (most of the time) Phoenix thinks so little of her out loud sometimes?

At the end of 3-5 Miles has a better understanding of why Maya is acting strong than Phoenix. Miles doesn't even know Maya that well by comparison, and he knows her so much better.

Don't get me wrong, I love Nick and Maya. But I don't see their relationship in canon as close as it is in fanon. I left the games with the impression that Phoenix is fond of Maya as Mia's little sister and a nuisance.

Ig I'm missing something. Ig I'm taking everything too literally or something, because I've never seen anyone share this view. I'm asking for your interpretation of their canon (game canon) relationship, since you have a better grasp on them than me. Thx

Hello there! I'm glad my blog makes you happy and I'm very flattered you came to me to ask this question.

Fanon certainly tends to mold these relationships into idealized, nuclear-family archetypes. This doesn't really match the games, but it brings a lot of people catharsis and I think that's great.

As for me, I don't know if I'd describe their relationship as "sweet". On top of what you've pointed out, Maya dunks on Phoenix's looks ("You're not very photogenic, are you?"), hits him with objects, insults his intelligence, what have you.

But on the other hand, they believe in each other. They stick together during their cases and give each other a push when they need it. Maya throws herself before MVK's taser. Phoenix rushes across a burning bridge. Maya gets herself arrested for contempt of court to help Phoenix save Edgeworth. Phoenix rushes to the train station so he can tell her that she's worth more than her spiritual power to her face. Phoenix nearly throws away his morals to save her life when she is kidnapped. Maya tells him to prove Engarde guilty knowing that it would mean her demise.

If I can talk about the Japanese version of the game for a moment, just the way they call each other illustrates their closeness. Phoenix calls her "Mayoi-chan", the "-chan" honorific being one of familiarity. But what's even more revealing is what Maya calls Phoenix, which is "Naruhodo-kun", what Mia addressed Phoenix as his boss. The "-kun" honorific being familiar as well as describing someone of lower rank. Phoenix never corrects this, and they call each other those names all the way through into Spirit of Justice.

And "close" doesn't mean "perfect". It doesn't even mean they don't go for months or even years without seeing each other. But they're always on each other's minds. Phoenix can't even get himself to work because Maya is away for training. While Maya is training, she thinks about Phoenix, that she'll return to him as what she believes is an improved version of herself, despite Phoenix telling her that she's already valuable.

This multifaceted nature of their relationship is what is interesting and endearing to me. They have flaws, a therapist would probably raise their eyebrows, but at the end of the day, they have a unique and firm bond.

And I love them, your honor.

[sometimes-prompts]

105 RP Starter quotes from The Locked Tomb!

"Life is too short and love is too long."

"Go loud."

"What an entirely haunted time to be alive."

"Love and freedom don’t coexist."

"Well, I tried, and therefore no one should criticize me."

"The truth is, we're all just a bunch of weirdos trying to figure out how to exist in this bizarre universe."

"Strike me down. You’ve won."

 "I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand."

"You are my only friend. I am undone without you."

“Death first to vultures and scavengers.”

"It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take loved away."

"What can I say? I love a little gall on gall."

"Things are, frankly, going to be antonyms of fine."

"If you do not find yourself a galaxy, it is not so bad to find yourself a star."

 “You got the face of a rat and the body of a dead person.”

"Ghosts and You Die is my middle name!”

“Anyone can learn to fight. Hardly anyone learns to think.”

“You skull faced fruitcake.”

“I might lie down and see if this fixes itself.”

“Once you’ve stepped in, you’re in. This isn’t Hokey Pokey.”

“There’s no skeleton like the home skeleton, you know? I have so many happy memories there.”

“We do bones motherfucker!”

“Genuinely sad, bordering on very funny.”

“Life’s a bitch.”

“Cows watch sunsets.”

“Cows exhibit mourning behaviors for other cows.”

“Cows have best friends and complex social relationships.”

“This is a cult.”

“Chickenshits don’t get beer.”

"NOW isn't the TIME! You DUMB, HILARIOUS BITCH!"

"When I am in heaven I will remember your mouth, and when you roast down in hell I think you will remember mine."

"Stop wearing that pillowcase any time you like.."

"Why, your fist is so big and my asshole is so tiny."

"All I ever wanted you to do was eat me!"

"I can’t keep my promise, because the entire point of me is you."

“I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it.”

“We were children – playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water... Thinking it was space.”

“I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.”

“I’m boobs and hair and talk and a hell of a sword hand.”

“I ate peanuts, discreetly, the once.”

"The cold death to anyone who looks at me in pity; the heat death to anyone who looks to me in amusement; the quick death to anyone who looks at me in fear."

“Your heart is a party for five thousand nails."

“Someday I’ll die and get buried in the ground and you can take it up with me then."

"Bury me next to you in that unmarked grave."

"We knew that was the only hope we ever had–that we would live to see it through."

"Oh, we’ll still hate each other, my dear, we have hated each other too long and too passionately to stop."

"My bones will rest easy next to your bones."

“Why was I born so attractive?”

“Then we’re all dead, [name], but let’s bring hell first!"

“You were so afraid anyone might touch you. You had always been afraid of anyone touching you, and had not known your longing flinch was so obvious to those who tried it.”

"You hating me always meant more than anyone else in this hot and stupid universe loving me. At least I’d had your full attention."

“I didn’t think this was the time for dirty talk, but I can roll with it-”

“We had something very nearly perfect... the perfect friendship, the perfect love. I cannot imagine reaching the end of this life and having any regrets, so long as I had been allowed to experience being your[s].”

"That’s not a defence force, that’s a cop and six different kinds of nerd."

“Please elaborate opened up, because my imagination is better than your description and I am not having a lot of fun here.”

“I understand you didn’t ask on purpose, but I like to think that there was a grain in your soul that saw yourself in need, and perhaps thought to itself, I wish I had Abigail Pent.”

“I came prepared, my sweet.”

“What are you even saying half the time –.”

“Alas. I have a bad personality and a stupefying deficit of attention.”

“See, I did make a utopia.”

"Then perish."

“Oh, this is boring, I wanted one with a skull puking another, smaller skull, and other skulls flying all around. But tasteful, you know?”

“Why are you not appeased? That is how meat loves meat.”

“Yes, well, jail for Mother.”

“I’d aim to get out of here alive, but our odds don’t look wonderful. If we stay put, we get squashed, or eaten. If we swim, we probably still get squashed or eaten.”

“I need you to hide my infirmity. You see, I am insane.”

“I have lots of fealty in me. I fealt the Emperor with every bone in my body. I fealt hard.”

“Ask me how I am and I’ll scream.”

“I see you calling my bluff and I resent it,”

"Don’t give yourself away. Do you know, it’s not worth it... none of this is worth it, at all."

"Remember this, and don’t let anyone do it to you ever again."

"I’m sorry. We take so much. I’m so sorry."

“If you want to wallow in your shockingly vast reserves of self-pity, cut your throat and save me the food bill.”

“As I’ve been told tiresomely often, a half-cocked version of something is significantly worse than not being cocked at all.”

"Your tolerance for man-eating magma fish would have been tested sorely by anyone who was not God."

"But nobody listened to us. Nobody investigated the things we told them to investigate."

"I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it!"

"Suffer and learn."

"It was good. We were happy."

“If I forget you, let my right hand be forgotten.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll keep the home fires burning.”

"I know you're there" he rasped. "Kill me all you like. I would know you in the blindness of my eyes... in the deafness of my ears..."

"I just want to know the truth... after all this time."

“You have rendered yourself unlovable.”

"I am nothing, I am pointless, I am unmanned."

"I will accept your chidings gratefully. I will watch you slay whomsoever you feel the need to slay, and I will sponge the blood from your brow … but when I lay me down to sleep, I am a fully grown man who is allowed to feel precisely what I want, about anything I want."

"I am sorry for everything … I am sorry for what they did …"

" I was weak because weakness is easy, and because rebuff is hard."

"I should have offered help."

"I merely want to put you in a jail, and fill up the jail with acid-"

"Staaahp being so fucking dramahhhtic!"

“You’ve got two short minutes before I punch you in right in the butthole.”

"Follow me. We haven’t got much time"

“Delicious num-nums for baby.”

"I have bested my father."

"Did you see me? Did you behold me, [name]?"

"Thank God I had a pencil in my pocket; I’m in the process of crafting the sequel on a section of wallpaper."

"I’ve felt heaps better since I got here. I’ve coughed a few times, but it’s mainly for show."

"Which is, coincidentally, what your mother said to me last night."

"You know it was killing me twice that you weren’t there, right?"

“Get in line, thou big slut.”

"How are we to understand 'potato'?"

"Should we hold hands in girlish solidarity?"

"Old people should be shot."

"I completely fucking hate you, because you are a hideous witch from hell. No offence."

(Btw, read the books, you will obsess over them.)

[jacksonekennedy]

"You don't have to hold me to anything. I already know what dress I'm gonna wear for dancing."

Oh. She knew what dress she’d be wearing. Jack tried imagining it, but before he could get too far, his mouth blurted out:

“What dress?”

He’d asked the question before the words had even formed in his brain. It had been a selfish, impulsive thing, and he regretted it as soon as he’d asked.

Jack snapped his mouth shut, as if to make a point that he’d spoken before thinking. He offered a sheepish smile, before thinking about his words a little more cautiously.

“Don’t answer that. I want it to be a surprise, actually.”

It would be torture. Who knows when they’d go dancing? With Alice’s schedule, and Jack set to return to D.C. in the next few weeks for a (likely) disciplinary or investigative hearing. He’d do whatever it took, though. Spend the thousands of dollars just to fly to New York. Just to dance for one night.

Just to see her in that dress, whatever it looked like.

It would definitely be a date, Jack thought. He would make sure to clarify as well, the closer the time came. Or, well, he’d ask. Surely he wasn’t reading this whole thing wrong.

For some reason, the realization that Jack and Alice were both aware of where this was heading was … exciting. A little embarrassing, but in a sweet way? Maybe embarrassing wasn’t the right word for it though. It felt very … innocent at times. The exciting part of meeting someone new and realizing that the feelings go both ways.

If Jack had any doubt, well, Alice had put those fears to rest by suggesting that maybe they hold hands.

“Oh, one hundred percent. It’s probably worse than plastic surgery and the dentist. I really don’t know if hand holding will be enough, but we can give it a try.”

What else could there be?

The promise of a kiss, maybe?

Jack didn’t want to push it though. It was late, and talking about kissing Alice would only make him wade through the water until he was staring up at her, silently pleading for her mouth.

His phone buzzed again. Jack sighed. It was his mother. Was that the third or fourth text of the day?

“You have no idea how badly I want to stay out here and keep spending time with you, but I promised my mom that I’d call her tonight.”

Jack realized how … stupid that sounded. And childish. He felt the need to offer up an explanation.

“I’ve kind of been ghosting her. Everyone, really, since you’ve been here, but before that, too.”

Jack was sure that she could guess why. Things hadn’t been good, but they felt so much better now. At least, in that moment they did. Jack was on a high that no one could bring down. Maybe he’d even make plans to see his mother the weekend after Alice left. That would make her happy.

“She threatened to drive up tomorrow if I didn’t. So.”

Jack offered an apologetic smile. He felt like it was a good place to end the night, though. The promise of seeing each other after the week was over. Already, Jack felt a bit of relief that he’d see her again. He’d see her in that dress, in that Yankees hat — or even a Yankees t-shirt… but maybe that was pushing it.

“I had a really nice day with you though.”

Jack smiled. He really meant it. Enjoying coffee together, swimming, the trip to the falls, dinner. Getting to learn about Alice’s family and their little traditions. Her parents dancing in the living room. And Alice’s voice. Her beautiful, perfect voice that he was certain he’d dream about.

“One of the best I’ve had in … a really long time.”

God. It was really good that there was a body of water between them. Jack wanted to kiss her goodnight.

“It was really perfect, actually.”

Okay. Okay, he could stop talking now. The more that he hung around, the more difficult it would be to leave. The more he talked, the more he'd be tempted to ask about the dress again. Jack didn't want to spoil anything.

“Alright. If I don’t leave now … anyway.”

Jack stood, legs dripping from the water. He scooped up his shoes with one hand. He paused for a second, and his mouth almost did that thing again. There was almost an offer to walk her up to her bedroom, but ... that wouldn't have lead anywhere good. Jack was glad he managed to regain some self control (but not really, because he still turned around).

One last look. He smiled at Alice, very softly.

Isn't this what had turned Lot's wife into a pillar of salt? Or what had condemned Eurydice back to the underworld?

Jack was glad that there was no biblical punishment for this. And, even if there was ... fuck it.

"Sweet dreams, Alice."

Alice bites her lip for a long moment while observing his smile— a part of aims for composure, but, alas.

She's fairly certain it's a losing game.

Jack simply looks too handsome like this. He looked too happy, about the prospect of seeing Alice again.

It makes her neck hot. Her hands feel all fidgety too, like they're too flighty to rest in her lap, too twitchy to skim the water. Like she needs to touch something. No. Not something. Jack. She really just needs to touch Jack.

And there was flickering between them right now too; something bright and new and exciting, but it wasn't flimsy, it felt, especially now ... substantial.

What she felt for Jack felt substantial.

'I’m gonna hold you to this. The Yankees game and the dancing,'

'Like, the day you leave, I’m sending you a calendar invite with different days to pick from.'

Alice shakes her head and smiles.

"You don't have to hold me to anything. I already know what dress I'm gonna wear for dancing."

