#which is dramatic because I will be fine and things will keep going

[bradleysass]

Valentine - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 789 - Starchaser + Wolfstar

James had been looking forward to this night for weeks. He’d made the reservation in advance, picked out his outfit days before, and even spent an unreasonable amount of time trying to figure out if Regulus would prefer flowers or chocolates (he’d settled on both). It wasn’t often that Regulus let himself be romanced, and James was determined to make it perfect.

So of course, something had to go wrong.

Regulus looked stunning. It was the first thing James had noticed when he picked him up—how he was dressed sharply in a dark suit, perfectly tailored, an image so different from the usual oversized jumpers and effortless laziness that James loved just as much. Regulus had even let his hair fall in soft waves instead of the usual loose curls, and James had to resist the urge to shove him against the nearest wall and kiss him senseless.

“Stop staring,” Regulus had murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket.

“Can’t help it,” James had grinned. “You’re beautiful.”

Regulus had rolled his eyes, but James had caught the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

They had arrived at the restaurant exactly on time, James feeling smug and accomplished—until the hostess had frowned at the reservation list, flipped a few pages, and said, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Potter, but it looks like there’s been a mix-up. We don’t have any two-person tables left.”

James had blinked. “What do you mean?”

“We accidentally double-booked, but we do have another couple who agreed to share their table, if that works for you?”

James had sighed, exasperated, but before he could protest, Regulus had spoken up, voice clipped. “Fine.”

James had turned, eyebrow raised. “You sure?”

“I’m hungry, and I’d rather not wait another hour for another restaurant. I don’t care who we sit with.”

That had turned out to be a mistake.

Because as they were led to their table, James quickly realized that the couple they were sharing with were none other than Sirius and Remus.

Sirius, who immediately burst into laughter upon seeing them. “Oh, this is fucking fantastic.”

Regulus, to his credit, did not immediately turn around and leave, though his jaw did tighten noticeably.

“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered under his breath to James.

James just gave him a sheepish smile before sitting down across from Sirius and Remus. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

“Didn’t realize you had a date tonight, baby brother,” Sirius said, smirking as he swirled his wine.

Regulus merely picked up the menu and ignored him.

Remus, who was clearly trying to keep the peace, smiled politely. “Well, at least this way we get to enjoy each other’s company. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s,” James replied easily, nudging Regulus under the table with his foot. “See? Could be worse.”

Regulus finally put the menu down and shot James a withering look. “How?”

“Well,” James said, grinning, “we could be stuck with, say, your mum instead of Sirius.”

Sirius snorted, and even Remus failed to hide his amused chuckle.

Regulus exhaled sharply and picked up his wine glass. “Fine. But I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

James, who would have bought him the whole restaurant if he wanted it, just winked. “As you should, love.”

Dinner, surprisingly, was not a complete disaster. Sure, Sirius spent a fair amount of time making thinly veiled comments about how proud he was of Regulus for having “an actual social life,” and Regulus spent an equal amount of time glaring at him, but Remus kept the conversation pleasant, steering them towards safer topics. James, ever the optimist, enjoyed watching the brothers interact in their strange, passive-aggressive way. It was almost endearing.

By the time dessert arrived, Regulus had begrudgingly accepted that this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He even let James feed him a bite of his chocolate lava cake, which Sirius dramatically gagged at before Remus elbowed him.

After the check was paid (James insisted, despite Regulus’ protests), they all stood to leave.

“Well,” Sirius said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders, “this has been an unexpected delight. We should do it again sometime, baby brother.”

Regulus shot him a withering look. “We won’t.”

Sirius smirked. “I love you too.”

James, watching the exchange, leaned down to press a kiss to Regulus’ temple. “I had fun.”

Regulus sighed but didn’t push him away. “You would.”

As they stepped outside into the cool February air, James laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Next year, we’ll get our own table.”

Regulus glanced at him, something softer in his expression now. “Yeah. Next year.”

And when James kissed him under the streetlights, he tasted like chocolate and something sweeter—something like love.

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER ELEVEN

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash

playlist: spotify

You were going to throw up.

Not in the cute, haha-I’m-nervous-but-still-functional way, but in the actual way where your stomach was twisting and turning like it was personally offended by your existence.

Because this wasn’t just any event.

This was the Grammys.

The biggest night in music. The night where HOT DIVISION—your band—was nominated for two awards. The night where the entire world would be watching them.

And, more importantly, the night where you were responsible for making sure everything went smoothly.

Which meant no wardrobe malfunctions, no missed cues, no PR disasters—just a flawless, effortless evening where everything went according to plan.

No pressure.

The limo ride to the venue was filled with a mix of excitement and chaos. Ji-Yeong was buzzing, practically bouncing in her seat as she scrolled through Twitter, reading fan reactions in real time. Se-Mi was dramatically practicing her “Oh my god, we won? I had no idea!” face in the mirror. No-Eul was—well, No-Eul, calm and composed, quietly observing the madness.

And Sae-Byeok?

She was sitting silently beside the window, arms crossed, her jaw set in that unreadable way that meant she was thinking too much.

You, on the other hand, were gripping your phone with a death grip, mentally running through your checklist for the hundredth time, trying not to spiral.

Okay. Arrive at the carpet. Do the interviews. Smile. Keep them moving. Don’t let Ji-Yeong say anything that will get her canceled. Check their places for the ceremony. Manage post-show plans. Keep them out of trouble. Oh god, this is a disaster waiting to happen—

A gentle squeeze on your hand pulled you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, looking down to see No-Eul’s fingers wrapped around yours.

It wasn’t obvious—wasn’t dramatic or attention-grabbing. Just a quiet, steady warmth, grounding you.

“You’re doing fine,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how tightly you had been holding onto your phone, your shoulders hunched with tension.

No-Eul gave your hand another squeeze.

“Breathe,” she said simply.

And somehow, you did.

Sae-Byeok saw the whole thing.

She had been sitting across from you, watching the way your fingers trembled slightly, the way your breathing had gone shallow. She had felt the nervous energy rolling off of you, had wanted to say something—do something.

But before she could, No-Eul had beaten her to it.

And now, Sae-Byeok was watching you relax under her touch, watching the way you leaned into her comfort, watching the way No-Eul was able to calm you down in a way she hadn’t.

And it pissed her off.

Not at No-Eul.

Not really.

But at herself—for hesitating. For sitting there, watching instead of acting.

She clenched her jaw, looking away, forcing herself to ignore the uncomfortable twist in her stomach.

This wasn’t the time.

The limo pulled up to the venue, and suddenly, it was real.

The red carpet stretched ahead, cameras flashing, reporters lined up, calling out names. Fans were screaming, banners waving in the air, the energy electric.

And then the door opened.

Ji-Yeong stepped out first, exuding effortless confidence in a stunning baby pink gown—soft, elegant, the fitted bodice flowing into a delicate train behind her. She looked like a princess who could either charm you or absolutely destroy you, depending on her mood.

Se-Mi followed, dressed in a sleek black suit with a deep red pocket square, her hair styled in effortless waves, looking every bit the rockstar she was.

No-Eul stepped out next, wearing a similar black suit, but with a silver chain accenting her waist, her look sharp and refined, effortlessly cool.

Then Sae-Byeok.

And god—if looks could kill.

Her suit was jet black, tailored to perfection, the crisp lines making her look absolutely lethal. Unlike No-Eul’s refined style, Sae-Byeok’s was dangerously effortless—like she had barely tried, and yet, somehow, she looked like the most powerful person in the room. A single silver ring adorned her finger, a thin chain peeking from beneath her shirt collar.

And then there was you.

You stepped out last, the moment slow, almost surreal.

Your dress—deep wine red, shimmering subtly under the lights with tiny jewels woven into the fabric—hugged your figure perfectly. It was elegant without being overwhelming, a statement without trying too hard.

And on your feet?

The heels No-Eul had bought for you.

The second you stepped out, the cameras focused on you—flashes going off, murmurs passing through the crowd.

You weren’t the celebrity.

But standing next to them, you looked like one.

Sae-Byeok’s jaw tightened.

Because now, it wasn’t just No-Eul who had noticed you.

It was everyone.

And she hated that she wasn’t the one standing next to you.

The energy in the Grammy arena was electric.

You sat sandwiched between Se-Mi and No-Eul at your table, your heart still racing from the red carpet frenzy. The girls had handled the interviews like pros—Ji-Yeong had been her usual chaotic self, Se-Mi had flirted with at least three different reporters, No-Eul had stayed effortlessly cool, and Sae-Byeok had been… quiet. Focused.

You weren’t sure why.

Now, settled into your seats, you tried to relax as the ceremony unfolded around you.

Tried being the key word.

Because holy shit, they were nominated for two Grammys.

And the nerves were absolutely killing you.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Se-Mi murmured, nudging you playfully. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping the stem of your champagne glass. “I might.”

Ji-Yeong, who had been casually fixing her lip gloss in the reflection of her spoon, grinned. “Well, if you do, at least make sure to do it dramatically. Give the cameras something to talk about.”

No-Eul rolled her eyes, but there was warmth there. “You’re worse than the reporters.”

The show continued, performances lighting up the stage—Olivia Rodrigo’s haunting vocals, SZA’s effortlessly stunning set, a rock tribute that had Se-Mi absolutely losing her mind.

And then—

Then it was time.

The first award.

“And the Grammy for Best Rock Album goes to…”

The presenter—a legendary rock artist whose posters had once covered Se-Mi’s childhood bedroom walls—paused, tearing open the envelope with a smirk.

“HOT DIVISION, ROCKSTAR!

For a second, there was silence.

As if none of you had actually processed it.

Then—

Ji-Yeong shrieked, grabbing Se-Mi’s arm in a death grip. No-Eul let out a rare, genuine laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. Sae-Byeok exhaled sharply, a small but unmistakable smile breaking through.

And you?

You felt everything all at once.

Pride. Relief. Overwhelming joy.

They did it.

They hugged each other, still half in shock, before making their way up to the stage.

You stayed at the table, watching them from below, your chest aching in the best way possible.

Ji-Yeong, of course, grabbed the mic first. “Holy shit—wait, can I say that? No? Whatever—holy crap, we just won a Grammy.”

The audience laughed.

Se-Mi took over, grinning. “This is insane. We started as four idiots playing in garages, and now we’re here. Thank you to everyone who believed in us.”

No-Eul spoke next, her voice steady, sincere. “This album was everything to us. To our fans—this is yours as much as it is ours.”

And then—

Sae-Byeok stepped forward.

She wasn’t one for long speeches. Usually, she let the others take the spotlight.

But this time—

This time, her eyes searched the crowd.

And found you.

“This award means everything,” she started, her voice softer than usual—but firm. Sure. “But there’s someone who isn’t up here with us who deserves just as much recognition.”

Your breath caught.

Sae-Byeok’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Our manager. Our best friend. The person who’s been with us since the beginning, making sure we didn’t completely ruin our own careers.”

Laughter rippled through the audience, but you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

“She’s the reason we’re here,” Sae-Byeok continued. “The reason this album even happened the way it did. She’s the one who picks us up when we fall, who believes in us even when we don’t believe in ourselves. And she never asks for credit.”

She exhaled, gripping the mic a little tighter.

“So this is for her.”

You felt your eyes sting.

“She might not be on this stage,” Sae-Byeok said, a small, almost-smirk tugging at her lips. “But she’s just as much a part of this band as the rest of us.”

The applause was deafening.

And you—

You had never felt more seen.

You could see a camera pan toward you and you waved, holding back tears with a smile. They weren't tears of pain; just pure tears of joy for your girls.

You were still reeling.

Still trying to process the fact that Sae-Byeok had just dedicated a Grammy to you in front of the entire world.

Your heart hadn’t slowed down since she stepped off that stage, her words still echoing in your head. Your best friend. The reason we’re here. Just as much a part of this band as the rest of us.

You weren’t going to cry.

You refused to cry.

But when Sae-Byeok sat back down next to you, her knee brushing against yours, her gaze flickering toward you as if to check if you were okay—yeah, you almost lost it.

Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat, forced out a small, shaky laugh, and muttered, “That was—um. That was a lot.”

Sae-Byeok smirked, her voice low, just for you. “You deserved it.”

And that was definitely not helping your whole don’t cry on national television thing.

Before you could respond, the next award category popped up on the screen, and suddenly—holy shit—it was happening again.

The presenter smiled, glancing down at the envelope in her hands.

“And the Grammy for Best Rock Performance goes to…”

A pause. The dramatic build-up.

You gripped the edge of the table, heart pounding.

