#why do I have the feeling grandma is sensing/knowing something is up

[littlemissstel]

Nanami constantly talked about how beautiful you would be with grey hair. You weren't really sure why he did it at first. Maybe he had a thing for silver foxes? You couldn't blame him, knowing you would've been more than ecstatic on the day he finally had a full head of grey. The first few times he brought it up you teased him, "Oh yeah? You into grandmas Ken?" and "At this point you're going to manifest it." fell from you lips regularly.

One thing you noticed towards the beginning of your relationship was that he always seemed to have fixations. First it was moving in together, then going to Malaysia, then moving into your forever home, then marriage and finally this. It was a shame he would have to wait a little while longer for his vision to come true, but so far it had all worked in his favour. Perhaps it was a quirk of being a sorcerer.

It was a regular afternoon where you and Kento spent time together cuddled up in the coziness of your bedsheets and pillows. He was reading something by an author whose name you could not pronounce, slightly propped up in order to not put any pressure on the wound that marked his torso - result of a mission gone south- and you scrolled aimlessly through your timeline. Even though the chance of losing your husband ailed you greatly, you couldn't deny feeling grateful for the extra quality time you had due to his medical leave, basking in his warmth and scent.

You both continued, entranced in your separate activities until a certain video caught your eye. A girl and her friends tried on an ageing filter, said to be the most accurate by dermatologists, laughing and screaming at their faces that magically turned 40 years older in seconds. Definitely a sign.

"Ken come here" you said, moving up the bed and angling the camera so the light from the lamp illuminated his sleepy face. Obediently, he leaned in and studied with a confused expression for a moment before opening his eyes wide, watching as the wrinkles and frosted hair came over his features.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "Do you like it? You look so handsome, I knew you'd age well." But your giddiness was met with silence as he continued to stare at the screen. This time not at himself, but at you.

You weren't quite sure what he was thinking, his face didn't give anything away as you watched him watching you - waiting for some kind of understandable reaction. Instead he leaned in closer, taking your raised hand in his and squeezing it tight so to take a screenshot before sending the picture to himself and rolling over. Minutes went by with him looking at his phone, zooming into different features - taking in the information like it was a sacred ancient hieroglyphic. It was rare you ever saw Kento get choked up but there you were, spectating as his hand kneaded his eyes as if trying to rid the oncoming emotion.

"Ken? What's wrong?...Are you okay?" You Shuffled closer with a grounding hand.

"I'm fine." His short answer was not satisfactory, he could feel it from the look you gave him. "I am. I just...Never thought I'd be able to see you age in this lifetime."

The confession was heavy. It lingered in the air. Your body only allowed for your mouth to open in a soft 'o' at the revelation. The months of subtle hints and ridiculous wonders suddenly made sense. A touching sentiment but one that put a strain on your heart. How were you so oblivious? You racked your mind for anything to say, trying unsuccessfully to come up with something virtually comforting. You and Kento both knew the implications of your jobs and the burden of duty that made you refuse to quit. There was no point in denying the possibility, not after having to bury so many people- it would be insensitive- and ignorance wasn't a privilege you had. So you tried your best.

"You might be right. But even if we don't get to grow old in this lifetime- we still have the next, right?"

He slowly looked up, mouth pinched in a trying smile and delicate eyes.

"You're right, I guess we do."

Forty years later and you spend your evenings looking at the printed picture of you and Kento. Turns out the filter wasn't the most accurate, so until you see him again you will also wonder what your lover would look like had he gotten the chance to age.

[celestiamour]

pls pls plsss write smth where fem reader and se-mi meet at the games and fall for one another? w the reader having a sort of bubbly and cute personality! tysm 🫶🫶

ft. han se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your cute and bubbly personality┊0.7k words

contains: fluff! reader is a sweetheart, asking you out

➤ author's note: i was so in love with her this entire season like i couldn’t stop giggling every time she showed up on screen

you seem to be able to create friends even in this impossible situation, she notes as she watches you with amused eyes while you flutter around the room from group to group like a pretty butterfly flying from flower to flower. there’s at least one person in the dozens of teams who you know by name and not number, and even if you didn’t, you thought all of them were deserving of a drop of sunshine that was your personality. you made even the most difficult people crack a smile with how infectious your energy was and how sweet you were even in these murder games, and it made her indifferent heartbeat a little faster whenever it was her turn to have your attention. who wouldn’t feel that way when there was such a cute girl who reminded her of the princesses from those cartoons she watched when she was little?

“se-mi unnie!! how are you holding up?”

she hadn’t seen the real light of the sun in days, yet your smile shone even brighter than the morning star and she briefly wondered if she would be blinded if she looked directly at it. you were like a doll in the sense that it seemed to be permanent, but after seeing the look on your face after the first game where dozens died like they meant nothing, she now knows you were simply spreading some much-needed love to others as a way to cope with the traumatic experience like the sweetheart you were.

“i’m doing okay, i just wish the food tasted better— come sit next to me,” she commanded, patting her free hand against the open spot on the mattress because she wanted as much of your time as possible. 

“well, it’s kimbap, so you can’t really go wrong with it!” you obediently climbed onto the bed with her, sitting so close that she could smell the artificial flower-scented soap of the shower you took a couple of hours ago. “when we get out of here, you should come over to my place and i’ll cook you some food! i’m not as good as my grandma, but it’s a lot better than the cold stale stuff they serve here.”

“that would be great.” she liked the idea of coming over to your place, already able to imagine your room full of stuffed animal collections and lace curtains, although she would much prefer it if she came as something more than a friend— but now that she thinks about it, did you even like girls in that way like she does? you didn’t really express romantic interest in girls, but you exactly didn’t show any for guys either, being more of a little sister figure for them all rather than a potential love interest like she saw you as. 

there was only one way to tell, so se-mi did what she did best, and that was flirting with girls. 

“god, i wish this could be over already,” she sighed as she leaned over to your side to rest her head on your shoulder. “i would love to come over to your place, we could have a spa night and watch romance movies until morning.”

as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt heat start to radiate off your face. “l-like a date?”

“well, only if you want it to be a date…” 

“w-well… um… i would… really, really like that… um, mrs kang is calling for me! i’ll talk to you later!” you stuttered as you rushed off in the direction of the old lady and her son, covering your face with your hands and running away like an embarrassed anime girl. she watched carefully as you told them something in a clearly excited tone before smacking the man with the glasses when his head snapped in se-mi’s direction, but they both seemed very happy for you which made her smile knowing you were on board

“goddamn it, why is everyone pulling cute girls except for me?!” an annoyingly familiar voice from a certain purple-haired rapper started. “what am i doing wrong? i’m thanos for crying out loud, i should be getting swarmed!”

“you might want to work on your technique.”

[azzibuckets]

you have me

paige bueckers x azzi fudd [pazzi]

summary: a random collection of azzi and paige fluff at different stages in their relationship? idk lol i was just writing for fun

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

#1 Whitefish, Montana

“You haven’t had your first kiss?”

Azzi flushes. It’s bitterly cold outside, her eyes and cheeks stinging from the harsh wind blowing in their faces. Azzi doesn’t mind, though. It’s another excuse to scoot in closer to Paige, to tuck her hand in the crevice between the older girl’s ribs and elbow and burrow the two of their bodies as close together as she can. And although the two of them are shivering, noses turning numb, neither of them make a move to go back inside. Out here, under the deep blue sky and the glow of the stars, it feels like it’s just the two of them in the world.

But now, she slightly regrets cuddling this close to Paige, because her heart is pounding so fast she’s sure the blonde can feel it, even through the thick layers of their jackets.

“No,” Azzi answers truthfully.

Paige’s eyebrows fly up. She has a beanie pulled untidily over her blonde hair; the dark navy of the fabric complements the bright blue of her eyes, and her ears are turning a little bit pink from the temperature. Azzi has always liked masculine guys, the football players at her school, but there’s something about the feminine prettiness of Paige that makes her mouth go dry. “No wayy. You haven’t had your first kiss?” Paige repeats.

Azzi pulls her hand away from Paige’s body to cross her arms over her knees, huffing. “No,” she says again, more irritatedly this time. “Stop asking. Why is it so hard to believe?”

Paige’s lips pull into a soft smile. “Don’t be like that. Come back here.” She grabs Azzi’s hand and brings it to her lap, rubbing the younger girl’s palms with her fingers to put some warmth back into her system. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m not tryna rush or anything,” Azzi explains, trying not to think about how good Paige’s touch feels on her bare skin. “I just wanna make sure it’s with someone I actually like, you know?”

Paige harrumphs. “You’re such a romantic,” she scoffs, a slight tease in her tone. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Azzi’s shoulders tense up, her body going stiff. “It is to me.”

Paige falls silent for a moment. Seeming to sense how seriously Azzi takes the matter, Paige squeezes her hand apologetically. “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s just - you don’t wanna set yourself up for disappointment, ya know? Cause sometimes you’ll really like someone and think your first kiss will be all that. And then you kiss them and it’s not even that good. And at the end of the day it might not even mean anything to the other person,” Paige rambles.

“Paige.” Azzi reaches over and fixes her beanie, tucking away the flyaway strands. “It’s okay. You don’t gotta defend yourself to me.” The back of her hand brushes Paige’s cheek, and Paige’s breath hitches.

“Who was your first kiss?” Azzi knows she shouldn’t ask, that hearing Paige’s answer will stir up some weird feelings in her, although she’s not quite sure yet why the image of her best friend kissing another person makes her chest burn.

“I don’t know. Some person at a party,” Paige says casually.

“Do you regret it?” Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.

The blonde shrugs. Oh. “Not really. It was good experience at least.”

“Oh.” Azzi fiddles with the top button of her jacket, unsure of what to say. Paige seems content with her minimal response, and they fall into silence. Sighing, Azzi leans her head against the older girl’s shoulder, who shifts so that her cheek presses against Azzi’s forehead. Azzi wonders why they seem to fit so naturally together, why the warmth of Paige always makes her feel so hot.

“Girls! Are you out here?”

They both freeze as the sound of Azzi’s grandma’s voice cuts into their silence. Staring at each other for a half a second, they both burst into silent giggles as they make an unspoken agreement to stay hidden on the roof.

“Girls? It’s time for dinner!”

Azzi accidentally laughs a little too loud, and Paige immediately clamps a hand over her mouth as they both start to shake uncontrollably. Azzi’s grandma groans before they hear the sound of a door clicking shut.

“Bro, you’re so loud,” Paige complains, taking her hand away from Azzi’s face and leaning into her space. Azzi looks up at the same moment, and suddenly their faces are a lot closer than she’d anticipated. They’re so close that their breaths make a single smoky cloud in the cold air between the two of them, and suddenly Azzi is hyper-aware of the proximity of their mouths. She looks down, swallowing when she realizes that Paige’s lips are a little bit chapped, and a lot of bit pink.

Paige smiles brightly at her, teeth crooked, and before Azzi can stop herself or think anything through, she’s putting both hands on Paige’s face and placing her lips tentatively against her mouth.

The older girl is frozen at first, hands hanging awkwardly in the space between them and face still, but when Azzi sighs a little into her mouth, it seems to break her out of her trance. She suddenly responds enthustically, one hand grabbing the lapel of Azzi’s jacket to pull her impossibly closer and the other hand slipping behind Azzi’s head. Her fingers are cold as they tangle with the baby curls at the nape of her neck, but Azzi thinks it’s the best thing she’s ever felt.

It’s a mess at first. Paige turns her head right at the same time Azzi turns left, and their noses bump hard into each other. But they laugh it off and continue kissing, mouths eager and hearts beating hard against their ribs, wholly in sync. Their first kiss is awkward and inexperienced and chaotic, but it’s even more novel and thrilling and perfect.

When Azzi pulls away, panting, Paige chases after her, pressing another kiss to her full lips before Azzi puts a hand on her chest and forces her back. “I need to catch my breath,” she laughs, and Paige settles to grab Azzi’s hand and kiss her knuckles one by one instead.