It was black— not too long — and the hem of it had layers, pretty ruffles that moved like rippling water. She hopes Jack will see her in it and feel something. She hopes Jack will see her in it and feel compelled to twirl her, to dip her, maybe even pull her close to her chest and rest his forehead against hers and—

Well.

Alice would really like a kiss.

More than anything, she wants piano music to float above their heads as they stand on weathered hardwood, nicked by years and years of footsteps and dance steps, and she wants Jack to kiss her, and she wants to feel that fire rear up in her belly again like from tonight.

She really wants Jack to want that too.

And when it does happen, she wants Jack to want it again, and then there's another Yankees game, and another dance night on the calendar, and then another set of those, and another, and she's Scheherazade, extending their time together in a never-ending story of stadium seats and slow dances.

Again and again and again.

'We should go to the museum anyway. Get it out of the way so you can’t threaten me with it. And — well, there’s no way you could’ve known this, and if you repeat this … I’ll be very hurt by it — but dolls creep me the fuck out. So… apple dolls? I don’t know. I’m willing to go though. Face my fears.'

Alice smiles like the cat that got the cream.

Willing to face apple dolls for her? Willing to go this creepy ass muesum all because she'd suggested, jokingly?

"Apple dolls are scarier than normal dolls, I think— they look extra wizened."

"It might be a dentist or plastic surgery kind of situation. Where you might need to hold my hand."

Yeah. They definitely should hold hands there.

[paraphwrites]

dbda twilight au. we all know i was gonna write one eventually

crystal palace moves to a small town -port townsend, washington- to get away from her mom, who seems more invested in her art and her new fiancé philip than her ("it's pronounced phil-eep, darling, not philip, like some common american") -- and, more importantly, she needs to get away from her shitty ex, david. port townsend is just as shitty as you'd expect - rain, constantly, and cats, everywhere. her dad, mick, is fine enough, mostly keeps to himself and fishes.

she befriends litty (jessica) and kingham (lauren), who try to "show her the ropes," no matter how many times crystal insists she doesn't actually give a fuck about this school, and will be out of here in 18 months.

and then, she meets the cullens. there's three of them: edwin (edward), niko (alice), monty (jasper), and. their parents, jenny (carlisle) and maxine (esme), are apparently really young -barely thirty- and jenny is the best doctor in the state. and she's- intrigued is an understatement. they're so beautiful it physically hurts, and they're strangely pale. most of all, though, they're keeping to themselves, which naturally means crystal needs to fucking figure out what's up with them. litty says that they're, like, dating each other, even though they're adopted siblings, and that they would never date anyone else, so don't even bother

well, then crystal is assigned to be edwin's lab partner. and he's making this awful face the whole time, like she smells bad or some shit. she tries to confront him about his after class, but he immediately runs off, and disappears for the next two weeks.

when he finally does return, he's a whole other person. hella nice, asking all sorts of questions, but he asks them sort of off. like he isn't used to talking to people. which makes sense, because his family is always sitting at lunch dead silent, with a bag of eggs between them. no wonder he's socialized badly. she tries to shrug him off at first, because crystal palace has fucking pride, but she's really curious about him, and eventually that wins out.

and then he saves her life. and that really does throw a wrench in everything. because there was no fucking way he should have been able to stop a moving car.

so- his skin is cold as ice, and he's got inhumane skin, and he's hella pale- obviously a vampire.

she goes to the beach with litty and kingham and some other people who she doesn't know the names of -- maren something, and a guy who's name is chad or brad or something douchey. she breaks away from them pretty quickly. and then, she meets charles (jacob).

charles is- well, first of all, he's cute. secondly, he's really eager to talk to her. she's pretty sure he has a crush on her, which is validating, and also, like, extremely useful. because charles has an extensive knowledge of local lore. he's really happy to tell her, too. and eventually she gathers that, in fact, there are legends of vampires in port townsend, washington

it escalates pretty quickly, from that. the fucker saves her life, again, and this time, he can't hide it. so, they discuss. in the forest. at night. because crystal is a little stupid sometimes, okay?

eventually, it's figured out. he's a vampire. he lives with his vampire family in a vampire house in the middle of port townsend, washington, and he's been to high school thirty times.

"i could kill you," he says. he tears a tree from the ground to demonstrate.

"you'll get dirt under your nails," crystal replies, unimpressed. "what would the babes think?"

but so now crystal wants to meet his family, or else -- she's tired of hearing about them vaguely watching them from a distance. unsure of how else to proceed, he agrees.

of course, niko immediately is all over her. niko decides they're best friends, now, and that edwin doesn't get to hang out with crystal ever again, because edwin is lame and boring and 102, and she's only 84, so she's the much better choice.

it's eventually revealed that monty and edwin are, in fact, dating, so litty at least got that much right. but niko is very much single.

(crystal knows this because the first time they meet niko says, "hi!! i'm niko!! i'm 84, single, and think you're very cute.")

anyway, everything's going great. crystal practically moves in there. niko loves fashion and using crystal as a barbie doll, and crystal loves watching niko work, laughing and chatting for hours. crystal also gets the joy of insulting edwin's music taste ("debussy? really?") and using monty's tarrot cards to tell edwin that something mysteriously bad was going to happen soon

jenny invites her, one day, to play baseball with them. crystal is kind of apprehensive, at first, because peace and love, but none of them seem particularly athletic. she's pretty sure a strong breeze could knock monty over. but she reluctantly agrees, even though it's raining, because niko wraps her in her pink wool coat, and asks her pretty please, and also, because when she says yes, niko kisses her cheek and smiles like it's christmas.

so, yeah, they play baseball. it's actually fucking insane, because of how strong and fast they are. she watches with maxine, who point-blank refuses to play, and for the first time, ever, she feels at home.

and then, the vampires come. esther and thomas and a red-haired woman who doesn't give her name.

as soon as esther smells crystal, a human, the hunt is on.

it's all a blur, after that. niko and monty take her to arizona, while edwin stays behind to hold off esther, and jenny and maxine spread a fake-scent of crystal elsewhere. it's 48 hours of pure chaos.

and then, someone else kills esther.

a long-haired woman, running around in full nude. it's ruthlessly efficient. thomas and the red-haired woman take one look at her and immediately run the fuck away. edwin murmurs something sounding like "lilith," and then she is gone too, and it's over.

they take her back to washington.

[missaengg]

Love Next Door: A Skyhaven Conundrum

Pairing: Caleb x f!reader Tags: nsfw - suggestive and language, eventual smut, developing relationship, modern au, use of pipsqueak and princess, use of oppa, humor/slight crack, featuring mom's-best-friend's-son/next door neighbor Caleb Word Count: 6.6k In which you face the aftermath of your last mortifying encounter with Caleb and discover that perhaps there's more to your fantasies... A/N: Part 2 of what I am now dubbing the "Love Next Door" series! Much thanks to @wistfulwanderingone for helping me outline the series, beta reading, and for KEEPING ME SANE throughout the process! And to @candiedcoffeedrops for beta reading and breathing new life into my motivation whilst writing the second part to this mini series! I love and appreciate you both so so very much 🥰

Part 1

It’s silly.

You know it’s silly.

Doors are inanimate objects. Their sole function is to act as an entrance or an exit. They can’t think. They can’t emote. And they most certainly can’t mock you.

But this particular door is different.

This particular door belongs to Caleb’s apartment.

And this particular door, you swear, is judging the ever living shit out of you.

You hate it…or maybe you love it because it’s currently the only thing separating you from Caleb. This being the first time you’ll be seeing him since…the garage incident…of which you do not speak.

It wasn’t your idea to come visit Caleb. Quite the contrary. If anything, you would’ve been more than happy to never see him again for the rest of your life—not after what happened during your last encounter. But your mom being your mom, had packed a disgustingly excessive amount of food for her “son” because “he’s all by himself in Skyhaven and starving to death”, insisting that you personally deliver the food to him despite your rather vocal protests that he’s a grown ass man and a far better cook than you.

Which is precisely how, instead of spending the day joyfully away from Caleb, you’ve found yourself here. In front of his apartment. Fidgeting. Sweating. With only that stupid, offensive door keeping you from being in his presence.

Laughing at you.

Glowering at his door, you shift your weight from one foot to the other, chewing on your bottom lip and rolling your shoulder to ease the fatigue from the comically overstuffed bag you’re holding—somehow still intact despite looking as though it might burst at the seams from the slightest of jostles. You raise a hesitant fist to knock on his door, only to lower it immediately, repeating the cycle a few times before letting it fall listlessly back to your side.

How? How are you supposed to face him again after what happened? How are you supposed to pretend that nothing happened? That he didn’t catch you having a humiliating, visceral reaction to his deliciously chiseled, Greek god-like body…?

And if the incident itself wasn’t mortifying enough, the explicit wet dreams that followed have plagued you, slowly depriving you of your sleep and your sanity. The number of…showers you’ve had to take. The questioning glances your parents have given you as you took your third shower of the day.

Maddening…Absolutely maddening…

Squaring your shoulders and taking in a deep breath, you muster as much courage as you can scrape because…well, it’s not like you can stand there forever. And also because your mom would kill you if you returned without personally delivering the food.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The silence that follows is suffocating, hanging in the air like the humidity of a muggy summer day.

Anticipation and dread churn in the pit of your stomach, twisting your organs into painful knots. Time drags on as you wait, your throat holding your breath captive, each passing second feeling even more stifling than the last.

Why the hell is it taking so long for him to open his door?

After what feels like an eternity—though realistically, it was probably closer to a few minutes at most, the door hinges open. Your face contorts into a scowl, ready to greet your mom’s-best-friend’s-son, childhood friend with some snarky comment about not being his errand boy.

But the snark withers away before you can even utter a single word.

Because when the door opens, you’re face to face with the most beautiful man tits you’ve ever seen in your life.

Caleb’s man tits.

Have they always been this breathtakingly magnificent?

You know you must look like a fool with your mouth hanging open and your eyes bugging out, but you can’t stop staring. You can’t help it! In your defense, it would be hard for anyone to stop staring when subjected to such a luscious view of glorious, firm, meaty mounds. Mounds dotted with a set of perky, pink nipples just begging to be sucked. Mounds connected to a—at present—naked Caleb, fresh out of the shower and dressed in only a low-slung towel, his hair still wet and slicked back, dripping water onto his broad shoulders.

A wayward drop slides down his shoulder, and your eyes unwittingly trace its descent—down past the necklace nestled in the divet between his tits, down past his abs and his belly button, all the way down to where a faint trail of dark hair begins.

Oh, what you would do to be that drop of water…

Your thighs quiver, trembling in their need to rub together and relieve the growing ache in your weeping sex. Thankfully, a single brain cell has somehow managed to retain its lucidity, saving you from embarrassing yourself in front of Caleb. Again.

Why? Out of all the outfit choices you had in your closet this afternoon, what demon possessed you to believe it would be a good idea to wear a short skirt to see Caleb? Have you learned nothing from the last time you saw him?!

“Pipsqueak?” Caleb’s deep voice cuts through the absolute insanity overtaking your malfunctioning brain. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Blinking rapidly, you awkwardly hold up the bag as your brain takes a moment too long to catch up. “My mom made you food.”

Caleb’s attention flitters to the bag, a stoked smile forming on his lips—lips you want to catch between your teeth and nibble…

Oh god, brain, please stop…

“It’s really heavy,” you mumble, shaking the bag as best you can considering its weight. “You gonna let me in or what?”

“Ah, sweet,” Caleb drawls, pulling the door wide open. “Perfect timing. I was just cravin’ your mom’s cooking.”

He invites you in, and as you step inside, the steam radiating from his post-shower body curls around you, enveloping you in the overpowering scent of his body wash. He smells clean. Fresh, with a woody undertone. Manly.

It takes every ounce of willpower you have not to rip that goddamn towel off of him.

“You mind putting that in the kitchen?” Caleb asks, shutting the door. “I’ll take care of it after I get dressed.”

“Sure,” you mutter, distracted by your woeful endeavor to conceal how flustered you are by the sight of his gorgeous, bare chest. “Anywhere on the counter?”

“Yep,” he calls out behind him, already halfway to his bedroom.

As soon as Caleb disappears, you mindlessly shuffle into his pristine kitchen and plop the ridiculously loaded bag on the dark marble countertop. Letting out a sound somewhere in between a feeble whimper and a whine, you crumble, bracing yourself on the counter as your knees give out, praying the cool marble will ease the fire ravaging your out of control cunt, rendering your underwear useless.

But it does fuck all to abate the fire.

Not even a little.

Cursing under your breath, you weigh your options. While Skyhaven is only a short train ride away from Linkon City, it would still take over an hour to get home to your blissful shower head, which frankly, is an hour too long, and while you do have the option of using Caleb’s…you would rather die than utilize his.

You need some other way to cool down.

Fast.

Before this heat kills you.

Ice. Yes, you’re a genius, ice. A mouthful of ice should do the trick. Nothing like chewing on ice to ease sexual frustration—at least that’s what they say, right?

Rushing to Caleb’s fridge, you rip the freezer door open only to find… nothing. No ice. None, whatsoever. Not even an ice crumb.

Fuck.

Water then. While less than ideal, cold water will have to do. Or any cold beverage. It doesn’t matter what as long as it’s cold. Frantic, you dig through his fridge searching for anything that might calm your burning loins.

Nothing.

How is it possible for the inside of his fridge to be like a cold Sahara desert?!