“HOT DIVISION, ROCKSTAR!”

For a full second—absolute chaos.

Ji-Yeong screamed so loudly that Se-Mi actually jumped, knocking over her champagne glass. No-Eul blinked in shock before breaking into a rare, wide grin. Sae-Byeok exhaled, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it.

And you?

You just sat there, hands covering your mouth, watching them win again.

Two Grammys. In one night.

Your girls.

Your band.

They pulled you into a tight group hug before rushing back onto the stage, still half in disbelief.

Ji-Yeong, ever the chaotic menace, grabbed the mic first. “Okay, now we’re freaking out.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Se-Mi practically bounced next to her. “I don’t even know what to say—holy shit—”

“Language,” No-Eul muttered, but she was smiling.

Sae-Byeok took a step forward, shaking her head slightly as she looked out at the audience. “This song…” She paused, looking back at the girls. “This song was everything to us. It wasn’t just about making music—it was about proving to ourselves that we belonged here.”

The audience quieted, hanging onto her words.

“And now, standing here, holding this—” She lifted the Grammy slightly. “—it still doesn’t feel real.”

Se-Mi leaned into the mic. “But it is, babe.”

More laughter. More applause.

Then, before they ended their speech, Ji-Yeong grinned mischievously. “Oh, and one more thing—” She turned toward you, still seated at the table, eyes wide. “Our manager? Our favorite person in the world? She’s two-for-two tonight.”

Se-Mi nudged the mic closer. “Which means she officially has to party with us after this.”

No-Eul smirked. “No excuses.”

Sae-Byeok, standing slightly behind them, simply met your gaze.

And for a moment—just a moment—everything else disappeared.

No cameras. No flashing lights. No roaring applause.

Just her.

And the silent, knowing look that said, We did it.

We did it together.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[specialgumsock]

//Random romantic things you guys do/he does! with the stardew valley bachelors// :-)

(Apologies again for bad writing, not proof read… T-T also FYI my asks are open)

Characters: all of the bachelors from stardew valley

Tw: mentions of Shane being hungover and drunk. Mentions of being freaky idk

Alex would buy you flowers a lot.

He misses you? Flowers. You’re mad at him? Flowers. He would go and get you flowers for no occasion, just to bring you flowers. Probably something his grandfather told him to do when he was younger, since his grandma likes flowers as well.

The first time you got flowers from him you remember like it was yesterday-

"What are these for?" You say, grabbing the bouquet from the out of breath, and almost disheveled looking man on your door step. He only smiled up at you and answered. "No reason, I just love you…"

Yeah, you were giddy the entire day while tending to your crops.

You and Sam are in a constant competitive flirting competition.

You two try to out-flirt each other with over the top, and bad pick up lines… Even in serious situations.

It was another rowdy Friday night at the saloon, on the couch you sat on Sam’s lap while Abigail and Sebastian played darts.

"You know-" Sam begins, putting his joja cola down for a moment before continuing. "If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber." You nearly choke on your drink and wince at the awful line.

"Oh, wow. That’s terrible. But not as terrible as how much you’re gonna blush when I say-" You lean in close, your voice going into a whisper. "Are you French? Because Eiffel for you…"

Sam groaned, then a smirk grew onto his lips. "Weak."

"You want strong? Alright, watch this." You say, noticing poor Emily walk over to grab some of the empty glasses left behind by previous patrons. "Excuse me! Can I get a to go cup? Because my boyfriend is too intoxicating to leave behind." You say, the VERY awful line making even you cringe.

Emily just sighed, looking done with life, and walked away. Sebastian and Abigail already having tuned you two out.

Sam shook his head. "Truce.. only because I don’t want to be banned from the saloon for a month again."

Sebastian let’s you win when it comes to games- any game.

You’re a sore loser who sometimes storms off in frustration, and he couldn’t care less. To him, it’s about seeing you happy, not about the victory. Growing up with a little sister, he’s pretty used to letting someone else win, especially if it means keeping the peace or just seeing that excited grin on your face.

He’ll always pretend to be super serious when you win, giving a defeated- "You’ve beat me, my mighty opponent!" and might even offer an overly dramatic bow, but deep down, it’s a running joke between the two of you. He’s fine with it. It’s not about pride, and honestly, he likes seeing your excitement when you win, even if it’s clear that he’s playing the long game and letting you win.

If you throw a little fit after losing-huffing, pouting, and trying to find an excuse, he’ll just laugh and say something like "Don’t worry, I’m sure the next one will be your win…" all while giving you a teasing smile. He just loves the playful energy and the way you light up when you finally get a win under your belt. And after all, he’s just happy to be there with you.

Shane has this thing he does called "hear me out" meals.

He spends a lot of his time drunk or hungover, so he’s definitely made a lot of… interesting meals.

These meals come from him when he’s in one of those moods from being hungover or tipsy and he gets a burst of "inspiration"

Like the time he made you try "pasta surprise" which consisted of spaghetti noodles and random ingredients he found in the pantry… A bad day for peanut butter and gravy.

But there are more bearable ones like "Breakfast Pizza" Eggs, sausage, bacon and whatever leftovers he has in the fridge.

"Breakfast of the future…" Shane said under his breath, placing the "pizza" down at the table in front of you. You rub your tired eyes, and look at the meal. "Wow… this was certainly a choice."

Elliot leaves you notes, like little love letters.

You find them everywhere, your pockets, on the fridge and even on your pillow. He can’t help it, he just wants to let you know how much you cross his mind.

One day you remember you needed to grab something from Pierre’s shop, pulling on your coat for the chilly fall weather. A little note falls you and you pick up, confusion written all across your face.

"To my Dearest, Lover- Thinking of you, as always. I hope your day is as lovely as the sea breeze, Yours truly, Elliot<3"

You feel your face heat up, and your heart starts beating faster. "Man I’m so lucky" you think as you can’t help but smile. It’s crazy how little things like this get you flustered, but, MAN, do you love him.

Harvey loves to play doctor, and not in a freaky way. (He would if you REALLY wanted though.. wink wink.)

Whenever you get the smallest scratch or feel even slightly under the weather, he goes full doctor mode. He insists on checking your pulse, listening to your heartbeat and even wrapping your finger in an unnecessary amount of bandages.

"Just… to be safe" He says, just as he put a second bandaid onto your finger that you cut while chopping your garden fresh vegetables. You can’t help but to giggle and tease him, thinking about his face stone cold serious, brows furrowed like he was preforming life saving surgery, when in reality he was just doing something as simple as putting a bandage on your finger. "Okay, Doctor Harvey~" Your words playful as he blushed and stammered a bit.

"J- *Ahem* Just making sure you’re okay… now get some rest, Doctors orders." You laugh, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Of course."

[starlost-maniac]

Why Her? - Ch 1

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, sexting, Minho is a tease

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem!reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next

"But why not? I want to go with you." You pout. "I haven't been, and I want to see Felix again." You cross your arms and look up at your older brother.

"Why do you want to go so bad?" Seungmin sighs and looks down at you, raising a brow.

"Because I want to see JYPE. I want to see where my favorite brother works. And like I said, I want to see Felix again." He just stares at you with his brow raised.

"I'm your only brother, Y/n." You roll your eyes at his comment.

"I haven't seen Felix in two years. You don't bring him around to see me or mom anymore. You know she loves him like a son, too." You pout again. "Plus, I want to be able to meet the rest of Stray Kids. I don't know why you won't let me meet them."

"Because they're annoying, and I don't trust them around you. They're guys, after all." He turns around and walks into his mom's kitchen. He was there to visit and you happened to be home from your studies.

"You're a guy, too, Seungmin." You follow him.

"But I'm not like them." He goes into the fridge and pulls out a water bottle.

"Yes, you are. You're annoying, and I've seen you do plenty of 'guy' things." You air quote, watching him. He sighs and opens his bottle, taking a large sip.

"Fine, but you need to not cause trouble. Otherwise, I'm bringing you right back home. Understood?" He puts the cap back on the bottle. Your eyes go wide, and you smile big. You rush over and give Seungmin a big hug.

"Thank you, Seungmin!" He can't help but smile, hugging you back.

The next day, Seungmin brings you to JYPE, getting you a visitors badge.

"Did you want to see the studio where 3RACHA usually works, or did you want to go to a dance studio first?" He asks, passing you your temporary badge.

You put it over your head and think. "Let's go to the dance studio first. Maybe I'll get to see Felix there." You smile.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you have a crush on him." Seungmin chuckles.

"No. Felix is like another brother to me." You laugh. "He also makes the best brownies I've ever had." Seungmin laughs and leads you to the elevators, taking you up to the dance practice room where he knows some of the members will be.

Entering the room behind your brother, you’re met with three of the group members, one of which was Felix. The other two being Lee Know and Hyunjin. All three look over when the door opens, Hyunjin and Lee Know give a questioning look, never having met you before. Felix's face lights up, a wide smile across his lips.

"Y/nnie!" He shouts and runs over. He scoops you up into his arms, enveloping you in a hug as he spins you around. You laugh loudly as you hug him back.

"Hi, Lixie!" You bury your face into his neck as you hug him. "I missed you so much." Your voice muffled.

"I missed you, too." He sets you down, pulling away, but keeping his arms around you. "How's my favorite sister?" He grins.

"Sister? We've met your sisters, Yongbok. Unless you had a third one?" Hyunjin says.

Felix lets go of you and turns to face his friends. "No, not like my real sister."

"She's my younger sister." Seungmin speaks up.

"You have a younger sister, and never introduced us?" Hyunjin asks.

Lee Know looks at Seungmin, squinting his eyes. "Trying to hide her from us?"

"Yes, actually." He says, flatly. Hyunjin gasps dramatically and walks over.

"How come you were trying to hide this cutie from us?" Hyunjin says as he bows to you in greeting. "Hi, I'm Hyunjin. I gathered your name is Y/n from Felix shouting it." He laughs.

"See why I don't trust them with you?" Seungmin looks at you, brow raised.

"Isn't Hyunjin like this all the time though?" You question.

Seungmin is quiet for a moment, crossing his arms, he mumbles out, "…yes." You snort.

Lee Know finally walks over and bows his head. "Hi, I'm Lee Know. Or Minho." He straightens, smiling at you. You look up at him and smile wide.

"Hi, Minho. I'm sorry if this is weird, but you're my bias. It's nice to meet you!" You say quickly. Felix and Hyunjin feign being hurt, not being your bias. "Don't get me wrong, I love you all, but I love Minho the most." Minho smirks and raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, you love me, do you?" He crosses his arms, his signature smirk playing across his lips as he teases you. Your face flushes and you put your hands up in front of you.

"That's not what I meant!" You say quickly. Seungmin rolls his eyes.

"Don't tease her, hyung." He watches his older member. Minho just continues to smirk, letting out a quick, sharp laugh. "Y/n, go sit on the couch so we can practice. Ok?" Your brother points to the couch by the wall. You nod as Felix finally releases you and you go and sit down.

The four of them go to the middle of the room, one of them turning on music and they practice. You watch them through the mirror on the opposite side of the room. You catch Minho staring at you a few times, a playful smirk across his lips every time. At one point, he actually winks at you, making your cheeks flush again.

About 30 minutes into them practicing, the door opens and the rest of the group enters the room. None of them notice you sitting on the couch as you stare at them like a deer caught in headlights. You can't believe you're in the same room as Stray Kids. After a few minutes, Han turns to walk towards the couch, stopping mid step.

"Uhh..there's someone sitting on the couch you guys." His eyes just as wide as yours. You stand quickly and bow.

"Hi. I'm Kim Y/n." You stand up straight. "I'm Seungmin's younger sister."

Chan looks over, surprised. "How did I not know you had a younger sister, Seungmin?"

"Really only Yongbok knew." Seungmin shrugs like it was obvious you existed. Han finally walks over to the couch, setting his jacket and bag on the couch. He bows to you and straightens.

"Hi, I'm Han." He smiles a toothy grin at you.

"I know." You laugh. "I'm a fan of you guys."

"You look like Seungmin, honestly. Well, more like a puppy, I should say." Jisung says, still smiling.

"Thanks?" You laugh. Chan, Changbin and Jeongin all come over as well, introducing themselves properly to you.

"So," Jisung starts. "Who's your bias?" He grins.

"I actually like all of you, but Lee Know is my main bias." Your cheeks flush again, remembering what he teased you about. Jisung leans over to whisper in your ear.

"He's mine too." He leans back and laughs. "I hope you enjoy your time here, I'm sorry that we aren't able to talk much since we have to practice."

You wave him off, saying it's ok. You go and sit back on the couch and watch them practice again.