“Am I a good kisser?” Paige says confidently, a joking glint in her eyes.

“No,” Azzi teases, smirking at the way the blonde’s face immediately falls, her smile quickly turning into a pout that shouldn’t look adorable to Azzi but irritatingly does.

Both of them still light headed and dazed, they lean against each other quietly, staring out at the trees and the little bit of blue on the horizon. “Oh my god, I just took your first kiss,” Paige says after a moment, realization and panic dawning simultaneously in her eyes. “And you said you wanted it to be with the right person. Fuck. Did I just ruin your first kiss?”

“Paige.” Azzi cuts her off. She nudges her best friend, who finally meets her eyes. “Yes?” she asks meekly.

“Shut up.” Then Azzi is kissing Paige again, and the older girl turns into putty.

Later, when they climb back down and get an intense talking to for disappearing for four hours, she makes eye contact with Paige and they both blush, looking away. Azzi’s just kissed Paige for the first time, and she doesn’t know how she’s gone 17 years of her life never experiencing such a thing. Because now that she knows what Paige tastes like, she doesn’t think she can ever live without it again, and the realization is heavy on her heart.

#2 Storrs, Connecticut

Azzi’s first time at Ted’s is a Tuesday evening.

She doesn’t even know how they ended up here - she was supposed to be visiting Paige and sleeping over at her dorm, and all Paige was supposed to show her around Werth again and downtown Storrs, and maybe fit in a workout or two. Katie and Tim would probably blow a fuse if they’d discovered that Paige had conned her way out of leading the tour and into leading their way inside the campus bar.

One thing Azzi has learned is that Paige is clingy when she’s drunk. Her hands haven’t left Azzi all night - they’d been touching her back lightly when she’d introduced her to the rest of the team, and lightly gripping her waist as they ordered drinks. And Azzi doesn’t even know how 19 year old Paige charmed her way into getting the both of them alcoholic drinks, but it seems to be a frequent occurrence for Paige because this definitely doesn’t look like her first time.

Not to mention that the two of them hadn’t had the conversation yet about where their relationship (if it could even be called that) would stand once Azzi came to UConn. And they surely hadn’t discussed PDA or how lowkey they were planning on keeping it - but the way Paige is now whispering into her neck, lips wet as they skim across her collarbone, makes Azzi thinks it’s probably much too late to even have the conversation anymore.

“Are you always this way when you’re drunk?” Azzi asks, amused, after Aubrey calls Paige over to introduce her to her friends but Paige merely shakes her head and burrows her head further into Azzi’s neck.

“Whatchu mean?” Paige slurs, pressing one final smacking kiss to the underside of the younger girl’s jaw and drawing back to admire her with a tired smile.

“You always touchy like this?” Azzi cocks an eyebrow light-heartedly, her tone teasing, but the gravity of her underlying question is impossible to miss.

“Only with you, mamas.” Paige responds, a quizzical look in her eyes. “No one here compares to you. Don’t even know what any of em look like, to be honest.” She makes steady eye contact with Azzi as she responds, the honesty written across her face. Her hair is sticky against her sweaty forehead, and Azzi gently combs it away from her face. “Maybe it’s time to head back,” she suggests.

“You didn’t even drink anything,” Paige prods. “You sure you don’t wanna stay a bit longer?”

“I had a couple shots.” Azzi leans in to whisper the next part into her ear. “But I came to Storrs to spend time with you, not get drunk off my ass in a bar.”

“Oh.” Paige’s face drops. “Shit, Az, I didn’t even think about that. I shouldn’t have gotten this drunk.”

Azzi kisses her cheek. “It’s okay. I don’t mind taking care of you.”

“Mm.” Paige throws herself at her, and Azzi groans at her weight as she supports the both of them. Arms slinging across her neck, Paige nuzzles closer. “My girl always takes care of me so good.”

Azzi’s stomach turns over at the pet name. My girl. As if. But tonight’s not the time to wonder about the ever lingering question of what exactly she is to Paige, so she pushes that to the back of her mind with all the mental strength that she has.

Back in their dorm room, when they’ve gotten ready to sleep, Paige climbs on top of Azzi, sitting herself on the younger girl’s lap. “Princess so pretty,” she drawls, hands cupping Azzi’s cheek as she presses sloppy kisses across her face.

“Don’t even try anything on me right now,” Azzi laughs. “I’m not letting you get any.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow. “Why not?” She asks, sounding genuinely offended.

“You’re drunk and I’m tired.” Azzi loses herself in one last kiss that Paige presses to her mouth, even letting the blonde’s hands travel up her shirt and across her chest a little before pushing her away gently and pulling the sheets over her. “Learn your lesson and don’t bring me to the bar next time.”

Paige rolls her eyes, feigning her grumpy act as she flips to the other side of the bed. Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, slowly beginning her count. She doesn’t even make it to five before Paige flips back over and scoots closer to her in the bed, throwing her arm across her waist and slipping her leg between hers. “Simp.”

Paige’s breath is warm across her neck. “Shut up,” she mutters, but she doesn’t deny it:

#3 Raleigh, North Carolina

Azzi needs a blanket, a warm cup of tea, and a very, very thick book.

She’d been determined to play despite the stomach bug she’d gotten last night, but when half time rolled around and her stomach had began cramping even more, she’d started to regret her decision. But she’d shouldered the pain and forged on, not wanting I told you sos from the coaches or Paige.

Paige. They’d both been in a bad mood all day, and they’d gotten into an argument right before warmup. It had been their biggest one in a long time, and Paige had been uncharacteristically aggressive all game, seemingly funneling her anger into sneering and harshly bumping shoulders with the other team. Safe to say, she was pissed. Even on the bench, the tension in the air had been thick as they purposefully ignored each other instead of the familiar banter everyone on the team had grown accustomed to.

Azzi looks around, noting the absence of blonde hair. She was probably still singing shoes and jerseys outside. Sighing, she settles into her seat and leans into Caroline next her, preparing for the long two hour bus ride to the airport. Usually she’d be sitting at the very back, reserving a seat for Paige. On return trips they preferred to fall asleep on top of each other instead of participating in the rest of the team’s antics, but today Azzi has had enough - She’d tried to talk to Paige in the locker room after the game, but the blonde had been petty and blown her off, muttering things about being busy and we’ll talk later. Which would be fine and all if Azzi hadn’t seen her five minutes later talking to one of the team managers, a long conversation completely unrelated to basketball. Busy, my ass. Azzi had walked past the two of them, purposefully scoffing loudly and feeling the burn of Paige’s stare on the back of her head as she’d left the room.

Azzi’s almost asleep when she hears a commotion outside the bus, followed by the click of the bus doors closing. Paige waves goodbye to the fans through the window before turning around and making her way down the aisle, eyes flicking back and forth as they search. Her face goes soft when she finally spots frizzy dark hair poking up from one of the seats.

Azzi blinks sleepily as Paige walks by her. Half expecting Paige to be petty again and ignore her, she snuggles back into Caroline to try and return to her nap when she feels a gentle tug on one of her braids. Eyes opening, she catches a glimpse of Paige’s soft, worn smile aimed at her before she disappears down the aisle to sit at the back of bus.

“Damn. Y’all make up quick,” Caroline mutters, having been victim to their fight when she’d made the unfortunate decision of sitting between the two of them on the bench.

“We didn’t,” Azzi groans, pulling her hood over her eyes. They don’t fight often, but when they do it’s intense and drawn-out - as conflicts often are when between two immensely stubborn people-and Azzi is too tired to deal with the after effects now.

“Well, Paige can never stay mad at you for long anyways,” Caroline teases.

Azzi doesn’t bother trying to argue. They both know it’s true. And besides, she’s the one who should be mad.

༉‧₊˚✧

“You wake her up.”

“No, you wake her up!”

Azzi is going to kill her teammates.

“Bro, she’s gonna slap me if I wake her up.”

“You’re not the one who has to sit next to her for another hour!”

“Let’s switch seats then.” Paige says, sounding all too pleased with her solution.

“Hell no. I am not sitting next to KK. She drools in her sleep!” Caroline argues back.

“Fine, then you take Aubrey’s spot, and Aubrey will sit next to KK.”

“You’re not about to rearrange everyone on this bus just so you can sit next to your girlfriend and make creepy goo goo eyes at her while she’s sleeping.”

“Bro, just wake her up.”

“I’m gonna strangle both of you,” Azzi groans, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to see an irritated Caroline crossing her arms and a sheepish Paige hovering over their aisle who emits a quiet “Sorry.”

“What’re you guys going on about?”

Caroline slumps down in her seat in defeat. “Paige wanted to wake you up to force you to take medicine, but I told her not to. You’re welcome for nothing.” She shoots a glare at her older teammate, who shrugs.

Azzi sighs at her girlfriend. “You know better than to wake me up.”

“Would you rather not take it and throw up all night again?” Paige bites back.

The thought of bending over the toilet and puking her guts out for another nine hours makes Azzi physically wince. “Fine,” she relents, and Paige brightens up, returning in a few seconds with two pills and a bottle of water. Azzi gratefully accepts the medicine. Paige lingers for a moment, mouth opening as if to say something, but then decides better of it and returns slowly to her seat.

“Are you stupid?” Caroline hisses once Paige is out of earshot. Azzi looks at her friend, confused. “She’s trying to apologize, dumbass.”

“I didn’t hear a ‘Sorry for being stupid and disagreeing with you earlier and then ignoring you’,” Azzi says pointedly. “I want a real apology.”

“You guys are actually impossible,” Caroline mutters.

Azzi thinks that’s it until Paige reappears a few moments later with a crumpled up Jimmy John’s bag. “Are you hungry?”

Azzi crinkles her nose. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I saved it from earlier. You can have the rest. I’m full.”

Azzi accepts the bag and puts her headphones back on.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Bueckers,” Caroline snickers. With a loud groan, Paige flips her off and walks back sulkingly to her seat once again.

Azzi thinks she can finally return to her blissful sleep until a finger is tapping on her shoulder aggressively. “Yes, Paige?” The words are barely out of her mouth before a blanket is shoved into her hands.

“Figured you were cold.” There’s real worry in Paige’s eyes now, that getting Azzi’s forgiveness might be a little harder this time. “And here’s my travel pillow. If you wanna use it.” She looks like a wounded puppy, standing there awkwardly, and Azzi can’t help but roll her eyes and smile a little.

Azzi squeezes Paige’s fingers as the pillow passes between the two of them. They’re okay. Paige breaks out into a grin, staring at Azzi hopefully until Caroline stands up abruptly, interrupting their moment. “Oh my god.” She makes a show of aggressively collecting her things. “I can’t stand you guys. Y’all are fucking disgusting. Take my motherfucking seat, Paige.”

“I mean, if you insist.” Caroline is barely out of the row before Paige is shoving past her and plopping down on the seat, immediately lifting up the arm rest and tugging on Azzi’s arm. Shaking her head in disbelief and cussing under her breath, Caroline accepts her fate next to KK.

“Az, I’m sorry.” Paige pokes her cheek where her dimple usually is. “Come on, baby.”

“What are you sorry for, Paige?”

Paige takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you before the game. I’m sorry for not sitting next to you on the bench and forcing Caroline to sit between us. I’m sorry for saying I’m busy when I wasn’t because I wanted to avoid talking.” She peeks at Azzi when she finishes, hoping she covered everything.

“Pretty good for the first try. You’re learning,” Azzi says jokingly. Her mood turns slightly more serious. “That hurt me, though, when you blew me off like I didn’t matter. Like we didn’t matter.”

“I was being petty,” Paige says honestly. “I regretted it as soon as I did it, but I should’ve apologized right away instead of being a bitch. I’m sorry.”

Azzi’s gaze softens. “Okay. Thank you for the apology.”

“Are you still mad?” Paige asks carefully.

Azzi squeezes her thigh. “No, as long as you give me the window seat on the way back.”