You’re on the verge of ripping every single strand of your hair out when you spot it, sitting by its lonesome self at the very back of the top shelf, hidden behind a hunk of beef.

A single can of cold beer.

Driven by desperation, you grab the can, wasting no time popping the tab and bringing it to your lips, downing the entire thing in giant gulps. Only once it's empty do you stop, exhaling and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Refreshing.

And from the subsiding fever in your lower body, the answer to your prayers.

Thank fucking god.

“Pipsqueak, what’re you doin’?”

Startled, you jump, twirling around like a teenager caught raiding their parents’ liquor cabinet. You scramble to think of some excuse to explain yourself, but as soon as your eyes settle on Caleb, your mouth drops open yet again. Because for some unknown reason, he’s still shirtless despite changing into a pair of sweatpants.

Before the sight of Caleb’s tits can undo the magic of the beer you just drank, you squeeze your eyes shut, angling your body away as if to preserve his modesty instead of your own sanity. “Why the fuck are you not wearing a shirt?!”

“Why’re you being weird?” Caleb snorts derisively, and though you can’t see him, you’re certain he’s doing that thing he does where he arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “You’ve seen me without a shirt on all the time.”

That…is true. You have seen Caleb without a shirt on before. Many, many times. But never, in all those times, have you been so affected. Never, in all those times, have you felt the urge to raze the landscape of his naked torso with sinful, red blemishes…

“That—” you sputter, “That was when we were kids!”

“Pipsqueak, what’s going—Whoa, why the hell are you havin’ a beer?”

Shit.

Say something. 

Quick.

“I was thirsty.”

Not quite the complete truth, but not quite a complete lie either.

You crack one eye open, peeking at him to gauge whether he’s bought it.

Caleb narrows his eyes. “So you had…a beer?”

“You had nothing else to drink,” you retort, shooting him a reproachful look as you turn back to face him.

Caleb tilts his head towards the sink as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The sink is right there.”

“I wanted something cold. You need to stock your fridge or something ‘cause this,” you gesture to his fridge, “is just pathetic.”

“Water is free.”

“And you make a decent enough salary to have something on hand for guests, butt munch.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Caleb raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll make sure my fridge is stocked to your satisfaction the next time you unexpectedly come by. Happy?” Without waiting for your response, he grins, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “But seriously, butt munch? What’re you, five?”

Ugh, of all the insults you could throw at him, why butt munch? You haven’t used that insult since you were in middle school!

Bristling, you double down, stubbornly lifting your chin. “What’s wrong with butt munch?

“Nothing,” Caleb laughs. “Nothing at all, Pipsqueak.”

Caleb pops the ‘p’ in ‘Pipsqueak’ causing your hand to twitch, itching to smack him.

Deep breaths…Deep breath in…Deep breath out…You are not choosing violence today. Not today. Your situation is already precarious enough as it is.

As you remind yourself to remain civil, which can be difficult to do sometimes considering it’s Caleb, you miss him eyeing the can you’re holding until he swipes it from your hand.

“Hey!” You lunge for the can, but he holds it just out of reach, sticking out his tongue as your hands grasp nothing, but air. “Give it—” you lunge again, “back!”

Why the hell is he so freakishly tall?!

You can only helplessly watch as Caleb shakes the empty can by his ear—evidence of your shame—and frown when no liquid can be heard sloshing around.

“Pipsqueak, did you just drink an entire beer?”

“Yes,” you bluntly state, planting your hands on your hips. “So?”

“Aren’t you…Aren’t you a lightweight?”

You scowl, feeling your blood pressure skyrocket so high you fear you might have a stroke. “For your information, jerk face, my tolerance has gone up significantly since we last drank together.”

Caleb stares at you for a moment before doubling over, raucous guffaws violently racking his body. “Jerk face?” he gasps, struggling to catch his breath in between bursts of uncontrolled laughter.

Seriously, what is with you and juvenile insults today?

It’s gotta be the man tits. His stupid man tits are clearly robbing you of your ability to think.

“Yes, jerk face,” you snap. “Also, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m no longer nineteen and new to drinking.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Pipsqueak,” Caleb snickers, reaching out to tweak the tip of your nose with a cheeky grin. “That��s not what your face is sayin’ though. Your face is almost as red as when I caught you starin’ at my ass.”

And there it is…the bane of your existence…the incident he’ll never let you forget for the rest of your pathetic life.

“Oh my god!” You swat his arm away, glaring at him with a scathing indignance. “So what if I did?”

Caleb lumbers forward, invading your personal bubble, forcing you to stumble back until your lower spine bumps the counter. In a disturbing re-enactment of your last encounter, he leans forward, leveling his gaze with you. He places both of his palms on the counter’s edge, effectively trapping you between his arms.

His voice dips into a silky murmur. “You should stare at my ass more often.”

That bastard.

Of course he’s enjoying riling you up and watching you get flustered.

“Knock it off, Caleb,” you warn.

“Why should I?” Caleb asks, innocently poking your cheek. “You’re adorable when you blush.”

“Caleb, stop! You’re being—”

“Being what?”

“You’re being annoying!”

“Oh?”

Caleb leans in even further, holding your gaze as if challenging you to a game of who’ll look away first. Refusing to give him the satisfaction, you meet his challenge, staring deep into his purple eyes with a brazen insolence. While you’re the perfect picture of defiance on the outside, your inside tells a different story as your heart begins to race, thundering in your ears, and your throat constricts, making it difficult to breathe.

Too close. He’s too fucking close. Close enough that you can count the number of freckles dotting his sun-baked cheeks. Close enough that you can smell his natural musk beneath the fragrance of his body wash. Close enough that if you were to lean forward just an inch, you could press your lips to his and taste him…

“Why do you even care? You have girls staring at your ass all the time, Mr. Hotshot Pilot!” you blurt, practically shouting.

Stunned, Caleb draws back, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. You freeze, your own face mirroring his expression, also surprised by the amount of vitriol you just spewed. Surprised by the undercurrent of frustration and…jealousy you’re feeling.

“Whatever,” you grumble, glancing away. “My mom told me to bring you food. I brought you your damn food.” You gruffly shove his arm out of the way, creating an opening for you to wiggle out from between the counter and his tree-trunk of a body, more than eager to make your escape. 

Caleb’s arm falls back to the counter, where he remains motionless. “I never said I don’t care,” he whispers, so quietly you barely catch what he said.

What does that even mean? Does he mean the act itself or you, the person who was doing the staring? Your footsteps falter, abandoning their mad dash for freedom. “What?”

“I said, I—” Caleb sighs, his shoulders slumping forward. “Never mind.” 

You wait to see if he’ll continue, but he stays silent, his mouth pressed together into a thin line, his brows tightly knit together, his attention fixed on the marble before him. When it becomes apparent he has nothing more to say, you mutter, “Whatever. I’m going home.”

“No—” Caleb pushes off the counter, following you out of the kitchen. “C’mon, Pipsqueak, you just got here. Have dinner with me.”

Had this been any other day, you would’ve stayed. You love Caleb’s cooking. But not tonight. Tonight is about self-preservation. Tonight, you have to get out of here before you do something you’ll regret, something that would irrevocably change the course of your friendship with Caleb.

“I’m not hungry,” you lie, hastening your pace. “I’ll just eat when I get home.”

“Wait—” Caleb catches your wrist, preventing you from progressing any further to the exit—another act eerily reminiscent of the last time you saw him, almost as if he’s intentionally trying to recreate your last encounter. 

“Caleb, let go.”

“No,” he says petulantly, wearing a mischievous grin, but there’s a tension in his jaw that betrays his carefree attitude. “Why’re you in such a hurry to get home anyway? You got a hot date or somethin’?”

Being around Caleb when he’s like this tends to bring out the brat in you and sensing an opportunity to rile him up for a change, you shoot back, “Yeah, the hottest.”

Caleb’s expression instantaneously darkens, and his grip around your wrist hardens. A possessiveness you’ve never seen before radiates from him in dense waves. Despite his relentless teasing, Caleb has always been gentle and patient, but this is new. Different. The turbulent storm brewing in his eyes should scare you, but it doesn’t. If anything, it excites you. Even more than you were.

“Well, too bad, it’s cancelled,” Caleb growls, jerking you towards him. “Cause I’m not sendin’ you on a date with some jackass drunk.”

“Caleb, I can handle myself just fine. And I’m not a child. I can drink a beer without getting drunk,” you argue, your voice an octave higher than you intended. “And who the hell do you think you are telling me what I can and can’t—”

Just then, a vein of lightning streaks across the sky, casting an ominous glow across Caleb’s face. A giant crack of thunder soon follows, booming through the apartment, causing you to flinch.

No. No, no, no. No. This can’t be happening. You checked the weather forecast this morning. You checked. It said nothing about rain, let alone a thunderstorm. But fuck, if it’s storming, that means—

“Flights are going to be cancelled, aren’t they?”

Something sinister flashes through Caleb’s eyes as he regards you in a manner that tickles your burgeoning desire. “Yeah, ‘fraid so.”

“It’s not gonna end anytime soon, is it?”

“Nope. Looks like it’s just you and me, Pipsqueak.”

Great, just great.

Stuck in Caleb’s apartment overnight with your raging hormones and his luscious man tits.

A strangled wail of despair erupts from somewhere deep within you, and Caleb promptly pulls you into his arms, mistaking your guttural panic for your fear of thunderstorms.

While it’s true that you fear thunderstorms—something about the way the dark clouds drown out the light, the way lighting flashes in the sky, and the way the wind howls and rattles the windows—it’s the least of your worries at the moment. What you need is to get away from the sexual temptation that is Caleb and home to your magical shower head!

“Hey, it’s okay,” Caleb murmurs, cradling your head against his chest, burying your face between his tits—the same tits currently driving you to the brink of combusting. He holds you so tight you can’t even turn your head, not even to free your nose from being squished. His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he pats your back in a steady, soothing rhythm, just as he did when the two of you were kids. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Every part of your body is intertwined with his, almost as if your bodies are melting together into one—to the point it's difficult to discern where you end and he begins.

The soft murmur of his voice. The calming cadence of his heart. The bewitching scent of his natural musk. The searing warmth of his body. The impressive bulge of his dick…

They muddle all of your senses and sensibilities. 

It’s dizzying. Perplexing. Exhilarating. And yet his embrace feels like the most natural thing in the world, as if you belong in his arms. His embrace feels like home.

It’s the most wonderful feeling.

And the most dangerous.

Perturbed by this new revelation—and by your overwhelming urge to rut against him like a dog in heat—you wrench yourself out of his arms, unintentionally shoving him back in the process. Caleb staggers back, his arms still hanging in the air as he studies you with an expression of utter bafflement. You look away, clearing your throat and sheepishly rubbing your arms. The sudden loss of his warmth causes you to shiver, which in true Caleb fashion, he clocks instantly.

“You’re going to catch a cold in that skirt,” Caleb muses, more to himself than for you to hear.

Grimacing, you glance down at your bare legs, tugging on the hem of your skirt. Of course he noticed. But…isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you wore this skirt to begin with?

Who the hell knows anymore…

“Why don’t you go wash up?” Caleb suggests, gently nudging you in the direction of his bathroom. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes.”

In a daze, you nod, absentmindedly stumbling down the hallway at Caleb’s prompting. One foot in front of the other, plodding along on autopilot while your brain tries to make sense of what’s changed. While you still want nothing more than for him to fuck you senseless, something had shifted. It wasn’t just about wanting to fuck him anymore, there was something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Why did his embrace feel like home? Why did you want to stay wrapped in his arms forever, hoping he never lets go? And why now, instead of all the previous times he’s held you before? 

He was still just Caleb, for god’s sake—annoying, infuriating, juvenile, mom’s-best-friend’s-son, childhood friend Caleb who got under your skin every chance he had. But the sexual lunacy aside, he wasn’t just Caleb anymore. He was…Caleb.

“Guess you’re going to have to cancel that date, huh?”

Between the vexing arousal running rampant in your sex and the confounding chaos of what else you might be feeling, your brain only vaguely registers Caleb’s question drifting after you. Before your brain can sync with your mouth, you answer, “There was no date.”

“What?”

Caleb’s ask for clarification hurtles you back into the present, and you wince, realizing what you just admitted. Well, no use hiding it now. You’ve already said it.

Heaving a sigh of resignation, you turn to face him. “I said, there was no date.”

A look of surprise crosses Caleb’s face for a split second, and then his face lights up like a child on Christmas morning, his eyes crinkling with what appears to be sheer joy. “Were you…Were you trying to make me jealous, Pipsqueak?” 

You purse your lips, fixing him with a withering stare. “Not even in the slightest, asshole.”

“I mean, it’s okay if you were,” Caleb sings with a cocky, self-satisfied smirk. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, Princess. You’re the only Pipsqueak for me.”

“...Shut up, Caleb.” 

Expelling an exasperated grunt, you swiftly flip back around, making it your number one mission to reach your destination—away from him. Caleb’s chuckles float after you, but you don’t dare look back. Not even once. Not even as you enter his bathroom and shut the door.

It’s only once you're inside and the door locked that you allow yourself to relax, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding in the form of a long, suffering sigh.

Why did you do that, admit that there had been no date, that you made it up?

And…why did he look so overjoyed?

Dismissing the notion that his joy carried any deeper meaning, you cross over to the shower and turn on the water. Knowing Caleb, it likely meant nothing. He was probably just overjoyed to have more arsenal in which to torment you in his pocket.