After an hour, the boys take a short break. Minho goes and sits next to you on the couch, sharp eyes watching you as he saunters over. He plops down on the cushion right next to you.

"You having fun sitting over here?" He looks around at the view you have before turning his head to you.

"Watching my favorite group get to practice?" You smile. "Of course."

"Would you want to practice with us?" He smirks. You stare wide eyed.

"N-no. That's ok. I don't want to get in the way." You shake your head.

"You won't be in the way." Minho stands up and grabs your hand, pulling you up. He brings you to the middle of the dance room. "Just follow my lead." He smiles and slowly starts to show you the steps. Seungmin watches from his spot on the floor. Minho catches your brother watching and smirks. He steps behind you and places his hands on your hips, guiding you in the steps. Minho chuckles quietly and lets go when he sees Seungmin start to get up.

"So what do you do when you aren't home, Y/n?" Jeongin asks, popping up out of nowhere. You jump a bit and stare up at the boy.

"I uh..I'm going for my certificate in professional makeup. I've always been in love with doing makeup and decided to go for it professionally." You tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Maybe you can be our makeup artist." Jeongin winks at you. Seungmin protests from his seat. "Why not, hyung? I'm sure she's amazing."

"I mean..her skills are really good, but why would you want my sister as your makeup artist?" Seungmin pouts. "Wouldn't that be weird?"

The rest of the group all say 'no' in unison. Seungmin grumbles and sits back against the wall.

"Show Channie-hyung some of what you've done, and see if he can put in a good word." Jeongin chuckles. You nod and start to head over to the oldest, Minho grabbing you by the waist.

"After we are done with our dance." He smirks down at you. Your cheeks flush as you watch him. Seungmin squints as he watches you and Minho. After 15 minutes, Minho finally lets you go and see Chan, Jeongin already having explained to him. You sit next to him on the couch and show him some pictures on your phone of the makeup that you've done.

"Wow, Y/n. You are really good. I'll definitely see what I can do about getting you here. Maybe even as an intern to start." Chan says, swiping between the pictures you showed him.

"No no," you say, waving your hands in front of you. "You don't have to go out of your way to do that." Chan laughs.

"It's not a problem. Plus, it'll get you some good experience working with idols, aside from your brother." He indicates towards Seungmin, who has been watching you like a hawk since the rest of the group came in. You raise your eyebrow at Seungmin who just watches you as you talk to Chan.

"He really doesn't trust you guys." You sigh. Chan looks at you confused. "He said he doesn't trust you all around me, and that you're 'guys after all.'" You roll your eyes as you air quote your brother. Chan laughs.

"He is definitely an older brother. I'm sometimes the same way with Hannah. It's the protective side of being a big brother." He smiles at you. "At most, the boys will probably tease Seungmin by playing around with you. Don't take it to heart if they take their…" he waves his hands, trying to think of the right word. "Flirting..? Too far. But do tell them if they make you uncomfortable, yeah?"

"Of course. I'm honestly just glad to be able to hang out with you all in general." You smile at him. He smiles back and stands up. He gathers the group to continue practice.

——

"Y/n?" You hear your brother call from your apartment's front door. You had given Seungmin a spare key in case he needed it, or you locked yourself out…again.

"I'm in the kitchen, Seungmin. Just making some lunch." You call back.

"Make extra. Felix is here with me." He takes his shoes off and slips on house slippers. Felix follows suit but runs past him into the kitchen after putting house slippers on. Seungmin laughs seeing his friend run off. He steps into the kitchen just as Felix wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a back hug.

"How's my mini?" The blonde asks, resting his head on your shoulder. You smile at the nickname. "I've missed you all week." He pouts as he watches you make extra sandwiches, holding onto you like you would disappear if he let go.

"I missed you too, Lixie." You feel him hum against your back. Seungmin sits at your dining table and looks out your balcony door. "I've been ok. Just attending my classes. Nothing exciting."

"Have you heard anything from the company yet? About an internship?" He gently rocks your bodies back and forth. You shake your head.

"No, nothing yet. Classes are almost done for the semester though, so maybe they're waiting?" He hums against your back again. It's silent for a moment before your phone dings. Felix reaches between your bodies to pull your phone from your back pocket, unlocking it for you. He's probably the only person you trust with your password. Seungmin doesn't even have access to it.

"It's a text from Chan-hyung. Did you want me to open it?" He asks you, showing you your screen. You nod and he opens it, reading it with you. "Looks like you got the internship, mini." He smiles wide and kisses your cheek, congratulating you. Seungmin looks over towards you and Felix.

"Really?" He asks from his seat. Felix lets you go and brings your phone to Seungmin to show him. "Wow. I'm impressed. Congrats, Y/n. Honestly." You smile and bring over sandwiches for the two boys, going back to the counter to clean up before bringing your plate to the table.

——

You met with the makeup artists at JYPE and we're told, due to very adamant requests from the group, you were going to be interning as Stray Kids make-up artist once schooling ends. You were so excited to be working with your favorite group. Seungmin took you up to the dance studio where you met the group last time and you told them all the good news. They each gave you a hug as a congratulations. Minho's hug lingered a bit, teasing Seungmin with the closeness.

"Alright, alright. Let Y/n go, hyung." Seungmin steps up and Minho lets go of you. You pout slightly and glare at your brother. He just rolls his eyes in response while Minho silently chuckles.

"How about we go out to eat sometime this week to celebrate Y/n's future internship with us?" Chan asks the group. Before you can deny, the boys all say yes, even Seungmin, which surprised you. You pout again and thank the boys.

——

The months flew by and the end of the school semester came up, meaning you start your actual internship with JYPE in a few weeks. Seungmin brought you around the members more often so you can get used to being around them. Most of them teasing Seungmin by being touchy with you. You didn't mind it, as you liked to bother your brother, and the boys told you in advance they were probably going to tease your brother this way. Chan says under normal circumstances they wouldn't do this, but they love to mess with the puppy of the group.

You were hanging out with the group in Chan's and I.N's apartment, practicing doing their makeup. Nothing too extravagant, but just simple makeup that they would wear when on camera. Seungmin, Chan and I.N sat off to the side, having their makeup already done. Minho sat in the middle of the couch, waiting for you to start on his.

You come back to the living room after cleaning out and drying your makeup brushes, Minho smirking up at you. You raise a brow at him but don't question it. You know he's a troublemaker and he could be smirking for any reason.

"You ready, Minho?" You ask, grabbing the foundation that matches his skin tone. He nods and playfully pulls you into his lap, making you sit sideways on him. You gasp a bit making Seungmin turn his head towards you and his hyung.

"Lee Know-hyung. What are you doing?" He moves to the edge of his seat.

"Nothing. She's just doing my makeup." He looks at Seungmin, a mischievous grin on his face. He looks back up at you and winks. You shake your head, a light blush on your face. You carefully apply the makeup to his face. He watches you with his dark eyes, smiling softly when he sees how concentrated you are. When you sit back to see how he looks, he makes a face at you.

"Minho, no faces." You laugh. "I need to make sure the makeup looks ok." You smack his shoulder playfully. He chuckles and smiles. When you go back to applying his makeup, he makes a face everytime you turn from the makeup to him. You just roll your eyes and smile. He places his hands on your hips and puckers his lips at you, making you blush a bit.

"Don't you have to apply lip balm, Y/n? Why are you blushing?" He asks quietly, making sure Seungmin doesn't hear.

"R-right." You grab the lip balm from your makeup kit, turning back to him, he puckers his lips again. Your eyes linger on his lips a bit and he smirks. You shake your head some and apply the balm to his lips. When you're done, you carefully climb off his lap. He smiles at you before getting up himself. You grab the mirror to show him.

"I trust you, Y/n. I'm sure you did amazing." He reaches up and tucks some hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down your jaw before lightly tapping the bottom of your chin. He smirks and walks over to the others that have their makeup done already. You compose yourself and do the makeup for the rest of the boys.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next

Taglist

@honeyybbuubblleess @tenshimara

[captivating-flavors]

date | zayne

pairing: zayne x non mc actress!reader

prompt: -

summary: you did your own stunt but it went wrong.

words: 1,680ish

warning(s): mentions of loss

a/n: inspired by this hc by @sylusonychinus and valentines day also i think i have to preface this by saying that english is not my first language and my laptop broke down so this is poorly edited and.... yeahh enjoy <3 reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated since its been a while since i wrote anything

It was supposed to be a simple stunt; that’s why the Director even allowed you to do it in the first place. You were supposed to jump of the railing, with a harness attached of course, but accidents happen and you ended up having to land earlier than the timing agreed beforehand. You didn’t have enough experiences with stunts, therefore you panicked and landed on the wrong position.

“I’m fine, Tara.” You said as you were holding an icebag against your right foot.

“What do you mean you’re fine? Your ankle is purple and swollen!”

“The standby medic said it was fine. You didn’t need to call for a freaking doctor.” You knew Tara, you best friend and assistant, meant well but calling for a doctor over a sprained ankle is just way too dramatic.

“No, but what if it doesn’t heal right? Or what if–”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m pretty sure Dr. Greyson, who’s a heart doctor mind you, has other and more important things to do than tend to a sprained ankle, don’t you think?”

Tara had been dating Greyson for the past few months and it’s not the first time Tara has called him over for you. She did that once when you got a fever after shooting a scene in the rain and another time when you caught a stomach bug.

“He’s a cardiac surgeon–”

“Exactly, my point why would he–”

“Also, that’s not who I called.”

“Wait, what? Then, who’d you–”

At that exact moment, the door to your trailer swung open and Dr. Zayne, the Dr. Zayne, walked in carrying a small white bag.

“Wait, Dr. Zayne? What– Why are you here?”

“I heard from Tara that you got into an accident. What happened?” Zayne looked frantic, a detachment to what you’re used to seeing from him, calm and composed.

You were about open your mouth, to tell him that it was not a big deal and to just go back to the hospital, when Tara interjected, “She fell, sprained her ankle and now it’s swollen. You should–”

“Miss Tara, could you please come to the Director’s tent? Thank you.” The walkie-talkie snapped onto Tara’s waistband interrupted her.

“I have to go. Thanks for coming Dr. Zayne.” Tara said before she left the trailer, leaving the two of you alone.

Zayne walked over to your chair and knelt in front of you, taking your right foot in his hands, examining the swollen area of your ankle. You winced as he tilts your foot from one side to another.

“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. The medic said it’ll heal in a few weeks. You must be pretty busy so you should head back, Dr. Zayne.”

“I told you to call me Zayne.” He said as he grabbed a compression wrap from his bag and started wrapping it around your ankle.

He did tell you that the last time you guys met, when you came over to the hospital to give him coffee and visit the kids two months ago.

The two of you have somewhat of an odd relationship. You first met him at a fundraising event held by a charity specializing in helping children in need to get treatments and surgeries for Protocore Syndrome two years ago. Where the two of you had a meaningful conversation about wanting to help those with the disease, whilst also keeping the memory of the ones you’ve lost. Your sister and his childhood best friend.

And then there’s Tara and Greyson. Tara would visit him during the monthly filming breaks and more often than not you’d come with her. At first, you only tagged along to do somewhat-of-a-research for an upcoming project that you’ll be filming in eight months, in which you were cast as the lead in a medical romcom. At some point, the hospital visits got boring because you would only sit on the lounge as to not intrude on Tara and Greyson’s time together, and observe the doctors as they rush through the halls to tend to their patients.

On your visits, you rarely ever encountered Zayne. Greyson had mention that whenever he’s not in surgery, he prefers to spend his free time in his office. Until one day, you were sitting on one of the seats in the lounge, doing your usual people watching routine when you saw him.

“Dr. Zayne, what a lovely surprise.”

“Likewise, Miss Y/N.” He responded, as polite and curt as ever, continuing to stride towards the nurse station a few feet away from your seat. You felt that it was nice to see a somewhat familiar face because the observation had just gotten boring, since it does not seem like a busy day at the hospital.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine. I never see you around during my previous visits.”

“So, what brings you here,” he pauses, before continuing, “Y/N?”

“Tara wanted to see Greyson and I agreed to come along since I needed a breather from the scripts, rehearsing and all that. Oh, and I’ve also been taking notes of how doctors act and work, you know, for a project.”

“I see.”

He turns his attention to the nurse behind the station desk, “Hello, Yvonne.”

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne. I assume you’re here for the treats?”

“Yes.”

The nurse grabbed a small jar of what seemed to be candy and hands it over to him, “Here you go.”

“Thank you."

“So, what are you up to, Dr. Zayne?”