Paige’s shoulders relax. “Good, because you looked really cute sleeping and it was super unfair for Caroline to get to be next to all that and not me.” Smiling to herself, Azzi curls into the familiar warmth of her girlfriend’s arms, tucking her head under her chin. Humming contentedly, Paige sweeps her fingers in gentle circles across her neck, lulling her back to sleep.

#4 Tampa, Florida

As soon as the ball leaves Paige’s hand, Azzi knows it’s going in.

She’s running to her girlfriend, throwing her arms around her shoulder as the buzzer sounds and cheers erupt in the arena. Paige stands still, a dazed look in her eyes, sweat gleaming on her forehead and chest.

“Paige,” she breathes. “Paige, we fucking did it.”

And then Paige is looking her in the eyes and crying, and soon Azzi’s crying as the team gathers around them, jumping and hollering.

UConn: 80, USC: 77

UConn wins its 12th national championship.

“Oh my god,” Paige repeats, disbelief still evident on her face. “Oh my god, we did it.”

The next hour is a whirlwind. There’s a lot of confetti, and a lot of cheering, and a lot of pictures. KK forces Azzi to film a Tiktok with her, and this time Azzi doesn’t really complain, not when she gets to hold the trophy that she’s been dying to touch for the past 10 years of her life. By the time they start to head back to the locker room to get ready for press, Azzi’s sure her voice is long gone.

Before she even crosses the doors, there’s a hand grabbing her waist and pulling her into an empty room. It’s Paige, the first time she’s seen her since the game ended, who’d been pulled away to do endless interviews. Her eyes are shining and still a little bit wet, her smile the widest Azzi has seen in a long time. The silence around them is a little bit unsettling after being surrounded by the constant roar of the arena for the entire night, but Azzi doesn’t mind.

Paige fists her jersey and pulls her near, kissing her roughly. They’re a mess of spit and teeth and tongue and wandering hands, and Azzi can’t think of a more perfect way to end the night.

They separate in a bout of giggles, still reeling from the events of the night. “Paige Bueckers,” Azzi says softly. “You are a winner.”

Paige rolls her eyes, bumping her nose gently against Azzi’s. “So are you.” And Azzi doesn’t think it could be possible, but Paige’s smile grows even bigger. “God, I’m so fucking happy.”

Azzi laughs. “I like you like this.” Paige, with flushed cheeks, a light in her eyes that can only come from loving what she does (winning) with who she does it with (Azzi and em), sparks something deep and warm inside of her that blooms slowly across her chest before reaching and lighting up every cell of her body.

“Yeah?” Paige murmurs against her lips, pressing another chaste kiss to her mouth. Her eyes are glazed over, her movements clumsy, and Azzi swears she’s high on serotonin. “Swear imma give you another ring, pretty girl. Just wait.” She kisses Azzi again, savoring the taste of getting to experience everything she loves in one night.

And if later, when they show up to do press with swollen lips, Paige’s hair mussed up and Azzi’s jersey fully untucked, neither of them can really find it in themself to try and hide it anymore.

༉‧₊˚✧

“Let me undo your braids.”

It’s 3 AM, and Azzi feels like she might crash at any moment. But she wants to have one more thing to close the night on a perfect note, and what better than their post game tradition?

Paige lies on the bed. Her shirt is wet from her freshly showered hair, long legs splayed across the white sheets. “Only two days in my life will be better than today,” Paige says as Azzi starts to work on her hair.

Azzi lightly scratches her scalp, and Paige leans into her touch. “And what’s that?” she asks teasingly.

“The day I win a gold medal,” Paige says confidently. That’s a good one. Azzi would like to win a gold medal too - preferably with Paige by her side, like they’d won the national title. “And?” Azzi prods.

“The day we get married.”

Azzi thinks that it shouldn’t be that big of a deal - that Paige has just won the title she’d been working for for 5 years after being sidelined by countless injuries, yet she’s still thinking about Azzi. But it does, and Azzi realizes with a startling thud of her heart that this is the girl she’ll be spending the rest of her life with.

Paige looks up at her, her long lashes fluttering prettily across her cheeks. “Your silence is a little bit disconcerting,” she jokes, and Azzi shakes her head fondly before giving her a spider-man kiss. “We are getting married, right?”

“Of course, stupid,” Azzi says fondly, rubbing her thumb across her cheek. “Where’d you even learn that word?”

Paige looks slightly too pleased by herself. “I saw it on Tiktok the other day.”

“You and your fuckass Tiktoks,” Azzi groans, pushing her girlfriend across the bed. “Maybe try picking up a book for once. Our kids gotta learn how to read.”

Our kids. Paige closes her eyes and indulges in the sweet vision for a moment - of her and Azzi turning a house into a home, of little miniature Azzis running around the house that she can spoil stupid. It almost takes her breath away, how even just thinking about it evokes overwhelming desire that floods through her veins. There’s nothing she wants more.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Paige opens her eyes to find Azzi hovering over her, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“I want you,” Paige says simply.

Azzi giggles, pinning Paige’s hands above her head. “You have me.”

“No.” Paige leans her forehead against Azzi’s. “I want you. All of you. Every day.” She swallows thickly, eyes searching the deep brown ones that she’s memorized. “Forever.”

“Like I said.” Azzi breathes. “You have me.”

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 16

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, rafe ovulating, angsty and overthinking reader, some verbal tension, some very long-ass conversation starting in the second half, reader having some intense episode of spiraling and need for reassurance, rafe being very dramatic at the end aka him jumping to the craziest conclusion known to man aka he's actually going insane (monologue only), also rafe being possessive and if you look closely also some unresolved trauma of abandonment, some hints at past platonic kiara x rafe

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ waking up with a hangover, the first thing you saw when opening your phone was the drunk texts you’d sent to rafe after getting home last night. the two of you had exchanged blurry selfies, and rafe had made some very suggestive comments. cringing at yourself, you texted cara to meet up later. after your shower, you found rafe in the living room bc he wanted bring you your forgotten bag. his bruise getting looked at by your dad (rafe later claimed he told your dad the bruise was an accident with a golf club). your mom invited rafe for lunch and they seemed to like him. afterward, you and rafe are left alone with him suggesting to continue your project. you being too hungover declined. rafe decided to drag you outside so you could properly sober up. in his car, rafe gave you his phone to shut kelce's spamming up. however, opening the chat, an upper body pic of kelce greeted you. after replying to kelce in rafe's name, you got a little too curious scrolling through the chat and finding thirst trap of rafe (the boys seemingly update each other with their gym progress). rafe caught you staring but he shrugged it off with a cocky remark. you finally arrived at the health store rafe claimed had magical anti-hangover smoothies. and somewhere between the car ride and the smoothies, you started to get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, rafe actually liked you more than you originally thought.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10.4k+ (reader's fault)

✿ A / N ✿ getting to add some barry action into KMS? don't mind if i do hihihii;; also literally so anxious about this part (i know i say this with every new chapter help) bc the second half took me a while to figure out or rather i had a hard time debating how i wanted their convo to go AND which pov i wanted it to be in and ngl i actually had to keep my own patience in check with reader 🤣 and well, i’m always scared some stuff might feel forced or rushed, especially bc i’m aiming for a natural development BUT ANYWAY, it is what it is and i hope you guys enjoy. as always, lmk what you think <3

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"That looks like the stuff that came out of me this morning," you said with scrunched-up brows as you crouched in front of the smoothies' fridge at Bulk & Bloom (shit, yeah, that was the actual shitty-ass name, and no, Kelce was not a co-founder).

And somehow, seeing you in that position there beside him, lips slightly parted in a way that could be viewed suggestive in a different setting, Rafe had no fucking clue why, but the sight did something to him. Suddenly, there was an urgent need to think of wrinkly old grandmas and dead puppies.

Rafe let out a chuckle. "Which end?"

You blinked at him, deadpan. “Your sense of humor is horrible.”

Fucking hell. And now you were looking up at him with that bratty gaze. Rafe tried to think about literally anything other than how badly he wanted to—

Fuck, what.

"Shit, still better than expressing my feelings through some fucked-up images that look like they came straight out of a crackhead’s brain," he shot back with a crooked smile.

Because yeah, your weird-ass reaction pictures? Only Wheezie seemed to understand what the hell those pictures were supposed to mean, or how to use them (not that he'd shown them to anyone else anyway). And Rafe still questioned his own sanity for actually asking his little sister to explain them to him.

Not because he cared, of course. He just didn’t want you to think he was beneath you when it came to that crap.

You turned your gaze back to the line-up of smoothies. "Should be easy enough for you to understand, considering you and the crackhead share similar hobbies."

Oh, how badly Rafe wanted to shut you up and teach you some respect in a way that made his blood rush faster and adrenaline shoot higher.

He had skipped the fucking coke this morning on purpose, and he was still having these insane thoughts. Worsening by the minute.

"Real funny," he muttered.

You chuckled. "Who says I’m joking?"

Rafe scoffed. You were definitely doing this on purpose—acting all bratty, just to get a rise out of him. And he seriously questioned how the fuck you had the confidence to act like that when just earlier in his car, you’d been a stuttering, awkward mess after he'd caught you staring at his post-gym pic like you’d just pulled a legendary FIFA card.

“Feeling bold now, huh?” he said. “Funny, considering you were damn near drooling on my phone a few minutes ago.”

And the little side-eye you threw him? Brows furrowed, lips pressed together? Rafe drank that shit up like ice-cold water.

He raised his eyebrows in anticipation as you looked at him. Yeah, how were you gonna talk your way out of that one? With another I-I didn’t mean to, sorry, I just—

"I'm not ashamed to admit that Kelce has a nice build."

what.

Rafe didn’t even feel his smile drop or his brows furrow because the sudden rush of anger hit so fast, it short-circuited everything else.

Like, what the fuck.

Obviously, he hadn’t been talking about fucking Kelce. It had been his pic. Him your nosy little ass had been staring at.

Shit. No fucking way.

Had he been right to suspect something during that project session at Kelce’s? Did you actually have a thing for that fucker? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Couldn’t fucking understand how—

You little shit.

The second that sly smile crept onto your lips, the tension in Rafe’s jaw eased.

Shit, how badly he wanted to shut your mouth. And you still crouching next to him only fueled the flashing images in his head.

"Hilarious," Rafe muttered with a scowl, gesturing toward the fridge. "Now have you finally picked one? They all taste the fucking same anyway."

And you had the audacity to chuckle in response.

God, you were eating away at Rafe’s last nerve, which somehow just worsened the pressure building in his chest. And the crazy part? It was the kind of pressure he usually only got rid of when he was knee-deep in some random girl.

And that thought triggered more images. Of you. Sounds you’d make. The way you’d get all flustered and—

Fuck this shit.

No way he needed to get off that badly that you ended up being the one his brain fixated on.

It was just pent-up tension. Yeah, that was it. Just because he hadn’t gotten the chance to take care of it last night—thanks to fucking Topper crashing in the guest room with him—and you just happened to be the nearest girl around for his brain to throw into those kinds of scenarios.

It’s fine, he told himself. Gonna take care of that shit later at home.

"Well, you claimed one of them helps with hangovers," you said, eyeing him with an amused smile. "How am I supposed to know which one to pick when they're called..." You leaned forward (Rafe took that as a green light to check out your ass) and squinted at the name tags on the dumbass smoothies. "Maxx Mass Mango, Triceps Tropic Thunder, or," you let out an embarrassed laugh, "The Triple Load."

Rafe let out a low chuckle because the way you'd said it—so innocent, so awkward—was fucking priceless. You getting flustered over anything even remotely suggestive? Stupidly hilarious.

"I think one load will be enough for you today," he said with a lopsided grin, relishing the way you immediately looked away with a frown, all awkward again. Then he reached into the fridge for the Thirst Aid bottle and held it out to you. "Now let’s get the fuck out of here before the first wave of lunchtime joggers comes crashing in."

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“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Rafe unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his wallet from the center console, and reached for a backpack in the back seat.

Okay. Three funny things: One, he had clearly lied to you earlier at home because this definitely meant he was about to do something sketchy. Two, you still hadn’t recovered from those ridiculously named smoothies. And three… guess where you were?