“I left a change of clothes outside the door.” Speaking of the devil, Caleb’s chipper voice drifts into the bathroom. “Take your time. I’ll be in the living room.”

“Okay, thanks.”

You wait for the creak of his floor as a sign he’s walked away before slipping out of your clothes, loosely folding each item and placing them in a pile on the vanity. You slip out of your underwear last, quietly groaning at how dark the gusset is compared to the rest of the garment—a pitiful reminder of how hysterically depraved you become around him.

Making a face, you place your underwear with the rest of your clothes, and as you look up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your hair is disheveled as if Caleb had run his fingers through them. Your lips are swollen as if you were biting them in restraint to stifle your moans. Your cheeks are flushed a rosy pink as if in the throes of passion.

Caleb standing behind you, his hands on your shoulders. Gliding them down your arms as he presses kiss after kiss to the crook of your neck. Leaving behind lovely, little bruises as if to say, “she belongs to me”. A calloused hand cupping and kneading your breast while his thumb rolls your hardened nipple. His other hand sliding between your legs, gathering your arousal on his finger.

His mouth breathlessly moaning your name and hoarsely whispering, “I love you”…

Holy shit, what was that?!

Horrified, you snap out of your lust-fueled reverie, dragging your hands across your face and digging the heels of your palms into your eyes.

God, you must really need that shower or something because clearly you are losing it. There could be no other explanation. You are losing your damn mind, and it’s all because of Caleb and his goddamn sex appeal.

Aggravation rippling in your throat, you step into the shower, welcoming the warm cascade of water falling on you like a gentle rain, but it does nothing to relieve the turmoil roiling through your lower body or your mind. It can’t. Not by itself. Not without some assistance.

Caleb’s detachable shower head looms above you, shining through the steam like a lighthouse in the midst of a foggy afternoon as if guiding you to your solution. Goading you into using it for a depraved means other than its intended purpose.

It’s tempting. So very tempting. Caleb’s bathroom is most definitely not an appropriate location for what you have in mind, especially with the risk of being discovered by the cause of your distress—which would only then serve to add to your distress. You know you shouldn’t, but…

Fuck it.

It’s not like you have much of a choice—not if you want to survive spending the night with Caleb.

You grasp the shower head, freeing it from its perch, and position it between your thighs. You gasp as the stream hits your swollen clit and bite down on your knuckles to keep from crying out, suppressing the subdued whimpers threatening to escape. After all the pent up frustration, the pressure feels good—more than good, it feels amazing.

As the water works its magic, your imagination returns unbidden to where it was before—Caleb moaning your name. His erection digging into your lower back. His finger slipping through your folds and gathering your slick, shuddering at how wet you are for him. His finger sliding to your clit and stroking it in languid circles, teasing you before plunging deep into your waiting cunt.

A stifled cry squeaks past your knuckles as you feel the familiar tightening of your abdomen. As the coil winds taut, your cunt clenches around nothing. Your muscles tense in anticipation. Your head lolls back, your mouth in the shape of a silent ‘O’. And then you let go, your breaths coming out in short puffs. Your legs turning to jelly. Your eyes rolling back as you’re overtaken by a burst of ecstasy. Waves of pure, unadulterated pleasure coursing through you as sparks traverse your body. All while you hear Caleb murmuring a throaty “good girl” as you come for him.

The shower head lingers between your legs while you ride out your orgasm. And through another. And another.

It takes three rounds for you to lose the deranged absurdity clouding your judgement and for the unbridled fervor to wane. Three rounds to drain yourself to a state of exhaustion—enough that you’ll hopefully remain clearheaded and sane when back in Caleb’s presence. 

Your feverish insanity now satiated, you wash up and get dressed in the clothes Caleb left for you—a plain, cotton T-shirt and a pair of soft pajama pants, both of which hang loosely off your frame. You emerge from the sauna his bathroom has turned into, padding to his living room. Caleb doesn’t notice you enter, and you don’t make a point to announce your arrival either. You quietly observe him, still shirtless, lounging on his sofa with a headset on his head and a controller in his hands, one foot propped up on the coffee table. 

It’s been a while since you last saw him so engrossed in a video game with his friends, playing some first-person shooter game he had you try once. Back then, it annoyed you how absorbed he’d become because he’d ignore you for hours, but now, you find it endearing. Not only did it prevent him from noticing how long you took in his shower, he looked…adorable, laughing at something his friend said as he quipped something equally as childish back.

Caleb’s attention flickers in your direction, his face lighting up when he notices you by the entrance. “You’re done?” he beams, lowering the controller and sitting up, dropping his leg to the floor. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you respond with a shrug, unexpectedly feeling shy of all things.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re never bothering me.” Caleb gives you a lopsided grin so cute your heart skips a beat, but before you can process your reaction, his attention is back on the TV. “Yo, I gotta go.” He pauses, listening to something being said on the other end. “Yeah, that’s right. Your boy’s got a girl over. Be jealous, assholes.”

Out of reflex, you roll your eyes, but you can’t help wondering…

Does he mean “girl” as in you? 

Does he see you as a woman the same way you’ve been seeing him as a man? Could it be that he sees you as something more than just a “little sister” or even a friend?

The thought causes your heart to flutter. Something unfamiliar blooms in your chest, filling it with…hope? Or longing? Some strange emotion you’ve never associated with Caleb before. Not like this.

“Pfft, nah, it’s just Pipsqueak,” Caleb sniggers. “Seriously though, I gotta go.”

And just like that, the fragile illusion—or delusion—shatters, deflating the unidentified emotion budding in your chest, which confuses you because why did you “flate” to begin with?

You’re reeling from this new development when Caleb suddenly frowns. “No, fuck you. I’m not giving you her number,” he snarls, venom dripping from every word. “Not cool, man. Whatever, I'm gone. See ya.” He rips the headset off his head and tosses it onto the coffee table before turning off his TV system. “Assholes.”

Gingerly taking a seat on the couch as far away from him as you can without appearing unnatural, you study him curiously, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “What did your friends say?”

“Nothing,” Caleb mutters, brooding at the dark screen.

“Didn’t seem like nothing,” you prod carefully.

“It’s nothing.” Caleb shakes off his mood, giving you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it.” He reaches out to ruffle your hair, but his frown returns when he notices the towel wrapped around your head. “You didn’t dry your hair.”

“Hm?” You look up, brushing your fingers along the damp fabric. “Oh, yeah, I didn’t feel like it.”

Caleb gives you that look, one you know all too well—the mother hen look that always comes with a side of nagging. “You’re going to catch a cold like that, Pipsqueak,” he chides, heaving himself off the couch. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“No, that’s okay—” you begin, but Caleb’s already on the move. “Caleb, it’s fine!”

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and as Caleb disappears into his bathroom, you click your tongue, following it with a tiny chuff of laughter. Typical Caleb. Scolding you about your wet hair, just like he used to before he went off to college.

Caleb quickly returns and plugs the dryer into the outlet. He comes around the side of the sofa and takes a seat, patting the cushion next to him. “Come here. I’ll dry it for ya. Just like old times.”

You hesitate, contemplating whether it would be wise for you to sit next to him in such close proximity, but…he’s just drying your hair. It’s perfectly innocent. Plus, you’ve pacified your raging hormones so it should be fine, right?

Despite your apprehension, you comply, scooching down until you’re sitting in front of him with your back to his chest. Caleb unwraps the towel from your head and sets it aside. Then he turns the dryer on to the lowest setting, checking the temperature on his palm before directing it to your scalp.

“Remember?” he asks. “I used to do this for you all the time.”

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement, basking in the sensation of his fingers combing through your hair and brushing along your scalp. It’s a sensation that’s both familiar and soothing, evoking memories of how often he would do this for you growing up. And by often, you mean often because you were notoriously awful at drying your own hair. You still don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. It’s just hair. It’ll dry just fine on its own, but Caleb would scold you, insisting that you’ll get sick, and force you to sit down so he could dry it. 

Just like he is now.

Feeling his fingers tousling your crown, it dawns on you how much you’ve missed this.

“It really has been a while, hasn’t it?” Curious, you tilt your head back, musing at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. “Why did you stop?”

Caleb’s hand stills—a momentary pause before he guides your head back to its original position. “We got older,” he replies with no further explanation.

Squinting, you mull over his answer. “Why would that change anything?”

Caleb softly sighs. “It just did, Pipsqueak, okay?”

Feeling unsatisfied, you scrunch your face and pucker your lips, but sensing his reluctance, you don’t press any further. A part of you rationalizes that it’s because you want to honor his boundaries, but if you’re being honest, it’s mostly because you’re not sure you’re ready to hear the answer either. The uncertainty of what he might say scares you.

Caleb clicks the dryer off and gives your hair one last ruffle. “Okay, done.”

“Already?” You twist around to face him, shooting him an impish smile. “You didn’t leave it looking like a bird’s nest, did you?” you accuse him playfully.

“Please,” Caleb scoffs, a half-amused smirk tugging on the corner of his lip. “I am the master at drying your hair.”

“Uh huh,” you hum, narrowing your eyes at him in mock disbelief.

Caleb merely quirks an eyebrow in response, holding your gaze as if to dare you to say otherwise. It’s only then you realize how close you’re sitting next to him. How close his face is to yours for the second time that evening.

As if he realizes it himself, Caleb swallows. Hard. Your eyes flicker to his lips—the same lips that have haunted your dreams—where you detect what appears to be a tiny quiver. As if he’s just as nervous as you.

And then you feel it—your heart stuttering in your chest before fluttering wildly against your ribs like a captive bird trying to escape its cage. 

Ba-dump…Ba-dump…Ba-dump…

Your lungs refuse to work, depriving you of oxygen. They’re only capable of taking in shallow breaths, which you attribute as the cause of the intoxicating dizziness shrouding your head. Without thinking, your lips part, and as if drawn to him through his gravitational Evol, you lean forward. Slowly. Inch by inch. Closer and closer, wavering just short of your lips meeting.

Caleb stiffens, his breath hitching in his throat. But as if he too is under a spell, he’s unable to break the trance binding you together. His free hand curls into the fabric of his pants. His eyes tremble with a hesitant uncertainty. But his gaze remains fixed on you.

Time screeches to a halt. 

Holding your breath, you search his gaze, silently imploring whether he too wants to cross that line. A line you’ve never considered crossing even in the face of your most deviant fantasies. A line that, if crossed, would change the course of your friendship forever. A line that leads to a new world, unexplored and potentially perilous.

But he has yet to pull away, and you wonder…you wonder…you wonder…perhaps he wants this just as much as you.

As if compelled by a siren’s song, you surrender. You creep forward in timid, imperceptible whispers with your eyes half-closed and your lips softly parted, ardently seeking his touch. But before your lips can meet, Caleb falters. He pulls away, exhaling a shaky breath of air disguised as a chuckle before putting on a tentative smile.

“I should…I should go make dinner before it gets too late.” Caleb gets up from the couch, unplugging the hair dryer and wrapping the cord around the nozzle. “You should call your mom to let her know you’re staying the night.”

The spell breaks.

You wake from what feels like a fever dream, and the gravity of what almost happened—what you almost did—sinks in. “Right, yeah—I should—Right—” Stammering, you clench your hands into fists, your fingernails biting into your palms. You scramble to your feet, your eyes darting about the room, your focus on anything but the man you almost kissed. “She’s going to worry—Need to—Gonna go—Need my phone—”

Your blood pounding in your ears and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you dart towards the guest bedroom under the guise of finding your phone, despite it being safely tucked away in your pocket.

Fuck, what was…what the flipping shit was that?! What were you thinking?! You weren’t thinking, that was the problem, but fuck…what the hell just happened?

You tell yourself it was because of your hormones. Just your damn hormones. Nothing else. Nothing more. But deep down you know it wasn’t. It wasn’t. It was something more than that. Something more tender and vulnerable and intimate. Something that terrifies you the more you linger on it. Something that you can’t deny any longer.

You don’t want to just fuck your mom’s-best-friend’s-son…you’ve developed feelings for him. Feelings you don’t fully understand. Feelings that change everything.

But…it wasn’t just you.

Caleb didn’t pull away either. Not at first. Like he wanted it too. Like he might also have feelings for you. And if that’s the case then…then things just got more complicated.

You’re in treacherous, uncharted territory.

But first…

First, you need to survive the night.

Survive the night, and then…and then you can deal with all this nonsense.

May God have mercy on your soul…

Taglist: @xaviersknight, @godoffuckedupcats, @flwerie, @opalesquegirl, @calebsbabyapple, @matanetuyo, @candiedcoffeedrops, @rxelarailuj, @ama1lv

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Divider courtesy of @saradika-graphics

[frflyavenue]

Exam Stress - Yungi Ver.

Pairing: stressed!fem!reader x boyfriend!Yungi

Warnings: MDNI (18+), stressed afab reader, sleep deprived and frustrated reader, university student reader, poly relationship, fingering, oral (f receiving), double penetration (both holes), anal, vaginal penetration, kissing, swearing, needy reader, tears, lap riding, praise, pet names (sweetheart, baby, princess), unprotected sex (please be safe), cuddling, soft doms Yungi

Authors note: Hey guys, I’m back after a brief hiatus! Honestly I had no plans of taking a break, but between work, school, and getting sick twice in the last few weeks, I didn’t really have much of a choice. Under Your Touch chapter 3 is currently almost finished, and I have plans to upload that on time tomorrow to get back with my normal schedule. Sorry again for the unexpected break, I promise I have a lot in store for you all now that I’m back! Much love! Bisous~

WC: 5.2k

You sit at your desk, biting the inside of your cheek and twirling your pen between your fingers as you stare down at your textbook. Exams are in only a few weeks, and you’ve spent so many days staring at this stupid textbook that you think you’re about to lose your mind. You’re low on sleep, which definitely doesn’t help, and your back hurts from sitting rigid in the same stupid desk chair for days straight with very few breaks. And you’re hungry, which you know is likely contributing heavily to your current frustration, but you don’t feel like getting up to make something to eat, so you make no effort to go cook.