“I’m visiting my younger patients over at the kids’ ward.”

“Oh, that's so sweet of you, Dr. Zayne.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Would you like to join me?”

“Alright, why not?”

You tagged along and got on to the elevator behind him, him pressing the sixth-floor button.

“So, you’re just going to hand them candies?”

“Yes. To cheer them up as they recover, I suppose.”

The two of you arrived at the sixth-floor and got off the elevator to a hallway of rooms, all of them filled with kids and their families as they recover. You follow behind Zayne as he approaches the first of the beds, where a young girl, probably seven or eight, sits up.

“Hello, Eleanor.”

“Hi, Doctor Zayne.” The child says cheerfully.

“How are you feeling today? Does anything hurt?” He asks as he places the end of his stethoscope over the girl’s heart and she shakes her head in response.

“Have you been taking your medicine regularly?”

“Yes, but they taste awful.” The child grimaces.

“Here’s your reward for listening to your doctor well and it might help with the bitterness.” He hands the kid two pieces of wrapped candy.

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne! But, Doctor, why is the Princess of Solon behind you?” Eleanor questioned, referring to your character from your latest movie.

“Well, she’s here to cheer you up.” He says as he nudges you forward.

“Hello, Eleanor.” You said, putting on your princess voice.

And that was the start to your somewhat tradition with Zayne. The two of you would come to the kids’ ward, he’d check on their progress, give them their rewards and you’d talk and take pictures with them. It was refreshing to see that there was actually a warmer side to Zayne, as opposed to the polite and curt side he always seemed to project.

“That was fun. We should do that again.”

“I agree. The kids were infinitely happier in the presence of the Princess of Solon.”

And that became a regular thing. Every time you had your monthly breaks, the two of you would spend the day at the hospital chatting and playing with the kids. It just became a regular way for you to spend the day or two off each month you got it. You also managed to feel somewhat closer to Zayne through the days spent together, as you genuinely enjoyed spending the day with him. Seeing him interact with the kids and care so much about more than just their physical well-being made you admire him even more.

But despite being able to act warmly towards the children, whenever it was just the two of you it felt like he’d go back and forth from his warm side to his regular curt self. He’d open up a little bit, do little things that makes your heart race like remember your exact coffee order and have it ready by the time you came by, but then he’d shut down again, going back to his distant self. But you still looked forward to seeing him and spending the day with him each break.

A gentle pressure against your foot brought you back to the present.

“Well, you did. But you’re always so…”

His voice from your last meeting two months ago rang in your head.

“You know, you can just call me Zayne.”

“I hope to hear it the next time we meet.”

He looked up at you, “So what?”

“Formal? I don’t think that’s the right word. I don’t know. You always seem so close but distant at the same time that it kind of sounds weird to just say your name like... Zayne.”

He stopped, never taking his eyes off yours, “Say that again.”

“Zayne.”

He shifted his gaze back down and continued to wrap the bandage over your ankle, putting slight pressure against the adhesive, making you wince. And you swore that his ears were red.

“There. You should be fine in about two weeks as long as you don’t move too much.”

“Thank you. But really, you didn’t have to come all this way for a sprained ankle. It didn’t even hurt, much.”

“I didn’t come for a sprained ankle. I came for you.”

That was not the response you expected from him, “…What?”

“I was worried when I heard from Tara that you’d gotten into an accident. I wanted to come and see for myself that you were alright. And you haven’t been to the hospital in a while. The kids missed you.”

“Yeah, about that. I haven’t gotten a day off in the past two months since they’re reshooting some of the scenes and–”

“Also, I missed you. And I’d rather not wait for another accident to see you.”

“I– What?” To say you were baffled by the confession and would be an understatement.

“Let’s have dinner instead. When you’re all better, of course.”

“Are you asking me out, Zayne?”

“Yes.” You chuckled, amused at despite how confident and blunt he sounded, yet you could see the entire time that his ears were red.

“...Alright, then. Let’s set a date once I’m doing better,” you paused to smile at him, “Zayne.”

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (Alhaitham ver.) I

C/W: alhaitham x gn!reader, not that slow of a burn, characters find the other annoying, reader is a teacher at the akademiya (Vahumana), they have history (iykyk), one nsfw innuendo, not proofread

Note: my humiliating attempt at writing Alhaitham’s smart ahh attitude >A< anw, lmk how you guys want this story to go! (comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated)

(You) About Alhaitham

Scribe Alhaitham? He’s… intelligent. That’s all I have to say.

(Alhaitham) About you

Hm.

(You) About Alhaitham: History I

He and I partnered up in a thesis which, thankfully, got approved by our professors. Working with him was challenging, to be honest. Every idea I had, he’d shut it down with some counter argument—“they’d never approve of that,” or “it has too many defects.” A conversation with him may as well be a debate! Frustrating and infuriating.

(Alhaitham) About you: History I

They are competent, I’ll admit that much. But their ideas? Flawed. Reckless. It’s as if they refuse to consider consequences before leaping into action. Every discussion turned into an exhausting debate—because, naturally, I had to be the one to explain why their half-formed theories wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny.

Really, for someone who specializes in history, you’d think they’d have learned from past mistakes. And yet, they persist.

(You) About Alhaitham: History II

Talking about this in my place of work is not really appropriate. … Fine! Yes, we were in… amorous congress. But it happened a long time ago—when we were still students. Just once. A drunken mistake, that’s all it was!

… Keep this between us, though. I love my job.

(Alhaitham) About you: History II

I’d rather this particular detail remain in the past where it belongs. It was years ago, an irrelevant event. I fail to see why anyone would find it worth discussing now.

Though, knowing them, they’d likely frame it as some dramatic mistake rather than what it was—an ill-advised but ultimately inconsequential decision. Either way, I don’t intend to entertain the conversation.

… You think I should drop by? Hm, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to evaluate their current methodology.

(You) About Alhaitham: Work

It’s inevitable that we cross paths—he’s the Akademiya’s Scribe, after all. I can handle brief interactions, but when he lingers, it’s… bothersome. Always with that unreadable expression, listening too intently to everything I say. I know he’s just waiting to poke holes in my arguments. Ugh. Some things never change.

(Alhaitham) About you: Work

They have an irritating tendency to be vague, as if I won’t immediately notice the gaps in their reasoning. Do they think that being imprecise will make me less inclined to argue? If anything, it has the opposite effect.

I don’t intend to debate them at every opportunity, but when they make it so easy, I see no reason to hold back.

(You) About Alhaitham: Annoyance

Do you know how aggravating it is to give a lecture, only to see him sitting there in the back, arms crossed, silently judging every word that comes out of my mouth? He doesn’t even work in my Darshan! What is he doing there?! “It was on my way,” he says. “I had time to spare,” he says. Liar.

Having the Scribe in my classroom is distracting—both for me and my students. I’d appreciate it if he found a different way to pass the time. Preferably far away from my lectures.

(Alhaitham) About you: Observation

I fail to understand how they manage to get results. Their lectures lack structure, their methods are inconsistent, and yet… their students actually retain information. It goes against all logic.

Still, I suppose there’s something to be said about efficacy, no matter how unorthodox. Not that I’ll be admitting that to them. They’re insufferable enough as it is.

(You) About Alhaitham: A Final Thought

I swear, he only comes to my lectures to irritate me. He just sits there, arms crossed, waiting for me to say something he can nitpick. It’s distracting. The other day, I caught myself scanning the room to see if he was there before I even started teaching. Ridiculous.

…No, that doesn’t mean anything! It’s just easier to prepare for battle when you know the enemy is near!

(Alhaitham) About you: A Final Thought

They’ve developed an odd habit of pausing mid-lecture, glancing toward the back of the room—toward me. If I were to be charitable, I’d say they’re checking whether I have any objections.

But that would imply they value my opinion. Which, of course, is absurd.

(Your student) About you and the Scribe

… So, uh. Are those two dating or something?

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[ratatatastic]

local man haunts (me) open practise yet again more news at 11

[chimerafeathers]

there's an essay jumbled up in my brain about dunmeshi's beginning and how clever and deceptive it is as a sleight-of-hand trick that distracts the audience from the depth and scope of the worldbuilding and foreshadowing that's being set up the entire time by dangling zany characters and wacky dishes and biology fun facts in front of us, and how that serves to catch invested viewers off guard when those elements come to the forefront, but also how it works against it with other viewers wanting "more" and not seeing it because the plot bait isn't laid out up front

how people getting frustrated with the characters "not taking things seriously" is mirrored and refuted in the confrontation between Laios and Shuro. how the characters' attitudes aren't just a result of shallow low-stakes "comedy rules" where nothing matters, but are an extension of their personalities (Laios's nonstandard expression of emotions being offputting even to people he knows) and the world and social environment (adventurers being desensitized to death and injury because resurrection magic is commonplace). the way the party refers to "saving Falin" instead of "retrieving Falin's corpse," indicating that they still see her with full personhood, and how that phrasing leads to some readers/viewers believing that Falin is alive in the dragon's stomach, conscious of being slowly digested while the party carelessly fucks around "wasting time." how the weird tonal dissonance makes sense in-universe and yet is deliberately challenged more and more the deeper the party goes

all the character building and pieces of lore slowly weaving together the shape of the larger world, laying the groundwork for the major themes that will surface later. so much is right there in the "low-stakes" early episodes if you know what you're looking for (or pass the perception checks).

it can be so satisfying to see new viewers/readers pick up on the clues even in the earliest "simple" episodes, or notice new things and make connections yourself....and it can also be frustrating to see people dismiss oddities and dissonance as shallow or bad writing because they don't expect a "cooking anime" to have depth like that. why try to question and understand and peel back the layers when you don't expect there to be any layers?

why can't laios take things seriously for once?

[stillfruit]

i love not knowing if i'll ever be healthy again i love all of the time i've used to move my body become nothing i love spending my adulthood wasting away year after year for various reasons baby!

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i need eddie to get another guy friend in season 8, and buck loses his shit about it (again), so he breaks up with t because he's convinced that the weird feeling he gets when he sees them together is because he is Really attracted to the new guy.

[millyphobic]

˙ . ꒷ 🫀 . 𖦹˙— HEART 2 HEART

✮ soft cuddles & kisses with sevika while on your period ✮

fem!reader x girlfriend!sevika ‪‪❤︎‬ nothing but pure fluff, poorly proofread bcs im lazy (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

“Vika, I’m going to be honest. I think I’m going to die.” You groan and bury yourself deeper into Sevika’s side, one leg over her waist and your face squished against her chest. A sock-full of raw heated rice was held to your stomach as a makeshift heating pad, but it just wasn’t enough. 

Periods. Horrible things. As if you needed the monthly reminder that you weren’t pregnant. You were with a woman; periods were just useless and all the more annoying to you. The stupid bullshit heating pad gets pulled out from under your shirt and tossed onto the floor, earning a laugh from Sevika.

“You say this every month, silly girl. You’re fine.” 

“Okay, rude. Hold me tighter.”

Despite Sevika’s scoffs and eyerolls, you're happily smothered when she rolls on top of you. You asked to be held tighter, but this was just as nice, if not better. 

Feeling her lips brush against your cheek. Tossing your legs around her waist. Yeah, this is real good. You’re wrapping yourself around her frame like a cat as your arms find home at her neck. The scent of tobacco with citrusy shampoo wafting into your nose as you get a face full of her hair. It makes you laugh; anything Sevika does makes you giggle like an idiot, but that’s because she’s Sevika, and she’s perfect to you. “Mhm, this is what I needed,” you purred, returning her affection with a quick kiss to the top of her head. 

You swear you can hear the word spoiled leave her lips, but you let it slide, melting under her weight as she starts to smother you with attention. Firm pecks are pressed on every inch of exposed skin, from your forehead to your cheeks to your nose and even your eyelids. It makes you forget the dull ache in your lower abdomen, and okay, maybe your periods weren’t all that bad. At least you got to be smothered like this. 

“Oh, Vika…” you breathed, easing up even more into the mattress as her tongue laves at the skin of your neck. Short and quick, as if to tickle you, only for her to nip at where your pulse thrums under your skin. “Hey!” Alright, that didn’t hurt one bit, but it was funny to act dramatic.

And clearly she thought the same as she snickered at your faux complaint, nuzzling her nose against the area where she nipped you. And of course, the tip of her nose is cold because that woman always runs cold.

Which is why she absolutely could NEVER leave you because who would keep her warm? Exactly, she basically needs you. A woman like her needs a girl like yourself to occupy her lap and chatter her ears off and kiss her all over. Just as she does the same for you. 