Barry’s pawn shop.

Like yeah, you'd kinda figured he and Rafe knew each other with Rafe selling fucking coke to his classmates. And sure, Barry probably wasn’t the only plug in the Cut but still, funny coincidence that it was him.

Aka the same guy Cara got her weed from.

Aka the guy she lowkey tried setting you up with since you'd first met him.

Barry was chill and cool, and okay, objectively speaking, he had a pretty face if you ignored the tangled hair and commitment-issues beard. And yeah, okay, you did like him, but in a completely platonic way.

More like two bros. Except for that one very steamy dream you'd had about him once that we’re never, ever talking about again from this point on.

Okayyyyy, hahaha, moving on.

But since you were already here, you kinda wanted to say hi.

"The fuck are you doing?" Rafe snapped as he saw you unbuckle your seatbelt just as he was about to get out of the car.

You eyed him dryly. "Getting out?"

"No. I told you to wait here." Oh, this dude was DEFINITELY picking up drugs with that sudden change in tone.

"Yeah, I have ears," you said with a scoff, slinging your bag over your shoulder and reaching for the car's door.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. "I’m fucking serious. Stay here."

You chuckled at how ridiculous he sounded, your gaze flicking to the backpack on his lap. "Why? Because you’re about to do some sketchy shit in there?"

"Because I don’t need some girl clinging to my ass everywhere I go," he snapped.

Braincells = 0.

You blinked. "Correct me if I'm wrong but weren't you the one asking me to come along?"

He looked so dumb with his lips pressed tight, brows drawn, and hugging his backpack like a pissed-off schoolboy running out of patience.

Eyeing you with an irritated smile, he said, “You don’t actually think—”

“Okay, no,” you cut him off, body shifting back toward him. “Which part of what I've said offended you now?”

Rafe’s brows twitched. His brain was probably running a marathon trying to figure out why he was actually pissed off.

“I don’t have the fucking patience to argue right now,” he muttered, voice strained. “Just fucking stay here. I’ll be back in five minutes, okay?”

Considering his usual reactions, that was almost a polite reassurance.

“Well, maybe I’ve got business in there too,” you said, brows raised.

Oh, this idiot found that hilarious. His face lit up like a kid watching a clown trip over its own shoes. “Yeah, nah, I doubt that.”

You held his gaze without saying a word. He didn’t want a discussion? Fine. Let him stew in the awkward silence and realize how dumb he was acting.

National Geographic should honestly study this dude because the silent treatment riled him up more than anything else, and you were this close to snapping a photo of his dumb little expression.

He ran a hand over his face and nodded dramatically. “Fine, then come along, for fuck’s sake. Don’t piss me off. But don’t start whining if some crackhead in there gives you a dirty look.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. He sounded mad, but: “So you were trying to keep me away from shady people. How heroic."

“If it helps the voices in your head,” he muttered, the most dramatic scowl painted across his face. “Now get your ass moving, don't wanna get stabbed out here.”

“I’ll be damned,” Barry said with a lazy grin as you and Rafe stepped into the little shop. “Country Club and Little Alley Cat showing up together? What is it—my birthday?”

You chuckled, heart skipping a beat for… WHATEVER REASON. OKAY, MOVING ON.

The shop was completely empty, aside from grumpy Larna who sat in the back room behind a desk, glancing up with a death glare before going back to whatever she was doing.

Fucking dumbass Rafe just blinked, flabbergasted and visibly disoriented. Apparently, he hadn’t expected you to know his plug, and for some reason, that made the whole thing feel like home turf.

“You two fucking know each other?” he asked, face scrunched like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

Barry chuckled, leaning on the counter. “You can bet your spoiled little ass on it.” Then he turned to you with a smirk. “And I see Little Kitty has finally gotten herself a guard dog.” He nodded toward Rafe. “Hoping you got him checked for rabies with that temper of his.”

Why did everyone just assume you and Rafe had something going on? You two weren’t exactly radiating happy couple energy. Then again, Rafe wasn’t known for having female friends (which you also weren't), so... yeah.

Rafe tilted his head toward you, ignoring Barry completely. “How the fuck do you know this fucker?”

You had to bite your lip not to smirk at the way he immediately got so worked up.

“Easy, pretty boy,” Barry cut in before you could even respond, clearly amused. “You better be nice to that lady or I’ll beat your rich ass.” He tapped his own cheek. “That bruise of yours? Don’t wanna end up with a matching one on the other side.”

OH. MY. GOD.

The butterflies in your stomach that usually went berserk for Rafe? Yeah, a few of them were dancing for Barry now. Because Dealer Barry stepping up for you in front of Dumbass Rafe? That was… kinda sweet, not gonna lie.

Rafe furrowed his brows, clutching the strap of his backpack like a schoolboy on his first day, about to throw a tantrum because he didn’t wanna go.

He squinted at you. “So what—you're secretly a fucking crackhead now, or what am I supposed to take from this?”

Seriously. Did this guy ever think before he spoke? Like, he literally dealt coke and snorted it himself, but you’re the crazy one?

At this point, you should question your own sanity for even crushing on this guy.

But the funny part wasn’t how hypocritical he was being, no, it was the fact that he chose to go after you instead of Barry despite him basically threatening Rafe. And there was no way Rafe would let a chance pass to put another guy in his place.

Which made the whole thing even more entertaining because, for once, he clearly didn’t have the upper hand. Usually, he carried this presence, this aura, that screamed “look at me wrong and I’ll beat your ass.”

But here? He seemed small.

Like a hyena baring its teeth at a lion.

Rafe Cameron, proud Kook and official Pogue-hater, actually keeping his mouth shut in front of little pawn shop owner Barry? Fucking hilarious.

“No. Sometimes I'm just tagging along when Cara's picking up her weed,” you said amused, watching the gears in Rafe’s brain grind themselves into dust.

“Miss Fancy Boots actually dropped by earlier,” Barry said. “Had her little mutt with her too.” He made a cupping motion in front of his chest, smiling all big. “Top barely holding on for dear life. Wouldn’t even tell me which backwood shack she was visiting.”

Oh, she was really trying to bag JJ Maybank this time. Best of luck, bestie.

You chuckled, but Rafe beat you to a response with a scowl, stepping forward and dropping his backpack on the counter. “Okay, fuck this. I’m not here to fucking chit-chat.”

Barry gave him a look, something sharp flashing in his eyes, but then he just laughed and peeked into the backpack. “Keep running that mouth and I’ll tell Lil’ Alley Cat who was whining on my couch just a few days ago.” He pushed the backpack back toward Rafe and nodded to the right. “Now move your ass to Larna. She's gonna take care of the rest.”

Rafe smiled bitterly, shaking his head. “Nah, that's not what—”

“I’m in a good mood today, Country Club,” Barry cut in, tapping the counter. “Don’t make me introduce you to the girl hiding under here.”

And somehow… you really didn’t think he was joking and you hoped Rafe knew how to behave.

Thankfully, he did.

With a scoff, he grabbed the backpack, threw you an unreadable look, and disappeared into the backroom where grumpy Larna was waiting.

"So, you and Country Club, huh?" Barry stepped around the counter, leaning against it with a lazy smile on his face. "Didn’t think you’d fall for a Kook prince."

After seeing his idiot side, I hadn’t thought so either.

You smiled sheepishly and adjusted the strap of your bag. “He’s not—I mean, there’s nothing going on between us.”

Barry let out an amused chuckle. “Was already wondering how he managed to get you to stick around, ‘cause that stupid boy?” He pointed his thumb toward the backroom. “Nothing but daddy issues and anger problems. Ain’t worth one look from an Alley Cat.”

Shit, that stupid nickname? Only Barry could make it sound right.

“Yeah, he’s an idiot,” you said with a soft smile, sounding like a widow reminiscing about her dead husband. “But he’s actually kinda fun to be around once you figure out how to deal with him.”

Were you seriously defending Rafe’s stupidity right now?

Barry raised his brows, eyes lighting up with the biggest grin. “Cat’s all smiley and dreamy over a boy. Didn’t think I’d see the day.”

“What? No, I just—” Heat crept up your neck and you shook your head with an embarrassed smile. “We were paired for a school project. That’s how I got to know him better.”

“Ain't seeing you doing school work right now,” Barry replied, his grin widening. “Must be serious if he’s letting you tag along to this stuff here.”

I actually annoyed him so much he just gave in.

You shook your head again, feeling like you were digging your grave deeper with every word. “No, I’m serious. This is just—”

“I’m just messing with you, Lil Kitty Cat. No need to puff your tail,” Barry said, raising his hands with a lazy chuckle. “But you should watch out. Wouldn’t call that fancy-looking boy my friend, but I know his type well enough to say—if he’s keeping you around, there’s a reason.” His tone shifted ever so slightly. “Don’t want my Alley Cat getting bitten by some spoiled hound dog.”

You eyed Barry quietly for a moment. Him warning you about Rafe stirred something strange in your gut, and part of you knew better than to ignore it.

But right now, you were too scared to question it, so all you did was offer a soft smile. “He’s more of a wired Doberman anyway. Big attitude, but pull the leash once and he gets all dramatic.”

To your surprise, Barry didn’t laugh. “A dog’s a dog. They bite if you’re not careful. And for a sweet kitty like you? That shit can turn bad real fast.” He nodded toward the backroom. “And Dobermans? You don’t wanna pull their leash too hard. Loyal and shit until they start thinking they own you. Then it ain’t cute no more. Had an uncle—couldn’t be around people without his mutt flipping out. Damn thing almost took my hand off once."

Your brows furrowed in irritation. It had been funny when Cara had joked about Rafe being possessive and jealous and all, but hearing Barry say it like a genuine warning... yeah, that hit differently.

And suddenly, Rafe’s weird behavior since yesterday started making sense.

Him getting mad when Topper asked you to come along. Him nearly beating the crap out of Rob for no reason. Him now suddenly wanting to spend time with you, being all flirty and suggestive and—oh god, please no.

Maybe this wasn’t about him liking you. Maybe he just hated the idea of someone else playing with a toy he’d throw away the moment he got bored, found another, or worse, shredded it to pieces. And until then, he'd bark at anyone reaching out for it.

The smoothie you'd drank earlier threatened to come back up. You didn’t want to be someone's toy.

“Aww, no. Didn’t mean to wipe that smile off your face, Kitty Cat,” Barry said, his lazy smile returning. “I’m just saying—be careful around a boy like that. Though, I trust you’ll know when to pull your claws out.” He knocked on the counter and chuckled. “Otherwise, just say the word, and I’ll introduce his fancy ass to my girl.”

Barry probably meant well, but your brain had already soaked up his words like a sponge, throwing them into a spiral, dragging them into the most anxious corners of your mind.

Still, you managed a smile. “No worries, Barry. I don’t think he even—”

You didn’t dare finish that sentence as Rafe came out of the backroom, a deep scowl on his face. He didn’t even look at you as he passed between you and Barry, only muttering, “Let’s go.”

“Nah, nah, nah, Country Club,” Barry said, raising his brows and pushing off the counter with a grin. “We ain’t done yet.”

Rafe stopped, turning back with a glare that practically screamed he was done with everyone. He towered over Barry, but somehow still looked small. “I got your shit. What fucking else do you wanna piss me off with?”

Barry ignored him, smiling softly at you. “Was nice seeing you again, Alley Cat. Don’t go running off too far.” He nodded toward the door. “Now get those little paws outta here, I still got some business with this boy.”

An uneasy feeling spread in your stomach, but you knew better than to argue, so you just smiled with a nod. “Yeah, see you around, Barry,” you said, trying to ignore Rafe’s burning stare on you.

You passed him quietly, trying to suppress the sudden thoughts threatening to tear open a pit you thought you’d buried not even a few days ago.

And while you’d entered Barry’s little pawn shop with a smile and warmth in your chest, you left it now with uncertainty in your eyes and a deep heavy feeling in your gut.

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“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you and Barry?” Rafe asked after the two of you had gotten back into the car.