You’re kind of doing this to yourself.

Maybe it’s this part that’s frustrating you the most.

You don’t have to study this hard just to stay top of your class. Getting a B grade is still passing, after all. Now that you’re an adult, your parents aren’t on your ass about your grades, but you’ve taken their place on being hard on yourself. You are the one paying for your own schooling. Wait, why are you spending so much money to get an education? To make the world a better place? Please, what is staring at this textbook gonna do? Why are you so stupid? Why can’t you just be a prodigy that doesn’t have to study, just like some of the other students in your major? What the fuck is the point of all this?

You slam your textbook shut, sighing in frustration and standing up from your chair, not caring to be graceful as you swinging your office door open and walk toward your living room with heavy feet.

Yunho and Mingi have been working half days all week, meaning they’ve been getting home just after lunch and hang out at your shared apartment. Usually, it would be a blessing, meaning you could spend time with your boyfriends, go on little dates, and go to bed with them next to you. But this week, you’ve been the one they’ve been waiting on. They understand, of course, being workaholics themselves. But you can’t deny that it’s been driving you crazy hearing them laugh or even fuck in the room next to you, all without you.

Normally you wouldn’t care, of course. You’re always happy that your boyfriends can feel good together, encouraging them to help each other out whenever they need, especially since they’re away from you at work so often. But this week… maybe it's just boredom, or maybe just the stress, but you’ve wanted nothing more than to just forget your responsibilities and join them.

Not seeing them in the living room, you turn around and march over to your shared bedroom, swinging the door open impatiently. Mingi and Yunho are propped up next to each other in bed, covered by blankets and watching a movie on a laptop placed on both of their laps. They look up at you in surprise, Yunho pressing the spacebar to pause the movie. Mingi’s eyes are wide as he unintentionally flashes you his puppy eyes, and while your heart skips a beat, you don’t fold for him like you usually would.

You walk over to Yunho’s side of the bed, picking up the laptop and snapping it shut before clumsily putting it on his nightstand. You crawl onto the bed, caging Yunho in between your limbs and blinking down at him with intense eyes.

He blinks up at you in confusion for a second, but before he’s able to question you, you’re crashing your lips against his.

He lets out a surprised yelp, and Mingi gives a shocked, breathy laugh from next to you. You groan impatiently, poking your tongue out and pushing it into his lips, begging for entrance. Finally regaining his composure, Yunho cups your face in his hands, pulling you back.

“Woah, woah, calm down baby!” Yunho laughs out, shocked and now red in the face. “What’s gotten into you?”

You clench your jaw, swallowing and sitting back on your heels letting your butt plop down on his thighs. You run a frustrated hand through your hair, huffing and pursing your lips. “Dammit… I’m… I’m upset.” You admit, trying to calm down.

They just blink for a second, and you see genuine confusion on their faces, though it quickly molds into concern. Mingi reaches out his hand and places it gently on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “Why are you upset, princess?”

You pause, surprised at how gentle he’s being despite your outburst, and you take a deep breath. “I’ve been doing school work all week, and I’ve done every single possible review I could think of, yet I’m still performing poorly on practice tests. So then I don’t get much sleep so I can keep studying, but now I’m just tired and still doing bad. I have no time to sleep, eat, even take a proper shower… so now I’m exhausted, hungry, my hair is greasy, and I’m so frustrated.”

The two men swallow, their eyes concerned but their soothing hands calm on your thighs and your sides. Mingi, usually the better of the two at assessing emotions in situations like this, speaks up. “Okay baby. Why don’t we get something to eat, and then we can talk this out, hm?”

You immediately shake your head, huffing again and nearly going off on another tangent. Yunho cups your jaw and clicks his tongue, trying to hide the fact that he’s smiling at how cute you look when you’re pouting. “No, don’t get mad now. Tell us what you want, Y/N.”

You swallow, blushing slightly. In spite of your frustration, you can’t help but feel embarrassed at how irrational you’re acting. Mingi seems to notice, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. What do you need, princess?”

You look down at your lap, squeezing Mingi’s hand that’s still resting on your thigh and fidgeting with his fingers. “I’m really frustrated… can you help me?”

Yunho tilts his head, confused but trying hard to understand. Mingi, however, snickers. “Of course, baby! Do you want some help studying? Or would you like us to make you some food…?” Mingi starts laughing harder at Yunho’s innocent confusion, shaking his head. You blush, lightly smacking his hand. He tuts, calming his giggles and leaning forward, lowering his voice.

“It’s ok, Y/N. Tell your boyfriends what you want. Use your words.”

You shiver, shyly tilting your head down. His fingers immediately move to tilt your head back up, forcing you to look at them. Yunho’s face tells you that he’s already caught on, but he says nothing aloud, letting it all play out. You whimper.

“P-please… f-fuck me? I need you…”

Their eyes immediately darken, and you feel your heart start to race. You know that look.

Yunho leans forward, pulling you forward so you’re straddling his waist with your groins pressed together. “Oh, I see. Our princess is needy?” His voice is deeper, sweet like honey and soft like silk.

Mingi chuckles. “No need to be shy, baby. Your boys will pound that stress right out of you.”

Yunho doesn’t move right away—just watches you with those deep, unreadable eyes, like he’s trying to decide whether to scold you or devour you. His hand brushes your hair back gently, fingers grazing your temple, and you melt into the touch in spite of yourself.

“You really let yourself get this stressed out baby?” He scolds, tucking your hair back. “Silly girl, stressing yourself out when we’ve been right here for you the whole time.”

You glance down again, cheeks warm.

“You could have told us, princess.” Mingi interjects, his voice low and gravelly. He rests his hand on the bare skin of your waist, just under the hem of your shirt. “You know we’ll do anything for you. Even if that’s just working off some frustration for a while.”

You whine softly, torn between frustration and need. Mingi tilts his head, his lustful eyes never losing a drop of love. “Use your words, sweetheart.” He purrs, his rough voice soothing the itch of your arousal just right. “Tell us what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You meet his eyes and then Yunho’s, biting your lip. “I’m overwhelmed.” You admit, your voice no louder than a whisper. “I don’t want to think anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Yunho replies simply. “Let us handle all the thinking for now, hm? Your job is just to lay back and take it.”

You feel a chill crawl down your spine at his words, his words suddenly feeling more dominant. Mingi’s lips twitch up at the familiar tone of voice, his gaze loving and heavy on yours.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat, and Mingi shifts to sit on his knees, leaning closer to you and pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. He nips at the soft lobe, and you just barely flinch at the sensitive feeling.

“Gentle,” Yunho suddenly murmurs, stern yet still soft as he addresses Mingi. “She’s not feeling too well right now.”

“You don’t need to be gentle,” you interject, whispery voice cracking. “I just need you to touch me.”

They both briefly glance at your face, seeing without a doubt that you’re absolutely serious. That’s all it takes.

Yunho exhales slowly, as if attempting to regain his composure. He sits up straighter so your chests are pressed together, one of his steady hands resting on the back of your neck. “We’ll take care of you, but only if you’re good for us.” He whispers out, his breath hot and gentle as it tickles your lips from the proximity. “Understand?”

Your head bobs automatically. Mingi leans in to kiss your shoulder, and you’ve never wished your shirt was off so bad.

You whimper, shifting in Yunho’s lap, and he chuckles, velvety and dangerous. “God, you’re so needy already, aren’t you?” He remarks, his tone laced with desire. He pokes his lip out, baby talking. “That’s what stress does to our pretty girl, huh? You’re already soaked, aren’t you babe?”

Mingi nips at your neck, then licks the sting away. The cool sensation of his breath on the wet skin makes you shiver. “I told you she was touch-starved. Our poor baby.”

Yunho tsks softly and grips your chin, solidifying your gaze on him. “You want to stop thinking for a little while? Let us do it for you?”

You nod again, only slightly due to the restrictive hold on your chin. Yunho smiles, and while you can’t see Mingi, you feel him smirk against your neck.

”Good girl.”

Yunho leans forward just enough to close the distance between you, letting his lips brush against yours—barely there, teasing—before he finally presses in and kisses you properly, slow but firm as he savors the way you melt into his touch. His hand moves to stroke your jaw as you moan into his mouth, keeping you grounded.

Mingi shifts behind you, his warm hands slipping just under the hem of your shirt again. He gently teases there for a moment while he watches Yunho work his magic, before reverently lifting the fabric inch by inch, peeling it over your head. He leans forward and kisses your neck softly, trailing down your shoulder and smiling against your skin as he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

“God, Yunho, look at her,” he murmurs, voice scratchy and laced with love. “Beautiful.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to let his eyes wander, dragging his gaze over your flushed face, the outline of your breasts through your bra, your thighs beginning to tremble. “Mhm. Beautiful. And all ours.”

Your shorts are next, and they come off more quickly, Mingi’s patience thinning as he pulls you off of Yunho’s lap and lays you back against the pillows. His hands run down the length of your legs, eyes raking over every inch of exposed skin.

Yunho watches you, towering next to you and still fully clothed as he kneels at your side to press a kiss to your temple. His hand snakes around to your back to unhook your bra, gently easing it off of you, his fingertips brushing over your bare shoulders. Mingi takes the liberty of sliding your panties down your thighs, tossing it next to the bed without any regard for neatness.

Letting his kisses trail down behind your ear and towards your collarbone, Yunho breathes hotly against your skin. “There you are, princess. Stay still for us hon, we’ll take care of you.”

You feel your ears warm up at the sudden warmth in his tone, but have no time to relish in it as Mingi settles between your legs, palms spreading your thighs apart. You whimper at the feeling of his breath hot against your core—close, but not yet touching. Mingi chuckles.

“Let me warm you up, baby,” he whispers, breathy voice dripping with anticipation. He turns his head to press a kiss to your thigh, sucking on the soft flesh there he adores so much. Content with the mark he left there, he turns his head to look at you. He gently spreads your lips apart with his fingers, groaning at the sight. “You’re already this wet for me? Damn, princess… I haven’t even started.”

You whimper at the feeling of the cold air hitting your slick folds, tensing your thighs. Yunho continues kissing your collarbone, giving you barely visible marks there as Mingi gets you worked up.

Without warning, he gently licks up your folds, slow and methodical as he tongues your entrance and hums at the taste. You gasp and reach up to tangle your fingers in Yunho’s hair for support, arching your back. Mingi chuckles and splays his strong hand out flat on your tummy, gently holding you down to keep your hips from lifting from the bed. He slurps up your dripping love juices like a man starved, until he eventually has to pull away for breath. “Fuck, you taste so good, Y/N.” He groans, panting.

Yunho smiles against your skin in agreement, trailing his kisses down to your chest while Mingi catches his breath. He gently rests his lips over one of your soft nipples, reaching up to sensually palm the other one in his large hand. He hums at the sensation, his tongue licking flat strips over the peaks of your breasts as he deeply sucks on the flesh there. You sigh contentedly, comforted by the nice sensation.

Mingi takes the opportunity to return to your pussy, the tip of his tongue brushing over your clit. You gasp, sparks of pleasure shooting up through your core as he circles his tongue around the bud without any pressure, simply ghosting his tongue around you in spirals. Too needy to handle the teasing, you let out an involuntary whine, squirming under the palm still resting on your belly.

”Look at you… squirming like that,” he moans, swallowing the taste of you on his tongue. “What do you need, baby?”

Yunho gently rolls your nipple between his teeth, and you gasp, struggling to form coherent thoughts. “M-more, sir, p-please.”

Mingi can’t help himself from involuntarily twitching, bucking his hips into the mattress at the nickname. Yunho chuckles, pulling back just for a moment to praise you. “Such a good girl.”

You get impossibly warmer and squeeze your thighs together in response, earning a light slap on the thigh from Mingi. “Keep those pretty legs open, yeah? Let me take care of this messy little pussy.”

You spread your thighs obediently, humming as Mingi’s hands return to your body—one back to rest over your uterus, the other hooking up under your thigh and gripping it tight. The latter pulls you to grind up into his face, pressing your sensitive clit onto his flattened tongue, pulling a moan out of you. Mingi smiles, leaning forward to gently suck your clit, lips wrapped tight around the bundle of nerves as he continues to help you grind against him. All the while, Yunho continues kissing the soft flesh of your breasts, almost more in an attempt to keep you grounded than to tease you as he runs his hands up and down your sides.

It doesn’t take long before Mingi releases his grip on your thigh, coating his middle finger in your body’s natural lubricant. Tongue still flicking against your clit in slow, rhythmic motions, he slides his long thick finger inside of you, curling it upward just right. That alone is enough to bring you to the edge. You throw your head back, mouth hung open as Yunho flicks his tongue against your now erect nipples, your back arching into Mingi’s tongue. .

“Mingi, feel how she’s shaking?” Yunho purrs, leaning down to pat his head. “You got her so close already.”