Even now you feel her lips brush against the shell of your ear and squirm from the way her hot breath tickles you. More soft kisses are laid to the side of your head, and more giggles fill the room. “My silly, silly girl,” she muses, nudging her nose against yours. Breaths mingling and hearts beating in tandem; can you love a person any more than this? Those darling puppy eyes of hers and those scarred lips pulled in a little smirk. It’s like she’s trying to give you a heart attack. 

“Prettiest princess I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And that’s a fact.”

Oh my god. I’m so in love. 

There’s no shame in you when you squeal as Sevika captures your lips in a kiss, fingers digging more into her hair. It’s that type of kiss where you can’t stop smiling and laughing, and it’s more chaste than anything else. But it’s over quick, too quick. You don’t let her pull her away too far before you’re tugging her head down back to your mouth, reveling in the way her breath hitches in surprise. 

Now this is a proper kiss: slow and passionate but gentle. There’s desire, but it’s faint and lazy, something that’s for later in the night. And when you pull away for the second time, you’re smiling like a fool in love. Because you are. 

“You look like a puppy, girly.”

“Vika, you look like a puppy. A really cute one too.”

“Shush!” You’re promptly shut up when she butts her nose against your cheek, and you let her words slide, taking it as her bizarre sense of humor. Between her dad jokes and this, she would make quite the comedian. “But you forgot all about your period too, huh?”

Damn, she got me. I really did forget. 

[yuzujjn]

` ꣑꣒‎ ONE WIN, ONE DATE : 심재윤 ─── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

ʬʬ. football player!jake x cheerleader!reader 𖥔 ݁ ARCHiVE 7OO wordcount fluff . . . skinship, kisses ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ happy bday to jakey, && for my juni bby

YOU'RE STANDING ON THE SIDELINES, pom-poms in hand, watching jake tear through the field like he owns it. he’s got this intensity in his eyes, the kind that makes your pulse pick up because you know he’s giving it his all—just to win this game. all for one reason: he bet you that if he wins, he gets to ask you out.

it’s been a fun, flirty thing between you two for weeks now, but this? this is new. he made sure the whole team knew about his little bet, which has them teasing him endlessly about finally "making a move on his dream girl." you catch a few of his teammates smirking and nudging him before the game starts, and jake just rolls his eyes with a lopsided grin, eyes glancing at you every now and then. you swear you can feel his gaze even from across the field.

the game is close, way too close for your liking. you’re on edge, practically jumping each time he gets the ball, and maybe you’re clapping a little louder than anyone else (not that you liked him, or maybe you did). in the final minutes, it’s tied, and jake’s team has the ball. you watch as he gets the ball, weaving through the opposing team with an ease.

the crowd holds its breath, and so do you.

with a swift, clean kick, jake scores, sealing the win. the stadium erupts, but jake’s eyes find you instantly, a smug, triumphant smile on his face as he’s mobbed by his teammates. when they finally let him go, he sprints over to you, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“so…” he starts, leaning over, hands on his knees, slightly out of breath but still managing to look cocky. “still gonna pretend you’re not into me?”

you roll your eyes, though your cheeks are definitely giving you away. “who said i was ever into you?”

“i could tell.” jake flashes that heart-melting smile, moving closer. you’re aware of the other cheerleaders watching, and you’re definitely aware of his hand grazing your waist, lingering just long enough to make your heart race.

“oh, yeah? you’re that confident?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected, but your voice betrays you.

“confident enough to win a game for you,” he says with a smirk. “and i did say i’d ask you out if i won.”

“so ask away, sim,” you challenge, folding your arms.

he lets out a chuckle, his fingers brushing yours as if testing the waters. “okay, let me ask properly, then.” jake clears his throat dramatically, taking your hand in his. “y/n, would you do me the honor of going out with me?”

you’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach are doing somersaults, but you manage to keep your cool—sort of. “hmm… maybe. depends. what kind of date are we talking about?”

jake grins, squeezing your hand gently. “whatever you want. something fun. something that’ll make you smile like that.” he nods at you, obviously noticing the way your lips are curving, despite your attempt to stay composed.

“fine,” you say, relenting with a playful eye roll. “but only because you tried so hard.”

he leans in, closer than before, his voice just above a whisper. “only the best for you.”

your heart skips, and you glance down, trying to hide the way his words affect you. but jake isn’t done; he tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze. "guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“guess so,” you whisper, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you realize he’s not moving back. his hand is still at your waist, his thumb gently tracing circles on your hip. the stadium is still loud around you, but it feels like it’s just the two of you here, his face inches from yours.

“think i can get a ‘good game’ kiss?” he asks with a wink, his voice teasing but hopeful. you roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way you’re smiling now.

“don’t push your luck, sim.” but before he can respond, you lean up, giving him the quickest, softest peck on the lips. it’s barely there, but it’s enough to make his eyes widen in surprise and a smile spread across his face.

“you’re making me want to win every game now,” he says, looking down at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“i guess you’ll just have to keep scoring, then,” you reply with a grin, stepping back slightly, though your hand stays in his, fingers tangled together.

“oh, trust me, y/n,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on you, “i’ll be scoring a lot.”

[prettyinsophie]

Cum with me…to the gym

3k words

Your visit to the gym with Abby escalates quickly when you find out that a certain area can also be worked on by the adductor machine.

warnings: fingering (reader receiving), oh and the fingering is in public so yeah…

I lowkey hate this but it’s the only thing I’ve managed to finish writing throughout the whole year…sigh. I recently watched Arcane so…maybe I’ll start publishing about Vi or Sevika or both.

“Oh, c’mon! We still have two more exercises to go before finishing with some cardio!” Abby exclaims with a devilish smile across her lips, enjoying seeing you sweating and panting after doing three sets of Bulgarians.

After weeks of your best friend begging you to pay a visit to the gym, you obliged with the condition of getting to see Wicked afterward since Abby’s not a big fan of long movies, let alone musicals, so here you were; hair-sticking to your face, red cheeks, and skin glowing with sweat because Abby’s routine is no joke.

“Two more?! Can we just do one more? Pleaseee?” You beg in a whiny pout, giving her puppy eyes because you feel like you’ll pass out any moment now if you keep going. Of course, you’re being dramatic, but that’s just your zodiac sign being true to itself.

Abby playfully rolls her eyes, suppressing a smirk because she thinks you look adorable like that. She won’t tell you that, though, at least not in a non-mocking tone. “The machines are easier, and you can hit whatever weight you want. Sounds fair?”

You purse your lips, looking at her while she chugs some water down. It’s so unfair how godly she looks right now while you feel like a sticky mess. You nod, defeated more than anything because you might as well complete the routine properly. “Fine…”

The gym is fairly empty, but that doesn’t surprise you since it was one of your conditions to agree to come. And so you walk to the bench press, which was as hard as any other machine even with the lowest weight. You were more of a workout-at-home type of gal, after all, and Abby always mocked you because she’s a gym rat and this is her second home. To each their own, you don’t like being around strangers that much.

“What’s this one for?” You ask with your head tilting to the side, confused but willing to learn all about the stupid machine, eager because it’s the last one you’ll use today and for a while.

“This is the leg adductor, great for toning your legs and inner thighs. I’ll show you how to use it and then you can give it a go, yeah?”

“‘Kay…”

You can’t deny that it’s fun to see her in a trainer-like role, and you decide that it’s not that bad and that the reward will come later when you watch the 190-minute-long film. You watch Abby setting the machine and its weight intently, trying to make mental notes of everything so you won’t need her help for each little thing. And here goes…your eyes definitely find her hands gripping the handles more interesting than the exercise itself, or the way her thunder thighs push the weight inwards almost effortlessly. Phew. She finishes her set and stands from the machine so you can give it a go.

“See? Easy.” She smiles before adjusting the weight so it’s lighter for you.

You hesitate to get on it because it looks silly, and you definitely feel exposed with your legs spread open in your yoga pants.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you could open up this much,” She teases with a quizzical grin and her head cocking to the side, which makes you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I do pilates after all, don’t I?” You excuse your almost obscene spreading, and to only make it worse, you’re wearing a thong and you plead that Abby won’t look down because you’re certain she’ll be able to catch a detailed glimpse of your pussy.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with ya. Let me help you…” Abby snorts, amused at how you respond to her mindless teasing. She bends down in your direction to adapt the position so you won’t be opened up like a christmas present, “…and there! Now hold onto these and try to push the weight inwards slowly, if you do it fast you’ll hurt yourself.”

Abby instructs and you do as you’re told. Slowly, you push your legs together, gripping the handles because the weight is definitely challenging, and after the bench press, Bulgarians, and squats, your legs are not the strongest, but you manage to do it.

“How’s the weight? Do you want me to lower it?” Abby asks, leaning on the machine’s weight rack, “Y-Yeah…it’s too heavy.” Your voice quakes tiredly, and the blonde wants to poke fun at you for it but decides to save it because she knows you’re doing your best. So she lowers the weight so it’s more comfortable.

It’s definitely difficult to do it with your wobbly legs, but it’s also fun in its own way. You close and open your legs at a slow pace, breathing deeply as you do each one, and with Abby watching is only making it harder to pretend you’re not struggling as much. Although it hurts, you’re not sure if you’re targeting the right area since you keep clenching your core unconsciously, and it only causes you to breathe heavier and heavier for some reason. Abby’s on her phone since you got the hang of it, and yes, you can do the exercise, but with each push from your legs, your body gets hotter and your breathing gets sharper. The last rep comes, and the pressure is overwhelming even after taking small breaks between each set. The muscles in your lower stomach tighten, and that’s when you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, and you realize…

This fucking exercise is fun because it’s stimulating you, and your friend in front of you probably has no idea of what’s happening since she’s watching instagram reels.

Your back arches ever so slightly from the seat, a familiar reaction from when you pleasure yourself, and the pooling between your thighs only worsens as you get closer to the end of the rep, clenching every muscle because it feels so good. A loud, raspy gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes immediately seek Abby, checking if she’s seeing what’s engaging between you and the machine, but she remains still so you keep going. Your thighs are shaking, begging you to end the exercise but you keep going despite already hitting the fifteenth one.

‘Almost…’ Even the voice in your head is ragged. Your cunt is throbbing, your abs are inhumanly clenching and the band in your stomach’s about to snap. The sweat is running down your face and your neck, but all you can focus on is that aching pooling in the pit of your stomach.

With your chest heaving and your lip caught between your teeth, you close your legs one more time and groan softly at your release, the chemicals in your brain plastering colorful dots in your vision, and you finally let go since your body’s all weak and shaky. You can barely ride out the bliss when it hits you.

You just had an orgasm. At the gym. With Abby two steps away from you.

“Fuck…” A throaty breath catches Abby’s attention, and thank god your yoga pants are black and not pink today.

“You finally done? I know you’re a newbie but it took you long enough.” Abby puts her phone in her pocket and looks down at you with that kind and charming grin of hers, and then there you are, a panting mess.

“I…need to go to the bathroom,” You announce breathily, quickly getting off the machine because you need to take care of the situation in your pants. The blonde frowns and you know she wants to ask if something’s wrong, but she sees you in a rush and simply points at the ladies' room. You almost run, cursing in your head again and again because what the fuck is wrong with you? The bathroom stalls are empty so you enter the last one, immediately banging your head against the door.

“You’re a fucking pervert. You’re pathetic!” You whisper, and your legs threaten to give up once again, which only upsets you further.

You rest your head against the door and look up, battling the tears brewing in your eyes. This is it; the lowest you’ve reached so far. Who knows if one of the few people out there saw you? Shit, shit, shit. You haven’t had time to play with yourself but this definitely wasn’t the solution to that!

Deep breath in and out, but no matter how calm you are now, the wet spot in your pants remains.

“Hey…you in here?” Abby’s voice makes you jump startled, and you curse again in your head.

“Y-Yeah, last stall.” Your voice is weak and raspy, but you manage to get the right tone to not let her know you’re about to cry.

“You okay? You looked…I dunno, weird.”

Abby’s worry makes your heart clench, and guilt showers you like a bucket of cold water. She’s your best friend though; you know every small quirk, have seen each other’s awkward phases, and most importantly, have kept secrets you know aren’t for anyone else to know. So you’ll be fine, you’re adults now so this isn’t a big deal, right?

You open the door and pull her arm so she’ll join you. Rapidly, you close the door again as if the entire bathroom isn’t empty. Abby chuckles, amused by the sudden move from you, but the smirk fades as soon as she sees the sulky look on your face with your lips almost pouting and your eyes glossy. “Hey…what happened?” Her brows meet in a concerned frown, and she reaches for your hand.