And the reason for that question? Such a funny fucking story. And it started with you even knowing this fucker in the first place. You two apparently getting along—and oh, fun fact—apparently getting along really well, because guess what? Barry hadn’t kept Rafe in the shop to talk business. Oh no, he hadn’t just talked.

He had fucking threatened him.

Said stupid shit like he’d show Rafe how people in the Cut handled things when no one was looking if Rafe didn’t behave. If he dared to hurt or play with you or whatever fucking else Barry had preached like some back-alley saint.

Rafe couldn’t even wrap his head around what that fucking Pogue thought he was doing. Like if Rafe actually wanted to, he could send every cop in town straight to Barry’s crusty little pawn shop and have him write his bullshit threats on the damn cell wall.

Fuck. Like seriously, what the hell was that shit?!

You just shook your head, a weird smile on your lips that didn’t even come close to your eyes. “What? Nothing. Like I said, he’s Cara’s dealer. That’s how I got to know him.”

And now you had the audacity to lie straight to Rafe’s face in his car? Nah.

“He literally threatened to blow my brains out if I looked at you the wrong way,” Rafe said, tapping his temple with a confused laugh. “Like—what kind of crazy-ass psycho bullshit is that? And that weird-ass nickname? No way in hell he isn't your fucking boyfriend or some shit.”

The idea that you belonged to someone—Barry, of all people? That messed with Rafe’s head in ways he couldn’t even begin to explain. It filled him with such rage and confusion, he was so close to grabbing that damn backpack on the backseat, taking out a bundle of coke that stupid grandma had handed him, and snorting a line right off his Mercedes' hood.

But he was so thrown off by your sudden change of demeanor, your whole vibe completely off since Rafe had come back from the shop—strange, distant, almost... bitter—that he decided he'd rather demand some fucking answers.

And when you just smiled weakly instead of snapping back like usual, pushing his buttons, he knew something was up.

“No, that’s just how he is,” you said while buckling your seatbelt, the weird tone in your voice not sounding like you at all. “He only means well.”

Rafe blinked at you, his chest tightening as your eyes finally met his, but something was missing.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice sharper than he meant it to be.

Your brows twitched, and there was a flicker in your gaze he couldn’t place. Again, that strange smile that didn’t fit your face. “What? Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head slightly.

Just nothing. Normally you’d say some shit like, ‘Why are you getting all worked up, I don’t owe you any explanation, blah blah’—but this? It confused Rafe. And it pissed him off that he couldn’t figure it out.

“Barry said some shit to you?” Rafe raised his brows.

That was the only logical explanation. You went in all cocky and smiley, and now you looked like someone had shot a puppy in front of you.

You shook your head again, and Rafe felt a sharp stab of disappointment from how empty you sounded. “No, I’m just tired. Guess the lack of sleep’s finally catching up,” you said with a soft smile.

Rafe clenched his jaw, fingers tapping against the console. He was this close to snapping, but he didn’t want to yell. You’d probably shut down completely. Wheezie did the same thing when Dad started raising his voice and Rafe hated witnessing that.

“Okay, something’s clearly bothering you,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “You’re always on about how important it is to talk shit out, and now you’re the one being all weird.”

Seriously, why did your behavior even bother him in the first place? Normally when some chick was trynna act sulky he’d drop her off at her place or kick her out immediately because he didn’t care about that shit.

But with you, he somehow couldn’t and that irritated the fuck out of him. Probably because I deserve some fucking answers.

“There’s nothing to solve because there’s no issue,” you finally said softly, clearly bullshitting.

Rafe clenched his jaw, running through every possible reason why you were suddenly acting like this. “Fuck that. There’s obviously an issue.” He tapped his chest with his fingers. “Did I say something that got the minions in your head running again? Shit, I was just pissed earlier because—”

“No, really. Everything's—”

“Fine? Don’t bullshit me. You were all bold and mouthy earlier and now?” Rafe furrowed his brows, trying to understand what the fuck was going on in your head. “Now you’re acting all wilted and melancholic like Topper after some chick rejects him.”

That got a chuckle out of you, and Rafe felt his features soften.

“I’m not acting wilted,” you said, a little amusement finally slipping back into your voice.

Rafe nodded. “You are. I’m guessing Barry ran his stupid mouth while I was gone.” He narrowed his eyes, another thought hitting him. “Or did that fucker creep on you?”

“What? Oh my god, no,” you replied, shaking your head, puzzled. “No, it’s just…” You held his gaze like you were the one with questions. After a second, you looked down at your fidgeting hands, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I guess you’re right. I’m probably just creating a problem in my head that doesn’t even exist.”

Rafe frowned. “What the fuck did he say?”

You looked up, pretty eyes somehow carrying that sad little shine again, and Rafe had to fight the sudden urge to storm back into Barry’s shitty shop and drag the guy’s face across the counter.

“I...He didn’t exactly say it… I mean, I’d already been wondering...,” you started, clearly struggling to continue.

Rafe was so fucking close to losing it. He shook his head and gestured to his chest again. “What, huh? Me dealing coke? Is that what suddenly has you all scared? Shit, I’m not some criminal like Barry, okay? I just—”

"No, that's not it", you cut in, voice lacking your usual attitude. "I mean, sure, it's—"

"Holy fucking shit, just spit it out." Rafe couldn't bear you dancing around the answer any longer. Aggressively he gestured toward the pawn shop. "If Barry didn't fucking harass you then I seriously can't fucking imagine what's got you acting like this."

You pressed your lips together, eyes wide, brows raised like some deer about to get shot. "I don't know how to phrase it without it sounding like I'm ... delusional or crazy."

Rafe scoffed amused, both hands gesturing toward you. "Shit, you are crazy. Now fucking spit it out or I'm driving the car into the next fucking tree."

"Okay," you replied with a laugh, the smile quickly fading as your gaze drifted to the fidgeting fingers in your lap. "Okay, I just—" You seemed to take a deep breath in. "What's your business with me?"

Rafe blinked. “What?”

“I…” You pressed your lips together, clutching your bag tighter. “I’m not saying there is any business," you said, a nervous chuckle escaping. "I’m just… confused. I mean, I know we’ve had this conversation before. I know it’s stupid, I’m just…”

You furrowed your brows, meeting his eyes again. “You need to understand, I’m not trying to piss you off. I mean, you're probably right. It’s just my brain spiraling over nothing again. It's just… shit, I know this here is completely casual, I mean we aren't even friends, I just..."

You let out a strained breath, voice unsteady. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. I really don’t wanna come across like I’m assuming something’s going on in the first place. I mean, you already think I’m crazy,” you said, a distant smile tugging at your lips. “But obviously it’s totally fine if you’re only looking for a chance at some temporary fun. It’s just… in the hypothetical case you actually do expect something to happen...”

Another awkward laugh slipped out, and you sank into your seat, brows furrowed as you smiled nervously, “God, this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry, I probably sound—”

“Holy fucking shit, you need to chill the fuck out,” Rafe cut in, staring at you like you’d lost your damn mind. Because this? How much fucking longer did you wanna go on?

This was absolutely insane. The way your brain made up all this shit. How the fuck did you even function at all?

He pointed to his temples, eyes wide. “Seriously, this is not just borderline crazy. This is straight-up insane. I mean I am going insane just by listening to this."

“Well yeah, that’s actually what I was trying to say,” you muttered, hands fiddling in your lap. “I just don't understand why you'd wanna hang out with me if I'm getting on your nerves—unless there's some other motive.”

Jesus Christ. Rafe didn’t know anyone with this level of anxiety and overthinking. Not even Wheezie came close.

But that wasn’t what really pissed him off.

Sure, if you were a little nuts, fine. It was even kind of amusing, honestly. At least you had the brains to think about shit.

No, what really pissed him off was that you were questioning him, even after he’d already told you the answer to this topic in school just a few days ago. He'd just tried to help you by suggesting to work at Tannyhill for the next project session but you fucking declined because you'd thought he was just trying to hook up with you.

Okay, yeah, maybe at this point the idea of sleeping with you wasn't exactly unwelcome—though with your nerves, you'd both probably have a mental breakdown halfway through—but it wasn’t about that.

It was about the fucking principle.

You were acting like his word meant nothing. Like he was just some lying, sleazy, piece-of-shit Pogue.

Rafe clenched his jaw, using every ounce of self-control not to snap. “There's no fucking other motive. You make it sound like I'm plotting some crazy-ass shit.”

Your brows twitched, lips pressing together. Somehow, you still didn’t look satisfied.

For a moment, you just stared at him, hesitation flickering in your eyes, but then your voice came out soft, so soft it made Rafe's chest tighten in a way he didn’t like. “I’m not trying to be annoying or—”

“You are,” Rafe interrupted, surprised by the lack of bite in his tone. His face twisted and he raised his shoulders, gesturing at his chest. “Like, I don’t fucking get why you’re questioning me when I already told you—”

“I know.” You nodded, frustration leaking into your voice. “I know and I really appreciate it, but I just… it’s my brain, okay?” You tapped your finger against your temple. “It talks shit and I start believing it and I just can’t stop it. And then I get anxious—especially when someone gives it something to chew on—and it’s just so frustrating because I'm definitely not trying to piss you off, I don’t wanna ruin—I mean, I’m just asking for some reassurance, that’s all.”

Your brows knit together. “But then again, I don’t want some fake reassurance either if you actually—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I like hanging out with you, okay?” Rafe pressed his lips together as the words left his mouth, not even sure why the fuck he’d said them. Why he even cared enough to listen to all this bullshit. But right now, all he wanted was to shut you the fuck up, so he didn’t bother filtering.

“I’m not trying to get in your pants, alright?” he added, wearing an irritated, almost amused smile. “I’d have to be fucking desperate to put up with all your messed-up crazy shit just for the chance to hook up with you. That's... fuck, I’m not that needy.”

He gestured to you, frustration seeping through his voice. “You piss me off, but I can deal with it. Shit, I think I even like it. You’re not some boring-ass gossip bitch like Ruthie.” He furrowed his brows, refusing to unpack what the hell that meant, now tapping his chest with his fingertips, voice strained. “But what I can’t fucking stand is not being taken seriously.”

Judging by your face, he hadn’t just shut your brain off, he’d completely nuked it. Your eyes were wide, lips pressed tight, and even your fidgeting had stopped.

He half expected you to start crying for whatever reason, but thank fuck you didn’t. You just frowned, that softness still in your expression. “I do take you seriously. That’s why I'm so confused. All these… I don’t know, suggestive comments and stuff. You say you don’t mean anything by it, but then you’re all teasing the next second. It’s confusing.”

Seriously, had you ever even interacted with a boy before Rafe?

He let out a frustrated smile, nodding. “Shit, yeah, ever heard of fucking flirting? That’s the thing people do because it’s fun. It doesn’t fucking have to lead to anything.” Rafe raised his brows. “Unless you want it to.”

And there it was again—that shift in you. Your whole vibe changed, whenever he said shit like this. And he couldn’t fucking tell if you were flustered, uncomfortable, or just weirded out.

You shook your head, a nervous laugh bubbling up like he’d asked you to strip in the backseat. “Of course, I know what flirting is. It’s just—In my head, this feels like… I don’t know mixed signals or whatever and—“

“Okay, fuck. Stop.” Rafe had hit his limit. He ran a hand over his face, voice tight with frustration. “I’m only saying this once, so fucking listen, alright?” He gestured to you again. “I fuck with you. You’re somehow fun to be around, even though you’re literally the least chill person I know.”

His brows twitched, a moment of hesitation flickering across his face, but he pushed through. He wasn’t gonna overthink—he wasn’t you. “And shit, yeah, of course, I’m flirting with you. You’re a cute chick. If you said the word, I’d be down to bend you over in the backseat right now, but why the fuck would I waste my energy on someone who’s clearly not into casual shit.”

Fuck. Now that he’d said it, he felt just as stunned as you looked.