Mingi doesn’t relent, too turned on by the way you’re writhing under them. “Mhm…”

Yunho slips one hand down to rest over your mound, fingers sliding down to feel Mingi’s mouth at work on you. He bites his lip at the sensation of the other man’s tongue accidentally licking his fingers with his sloppy tongue on your pussy, finding the whole thing erotic. “Come for us, baby,” he whispers, his own voice slightly strained. “Let us see how much you need this.”

They don’t need to ask you twice. You let your body tense up, desperately bucking your hips downward into Mingi’s tongue and moaning at each curl of his fingers inside you. Yunho praises you erotically while you let it build, and although you can’t hear what he’s saying, the tone of his once is exactly what you need to get over the edge.

The sudden warmth in your core peaks, forcing you to gasp, lifting your hips and throwing your head back into the pillows. “Mingi! A-ah~/!”

His tongue doesn’t stop, just lapping up your juices and sucking on your clit to help you ride it out, prolonging your orgasm as long as he can. By the time you finally come down, Mingi has sat up, licking his lips to savor your taste. Lips still glistening, he turns to Yunho with a dazed look. “She’s ready,” he proclaims, his voice low and hoarse. “But I’m not gonna last if I don’t calm down first.”

Yunho grins at him, dark and knowing, before turning to gently brush your hair out of your face, kissing your cheek. “You take a second to calm down while Mingi and I get prepped, okay princess?”

You nod.

“Good girl. You have permission to stretch yourself out with your fingers if you feel empty.”

With that, he turns to face Mingi, sitting on his knees in front of him and cupping his cheek. “Your lips are so swollen, Mingi.” He teases, though his tone is gentle. Mingi smirks.

“Wanna taste?”

Yunho huffs out a laugh, leaning forward and capturing Mingi’s lips in a deep, slow kiss, tasting you on his tongue like it’s the best thing he’s ever tried. Mingi lets out a low sound, hands sliding up Yunho’s chest as they kiss.

Yunho, slightly more composed, leans forward, trailing a teasing hand down his side before firmly grabbing Mingi’s erection through his pants. Mingi hisses through his teeth, but Yunho just smiles into his lips, stroking him slow and letting him roll his hips into it while they kiss.

“Breathe, Mingi,” Yunho murmurs into his mouth. “You’re too worked up.”

Mingi nods unashamedly, his eyes dark and hazy. “She’s too fucking delicious, Yun.” He thrusts up against Yunho’s palm. “Our baby’s so good.”

Yunho nods, agreeing with him as he tastes you on Mingi’s lips. He pulls away, unbuttoning Mingi’s pants and pulling his underwear down, letting the pretty, hard cock spring free from the waistband. He spits into his palm before wrapping it gently around Mingi, stroking him properly now—slow and controlled. Mingi leans forward and braces his forehead on Yunho’s shoulder, his hand rubbing Yunho’s chest through his t-shirt.

It takes a while, but once Yunho has gotten Mingi to calm down enough to stop trembling, he glances back at you. He smiles at the sight of you with three of your fingers swallowed up as far as you can reach into your pussy, eagerly stretching yourself out while you watch your boys pleasure each other. Mingi licks his lips at the pornographic way your fingers scissor your entrance open, your flushed face tense in concentration.

“You ready, baby?” Yunho asks, voice thick and sweet like honey.

Mingi, flushed and breathless but steady again, moves to kneel behind you, his hands gliding up your sides. “You’ll take Yunho in the front,” he explains, tone soft but scratchy. “And then, if you’re up for it, I can stretch you out in the back?

You nod, wanting desperately for any thoughts to be fucked right out of your head.

Yunho sits up with his back against the headboard, taking his cock out of his pants and letting Mingi helpfully set you on his lap. You straddle your legs around his waist, your dripping core just centimeters away from his length. Yunho is probably the biggest man you’ve ever seen. While Mingi rather big in size and particularly thick—perfect to fuck you fast and hard—Yunho is long and slightly more slender, helping him to make love to you slow and deep. It’s a perfect combination, truly, and the thought of both of them stuffing your holes all at once after so long of being apart…you’re about to lose your mind.

You don’t even attempt to hide your staring, poking down at the angry pink tip of Yunho’s beautiful dick as it springs up between the two of you, grinding on Yunho’s thighs. Yunho chuckles, pulling you in closer to him, with your entrance hovering just above his length.

“You’ve got it baby, slide yourself down onto it…that—ah—that’s it…”

You moan as you ease yourself down onto him, only managing to take half of him at first and whimpering each time he pushes a little deeper. Mingi rubs gentle circles against your back, watching with wonder as you sink all the way back down into Yunho’s lap, this time full with him inside you.

“Yunho..” you whimper, gripping his shoulders tight as he finally bottoms out. “F-feels so good.”

Yunho pants from the pleasure and chuckles fondly, finding your expression adorable. The two of them give you a moment to adjust, gifting you reassuring touches every second, not wanting their hands to be anywhere but on you. Reluctantly, Mingi eventually pulls away, though only to grab the bottle of lube from his bedside table. He squeezes it onto the tip of his middle finger before positioning himself to sit comfortably behind your just able to lean forward and kiss your shoulders if he needs to.

You try your best to relax your body as Mingi lifts your ass up a bit to see your pretty little hole, having done this enough times by now to know the procedure. You lift your hips to give him access, wincing at the coldness of the lube as he rubs it over your entrance.

Yunho catches the way your brows pinch together as Mingi rubs slow, deliberate circles around your hole. Noticing your discomfort, he slides his hand down to helpfully rub circles into your clit with his thumb, watching Mingi’s fingers at work.

“There you go baby… let him in slowly,” he murmurs, his thumb providing a slow, firm rhythm against you. “You’re doing so well already.”

Mingi’s voice hums low behind you, breathless with restraint. “God, you’re so soft. You always take me so good, baby. Just relax for me…”

You let out a small gasp when his finger slips in, coated thick with lube, his other hand steady on your hip as he works you open. He’s careful, attentive—massaging the tight muscle while Yunho coaxes your arousal forward. One finger becomes two, then a subtle twist of his wrist, stretching you slowly. The tension in your thighs trembles, but you feel your body beginning to yield.

“She’s getting there,” Mingi mutters, awe in his voice. “So fuckin’ tight.”

Yunho watches your face for every flicker of discomfort or pleasure, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Tell us when you’re ready, love.”

You immediately give a desperate nod, gripping Yunho’s shoulders tight. “I-I need it now… please…”

Mingi doesn’t hesitate to gently slide his fingers out of you, his ears and neck red with anticipation as he sits up and lubes up his now desperately needy cock.

Yunho chuckles at his eagerness and leans in to kiss your jaw, gently cupping your cheek with one hand. “Deep breaths, sweetheart. You’re about to be so full.”

You nod, bracing yourself with both hands on Yunho’s reliable shoulders as Mingi lines himself up at your entrance. You hold your breath, trying your best to relax your muscles as he applies a bit of pressure, fighting with your stubborn hole for entry. You whimper at the extent of the burn, before suddenly the thick, bulbous head of his cock slips inside.

Tears immediately fill your eyes at the stretch, the feeling of two cocks at once only making it sting more for the moment. Your lip quivers, and Yunho leans forward to softly kiss the corner of your mouth.

“That’s it… you’ve got it baby.” Yunho purrs, reassuring you to keep you grounded. “You’re such a good girl, taking your two big boys at once, hm?”

You nod for him, tears falling as Mingi pushes in deeper. Yunho easily brushes them away with his thumbs, cupping both cheeks in his hands and keeping your eyes on his loving face to keep you from panicking. You’re eternally grateful that these two men know you so well—you really have no doubt in your mind that they love you so, SO much.

The second the tip of Mingi’s length brushes against your prostate, you clench around them both, drawing moans out of all three of you. Almost all of the stinging pain from before is gone now that he’s reached that magical spot, and you collapse forward onto Yunho’s chest at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Oh my- god, that feels good,” you cry out, your voice strained with the sensation. “M-more? Please?”

Yunho and Mingi glimpse at each other with knowing smiles, each rubbing their hands up and down different areas of your soft, bare skin.

“Not yet, princess,” Mingi murmurs, careful. “We don’t wanna accidentally hurt you, okay?”

You nearly argue that they could literally do nothing to hurt you at the moment, but the pleasure is so overwhelming that you can’t even get the words out.

Yunho gently grips your hips, rocking you slowly forward on both of them. You let out a pleasured whimper, continuing to grind in gradual rocking motions while Mingi carefully begins to thrust into you, matching your pace.

“Hnn… F-faster please..?”

“Listen to you…” Mingi grunts out, unable to control himself. “Filled to the fucking brim and still begging for more…”

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Yunho’s neck and resting your forehead on his shoulder, panting heavily now. He reaches a comforting hand up to rub your back, turning his head to kiss your temple.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N.” He whispers, combing his fingers through your hair with gentle strokes. “Such a good girl.”

You hug him tighter, the praise raising goosebumps along your skin. Mingi leans forward, moving just slightly faster and resting his nose in the crook of your neck, hugging your from behind. It’s intense having the both of them inside you, of course. But when you’re resting on both of their laps, two pairs of strong arms wrapped around you while they take care of you, it’s just so warm.

Yunho and Mingi are SAFE.

You sniffle, hiccuping and letting your tears fall onto Yunho’s bare shoulder. He simply cups your cheeks, making you look him in the eyes while he wipes your cheeks free of tears, his eyes looking at you with so much love. You lean forward, your voice cracking from pleasure and the overwhelming feeling of desire in your belly. “I love you…”

Yunho’s face gets impossibly softer, his hands brushing your hair back out of your face. Mingi lets his hands rest on your waist, gently dragging your hips back and forth still.

“We love you too, sweetheart,” Mingi murmurs into your shoulder, his voice low and rough.

Yunho’s smooth voice provides a pleasing contrast. “Our baby…”

You simply whimper in response, your hips twitching. It just feels so good to be here with them… it’s the most fulfilled you’ve felt in months.

Mingi, unable to stop himself, bucks his hips suddenly, eliciting a moan from you at the sudden intensity. Yunho’s eyes dart up and he opens his mouth to scold the other man, but your pleas interrupt him.

“Oh, baby…”

Mingi smirks at Yunho proudly, beginning to move more consistently now. Yunho, while a bit more patient than Mingi, does still have a limit, and he finds himself beginning to do the same.

With the two of them, there’s literally no end to the stimulation. Mingi thrusts into you, and as soon as he pulls back, Yunho pushes in, giving you no break before new sparks of pleasure reach your core. You have no more control over what sounds escape your parted lips, your nails digging into Yunho’s shoulders as he grunts from the sensation.

Mingi keep his grip on your hips steady as the two of them increase their pace together, and almost immediately Yunho slips his hand between your legs and rubs his thumb firmly against your throbbing clit. That’s all it takes to send you barreling over the edge, your holes clenching tight around both of theirs as you scream out a jumbled version of both of their names.

Mingi whispers praises into your shoulder while you ride it out, and Yunho simply groans and speeds up, no longer able to help himself as his whimpers grow into higher whines. Still panting as you come down from your climax, you rock faster on them, encouraging them to reach their own. It doesn’t take long before Mingi gives one final grunt as.he buries himself deep inside you, and only a few pumps later Yunho joins them. You continue your rocking, helping them through it and gasping at the sensation of two warm loads filling you up.

Mingi rests his head on your shoulder with his arms around your waist, his warm breath tickling your bare skin as he pants to catch his breath. Meanwhile, you use your position higher up on Yunho’s lap to your advantage, gently tucking the taller man’s head under your chin and holding him there, close to your chest. The three of you stay just like this for a while, not saying a word—the warmth of the embrace saying enough.

Right now exams don’t matter. Nor does the stress of life, of school, of work… all that matters is them. Them, them, them… and you.

That’s what’s important—and you promise yourself to never forget that again.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

hii could you write a fic where nam gyu is trying to comfort reader after arguing with her and making her cry??pretty please 🙏🙏

Didn't mean

Character: Nam Gyu x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Nam Gyu never wanted to be the kind of man who made you cry. But after a heated argument leaves you in tears, he has to confront both his guilt and his feelings—and figure out how to reach you through the silence.

Warnings: Raised voices (off-screen), crying, emotional vulnerability, brief mention of insecurity/self-worth

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice.

He hadn’t meant to say the thing about you “always needing something” when all you were doing was asking for five minutes of his time.

But stress had chewed away at his temper. And instead of stepping back, breathing, thinking—he’d let it out.

Now, the apartment was still. Quiet in the way only regret can make it.

You were curled up on the far edge of the couch, knees tucked to your chest, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands like you were trying to disappear into them. Your face was turned away, but he could tell—he could feel—it. The shimmer of tears, the occasional breath hitch, the silence that wasn’t peaceful but punished.

Nam Gyu stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, guilt pressing on his lungs like wet cloth.

“...Hey,” he said quietly.

You didn’t look at him.

His throat tightened. “I know you probably don’t want to hear me right now. But I’m sorry. For what I said. For how I said it.”

Still, nothing.

So he moved slowly, kneeling in front of the couch, just enough to see your eyes—red at the edges, lashes still damp.

He hated that. Hated that he’d put that look on your face.

“I get scared sometimes,” he admitted, voice lower now, like if he said it any louder it would shatter. “That I’m not enough. That you’ll wake up one day and realize there’s someone better out there—someone more patient, more stable. Someone who doesn’t snap over stupid things.”

Your gaze flicked toward him, silent but softening.

“I wasn’t really mad at you,” he said, hand hovering near yours without quite touching. “I was mad at myself. But I took it out on you. And that’s... that’s not fair. That’s not love. And I love you.”