The embarrassment is strong enough to block your throat and tighten your chest. You bite your lip, looking up when Abby’s thumb gently rubs the back of your hand.

“I…” How could you even put it into words? No fancy vocabulary would make this any better, “...the pressure of the exercise was really strong, and I…don’t know how but I think I came.”

Abby’s heart dropped to her stomach, and for your sake, she contained as much shock as she could inside her, but the truth is…she found that adorably amusing and even kind of hot…? You look defeated, just like a puppy who knows did something wrong, and she wants to pet your head and cuddle you.

On your side though, you’re certain she’s thinking you’re a freak that should be locked away from society. You look away from her. Your heart thuds in nothing but shame, pumping the blood to your cheeks, painting them a bright red color.

“How bad is the situation?” Her voice is lower than usual, and you assume that is in case someone enters the bathroom.

“My pants are soaked…” You nearly sob, sniffing but holding it in.

Abby hums, taking a step close to your position against the door, and she hesitantly brings her hand to your clothed crotch as if to make sure you’re telling the truth. Your body reacts to that, naturally, and you jump a little, looking at her with your eyes widening because that’s unknown territory.

“Okay…listen, it’s completely normal, yeah? Tons of girls have gone through the same thing so it’s not like you’re the first one.” She soothes you, her voice low and smooth, almost like a lullaby, and her hand moves to your hip, squeezing it lightly to comfort you.

You huff in relief, still embarrassed but that statement definitely took some weight off your back. “Thank god, I feel like a pervert.”

“You probably are, but that’s okay too.” Of course, she pokes fun at you at the first chance, but she manages to make you laugh a little.

The scenario is a little weird. You’ve been in the most insane and random situations together, but this could top any of those other ones. Your back’s against the door, and Abby’s just centimeters away from you; her hand gripping your hipbone rather firmly, causing your hips to jerk unconsciously. Your eyes meet hers, and she has such an indistinct look on her face that you can’t say you’ve seen before.

“You’re still sensitive,” She states huskily, and you catch her licking her lips.

“Well, yeah. I just had an orgasm.” You also state, almost sarcastically because it’s more than obvious why your body is reacting to her grip.

“You know…having multiple orgasms will help you relax your tensed muscles.”

…okay?

She takes the one step that kept you away from each other, and now both hands are on your hips as she glances down at you with her usual crystal-clear blue eyes gone several tones down to navy. You gulp nervously, your arms on your sides as you stand awkwardly.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Lemme help you.” She answers on the spot, with no hesitance or stuttering. And -shockingly- no hint of it being a joke.

You want to say no for the sake of your friendship more than anything, but your body’s been craving release for months, and if your best friend is willing to help you with such devotion then who are you to reject the thoughtful offer?

“Okay…”

Your answer takes Abby by surprise, but she doesn’t press on it because she doesn’t want you to change your mind, not when she’s getting worked up herself.

“Try to keep it down, though.” She winks a snarky smile at you, and before you can tell her to fuck off, she slips her hand down your pants, cupping your aching core.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Abby whispers surprised, her voice coming out ragged at the realization, and she begins to move her fingers over your folds, spreading them and feeling the slickness of your previous orgasm.

You wanted to be cocky, but one of your hands goes straight to your mouth to muffle the whimper you almost let escape. You know your friend’s anatomy almost as perfectly as her personal traits and her thick fingers were always secretly acknowledged by you, and now they’re spreading your pussy, teasing you better than you’ve ever done it yourself.

“I didn’t know you were a thong girl,” Abby mutters sultrily, obviously noticing the lack of clothing for your cunt. Her fingers find your clit and she starts tracing slow circles, mostly to see your reaction.

Your eyes are fluttering, and your whimpers come out as hums with your hand blocking your lips. Her touch is gentle but firm, and god is it heavenly. It’s definitely better than your own, and you can’t believe you’re doing this in the bathroom of the gym Abby’s attended for the past years. Still, your hips roll in the direction of where she’s touching you, pathetically writhing under her to feel her calloused fingers even more against your throbbing clit.

“You like that?” Oh her voice…is as sweet as honey right now and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod your head, too scared of being caught, but Abby -being the jerk she is- yanks your hand off your face, letting it rest on your side and very clearly hinting at you that she wants an answer vocalized.

“Y…Yeah,” You manage to gasp under your breath, your head hitting the door when her fingertips rub a little faster, right in that magnificent spot with the right amount of pressure to turn your legs into jelly.

Abby’s having the time of her life. You look angelically sexy, as if you were trying to seduce her with those red lips of yours; parted open and inviting hers to get a taste. She can’t, though, and she won’t…for now. She wants to see every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes when you blink repeatedly, and every bead of sweat that rolls down your forehead and causes your flushed cheeks to glow under the dim light of the bathroom.

“Abs…” It kills her to hear that beloved nickname of hers coming out of your lips in a needy gasp. She purses her full lips, pitying the situation because she wishes you could just whimper her name out loud. Later…she thinks to herself.

Abby calls out your name as well, matching your discreet and low tone, “...yeah? Feels good?”

You nod again, not risking a moan coming out. Your chest heaves, feeling tight because you can barely breathe. It’s almost like a fever dream…or a wet one, in this case. The blood is pumping hot and fast, adrenaline rushing all over you as she sends you to the fucking moon in steady circles. A loud gulp jumps on the walls of the stall, your best attempt at trying to keep quiet.

You feel that familiar pressure in your belly, but Abby whispers your name again. Her eyes are darker, with a loose strand of her blonde hair falling over her face, and she leans down. “I really wanna finger you, ‘s that alright?” She almost begs you, her pretty brows arching in eagerness for what your answer will be.

Your heart’s about to leap out of your chest at this point, feeling like you’re close to suffocating, but you lick your puffy lips and whisper a very needy ‘yes’. And Abby does not waste a single second before guiding one of your legs around her hips and immediately lowering her two digits to your entrance, spreading your arousal so her fingers won’t come in dry. You close your eyes at the weird sensation, but your hips jerk in her direction more aggressively than before.

“So wet for me…I wish I could taste that sweet pussy,” Abby hoarsely mutters in your ear, and before you can react, her middle and ring finger slip inside you oh so smoothly, stretching you open with her thick and long digits.

“Fuck…!” You hiss agitatedly, unconsciously clenching around her from how overwhelming everything is at this point. Abby slips them out and thrusts them until her knuckles become an obstacle, groaning under her breath as well, which only makes it harder for you to keep quiet. Why were you doing this again? Whatever the fuck was the reason, you wish she would’ve brought it up long before today.

Heat’s consuming your body, colored in a passionate red from your cheeks to your chest, probably from holding your breath, or the force Abby’s fingering you with. Either way, it’s all stimulating you in a way you know you shouldn’t be enjoying. Your heavy sighs are getting progressively louder, but the loud beating of your heart in your ears silences them.

Abby’s fingers thrust forcefully, almost abusing your soaking cunt, and squelching sounds filter out, causing the blonde to groan once again in your ear. Seemingly, the pornographic sound of her fingers pumping in and out only encourages her to seek deeper, finding a spongy spot at the very top when she curls both fingers expertly.

“There!” A normal whimper escapes, and as if to punish you, the door of the ladies’ room opens with two voices following as they chat about gains and what to have for lunch in terms of protein goals. Eyes wide as plates, you look at Abby, silently asking her what to do, unsure if it scares you more to keep going or stop.

Abby has her priority clear; you. So the solution is to cover your mouth with her hand and angle her fingers higher and deeper inside you, hitting the spongy wall repeatedly with the two girls chatting in the background, making enough noise to quiet the squelching of her fingering. Abby cages you between her body and the door, and her groans soon become growls, like a hungry animal salivating over its prey.

Tears brimmed in your wide eyes, beginning to tear up as you breathed raggedly through your nose and winced against Abby’s hand. You should’ve stopped, but the adrenaline rush of possibly -hopefully not- getting caught only caused your muscles to clench tighter, and the pooling in the pit of your stomach to swoop like a crashing wave. You’re close, so fucking close that you’re seeing stars this time. Abby’s eyes even shine before your eyes roll back and your body spasms like you’re being electrocuted. Creaming and cumming all over Abby’s fingers and in your yoga pants for the second time today. A loud ringing in your ears almost concerns you and makes you think you passed out, but it only lasts a minute or two before opening your eyes again and seeing your blonde friend looking at you like she just saw a UFO or something.

She keeps her fingers inside until the two girls leave the bathroom, and you can’t say it isn’t awfully awkward to feel the emptiness when she pulls them out and retrieves her hand from your lips as well, letting you pant loudly while you ride out the thunderous orgasm.

Your eyes meet, and Abby’s cheeks seem to get pink, which would’ve been funny in any other situation. “You, uh, you good?”

It’s so awkward that it makes your stomach cringe uncomfortably. “Yeah, just…recovering.”

Abby nods, letting you know that she understands, but you can tell she’s also embarrassed, probably regretting talking to you the way she did…publicly.

“Are we still watching Wicked?” You ask out of the blue, trying to lighten up the mood, and when Abby snorts everything returns to normal.

“Not only are we watching it, you’re getting eaten out afterward,” She taunts you sweetly, licking her dripping fingers clean.

[awordsmith]

tangled up 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer join forces to babysit both Jack and Henry.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s6 category: novella content warnings: not proofed, contains nothing but pure fluff, reader and spencer get mistaken as Jack and Henry's parents... reid with warmth !!  word count: 4.9k a/n: first novella fic whaaaa....i've been wanting to write this one for a while, but i knew it wouldn't be that long, so this is perfect for my first novella fic!!; enjoy!

The morning was cold and frosty, and the only thing able to mend it: a large, hot latte. Hotch approached your desk as you set your things down. He leaned over and whispered conspicuously, “Are you sure you can come tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and whispered back, just as secretive, and perhaps some more to show how dramatic he was being, “Yes, Hotch,” you saluted him, “Jack will be in good hands.”

A gruff sound came from his throat–as if signifying his disbelief, “If you say so, do you remember what time?”

“Hotch?”

He looked around, glancing back at you with pressed lips. “Yeah?”

“I got this,” you pushed his hand–gripping your desk–off.

“Right,” he nodded, “no I know.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, “so why are you stalling? Is this about your date? Because if you don’t want to go–”

“No,” he dusted his suit off, “I’m–I’m walking away.”

“Uh-huh,” you biot back a smile, feeling Spencer slide up next to you, “and what was that all about?” He kept his inquisitive gaze on your boss.

“Hotch had a date,” you stated, turning to look at him, “I’m babysitting Jack.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded–but when Penelope called you to the roundtable room and you began to walk away with her, you could hear him mutter, “Why didn’t he ask me?”

JJ rushed in, she apologized for being late as she took her seat. The team watched her; she was flushed, but her face showed clear urgency. She rolled her eyes, “Please do not question me today, I already have enough explaining to do.”

It was silent, but then you just couldn’t help yourself, “...JJ?” She looked at you with a slight warning, but you still asked, “What happened?”

The air in the room evaporated as JJ sucked in a breath, then deflated against her chair, throwing her head back, “Henry’s babysitter quit this morning.” You kept quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. “Will and I were going to go out tonight, we’ve been planning this for weeks now.” she huffs, running a hand through her hair.

Spencer caught your eyes, and though you shook your head, knowing it’d be a bad idea, he still said, “Well, hey, you know I could watch him for you–if you still wanted to go.”

JJ raised a brow and began to shake her head slowly, “I don’t know, Spence–”

“I wouldn’t be alone,” you noted Hotch raising an eyebrow as Spencer motioned toward you, “— is watching Jack, we could babysit them together.”

JJ glanced at you, then at Hotch–hopeful, “Would you both be okay with that?”

Hotch eyed Spencer’s grin for a moment, “Fine, but — has to keep an eye on Reid too.”

“Uh–what?” Spencer threw his arms up, “I’m a great babysitter–are you laughing?” He glared slightly at Morgan.

“Sure you are,” you reached over and patted the top of his hand, you held his gaze for a split second–the both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

You could hear giggling inside. Jack clung to Hotch, he was eight, and yet he still adored his father. The night was young, but starting to grow darker. Today, you had only been called to air a case, so you worked from the office, which you didn’t have the pleasure of doing most days, making it pretty unique.

“Oh, hey guys,” Spencer called, walking up behind you. You frowned, noting his relaxed attire.

“And I didn’t think you owned anything but sweater vests.”

“Oh–you just had to comment.” He sighed.

“That I did,” you nodded, “that I did.”