Saying these words out loud ... it angered him. He'd basically just given in to you. But the thing that actually riled him up? The fact he'd just acknowledged out loud that he knew you weren't interested in him. That he couldn't get you into bed with some charm and a little flirting. That you were out of reach.

And fuck, this just made hanging out with you all the more confusing because why the fuck did he enjoy this shit if he was well aware that he wouldn't take you home later for some quick fun.

But worse than all of that was the way he found himself waiting.

Desperate for your response. Hoping you’d push back. Hoping you’d say something—anything—to let him know he'd just interpreted your signals wrong, that, yes, you did indeed find him attractive, that you actually enjoyed his presence, his flirts, and teasing. That you'd love to be his new friends-with-benefits-chick.

Jesus fucking Christ, he should go back inside Barry’s store and beat the shit out of that fucker for whatever the fuck he'd said to you that made you spiral this hard, and now Rafe was out here saying and thinking shit like this.

"Okay, now I'm even more confused," you said, smiling awkwardly. "You say you like spending time with me but at the same time, you also feel like you're wasting your time here."

Rafe was so close to smashing his head against the steering wheel. He raised his hands in exasperation. "And you say you're not trying to piss me off but right now I'm so close to losing my shit."

He aggressively tapped his finger on the middle console. "I just tried telling you that I'm not here because I'm looking for a chance at a fucking hookup, okay? Seriously, how much clearer do I need to be?"

“Okay. Just to clarify, for my own sanity,” you started slowly, voice soaked in nervous energy (Rafe was literally one second away from having a fucking stroke). “You like hanging out with me but according to your logic, you're not someone who's wasting his time with a girl if you're not gaining something from it."

With a pained expression, Rafe closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and nodded with a distressed "Uh-huh".

Maybe if he just continued agreeing with you, then you'd finally shut up, because clearly snapping back only seemed to continue dragging on this horrible limbo of yours.

Some strained chuckle escaped your lips. "And considering you're still asking me to chill with you even though you seem to be aware that I don't wanna be someone's pastime, does that mean… I mean, is what you're hoping to gain from spending time with me… a friendship?"

Rafe's head snapped up.

That was your fucking conclusion to all of this?

Fucking hell. Did he look like someone in need of more clingy idiots crowding his life? Topper and Kelce were already enough and he didn’t even receive anything in return for dealing with their bullshit.

And having a female friend without getting to bend her over once in a while? He'd never even considered it. The only girls Rafe had ever privately hung out with were the ones he'd benefit from.

And all of them either got so fucking annoying, he'd dropped them, or worse—they'd wanted more. Dates, gifts, PDA. A label. The title of Rafe Cameron's girlfriend.

They all wanted the benefits that came of being with him but none of them had actually wanted him.

But you? Well, he had to admit you were different. You didn’t do hookups. You didn’t chase him because of his last name and the benefits that came with it.

And the crazy part? That just fucking pissed him off more.

Because for some fucked-up reason he'd actually learned to tolerate your presence enough that he could deal with your crazy-ass brain outside of the project despite him not receiving some fun time in return. And now you assumed he wanted this to actually result in some permanent shit.

But for whatever reason, the idea that this might be over after handing in your project next week? That actually stirred something weird in his chest.

Right now, Rafe could still claim the project was the reason for you two spending time together (if you ignored the fact you weren't doing school shit at the moment). Sure, he’d admitted he liked you—but everything about the way you two had been hanging out this past week could still be chalked up to the assignment. But once that was over… then what?

Fuck, all of this was giving him a headache. And now you were pressuring him to define whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you.

Rafe shook his head in irritation. "Why do you even need a fucking label for some casual hangout? Can't we just fucking chill?"

You gestured to your chest, a distressed smile on your face. "Yeah, of course. I just… my brain needs to make sense of this somehow, so I can place this in either ‘okay, this ends when the project’s over’ or ‘alright, get ready to make space for this person, they’re gonna stick around.’ It’s fucking stupid, I know, but it helps me adjust to new people."

This right here was the biggest fucking test of patience in Rafe's entire life and he was so fucking sick of you demanding him to clarify shit when you were the one that made him question his sanity.

"Shit, I don't fucking know, alright?" Rafe raised his shoulders with an irritated smile. "I mean what the fuck do you want? You’re calling me confusing, but I don’t even fucking know if you actually like me or if you’re just tagging along because you’re too scared to decline because of some people-pleasing bullshit or whatever.”

Like he'd admitted all this fucking shit just now, but why didn't you? Why didn't you offer him some reassurance?

Your gaze softened, and that only irritated him more.

“I'm actually very capable of saying 'No',” you replied.

“Yeah, the fuck do I know.” Rafe threw his hands up. And then, a disgusting thought crossed his mind. “Or are you just tagging along because you're hoping for some attention of being seen with me?”

Finally, your frown returned—thank god. That little bit of fire he was used to.

“What? No!” You shook your head, clearly confused. “Aside from the fact that I couldn’t care less about shit like that, I’d rather jump off a cliff than draw unnecessary attention to myself.” Your expression softened again, lips quirking into a crooked smile. “I came along because I wanted to. Not because I’m trying to get some pics snapped of me being seen with an A-List celebrity.”

Just say it, Rafe thought, not even caring about your stupid comment. You were so fucking close to saying it. Tiptoeing on the edge of it. So damn close to saying what he needed to hear.

But you didn’t. And it pissed him off. Fucked with his head. Just—

Fuck all of that.

Maybe it sounded pathetic, maybe it was, but he didn’t care. He had to know. “So you actually do like hanging out with me?”

A soft laugh left your lips and your brows knit slightly. “Yes? I’m not spending my time with people I can’t stand.”

And just like that, something in Rafe finally let go. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. It felt like a win—even though he hadn’t actually won anything. Actually, he’d probably lost some fucking braincells discussing that shit.

He sank back into his seat, staring through the windshield, running a hand through his hair, no fucking energy left after this marathon of a discussion.

He tilted his head toward you with furrowed brows, motioning between the two of you. “So where’s the fucking problem, huh? We both like hanging out and neither of us is hiding some secret agenda or some shit.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Except you literally said—”

“Yeah, I know what I fucking said,” Rafe cut in, already regretting having voiced that he'd be down to bend you over. But whatever. It was out there now, so who the fuck cared.

“I’m not some horny perv who's unable to be in a room with a chick without trying to get in her pants,” he added, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna pass up on a little flirting and teasing.”

You raised your brows slightly, chin tilting downward. "So—"

"YES, for fuck’s sake!" Rafe raised his hands, shifting up in his seat, absolutely at the end of his rope. "If that helps to end this fucking stupid discussion, then yes please, go ahead and tell your crazy-ass brain it can open a new fucking folder titled ‘I made Rafe Cameron lose his fucking mind to the point where I force-befriended him’. And put some big-ass lock on it because that shit stays closed from now on."

He let out a strained breath, an exasperated smile twitching on his lips. "There. Does this shut you up or do I need to craft you a fucking friendship bracelet with my name on it?”

The worst part: The image of you wearing his name around your wrist sparked fucking JOY in his fucking chest for some fucked-up reason.

SEE. YOU'RE MAKING HIM GO THIS FUCKING CRAZY, HE WAS GETTING EXCITED ABOUT STUPID FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS.

You just stared at him, lips parted slightly like your brain was still spiraling over the obvious. Rafe almost thought he’d have to go back into the pawn shop and ask Barry to blow his fucking brains out, but you simply shook your head, a gentle smile forming.

“I don’t think that’s necessary", you replied with a soft smile.

Rafe eyed you impatiently, waiting for you to go on and spiral into another damn monologue about how you had to figure out the right color for this mental folder, and which fucking font would best match the content—because god forbid you’d use some bullshit like Papyrus or—WHAT THE FUCK DID HE KNOW, JESUS CHRIST YOU MADE HIM THINK ABOUT THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT.

To top it all off, you had the audacity to stay quiet and Rafe could physically feel his nerves blow up. “That’s it?”

No fucking way that actually resolved this fucking discussion.

You eyed him amused like he’d just hallucinated this whole fuckass conversation. “Well, yeah.”

Rafe’s brows dropped to a scowl. “You're fucking kidding me, right?”

“No.” A small laugh left you, and that familiar glimmer was back in your eyes. “I just needed some clarity to calm my nerves. That’s just how my brain works. I’m okay as long as things make sense. But the second a thought enters my mind that could mess with that—even if it’s ridiculous—it sticks. And then it ruins the whole logic. And until the thought can be ruled out, it stays, and my head chews it up until it gets worse.”

That's it. You were officially the reason Rafe considered therapy just so someone could tell him why the fuck he even put up with your shit.

Like, seriously, Rafe had some fucked-up shit going on in his head, but you? Holy shit, if he had to deal with the crap your brain pulled every day, he’d fucking lose it.

Your head sounded like a fucking prison.

Rafe let out a distressed breath. "Now, care to tell me, what was the actual fucking reason for you spiraling this hard in the first place?" He gestured toward the pawn shop. "And don't fucking think about lying. Either you tell me or I'm gonna go back inside and beat the answer out of that fucker."

He wouldn’t, though. Barry might’ve looked like a little bum, but Rafe had seen it enough times—his threats didn’t usually stay just threats. And sure, Rafe might’ve had the upper hand physically, but Barry didn’t do fights.

He'd pull out a gun and even Rafe's fists had no chance against that.

You pressed your lips together, hesitating for a second. “He just told me to be careful around you. It wasn’t even really what he said, it was more the way he said it.” You shook your head, puzzled. “And I guess my brain just filled in the worst-case scenario because… well…” A flicker of uncertainty in your pretty eyes. “I mean, not to sound like a dick, but it’s just a fact that you don’t really hang out with girls. And when you do it’s like... you know.”

Yeah, that was true. Rafe didn’t deny it. But still, why the fuck did you have this fucking player image of him?

Sure, he did hookups once in a while—every few weeks maybe at some random party. And yeah, he’d had friends with benefits, but like four or five times at most in his whole damn life. But the way you made it sound? Like he was out here fucking someone new every night.

“So instead of just asking me straight up what’s going on, you’d rather fucking… what? Sulk and act weird as hell? What kind of childish reaction is that?” Rafe asked, face twisting in frustration.

You let out a short laugh. “I didn’t wanna piss you off by bringing this up. Which, clearly, I did.”

“Well, yeah, because I practically had to beat the answer out of you,” Rafe said with a scowl, motioning to his chest. “What actually pisses me off is when people won’t just say what the fuck they're trying to say.”

You nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, makes sense. I’m sorry for making this so messy.” A soft chuckle slipped out. “I guess we both value clear answers… just on different scales.”

Yeah, except Rafe didn’t have a mental breakdown when he didn’t get one.

“I just don’t fucking understand why you can’t just ignore these fucking thoughts,” he said, oddly calm for some reason. "When some shit starts bothering me, I just fucking ignore it. If I need to make a decision, I just do it. If some asshole pisses me off? I put him in his fucking place.”

He scoffed. “And your brain sounds like one big asshole. You just gotta show it who's boss.”

Surprisingly, you laughed—soft, genuine—and Rafe blinked, confused.

“What?” he asked. “I’m serious. It’s absolutely insane that your own mind is your worst enemy. That’s fucking fucked-up.”

He gestured to himself. “I mean that dude pisses me off so badly, I wanna smash his face into a wall just to get him to shut the fuck up. How the fuck do you let him pull this shit on you?”

“That’s—” You laughed again, and something weird flipped in Rafe’s stomach. “I appreciate the energy,” you said, “but honestly, I’m already good when people just have a little patience with me.”

Your expression grew distant. “When I bring stuff like this up, I’m not trying to be annoying. I’m just genuinely trying to find clarity in the chaos up here.” You tapped your temple, smiling gently again. “That’s why I really appreciate that you actually talked with me this time—even though I’m sure you wanted to smash my head through the window.”

He'd rather have your head pressed against some sheets to let go of this fucking pressure inside him but Rafe forced this thought down (see? easy).