You blinked, one tear escaping down your cheek. He reached for it without thinking, brushing it away gently with the back of his knuckle.

“I’m not good with words when I’m upset,” he whispered. “But I’ll get better. For you.”

There was a long pause. He didn’t push. Just stayed kneeling there, breathing in the ache between you, willing it to pass.

Finally, your voice came—quiet, hoarse. “You made me feel small.”

His heart cracked.

“I know,” he said, eyes stinging. “And I hate that I did. I hate that I made you feel anything less than the most important thing in my life. Because you are.”

You looked at him then—really looked—and after a heartbeat, your hand reached out, lacing fingers with his.

“You scared me,” you whispered.

“I scared myself,” he said honestly. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I never do again.”

You shifted, slowly sitting up, and when he opened his arms, you fell into them like a wave returning to shore. He held you tightly, one hand cradling your head, the other curled around your back.

“I love you,” you murmured, muffled against his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he breathed. “And I’m so sorry.”

You stayed like that for a long time—wrapped in each other, letting the storm pass.

And this time, when the silence settled between you, it was quiet in a way that felt like healing.

[askgrantcurly]

Letter One - Expected Delivery 5/2/2025

Jimmy,

I know you’ve been expecting me to write and visit you while you’re in rehab, and when I dropped you off that is exactly what I intended on doing. I got home that day after sobbing in the lobby and it made me realize a few things. These are also some of the reasons why I didn’t… or couldn’t come.

I don’t think I was ready to see you change when we first got into a relationship.

I knew I wanted you more than anything, I still do, but I didn’t have faith that you could change, and that was wrong of me. I expected this to go exactly the way it always had. I am so sorry, Jim. You were putting in all this work and I treated you like a manipulator. I feel so stupid for letting myself get disillusioned by my own insecurity. You put forth effort and I shunned you for it.

Instead of talking to you I decided to talk for you and then get angry at you for things you never said- things you likely didn’t even mean. We are equally flawed; the only difference is that you’re honest about it, and I’m a coward.

I knew that something was wrong when your demeanor changed before the abortion appointment, and I was too selfish to address it.

I did want to have that baby with you. It kills me to think that you were changing your mind and I ignored every sign. You were trying to communicate the best way you knew how and my selfishness and acceptance made you feel like you couldn’t tell me directly. Sure, there is miscommunication on both sides, but I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about ME and MY mistakes. I put you in a position where you felt like being honest with me wasn’t practical. I’m so sorry, Jim. More than anything, I’m sorry about that.

I still think we made the right decision in the current situation we’re in, but in the future, when you want to- IF you want to, we can try again.

I love you. Completely, entirely, wholeheartedly, I love you.

There is no one else in this world that I would rather be with than you. I know you said in your letter that no one else compares to me, but the same thing can be said about you. No matter who I’m with, whether I’m dating them or just filling in the holes with some… quick emotionless fuck while I wait for you, no one will ever or has ever compared to you. You are the one for me and I refuse to give that up.

I think I put a lot of my self worth on sex, which isn’t your fault but has led me to look for that validation in other people

I slept with someone else… multiple people, actually, and I’m incredibly embarrassed about my actions. I hurt people I love because I needed validation more than I cared about them in the moment. God, I buried myself in other people’s affection because I didn’t have the attention I wanted from you- and I’m the one who wasn’t reaching out. None of it makes sense, even to me.

The first person, a close friend of ours, was for comfort and familiarity and I’m sick to my stomach over it. I thought I was clear about my intentions but I don’t think I cared in the moment if I wasn’t. I hurt her and that is something I have to live with now, even though we’re working through it. Things have changed now.

The rest were… god, for lack of better word, opportunistic. It became an impulse fueled by a desire to be cared for- cared about- and I never stopped to accept that the only person who feels right to me is you.

I don’t have feelings for any of the people I slept with. The sex, at least to me, was just sex and nothing else. In your last letter you brought up an unofficial obligation to each other and I have to agree. I felt like I was cheating on you the entire time and that made things messy.

You have every right to be mad at me. I NEED you to be angry with me because it means you still care about me. It’s weird, and a bit deranged, but it’s the truth.

I knew about Colt; I knew something would happen, and I’m not angry about it.

I’m not mad at you for sleeping with Colt under current circumstance. I understand why you did it, but it breaks my heart that it was such a bad experience for you… you don’t deserve to feel like that. I won’t let anyone touch you like that again. I don’t want anyone else to touch you, and I don’t want to touch anyone else. I just want it to be US.

One last thing…

[[ ILLEGIBLE ]]

Please don’t answer me until I pick you up. Really consider it.

Much love, Grant.

[evans23]

Hello! May I request Severus Snape x female reader? He might be scolding her for something and even calling her stupid. But she doesn't pay attention and tells him that she thinks everything about him is beautiful...

Thank you 💖

(Sorry for my english)

You're handsome when you're angry

Pairing : Severus Snape x Reader OC

Summary : You are the assistant of Severus Snape. The man who lived. The sarcastic, cold angry Potions Master. And you think he his handsome. Even when he is angry.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : None.

A/N : Thank you for your request ! I'm not used to writing about Snape because, well we have plenty of stories about him and each time I have an idea for our favourite Potions Master, I have that feeling that it has already been done, therefore, I hope you'd like it !

Also read on AO3

Six months. Six months since you'd been his assistant. You'd have thought the war had mellowed him out. That surviving a giant snake had made him more... agreeable.

But no, he was still the same good old Severus Snape. And he was now the one they called the one who lived. His name had been cleared of all shame thanks to Harry Potter. Or Bloody Potter, as Snape regularly muttered.

The potions professor had hardly appreciated the fact that Harry, in order to allow him to be officially pardoned and even receive the Order of Merlin, had made his memories public. At the time, Snape was in a coma, and McGonagall had encouraged Harry to bring justice to Severus, the bravest man who had ever attended Hogwarts, according to her own words.

Needless to say, when he woke up from a six-month coma, Severus wanted more than ever to jump off the Astronomy Tower... but he didn't have the strength to get up; the venom had made him weak, and all he managed was fall out of bed, face down, while Mrs. Pomfrey came running in, scolding him like he was still eleven.

And when Harry came to see him to thank him for protecting him all these years, Severus didn't tell him he was sorry and that he should have let him drop out of his damn ballet in his first year. No, he just told him, with cold calm, that he could put the Order of Merlin in his dark side.

Harry left the hospital wing with a big smile. Severus Snape was in better shape. And he was still himself.

And against all odds, when Minerva had offered him his old job as potions professor and Head of Slytherin... he refused. He had sacrificed enough of himself and life to finally stop thinking about himself.

He had traveled a bit, tried to find his place elsewhere, opened a small healing potions shop in Paris, tamed the demons that haunted the Vatican basements, lived a quiet life in a remote Swedish village where he barely lasted two weeks once winter came, then returned to the UK and wrote to Minerva.

The truth was, he didn't know how to be anything other than a potions professor. After all, he had spent his entire youth being one, and now he wasn't really old, but his soul was, and he was worn down. Worn down by life and the endless suffering it had inflicted on him.

Minerva had immediately given him back his job, arguing that the current potions professor could have competed with Longbottom, given how much she'd had to rethink the cauldron budget.

And two years later, you arrived. You were 33 years old. Not a young beginner, not a dunderhead fresh out of school. No, just a somewhat lost woman who'd struggled to find herself. A woman with her own past and her own wounds, and a recent career change that, you hoped, would finally open the doors to fulfilment, and especially to your dream career: Potions Master.

Snape had of course grumbled, protested, threatened to quit his job, but Minerva had been adamant. Hogwarts was part of a program for young wizards looking for their bearing, a pompous name given by the Ministry to people who had taken a little time to find their way in a world too fast-paced for them, or to those who had had to reinvent themselves after the war, and above all, Severus couldn't quit his job; he had nowhere else to go.

His house in Spinner's End had been burned to the ground, probably by Death Eaters. Not that he missed that hovel full of painful memories, but from then, Hogwarts was truly his one and only home.

When told about you, he had expected a 19-year-old girl, a recent graduate of a school with questionable training, whom he would have to keep a close eye on now that he had stabilized the cauldron budget. Not to a 33-year-old woman, disillusioned but eager to learn, capable of listening, absorbing knowledge, and above all, above all, not talking more than necessary. Or at least, not anymore. After one week you knew better. 

He would never have said it to your face, but one evening when McGonagall asked him what she should write in the report she was to submit to Granger, who was heading this rehabilitation program, he replied that you were promising and that he had nothing negative to say. McGonagall, her eyes wide as saucers, wondered for a moment if he'd lost his mind, her, who had never heard him compliment anyone, but she had the wisdom to say nothing about it.

You immediately found him handsome. Intelligent. Broken. Of course, you knew his story. Everyone knew it. It had been heard all over the wizarding world. But as the days went by, you were able to see beyond the story. You saw the man. And one day, you woke up hoping he would see you for yourself. For the woman you were, not the assistant.

He was tough, but he never shouted. His anger was cold, and he always spoke in the same laconic tone. Yet, you could tell whether he was in a good mood or not by a simple raise of one of his eyebrow. And you knew that after a class with the Gryffindors, and especially with McIntyre, a somewhat dreamy young boy incapable of following instructions unless you were behind him at all times, ready to catch his hand before he threw slugs instead of leeches into a potion that was particularly toxic if the wrong ingredients were added, then he wasn't in a bad mood or angry... he was unbearable. Suffice to say, you watched over McIntyre like a lioness her cubs, because you were the one who then had to put up with Snape until bedtime.

You didn't talk much, always about work, but little by little, you were getting used to each other, and he was putting up with you. At least, that's what you thought until today.

Today had been hell. You'd woken up late, and the glare Severus had given you... you were certain that if you'd still been a student, he would have given you detention until the end of the year... except it wasn't you he gave detention, it was McIntyre for setting his eyebrows on fire. His own, thank goodness, not Snape's. If that had been the case, you're certain McIntyre would have nothing left but his eyes to cry with on the train back to King's Cross forever.

However, you were the one who had to deal with detentions, which meant you'd never have another afternoon free until the end of the year.

Then you had to clean up the mess left by a fourth-year student who, Merlin knows how, had managed to make it impossible to magically clean the classroom. Three hours of scrubbing by hand, hands that were now red and irritated.

And after supervising the detention of two first-year idiots who had thought it clever to slip a toad into Madam Pomfrey's satchel, two idiots you should have made scrub the classroom after a second thought, you now had to spend your evening working with Snape on a highly unstable but terribly necessary position to vaccinate the thestrals who were suffering from a kind of purulent chickenpox, fortunately not contagious to humans.

The laboratory was dark, smoky, and smelled of a mixture of thyme, wood, and... Snape. Snape, his raven hair blowing over his eyes, was hunched over a cauldron inside which a purple liquid was bubbling bigger than your head. Your potion didn't have the same intense purple colour, but after a skeptical glance, Severus had said that was normal; purple could be more or less intense depending on the personality of the person brewing it. So you could easily guess that tonight, he was in as bad a mood as Filch's cat.

You didn't dare speak much. Not because he impressed you, but because you'd arrived a minute and fifteen minutes late, once again after your morning lateness, which had earned you a perfectly plucked eyebrow raise and a:

"Thirty more seconds and you'd have had to find another Potions Master to make life difficult for."

You hadn't replied; your past attempts at humour had taught you that it was a character trait very, very disliked by this man you admired almost in spite of yourself.

The problem wasn't that you weren't good at potions, it was that you operated on instinct, while Snape was rigorous. At least, that's what he said; you'd seen that he too had a way of sensing potions, of embodying them... and of being instinctive. But when you told him, you thought his gaze could have been the first to cast an Avada Kedavra spell. Or that he was trying to get into your head. When, still a little clumsy, you asked him with a crooked smile if that was what he was trying to do, he coldly replied that he already knew your head was empty and didn't want to inflict the torture of confirming it by entering it only to encounter nothingness.

You were busy stirring your potion, lost in thought, when it started to form black bubbles that made the table vibrate. It was when a greenish cloud began to rise from the cauldron that you realized: you'd made a mistake. Instead of using a specter's tear, you'd used a tarantula's tear.

A quick glance at Snape reassured you; he hadn't noticed. You tried to make amends by throwing in some catnip, but it only made things worse. A bubble burst with a dull thud, almost burning your forearm.

In an instant, Severus was leaning over the cauldron, wand in hand, muttering a formula you haven't heard before, and within seconds, the potion had returned to its original consistency.

"You brainless fool, are you completely stupid ? You could have set this classroom on fire ! The castle !"

He wasn't shouting, but his dark eyes flashed, and his voice, cold and sharp, hurt more than any scream.

"Do you want to die ?! Are you stupid or are you pretending ?! I should have told Minerva you were too incompetent to work at Hogwarts from day one."

He went on like this, accusing you of not taking anything seriously, of not being serious enough to have not yet found your way at your age, of not being reliable...

You took a step back, surprised, but you didn't lower your eyes. You were almost... peaceful.

"You can have your little smile... perhaps you'd like me to applaud you for not killing yourself like a first-year freshman ? Idiot !"

He had shouted that last word. His only outburst. Now there was only silence. Heavy. You took a deep breath, then, quietly, without irony, you said to him,

"I think you're handsome."

Visibly taken aback, Snape looked at you as if you were growing a second head.