The front door opened right as Hotch checked his wristwatch, “you guys made it!”

“Would you believe it? Hotch hasn’t canceled yet.”

Your boss glared at you, but your remark earned chuckles from the others, “Yep, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

JJ stepped out of the house and moved aside, “come on in.” Henry popped his little head out from behind Will and motioned for Jack to follow.

Hotch leaned to the side, eyes only leaving Jack once the boys disappeared behind a corner. “Okay,” JJ approached you, hands on your shoulders, “I am trusting you.”

“Hey–uhm Hi!” Spencer waved, sticking his head over your shoulder, “I’m here too.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m telling her to be careful.”

After a bit of teasing Spencer, Hotch, Will, and JJ left in their cars. “Come, on, it’s freezing out here,” you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your zip-up.

“Let the night begin…”

Spencer stayed, feet glued to the floor for a moment as he watched you wander into the house. He couldn’t help the small smile that grazed his face; he covered it with a hand, closing the door behind him.

Inside you were asking the boys what they wanted to do. Hotch had picked you up from your apartment and you, him, and Jack drove over together–so when Henry suggested the movie theatre, you could only glance at Spencer, wondering if he’d be willing to drive.

He huffed, rolled his eyes, and fell back on the couch in the living room. “We can see what movies are playing, I guess.”

You huffed a laugh and gripped the couch with both hands as you learned over it, watching Jack and Hnery jump on top of Spencer.

“Okay, okay.” He pushed Henry’s foot out of his face and shot you a look when he heard you cover up a snort with a cough.

Upon scrolling through the nearest movie theatre, you found the newest Spider-Man movie was playing, but you had already missed the 7 o’clock one and the next showing was at 8:30. You, Spencer, and the boys agreed to that time, which left you about an hour before you had to leave. Spencer offered to pay and though you had debated with him about going half–he insisted.

You agreed, but only if he let you pay for the snacks. Spencer wasn’t a boyfriend and he wasn’t one of the girls, so it felt weird letting him pay for everything. He was older than you yes, but only by a couple of years, and though you had to remind him of that several times, he never once failed to pull that card over on you.

“What’s that?” Spencer motioned toward the bag you had brought–that you were now unloading on the kitchen counter.

“Ingredients,” you shrugged, “it isn’t real babysitting if you don’t bake something.”

“You bake?” He sat up, throwing something on the television to distract the boys before he made his way toward you.

You brushed it off, “Somewhat.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rounding the counter and meeting your hip with his, “so what are we baking tonight?”

“We?” You raised a brow. He nodded, lips forming a thin line to suppress a grin. “Oh, no,” you huffed a laugh, “we are not–do you even know kitchen etiquette?”

His face scrunched up, “I’m a quick learner.”

“Sarcastic Spencer never fails to amuse me.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, “what’s first?”

You shook your head, a grin escaping you. You snatched the butter he had picked up and smacked him on the shoulder as you went to go find a bow for it, “Wash your hands.” 

“Something smells good.” Jack rounded the counter.

“That would be the cookies.” You spun around and bent to your knees, pulling the oven open. 

“When’s the movie?” Henry came waddling in, Spencer not too far behind.

You glanced at him, expecting him to answer for the both of you. You smiled to yourself, pulling off the oven mitts when he said, “uh…we have about five more minutes before we should leave.”

You nodded and began searching for a container to put the cookies in, “boys, do you wanna go outside and help Uncle Spencer start the car?”

“Awesome!” Henry shouted, running off to find his coat.

“Can we really start the car?” Jack looked between you and Spencer.

“Of course,” you smiled, nodding.

“Cool,” he too ran off.

“If either of them wrecks my car, I’m holding you responsible.” He jabbed a warning finger in your direction.

You scoffed, wiping your hands on a rag, “right. Spencer, you drive a van.”

“An SUV,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem the type to care about messing things up.”

He held a hand to his chest, mock hurt flashing across his face, “–and what is that supposed to mean.”

You shrugged, but a cheeky smile pulled your lips upward.

“I’ll see you in the car,” he wandered off in search of the boys. You grabbed three cookies and set them aside on a napkin.

When you walked toward the door, you found Spencer and the boys already secure in the car. You locked the door and made your way down the drive.

“I have something delicious,” you handed each boy a cookie, promising to help Spencer clean out his car if it turned out they made a mess.

You took the third cookie and bit into it. Spencer watched you and he pulled off, turning onto the street. He hit a red light when you were halfway done with it, “were you not going to offer to share?”

Your eyebrows shot up momentarily, “you like sweets?”

“Half you met me?” he shot back.

You huffed, yanking his hand from the steering wheel and toward you, placing the cookie into his hand. The light turned green, so he steered with one arm and used his other to eat the cookie. It was a darling sight, truly. You giggled when a few crumbs fell onto the floor.

“I blame you,” he muttered, his mouth full of cookies as he made his proclamation.

Spencer had bought the tickets online, so as you parked, you made a game plan with the boys. Spencer and Henry would go to the bathroom because he forgot to say something back at the house and you and Jack would stand in line. There were a few games around–and of course, the boys asked to play when they saw them–but you only had ten minutes till the movie began, so you promised when the movie was over, you’d stay a bit longer to play.

There were only three lines open and from what you could tell, pretty long. Jack stuffed his hands into his tiny jacket pockets–he looked comfortable. “Do you know what you want to get?”

He pressed his lips together and notably looked around at the freezers and small box-like shelves separating the lines. They were only about two inches higher than him, maybe three or four higher than Henry.

“I’ve never been here.” You frowned. Jack had never been to a movie theatre or he had never been to this theatre? 

“What do you mean?” You stepped forward as the line moved up. A father and his daughter–probably around fourteen–stepped behind you. You took notice, but only because you’ve programmed your brain, they weren’t really important.

Jack shrugged, “What kind of snacks do they have.” You understood Jack didn’t want to speak more on the subject and because you cherished him, you dropped it–but you made a mental note to speak with Hotch about it later.

“Well, I think they have…gummy bears and–oh look–they have cornetto–personally I prefer the cup version–but that’s just me.” Jack laughed and stood on his tippy toes, trying to get a better look at the ice cream flavors.

You caught Spencer walking toward you, Henry skipping a few feet in front of him. He caught your wave and nodded toward Jack, who now stepped to the side of the counter–looking through the glass. “How much time do we have?”

Spencer checked his watch once more, his casual attire contrasting. He wore his glasses–which you absolutely adored–a pair of blue jeans substituted his normal khakis, and he wore a black hoodie with red writing on the back. He wore tenashoes instead of his work shoes and his silly socks were hidden beneath the fabric of his jeans. It made you frown slightly: you couldn’t tease him about it.

“Do you want anything?” You asked as the boys began listing off candy to the cashier.

“No, I’m good.” He shook his head, stuffing his hands into the singular pocket of his hoodie.

“Wanna share a bowl of popcorn?” You pleaded and eventually, he gave in.

You asked for two smaller bowls so you could split the large bowl between you, Spencer, and the boys. Spencer physically winced when you swiped your card–you saw it happen. It sent a flutter through you and your face reddened as much as it could. You covered it up with a laugh, hoping Spencer didn’t find it weird, though the look he threw you said otherwise.

You found your seats, the boys settled in the middle of the two of you. You separated the popcorn between the boys, but then realized it’d be an issue sharing with Spencer if he was all the way on the other side, so instead, you gave him one of the smaller bowls, filled his and Hnery’s, and shared the big bowl with Jack.

You made it in time for the credits which you hated, but Spencer loved. It put a goofy smile on his face as he explained every ad,s aying how they were trying to tug at your heartstrings or logical side. “But we’re too smart, aren’t we?” He met your gaze.

The boys turned toward you, where you now adorned a serious nod, “oh, yeah, we’re way too smart to fall fo that, right boys?” 

“Yep!” they nodded triumphantly. 

“And why is that?” Spencer rounded the question back to him.

“Because we’re profilers,” Jack asked hesitantly.

“Exactly,” you jabbed a finger at him, messing with his hair a little. He laughed and leaned away, pushing your hand toward the popcorn bowl.

Spencer watched you–but not just your person. He wanted your actions, your facial expression, the way you interacted and spoke to Jack, the way you joked with Henry, the way you took every opportunity you could to tease him about absolutely anything. 

He felt his heart tense and then fall to his stomach once he realized what was occurring. Was he falling in love? Was this what that feeling was? Was this how falling in love happened? You noticed minuscule, insignificant things about a person like the way they laughed? Or the way smiled? You analyzed them so thoroughly that you could tell what they would say before they said it. Or know the action they’re about to take before they make it?

He couldn’t tell. Spencer had never been in love before. He had never fallen in love. But was that what this was? He didn’t have a definitive answer, he just knew he wanted to be closer. To you. To you in every way. He wanted you to want to be close to him and he wondered if that was love.

Because if it was, wouldn’t that mean he’d already fallen? But it didn’t feel right.  It felt…like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he had been searching for an answer he knew was somewhere in his brain, but hadn’t figured it out until just now.

The movie played and he tried his best to watch it–he grasped the general concept, but he was more focused on, well, you.

Did he love you? Could he say that with genuine confidence? He wouldn’t know until he tried it out, but he couldn’t. Because what if he didn’t? What if what he felt for you was simply pure friendship–he’d be making a crucial mistake, one) if you didn’t like him you’d be weirded out and if you did he chanced hurting you, two) you worked together, that was an issue in and of itself.

He jumped when you stood, watching as you stretched. “What?” You raised a brow, a tired smile forming you mouth.

He found himself smiling back, his stomach flipping, “nothing. Just…tired.”

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes, yawning, “me too. We should head back now, it’s pretty late. We need to take them baths.”

“Yeah,” Spencer glanced at Jack, who was now standing, and Henry, who was fast asleep in his seat.

Spencer tried waking him slightly, but he wasn’t budging, “just carry him,” you suggested.

Deciding it was the only option, Spencer gripped Henry’s armpits and heaved him upward as gently as he could. You watched him as he laid Hnery’s head on his shoulder, the boy snuggling into the crook of his neck, hugging your coworker tightly. 

“Awww,” you sounded like Penelope but you didn’t care, this was too cute a moment not to capture. Whipping out your phone, you ignored Spencer’s pleas and snapped multiple photos from every angle.

Heading to the lobby of the theatre, you nudged Jack, “I’m guessing you don’t want to play some of the games anymore?”

Jack shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “no. m’just tired.”

You nodded, pulling him into your side as you walked, “Me too, buddy, me too.”

You passed an elderly couple on the way out, Henry slightly waking up when the cold air hit his face. “Are we home?” He asked.

The elderly couple snickered and said, “You’re a cute family.”

You opened your mouth to correct the woman, but her husband added, “You look just like we did, don’t they?” before you could. He turned to his wife, made clear by the matching rings.

“Oh, they do,” then she bent over and asked Jack, “What movie did your mommy and daddy take you to see.”

Instead of correcting the couple, Jack glanced at you, then Spencer, and grinned–though it was sleepy– “Spider-Man 2.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I haven’t seen that one, is it good?”

“Really good,” Henry answered from Spencer’s arms.

They laughed again, then apologized for keeping you and made their way inside.

You and Spencer said nothing as you made your way to the car. Jack and Henry were silent as well. You wondered just what was going through Jack’s head. Maybe he was too tired to understand or care about the women’s words. Yeah, that must have been it.

You decided you would ignore it just as you would ignore the flutter that continuously courced through you the entirety of the night.

With much prodding, you were able to get Henry into the bath. Jack didn’t take much convincing, but he assured you he could do it himself, which you shouldn’t have believed because he ended up getting shampoo into his eyes.

Spencer finished helping him, though it was hard because Jack insisted on showering. Eventually, the two boys were tucked into Henry’s twin-sized bed, and you and Spencer had a little free time before the others arrived.

You grabbed the bowl of cookies that you’d tucked on the counter near the fridge before you’d left. You meant to eat them at the kitchen counter, but Spencer wanted you to watch some movie he had put on. You would blame and hold him responsible for any crumbs that didn’t land in the bowl.

His chuckle was low and light, just like every other time you found yourself making him laugh. It sent a flutter through your chest and you had to turn away to keep from letting him know just how flustered that one sound could make you.

You shivered, you typically brought a sweater with you everywhere just in case, but you were going to JJ’s house, and you knew she’d let you borrow a few blankets. 

“Where are you going?” Spencer caught your wrist as you stood. Your heart jolted and you couldn’t help but stare at it. You blinked a few times before he let go. He sucked in a breath as if you’d stung him. You weren’t sure what he meant by that or if he meant anything at all by it. Spencer was normally an awkward person, but this didn’t feel like something he’d be awkward about, in fact, Spencer would never be put in this situation simply because Spencer hated physical contact.