So he just shook his head. “I did but I’d rather not have your dad on my ass because of that. That dude’s got some crazy aura.”

Another laugh slipped from your lips, and Rafe felt his features soften. “I guess. He served as a combat medic in the military, so I think some of that still lingers beneath the surface.”

Shit, that made sense. Rafe knew there was a reason that guy had given him the creeps the first time he'd looked at him. He seemed nice, sure—kind even—but deep down Rafe was certain that man could knock someone out cold with a single punch.

The weird thing was: Rafe actually felt less tense around him than around his own dad.

“Shit, another reason to keep my hands off you,” Rafe muttered with a low chuckle. “Don’t need Liam Neeson in Taken chasing me down.”

Another laugh. And damn, that made Rafe feel like some kind of winner.

“I doubt you have to worry", you said. "He actually seemed to like—”

Your phone started buzzing inside your bag.

"Cara," you said when you pulled it out with an apologetic smile. “I should take this.”

Rafe gave a reluctant nod, even though the sudden interruption annoyed the fuck out of him.

“What’s up?” you said, holding the phone to your ear. After a beat, you added, “I’m with Rafe.”

His head snapped up like he’d been struck by lightning.

That was... he couldn’t remember you ever saying his name out loud before. And now that he’d heard it—coming from your sweet voice—fuck.

It did something to him. A weird kind of something. Buzzing in his stomach, warmth blooming in his chest, and this deep, unfamiliar ache for something he couldn’t quite name.

“Really?” You laughed. “We’re actually close by—Yeah, at Barry’s—Girl, no—Yeah, I know he told me—Yeah, I know I was the one who asked you—Okay, yeah, sure—So I assume you're with—yep, thought so—Okay—Seriously?—Alright—Yeah, nah, let’s not.” You laughed again. “Okay—Yeah, see you in a bit.”

You hung up, your whole presence lighting back up.

“Sorry,” you said with a soft smile, slipping the phone back into your bag. “She’s at the beach nearby and asked me to join her. Or well... I kinda asked her earlier if we could hang out, so....”

Rafe felt a frown creeping in, disappointment taking over his entire body. You were about to fucking ditch him.

He raised his brows. “Now?”

You nodded, toying with your bag strap. “Well... yeah. She needs some backup.”

“What, her boots got stuck in the sand or some shit?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “No, she’s with some people and… well, she needs help with a boy.”

“Her?” Rafe scoffed, disbelieving. “She’s the most upfront and confrontational person I’ve ever met. What the fuck does she need help with?” He tilted his head. “And didn’t she have some thing going on with Topper?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you said, holding your hands up in amusement. “She’s super complicated when it comes to that stuff.”

Girls. Rafe didn’t fucking get them.

“So what, you want me to drop you off now?” He didn't even try to hide his disappointment.

Your smile faltered slightly. “Well, yeah, that’d be nice.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. You were actually going to leave him now—after he'd helped you get rid of your hangover, after he’d actually shown patience and calmed the voices in your head, after all his nerves were fried beyond repair.

You were scared he might play you? Nah, he was the one who felt toyed with right now.

But as much as Rafe wanted to call you out for it, snap at you for being all anxious and now daring to pull this shit, he just didn’t have it in him. No strength left. He really didn’t have the fucking energy or patience for another long-ass conversation with you monologuing about shit.

Sure, he could just decide to tag along, because when did Rafe ever ask for permission, but his gut told him that was a weird fucking move. He wasn't your fucking dog to accompany you everywhere.

Fuck, he didn't fucking know how to handle shit with a girl like you.

So he just nodded, buckled up, and started the engine. Letting out a tight breath as he pulled out of the parking lot, he asked, “Where to?”

You hesitated for a second. “Do you know where the western beach of the Cut is?”

Rafe scoffed and nearly stopped the car. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Of course, he knew where that fucking beach was. Sarah always went there after school to hang out with her stupid little Pogue friends.

So yeah, he could already guess exactly what kind of people Cara was hanging out with: those annoying-ass rats.

The thing that pissed him off the most wasn’t even you ditching him. It wasn’t driving you around like a damn chauffeur. It wasn’t even that you were trading him for a group of Pogue losers.

Nah. It was the fact that Sarah had once again managed to stick her nose into shit that didn’t fucking concern her. Because somehow this reeked of her meddling.

And the worst part? It felt like she was winning again. Like she’d won over their dad, like she'd won over Kie during her time at Kildare Academy by turning her against Rafe just for them to end up having some bitchy fallout shortly after.

Like she’d get to win you over too with some fake-ass bullshit.

And you, being prone to falling for shit like that with that brain of yours, would probably believe her too. Not because you were naive, nah, but because your head would probably soak Sarah's sweet words up, falling back into a spiral over Rafe's intention or some bullshit.

Fuck.

Rafe actually liked this weird acquaintanceship with you (THERE, THAT'S THE LABEL THAT FIT THIS SHIT). He didn’t need Sarah to ruin that—or worse—take you from him. Pull you into her little shitty-ass, feel-good Pogue bullshit friend group.

And the most fucked up thing? You weren’t even his. But the very thought of Sarah turning you against him anyway?

Nah. He wouldn't let that happen.

You said Rafe was hoping to gain some shitty-ass friendship from this? Fine. If that’s what it took for your brain to hold on to Rafe, he’d gladly be your fucking friend.

He’d throw every goddamn principle he had out the window before he let Sarah take something else from him before he even had a chance to claim it for himself.

Because for the first time in years, Rafe actually felt like he didn't wanna let go of a girl. Nah, he actually wanted to keep you around. Not as some warm body in his bed—it fucked with his head that you weren’t into hookups but he could accept that—but because somehow, you were the first girl who didn't hang on his ass to brag to her friends later about getting to ride his dick.

Shit, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were either a lesbian or just completely uninterested in sex altogether. Which only messed with his head even more, because if both of you were here willingly, what the fuck was the point if no one was gaining anything from it?

Like, why the fuck did Rafe feel this pull toward you? Not just sexually… more like—fuck, he didn’t even know. He also couldn't compare it to the short-lived whatever-thing he'd had with Kie either because he'd only ever seen her as some extension of Sarah that he tolerated. Thinking of her even remotely sexual had just felt fucking weird.

But you? Being around you came close to landing a hole-in-one during golfing, the feeling after being praised by his dad, the way his body buzzed after a line of coke. Which honestly made him wonder if the perfume you were wearing was laced with chemicals or some shit that messed with his head like that.

Fuck, this? Him thinking about this shit at all—that was your fucking fault.

Rafe just knew he liked having you around so there was no need to let you go.

For now.

So as much as he hated, despised, and loathed the idea of you ditching him for some beach party with dirty-ass Pogues and Princess Sarah, by now, he'd learned that if he kept his temper in check, his patience with you would pay off.

Shit, he'd even add a little bonus.

So, when you'd asked if he knew the way, he shot you a raised brow and a casual side-eye, and in the most unbothered tone he said, “Yeah, it’s just down the road. Assuming your friend's succeeding with that guy, I’m guessing you’re gonna need someone to pick you up later.”

And when your brows twitched and your eyes lit up, Rafe knew he was one step closer to keeping you around for real.

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sage & stardust - TEASER

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. 

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu. 

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art. 

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

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[sirfrogsworth]

sirfrogsworth please i am begging to know your boomer uncle’s thought process when he installed all those spam search bars what on earth was he TRUING to do

This was my Uncle Larry. He died in 2014 from a lifetime of smoking.

But while he was alive, he was what my grandma would refer to as "a character."

I feel like seeing his photo gives a partial explanation of the toolbar fiasco.

He was a man stuck in the 1960s but extremely curious about new things.

It was the early 2000s and I was trying to make some extra money. So when he was interested in getting a computer I offered to build him one from scratch.

What I didn't consider about this arrangement was that I was basically signing up to be my uncle's IT person. If something went wrong, it could possibly be due to a mistake I made.

He called me up complaining he couldn't see his websites and that the computer was running slower than normal.

I boot up his system and it takes 10 minutes to get to Windows. The desktop was filled with random programs he installed. And when I opened his web browser I was immediately greeted with a dozen pop up advertisements. Once I nuked them all, all of the different search toolbars were revealed. There was maybe a few inches of space for viewing websites and he had just been looking at photos a segment at a time for weeks before wondering if maybe it wasn't supposed to work like that.

I asked him why he installed all of this crap and he told me he didn't realize he had a choice. He just thought you had to say yes to everything that popped up on the screen. He also opened every spam email he received.

To make matters even worse, when he was searching for lewd pictures of Catherine Bell (aka the "JAG lady" with nice cans), he ended up on various softcore porn sites containing ever more dangerous pop up ads. And he clicked on all of those as well.

He loved the internet. It was a wonderland for such a curious person. He loved typing in random things and just reading and looking at pictures for hours. Aside from Maxim photos of TV celebrities, his searches were pretty innocent. He looked at old cars he used to own and lawnmowers he wanted to buy. He read old war stories and found websites helping him learn how to whittle walking sticks.

But he had no sense of danger. He had a Leroy Jenkins approach to life. He just sort of jumped into whatever without any fear or caution. Which is probably why my parents were so pissed at him when he offered 8 year-old me a ride on his new motorcycle. He immediately took me off-road and up a steep hill without a helmet or telling me to hold on. And it was a Harley, so not really meant for that terrain.

I tried a virus scan and it just said "You have every virus." So I had to nuke his Windows install from orbit. I then gave him computer lessons, which he paid me for, so that sort of worked out despite how frustrating it was to keep him from clicking on random things.

Uncle Larry taught me an important lesson.

Never tell your family you know about computers.

[itsjustevil]

From what I could glean

Zac: "I know a couple of people that might be able to help us." This implies his character will be one of the initiators of the plot, and also that he'll have connections.

Ally: "My grandma gave me a MASSIVE mech suit." Ally Beardsley Nepo Baby Arc? Have they became what they swore to destroy??? YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE!!? Jokes aside, that doesn't necessarily have to be the case, there are other circumstances one could receive a massive mech suit, but another thing to note is that their character sounds to be the youngest, just going off of line delivery. Possibly they could be more out of their depths than the rest of the class.

Emily: "I will entertain the idea of joining your crew." Immediately picking up on the accent, this is the easiest to get a feel of. Her character will be one of the ones that will be recruited. The separation between the plot's initiators and the recruited is important I think, there will be varied character motivations across the board. Emily's seem to most clearly need extra compensation. Perhaps she will simply be sold on whatever it is the gang are trying to accomplish, but it might be interesting if her goals are more monetary or self interested. Also, her character will likely be noted as one of the more competent members of the crew.

Sioban: "I think I gotta go on one last adventure." Implies age, implies previous adventures. We could be getting higher leveled characters here from the start. Perhaps there is an external reason that prompts this one last adventure, but it could be that she wishes to reignite her glory days, or that she feels like her work isn't just done that. She could also be saying this to someone to whom she's promised to settle down for, trying to justify why she needs to answer the Call to Action.

Lou: "Put it away, we're doing something miraculous." Tells us he cares deeply about what it is they're trying to accomplish. Most likely he is an initiator with Zac, perhaps he even came to Zac first. Also, the way he says "put it away," he is emphasizing the importance of the task at hand over something trivial someone else is doing, but the way he says it is gentle, giving my father figure vibes.

Murph: "Our father put our name in the sky!" Nepo Baby 2, Nepo harder. Way harder to refute than Ally. The use of Our implies siblings. Perhaps he is simply speaking on the behalf of his siblings, but more interesting, he could be speaking to his sibling. The way the line is delivered, his cadence, this is an important line, something that's going to mean a lot for a different character I believe, if we believe he is speaking to a sibling. The character he's speaking to will likely be someone who is going to be a part of the crew too. Either he is casting doubt on the decision to join the others, emphasizing their place belongs here, that they have a duty to attend to and can't go off on an adventure they might not return from, or that because of their legacy they must join this adventure, they must live up to this legacy. This is a wild hunch, but I think his sibling will be one of the other PCs. My bet is on Ally. Two Nepo Babies in one season? Coincidence? I think not. The dynamic could be very interesting, unlike something we've seen before. Could also be Lou, that would be another interesting direction. Also, there is a small chance that there is a completely different reading, that when he says Father, he means in a religious sense. Whatever the case, Murph's character is bound to be a very prideful man.