"Even when you're angry. Even when you're tough. I know it's because you can't bear to lose control. Because you never really had it. You were only given the illusion that you were in control. You lost something. Not a Lily. Freedom. The freedom to choose. The freedom to be yourself. But I admire you. I admire you for managing to get back up and fight every time, after every challenge."

Severus sighed deeply, and for the first time, you saw him remove his mask. Before you, you had the man, the real one, not the spy, not the professor, not the bat from the dungeons.

"It's dangerous... to see monsters as men," he murmured.

"I'm less afraid of monsters than of men," you replied with an enigmatic smile.

And in an instant, he understood. Understood that behind your smiles and your slightly awkward humour, there was a story. A story that was nothing like a fairy tale. Experiences, mistakes, back roads... a painful past. Maybe not as painful as his, but pain is pain, and yours was no less valid because you hadn't gone through the same ordeals as him. He knew better than anyone that you have no right to compare one person's suffering to another's. It wasn't fair. Every individual was unique, every suffering valid.

"Even the darkest potions have a light within them if you know how to look," you added without looking at him, already busy cleaning your work surface.

Severus froze, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to say. He was dying to enter your mind, but he wouldn't. He saw no point in stealing someone's memories to get to know them better. In fact, Snape had never used his gift to get to know someone, because he'd never wanted to. But suddenly, you, he wanted to know you.

"No woman has ever told me I'm handsome," he said, before mentally slapping himself.

"Because they never looked properly," you shrugged.

You raised your head, a genuine smile on your lips.

"I see you. Not your story. Not your past. Just you."

It wasn't the first time he'd been offered this kind of philosophical statement, which he found a bit silly. Even Potter had said it to him, and it was after he had seen all his memories... well, him and three-quarters of the Ministry. But coming from you, it sounded true.

"I think you're even stupider than I thought," he said without any sarcasm.

"Oh, you have no idea. If you asked me out for a Butterbeer, I might well say yes."

"Even Professor Longbottom isn't that stupid," Severus added with a slight twitch of his lips.

"So, when are we going to drink this Butterbeer?" you asked, staring into his eyes.

He didn't need to use his magic to know what you were thinking. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like a man. For the first time in a long time, he no longer hoped. He knew. Yes, he knew that life was offering him a second chance to love and be loved.

[ladymrf]

so I'm back with more sad (?) sht

....

"I thought you were off the streets today?"

The voice modified by the helmet reaches Tim, he doesn't turn to acknowledge Jason, just waits for him to approach, Jason comes to the edge of the roof and looks at what Tim is observing hidden.

A few rooftops away, Batman and Robin fight a fair amount of thugs, Bruce and Damian alone, they are good, of course they are, familiar fighting styles and Tim swears he saw Bruce smiling at Damian's skills at some point.

"What? Planning to pull a Red Hood on the kid? No offense Red, but we both know the problem is the Bat, never the Bird."

Tim frowned and looked at Jason in confusion.

"What? No. I mean, sure it sucks to be replaced by a kid after having been through so much shit in that position, but no, God, I can't pull a Hood on the kid, that would be stupid… No offense."

Jason knew very well that he meant to offend.

"So? What are you doing here? Reviving the old habit of stalking?"

"No, I just needed to make sure you two were well adjusted to each other, I'm pleased with what I've seen so far." Tim stepped away from the edge of the roof "Finally free."

"Of what?"

"Of the weight." Tim answered easily, he looked at Jason with a hint of curiosity "I understand all the bitterness of losing the mantle and the place in the family, I really understand Hood, but didn't you feel relief?"

Jason considers in silence for a long time, Tim realizes that probably not, Jason was dealing with a lot more along with the loss of all aspects of his life in Gotham, he had lost his life in general, so he rephrased the question.

"After you stabilized a bit, wasn't it better? Easier to breathe? Without all that weight."

"Robin should never be heavy, kid." Jason looked at him, Hood's helmet conveyed the expression of displeasure very well "It should be light, because birds must fly."

"Hm. I guess you and N. were always stronger than me then." He looked back at the place where the fight was taking place "I think D. will be the lightest of us." Tim shook his head and smiled "I hope so."

"What were you talking about before? About relief."

"Isn't it a relief not to be responsible for Batman anymore?" Tim asked bluntly, Hood just blinked "If we're not Robin, we're not subject to his shit, I mean, fuck if the patrol sucks, fuck if something puts him in a bad mood, fuck if he's angry. It's not our problem anymore. It's not our responsibility to try to make him see reason. To bring him back from his dark mind to the real world. To be the light. That's Robin's job."

Jason is silent, he stares at Tim completely surprised at how relieved the boy seems, it's like a weight is lifted off him with each sentence, it's like Tim is returning to his normal posture after being crushed for years.

"Don't you think that's a lot of responsibility for a child?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, but D. will do fine, he has plenty of people on his side to intervene if something goes off the rails." Tim shrugged and with more bitterness than he should have said the next part "Someone always intervenes for him. Besides, he has Nightwing."

"We both had him too."

"Not the way he does it, you know that." Tim laughed at Jason's speech "Well, it's not my problem. Not anymore. Dealing with B. is Robin's responsibility and the current one will have to deal with it."

"You're telling me, that the first time B screws the boy over, because he will, you and I both know, you won't jump in to solve the problem?"

Tim looks at Jason, really looks at him with a look that borders on physical pain.

"Of course I'll go." Tim says easily, "Because I want to, because Robin is a child and we have to protect children, not because I need to keep B in line. It's good to do things because you want to, not because you have to."

Jason almost asks if someone ever jumped between Batman and Tim's Robin, if someone ever interfered in their disputes, if someone looked at the boy walking next to the bat and saw a child and not the sidekick.

He knows the answer, Jason himself hasn't done it before.

Instead, he sighs and says, "Want to go blow up a gang downtown?"

Red Robin smiles at him, "Yes, please."

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

can we get the skeles playing tug of war? i think it would be funny who would do it like its their last thing they will do or just stand there simply holding on

Undertale Sans - Everyone is making fun of him because it seems Sans is pretty much just holding the rope. What no one sees is Sans' hand moving as he's tying his opponents' shoelaces together, one after the other, with his blue magic. When the game starts, all of them fall forward. Welp, he won.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus is a master at puzzles, so he knows strength is not the answer to this, but only how you position yourself. He's briefing his all team and wins in a few seconds because he knows exactly how to do it. He's very proud of himself.

Underswap Sans - He's a little ball of energy and rage, and he's pulling with all he has, screaming at the top of his lungs. It's a close match, but eventually Blue' unlimited energy surprises his opponents who are exhausted after a few minutes. Blue is celebrating as they're all panting on the floor.

Underswap Papyrus - He was supposed to be with Blue, but Blue said it was his moment and that he would watch him. The opponents pull, Honey faceplants into the ground lol. He did what he could, man...

Underfell Sans - So, Red thought insulting his opponents before the game started would break their focus, so he could win easily. It actually motivated them more, and they destroyed the heck out of him in seconds lol. Red is a sore loser and blips to not hear them talk shit in his back. He's sulking.

Underfell Papyrus - He could have won if he hadn't teamed up with Undyne. Both on them couldn't agree on what strategy to adopt, so they basically screamed at each other and didn't notice the game started. They lost in seconds... Then Edge jumped at her throat, pissed off.

Horrortale Sans - His reaction time is way too slow, and by the time he realizes the game has started, it's already over lol. He's just staring at his empty hands in confusion. Where did the rope go?

Horrortale Papyrus - He sadly can't participate because of his back, but he's cheering his teammates the best he can, by screaming at them to check their position. He's stressing Grillby so much that his flames start to burn for real and then the rope starts to burn. Oops.

Swapfell Sans - He's fighting against Alphys. That's five hours now. None of them wants to let go. There's no public anymore, everyone left hours ago. Nox is growling like an enraged animal, throwing bones at her so she loses her focus, but she's doing the same thing with spears. Rus set up a camera and is taking bets online lol.

Swapfell Papyrus - He does it entirely naked. It confuses his opponents enough for him to win this. Well, he's also banned from ever competing again, but that happened. He doesn't regret anything lol.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Oh, that's easy. He makes all of his opponents' souls suddenly very heavy and watches as they all faceplant into the ground, unable to stand up again. He then picks up the rope and pulls it very slowly towards him, not putting any effort into it. Now, what did he win? He hopes that's money. He loves money.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Coffee pulls with his arms but he completely forget he has legs too, and eventually he slips and hits his head hard on the floor. He's not seeing very straight for a few hours after that, but that's ok. At least he got some chocolate as a comforting prize and it's way better than a stupid medal.

[wrens-garden]

To preface, this is me exploring the relationships Aura has, focused on the ships I found, but this is just general exploration and shit so could be read platonically or romantically. It's very long so, be warned

Navi is, as we know, Aura's first friend. Aura chose to save it in the escape despite what I'm assuming is protocol. Since the crash, Aura has been acting as guard and nurse to Navi, finding and providing medical aid, as well as defending Navi's unconscious body from assumed threats. Stars made no move in using Navi, nor revealing what Navi is to people who could be inclined to. Of course, that is basic decency, and I'm sure many would do the same, but because of Aura's upbringing, I'm going to point it out. Now we don't actually know much about Navi, it is very much unconscious, and there have been no interactions between them outside of the beginning cutscene. However, based on how much Aura cares about Navi and based on what Navi said to Epsilon, they're close and will continue to be so. Now, because of the lack of knowledge about their relationship, it's hard to say which way it'll lead, but I think it's safe to say they'll only get closer once Navi wakes up, with Aura taking the lead until Navi can orientate itself, but before Navi wakes I'm expecting to see a lot more of Aura defending Navi to the best of stars ability and general caretaking. After Navi wakes, it's entirely up in the air.

Vick is admittedly kinda tough, Aura doesn't super trust him and is kinda scared of him, scared enough to be firmly stuck in people-pleasing mode to keep him on their side. However, Vick is quite serious about living with Aura and is quite determined to find a way to defend their home and also to locate the captain. They are pretty in sync for being near strangers, Aura tending to Navi and the home, and Vick adventuring and finding things. Aura is, of course, doing a lot of this for Vick because star thinks they have to, but Vick is genuine. I feel like once Aura can overcome their fear of Vick, or stars idea of Vick, then they would run together like a well-oiled machine.

Vesper would be a good balance for Aura. Aura isn't weak or stupid, just sheltered however, Vesper would be able to spot untrustworthy people more easily and have the defence and plans to get out of situations. Now I won't say Vesper would ever endanger Evren or herself for Aura, but she'd provide extra protection and possibly could teach Aura a thing or two about defence. Aura is booksmart, not streetsmart, something that Vesper definitely is. Like I said, they balance each other out. Also, Vesper would probably understand Aura's need to protect Navi, and could possibly assist, or at least help Aura come up with a better lie and/or protection. With recent lore in mind, Vesper did warn Aura via message when Aura was talking with Epsilon, Vesper obviously knows what Epsilon is, and like I said, has a lot more knowledge when it comes to things Aura doesn't know. Vesper is also a lot more conscious of Aura's wariness, possibly could relate to them in that regard, and so does seem to make an effort to not push star in ways she would not want to be.

Evren balances Aura differently, while Vesper balances Aura in work areas, Evren balances Aura in fun areas. Evren matches Aura's energy when it comes to finding cool shit, and they both get quite excited about eachothers discoveries. Evren also brings out a more relaxed, playful and flirty side of Aura, no matter how unintentionally the flirting is said, Evren does tease Aura for it, making a lot of conversations lighter. Evren is the first person Aura tells that stars a criminal or at least that they've stolen something valuable, he can presumably guess what Aura took, but never says it. Evren also recognises that Aura is more of a lover, not a fighter, and encourages them to make things more than just weapons, like defence. Evren also warned Aura of Epsilon, and I believe is the one who suggested that they take Epsilon to Aura instead of just pointing it in the right direction. I can't say for certain, but I can imagine Evren would be willing to help Aura protect Navi, or at least would be understanding of Aura's predicament, he already has been.

Mi-go and Aura are both engineers, and Aura is quite fascinated with Mi-go and the things she does. I don't want to make too much of a leap, but I think Aura would be willing to provide hair or something for Mi-go to clone them or whatever it is that she does. The only issues would be that I'm not too sure Mi-go would be against using Navi as a power source, obviously Aura being heavily against it would certainly persuade Mi-go, but still, also Daiv told Aura that Mi-go was interested in stars ship, and nothing good comes from that. Besides that, they have a good relationship. Mi-go is always willing to show off its machines and the things she makes, and Aura is always willing to look at said things. Mi-go is quite the entertainer, and Aura is always willing to be entertained. And vice versa. Mi-go and Aura have similar interests, one could say, or at least similar jobs and skills, and that certainly helps their relationship. Mi-go could definitely bring some excitement to Aura's life, and Aura could mellow Mi-go out a little. They balance each other well.

Asrickus is almost obvious. The fact that Ricky here is two steps away from giggling and kicking his feet around Aura practically speaks for itself. But I must read deeper. Aura is fascinated by Asrickus and has been very willing to provide things and make things for both bounty hunters. Of course, this could be a situation similar to Vick, fawning to survive. However, I genuinely believe Asrickus thinks too highly of Aura to be willing to agree to a bounty on star, not that I'm convinced he'd get one. Asrickus, in general, is always glad to talk with Aura, Aura seems to be in a similar boat. Asrickus is always amazed by Aura's skills and powers, which, yet again, Aura is in the same boat. Their relationship is strong, whether romantic or platonic, and both are pretty willing to help the other. They are kinda similar, so in that way, their relationship will certainly go far