Maybe that’s why he had such a reaction. You brushed it off, letting a shy smile replace the longing frown, “Just the hall closet to find a blanket…want one?”

Spencer shook his head and wanting to escape the atmosphere, you bottled toward the hall. You retrieved the first blanket on top. It was white with little blue bunnies. Cute. You thought, it must be Henry’s. 

“I’m back,” you hopped on the couch, keeping a cushion between the two of you, for fear of making him uncomfortable.

He declined your offer of a cookie and opted to lean back. It might have just been your imagination, but you were sure Spencer kept sneaking glances at you. You thought he must be bored, he’d put on a '90s romcom. Though you loved the, you were surprised when Spencer put it on. But then maybe he put it on for you and that’s why he kept glancing at you.

You huffed under a cookie, that’s so like him. 

Halfway through the movie, you’d discarded the bowl of cookies with four left and began to feel the lights dim. Or maybe it was just you. You took a moment and laid your head back but it was uncomfortable. As you shifted on the couch, a yawn escaped you. 

Spencer caught it, attention now fully focused on you, he smiled at your dreary state. He moved one leg under him and without really thinking much about it–if it’d make you uneasy or not–he took you by the shoulders and lowered your head into his lap. You noticed, but barely. He pulled the blanket over you as your arms wrapped around his thigh. Your head snuggled into him and when a satisfactory hmm released itself from your throat, he snorted a little. 

He loved you, or at least he thought he did. Spencer had never loved anyone. Well, he loved his mom, but he knew he was programmed that way. He loved quantum physics and math and chemistry and psychology, but those were very broad terms, and still not a being. He liked cats, but he couldn’t love a cat–well, he could–but that was a different discussion.

You, on the other hand, he always wanted to be around. You, on the other hand, he always wanted to talk to. You, he fell asleep thinking about; you, he dreamt about; you, he woke up to.

You were always on his mind, there was no way around it. In every conversation–though he rarely voiced it–he could always draw back to you. Penelope bought a new pink fluffy pen? You loved pens. Dereck couldn’t sleep at night because of his neighbor. You could sleep anywhere–it was a skill. Spencer couldn’t sleep at all, really, and when he did–well, he’d already know what he’d dream about.

He couldn’t escape you–but well, he didn’t want to.

The biggest evidence of his feelings for you? He hated–absolutely loathed–the thought of you talking to/dating/marrying anywhere else. He made a face, the thought disgusted him;; it made him sick.

The front door unlocking jolted him out of his thoughts… how long had he sat there watching you? Going back and forth in is mind? His mind began wondering and the lights began to fade. His shoulder drooped and he began pushing you backward, fixing you until you were both comfortable. 

“Just for…a bit…” he yawned before the lights went out.

Spencer jerked when he heard the front door unlock. He was always keenly aware of his surroundings–it was a bad habit he picked up in his years at the BAU.

JJ and Will stepped through the door as quietly as they could, the credits were rolling. The movie must have just ended. 48 minutes?

“Hey–” JJ whispered walking toward him.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, but was weighed down, and upon looking–found you still sound asleep. He smiled, but when he realized JJ could see him, he fixed it to a plain expression.

Spencer held up a hand and pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes widened slightly in concern when he looked down at you. Which was ridiculous, he couldn’t stay in this position the entire night, much less on JJ’s couch. You both had work in the morning and you needed to get home. Right…but where was Hotch? How would you get home?

He was startled by your shifting movements. Upon glancing at you again, he found you stirring. JJ covered up a small laugh, and turned back to Will, shushing him as he stalked over.

“Hotch texted, he should be here soon,” JJ whispered.

Spencer nodded as you lifted your head, he raised his arms just enough for you to have free reign, if you pushed out of his hold, he’d have no choice but to let go.

But you didn’t, you pulled him closer and buried your face into where his thigh met his hip. “Five more minutes.”

JJ snatched her phone from her pocket and began snickering, “Penelope is going to love this.”

“Hey–come on, JJ–don’t–” Spencer’s protests went ignored as JJ clicked a few photos and slipped her phone back into the back pocket of her jeans.

A knock sounded on the door not a moment later, Will went to open it while JJ sat on the arm of the couch and smiled down at her two coworkers. “Do you think she can hear us?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say no, but raised a brow and glanced at you questioningly, he wasn’t sure you knew where you were, let alone could make sense of a complete sentence. “I’m gonna go with probably not.”

They chuckled to themselves. Hotch waved, before following Will down the hall toward Henry’s room. You yawned and rolled onto your back, stretching over Spencer. “Hi,” you blinked up, a slow smile turning up your lips.

He met your sleepy gaze with one of his own, “hi,” he answered.

Hotch came back out with a very asleep Jack, calling out your name, You sighed, forcing yourself upward. “Guess I better go.”

Once again, Spencer felt his subconscious take hold of his body as he held an arm across your stomach, “I could take you…I mean I wouldn’t mind, besides,” he nodded toward Hotch and Jack, “he should get Jack home.”

JJ watched in silent awe. It was one thing for Spencer to shake hands with someone let alone hug them, so when she stepped through her doors and found you snuggled up to him, her suspicion-radar was going off. Spencer definitely had a thing for you, or at the very least felt most comfortable with you. In her mind, you were his person, and that didn’t have to be romantic, it was just how it was.

Now, though, watching his eyes, there was no doubt in her mind. Spencer Reid was in love. She wondered what kind of catastrophic event occurred for this to happen.

“You sure?” You murmured, rubbing your eyes. You were halfway leaning against his chest, and halfway using his shoulder to stay steady.

“Yeah, of course.”

Hotch seemed to get the gist of the conversation, whispered a few goodbyes, and headed out the door.

“You made cookies,” JJa noted.

“Yep, there’s four left, but they’re probably all stale now.”

“Well, maybe you two can babysit again and make me fresh ones.”

“I helped, you know,” Spencer added.

“Yeah, ‘helped’ so much I almost had to buy you a new pan.” After a good laugh, you stood and stretched, catching Spencer’s yawn, “well, it’s getting pretty late, we should head out.”

“Alright then, drive safe.”

“I’m always a safe driver.”

“I know you are, Spence.” She pressed her lips together, glancing at you, wondering if you even felt a smidgen of what Spencer felt for you.

The car ride was smooth, Spencer had been over a few times, and with his memory, he knew the way by heart. “Thanks for doing this.” You grabbed his hand as he pulled into your complex.

Spencer jolted, his head jerked down: his focus on where your hands connected. “Oh–sorry, I forgot–”

You snatched your hand away, but Spencer was quick to grab it back. “No–no it’s…” he stared at you. He could lose his mind and still be able to put a name to your eyes. They were like none he’d ever seen–which is opinionated, of course, in his mind, you were all there ever was. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, “I…know how you hate people touching you.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged sheepishly, “but when it’s you it’s okay.”

Your heart leaped at that and maybe it was because you were half-awake and when you were half-wake you became even more delusional than you were daily. “So, you don’t mind if I touch you?”

“No, not at all.” He replied immediately as if he had been programmed to.

You couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way onto your face, “good to know.”

You opened the car door and started exiting his vehicle. “Hey, —?”

“Yeah?” You yawned again, the sky a blue-black kind of color.

“What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” You frowned.

“You know,” he tried motioning with his hands, which only made you snort.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “no idea.” You spun around, starting the path to your apartment, “see you tomorrow, Spencer.”

Spencer frowned, he knew he would think about this the rest of the night, if he could sleep he’d probably dream about it, and when he woke up, it would most definitely be the first thing on his mind.

a/n: lol i've been working on this forever (like a month) and i cried in my maths a few days ago because i couldn't understand it–#mathisnotforme

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis part 4

oh look, gave in, masterpost

by HH discord vote, wrote on this while waiting for my nerve test today (good news, nerves good. bad news, hands bad because ?????. other news, OW) which was nice because this is very soft and I was very nervous about it all. Apparently I had another chunk not posted here too so have a decent bit!

-

“Yeah, well, you just met—saw? You just saw my parents. They’re just sort of like that. Everything always becomes dramatic,” Danny said, some of his humor fading as he talked about his family.

“I’ll remember not to come over for dinner,” Conner said with a purposefully light tone.

Danny snorted. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t subject you to that horror. Easier to just eat out anyways.”

“And yet you don’t eat lunch,” Conner pointed out.

Danny ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, school lunches aren’t exactly appetizing.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Conner agreed after a beat. Him and Dad might still have some issues that they were working through, but Clark made sure that Conner always had a lunch to take to school, no matter how busy he was with a story. The only times there wasn’t a lunch is when Clark was off world for three or more days.

Conner wondered if Dad would mind making an extra one.

“Anything you hate?” Conner asked curiously.

Danny gave a little shrug. His fingers twisted restlessly against Conner’s. “That’s a complicated question.”

“I’m okay with complicated answers.”

“Turkey and chicken, but only if it’s the whole bird. Hot dogs. I guess all meat can be iffy a lot, depends on the day. Tofu. Um, plain broths and Jello at this point. Anything fake cherry favored. Lime Gatorade,” Danny listed off in a rush.

Conner blinked. “Okay.” He’d do his best to remember that.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Like, I think that’s actually not that hard to work around. And you can remind me if I forget anything, but, like, I’ll try not to,” Conner said. He gave Danny’s hand a reassuring little squeeze.

Danny stared down at their clasped hands like it was the most confusing thing.

Conner tried not to worry too much about it. Danny could be odd like that.

The shop was actually a pretty nice one. Maybe it was a little too hipster, but it was a coffee shop. The music could be worse and the spray painted art on the wall was actually pretty cool. There was no one waiting, so Conner pulled them up to the front where they could easily read the menu to make their choices.

He nudged Danny gently with his elbow. “They have some vegetarian stuff, if it’s one of those days.”

“The beetroot sandwich is damn good,” the heavily tattooed barista who was waiting on them said.

“Yeah?” Danny said, looking over that on the board. “I’ll do that, I guess, and a large iced coffee.”

“Whole milk, skim, or oat milk?”

“Oh, um, whole is fine,” Danny said.

“Same drink for me, but I’ll do the avocado BLT,” Conner decided. He went to pull out his phone to pay, but Danny beat him to it, holding out a credit card.

“My treat, since we couldn’t work at my place,” Danny said quickly.

Conner huffed. “Fine. But next study session is my treat then.”

“You two can go ahead and have a seat, I’ll bring your stuff over soon,” the barista said with a smile as they handed back Danny’s card.

Conner followed Danny’s lead over to a comfortable looking pair of armchairs around a low table. They were forced to finally let go of each other’s hands to sit, and Conner tried not to pout. Now that he knew Danny would let him, Conner figured he could find another excuse to hold Danny’s hand if he worked at it.

Danny pulled out his sleek, new laptop and set it open on the table. The assignment was already open on the screen, glaring in the large, red text that Mrs. Simmons liked to use for all of her assignment headers. It was especially bold on the black background of the dark mode that Danny seemed to keep everything in.

Under every poet’s name, Danny had typed a sentence or two about them. It was far from academic writing (some of it was actually hilariously blunt), but it actually had some really useful information.

“Damn, Danny, you call this only a little?” Conner asked as he scanned over the notes.

Danny fidgeted in his seat. “I mean. Just like I said, I'm not good at English work and I don't want to be why you get a bad grade.”

“Hey,” Conner leaned over and bumped their shoulders together, “it's just a grade.”

“Yeah, try saying that in my house with two doctorate already and a third on the way with my sister,” Danny muttered.

“Well, good thing we aren't in your house then,” Conner joked. When Danny rolled his eyes, Conner reached out and tapped Danny’s hand, getting the other to look at him. “It’s just a grade, Danny, but I'll do my best to make sure that it's a good one, okay?”

Danny’s smile was a little wobbly, but at least it was there. “Thanks.”

“Course. Tell me what you've done so far.”

His smile turned shier, but Danny started to explain that he’d wiki searched the poets and also scanned whatever there most famous poem was. He didn’t really know how to talk about the poems, but tried to write a word or two about them. As they went through the list, it was clear that Danny already had some he didn’t like, by the way his nose wrinkled as he talked about them, scrunching up his freckles. He also had some good points about some poets that they shouldn’t do as two white guys. Conner didn’t know if he actually really counted as a white guy, not with Clark, but he figured since socially Clark was seen and raise as one, it fit as much as anything.

(Not like Conner could talk about the whole half alien clone thing anyways.)