[scarfacemarston]

Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader Oneshot

For Lesbian Visibility Week! If you enjoyed this, please note and reblog! Feel free to send other prompts or requests! Prompt: The students come into your classroom complaining about Natasha as a teacher not knowing you're her wife. This is version 1. You sighed as you glanced at the digital clock on your computer. Damn. Your planning period was almost over, and you really needed to finish grading these essays. Soon, you would be back to teaching your high school history classes for the day. The period ended far too quickly as students began to file their way into the classroom, discussing this and that. You were so engrossed in your work that you were hardly paying attention until you heard “Ms. Romanoff” mentioned not once, not twice, but in a string of sentences. Oh boy. Ms. Romanoff was one of the more controversial teachers at the school known for her no-nonsense attitude, sternness and sarcasm , but she was also fair with a dry sense of humor. “Why did I take international politics as an elective? Oh, that’s right, I thought it would look good on my transcript!” One student said sarcastically. “She’s so nitpicky! I got an A-. AN A MINUS!” “Hers is the only class I don’t fall asleep in anymore. Not since….last time.” “She’s so strict even the Macklin brothers shut up.” “She’s terrifying. I heard she used to be an undercover agent in the CIA”. You smirked at that one. You should probably look into that rumor. “A spy? Shut-up, man. Who’s going to believe that?” “I heard she was a failed actress.” “I heard she voiced the Russian Siri.” “I heard she’s a rich heiress that lost all her cash.” “Look, guys, I don’t care. She just ripped our class to shreds.I just can’t right now. Nearly the entire class failed her last test. These test corrections are going to take all night.” “At least you’re allowed test corrections! We’re her AP class and the only way we can make up points is through a new essay.” “She’s scary. I swear” “I think she knows what I’m thinking and then that makes me think more and then she thinks what I’m thinking and that thinking makes my head hurt.” “I was ONE minute late to class and she gave me a late slip!” “One time my grandma called me in class, and she made me pick it up.” You shot a quick text to Natasha before the bell rang. Her classroom was two doors down from yours since you two were technically in the same department. Time to log off your grading program and begin class. You pulled out the binder with today’s lesson plans ready to begin. “Wow, you all are full of comments about Ms Romanoff today.” You said neutrally. “Miss Y/N, you don’t understand. She’s so ….uh, extra.” You withheld a smirk. Natasha wasn’t what you would call extra, but she was set in her ways.” “I don’t think she’s extra. I think she just has high standards.” You responded. One of the students rolled their eyes.

"Do you all talk about me like this when I'm not here?"

"Nooo Ms. Y/N, we would never!"

"Well, maybe you could extend the same courtesy to my wife next time," you said, withholding a laugh. The room fell silent. A pin could have dropped.

“Fuck” you heard someone say under their breath. “Language”, you chastised, but you couldn’t say you blamed them. You saw the students in various forms of awkward shuffling, a cough here or there or “Ummm” or “Uhh” as students tried to form sentences. “Wait, you’re married?” a student questioned before being glared at by the others. Your fourth period class was near silent for the rest of the period, with the students seemingly still in shock. One minute til the bell rang. You saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of your eye. Thirty seconds. Natasha knocked on the door. “Hey, you, we’re all ordering from Robert’s Deli for lunch. You want your usual or will you finally try something new?” Natasha teased. The class whipped their heads collectively towards the door. It was becoming harder not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Y/n?” “Oh, you’re scaring my class, dear!” You said, smiling widely. Natasha scoffed. “Dear, huh? Oh, so they found out, didn’t they? As if us entering the building together and leaving together in the same car wasn’t hint enough that we’re married.  Yeah, I might have scared a few of them. It was well deserved, trust me, Isn’t that right, Reynolds?” Jason Reynolds sank down into his seat, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. The bell rang. The students couldn’t scramble enough as they grabbed their bags and rushed past Natasha. You gave a small laugh as you finally met Natasha. “You’re a mean woman, you know that?” “Hey, you texted me, babe.” “It was great, not gonna lie. Sorry the “secret” is out.” “It’s not like we’re closeted, we’re simply professional. I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner….or maybe I’m not.” Natasha muttered. Your stomach growled. “Alright, I’ll look up the menu. Find something new to try for once. Promise.” You said in response to your stomach. Natasha nodded. “Don’t want you to scare the next class because you’re hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

[lvl1l1]

hello!! i was wondering if you could do lads men with an mc who plays an instrument? specifically drums if you’re comfortable! hope youre doin well!

LaDS men with an MC who plays an instrument

pairings: Sylus, Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier x GN!MC/reader

genre: some fluffy hcs

a/n: ahhh my first req tysm!! i love this idea sm. i play the guitar myself, so this is a lil self indulgent hehe not that familiar with drums, so i kept it a bit vague. i hope you like it!!!

Sylus

Sylus is a vinyl collector, honestly, he’d go as far as calling himself a music connoisseur. Music is something that connects him to you, even if you yourself don’t remember why exactly, it’s safe to say that he’d be delighted to know you play an instrument.

He’d always ask you to play something for him, anything really. Whether it’s a short piece you came up with yourself or your favourite song, he’ll gladly listen.

He would be so impressed whenever you played anything and he’s just grateful you’re comfortable enough to play infront of him.

If you were shy at first, worried about disturbing him or thinking you’re not skilled enough, he’d scoff and reassure you, not just in the moment but whenever he could,

“Sweetie, everyone lucky enough to witness your talent should feel honored.”

You stopped taking him to concerts because he’d always say something like,

“You could play better than them.”

He’s your biggest hype-man and tries to encourage you to never drop your hobby. He’ll buy a new set, expensive equipment, without you ever having to ask and he gifts you a whole band room in the base.

He’s always humming the melodies you practiced in the base and he’s always making sure no one disturbs you during your sessions.

Sylus is your biggest supporter, he wants you to play even during the day, assuring you it wouldn’t disturb his sleep.

He just loves how talented you are.

Caleb

He still remembers when you first picked up on your instrument.

He was so glad you had found something you loved, doing his best to show his support.

Back when you two still lived at home, he’d always clap after you were done practicing. If your grandma wanted you to stop playing because it was getting late or what-not, he would always defend you and tell you to keep playing anyway.

Now, with your newfound dynamic, he’s just glad you haven’t given up on your passion.

He’d get you another set just for his apartment in Skyhaven, so that you could play even when you were staying with him.

He doesn’t mind you playing even late at night, he’s used to hearing you practice and it even brings him a sense of comfort and familiarity.

If you learn how to play any of his favourite songs, he’ll feel incredibly honored and he’d start preferring your instrumental version over the official song.

He’d ask you if he could record you playing a song of your choice, so he could make it his ringtone.

Caleb would also 100% mention to everyone he knows that you play an instrument and he’d constantly brag about how talented you are.

He’s just so proud of you, his lil musician.

Rafayel

Rafayel found out by barging into your apartment one day after you gave him the key to your place, hearing you practice. He wouldn’t make himself known until you were done playing, he’d start clapping and cheering and then start acting offended, as to why you hadn’t revealed your talent to him before.

We know lemurians are good singers, just look at Talia and Rafayel himself. He’d be over the moon knowing you two could make music together now.

He’d ask you to play and start singing along, there’s nothing he enjoys more, bonus points if you get flustered from hearing him sing.

He makes a habit of painting while you play, saying your tunes give him inspiration.

If you wanted to, he could get you some gigs. She may sing classical but he’d totally set you up with Talia, if you wanted. And he tells you that Thomas could be your manager all the time, even if you insist you don’t want to make a career out of your hobby.

Rafayel can truly appreciate art, he compliments your skills all the time and he’ll never take you playing for him, for granted.

Zayne

Zayne would never stop being impressed. He already thinks you’re incredible, any new talent you reveal to him just leaves him awe-struck all over.

I don’t think he’d specifically ask you to play for him but he’s always happy to listen.

If you stopped playing because he was reading or working, he’d tell you it doesn’t bother him at all. It actually grounds him, knowing you’re right there with him and he loves that you two can enjoy each other’s company, even though you’re both doing your own thing.

I actually hc that Zayne used to play an instrument himself, the violin or cello maybe but he dropped it because he didn’t really have time to play anymore. So, it makes him all the more happy that you make time for your passion, even with your hectic schedule.

He’d love for you to ask him to buy you equipment, be it new drumsticks, a metronome or whatever else you could need.

Like Caleb, he likes mentioning your talent to his peers. Everyone working at the hospital knows what instrument you play. It’s mostly because it gives him an easy topic for small talk, but he’s also very proud of you.

Once you two move in together, he’d make sure you have a big space you can utilise. Whether you want a music room to yourself or just a corner in the living room, he’ll gladly provide you with whatever you need.

I definitely think his parents would also ask you to play for them whenever they come to visit. Zayne tells you, you don’t have to if you don’t want to but he knows they’re only asking because they’re as proud of you as he is.

Xavier

The walls in your apartment are thin, so he’s heard you play before but Xavier never mentioned it until you two started dating.

If you feel a bit embarrassed, that he’s heard all your practice sessions, he’d reassure you that he thoroughly enjoyed hearing you play.

Xavier wouldn’t mind you playing while he was sleeping at all, it wouldn’t be able to wake him anyway but he also tells you it helps lull him to sleep, regardless of your preferred genre.

“Xavier how does listening to metal make you sleepy?”

“It just does, so keep playing.”

It’s probably mostly because you’re the one playing, whenever you’re involved he just feels calm, doesn’t matter if you’re jamming to some death metal.

He might not be a conflict-seeking person but he’s willing to fight your neighbours for you, if they complain.

He thinks as long as you’re playing during the day, they can suck it up. You’re not even that loud, he says.

But he’d also be down to buy you an electrical drum-set/a quiet alternative to the instrument you’re playing.

Xavier would probably ask you to teach him how to play, it would be a great way to spend more time with you and learn more about the thing you’re passionate about.

Xavier also canonically plays the piano, so I think he’d be quick on the uptake with any other instrument, he can read notes already, good start.

He’d probably offer to teach you how to play the piano in exchange for lessons on your instrument. If you also play the piano, he’d definitely suggest playing some duets together, making sure you sit closely next to him.

He definitely thinks you look super cool while playing, his wallpaper is a candid shot of you with your instrument.

[navillee]

Caleb as a sub - an introduction Pt. I

It's gonna be a long one since I'm giving some background context first, bringing some headcanons about the early stages of mc and Caleb relationship (childhood up to teen years). Part II would be the late teens/adult stage of him as a sub because it makes more sense to explain what exactly lead him to be one.

I would like to start this TED Talk saying that Caleb has all the stars and planets aligned to be the pervert he is;

He had to stand up as a protective figure for you at such young age, that this position on your life it's so deeply engraved as his inside his head, to the point Caleb can't visualize anything other than this possiblity. He can't picture losing that spot for another guy, and that's one the reasons why he acts like a loyal guard dog over you;

It started as a duty and due to his own character it developed out of control as an obsession over the years. From protecting you from the mean kids, so you would only want to spend time with him, to the day he had to go out with his friends to a random party he didn't even wanted to go just to avoid totally snapping to the fact you went out on a silly date with a friend back in highschool;

He felt miserable everytime that happen. Everytime you choose another one over him, Caleb promised to himself he would do better, that he would be better for you. So good that you would never choose another person but him to be by your side. He would be the most courageous, gentle, patient, good a cooking and even do your homeworks. You didn't deserve less than the best;

Oh, and how it felt good when you praised him. When you corrected a friend of yours bragging about the fact that Caleb's actually better at (inserts random hability here);

He felt proud to be the only one suited to take care of you;

And those times were the best for him. Caleb still remembers every detail of his childhood days he shared with you. It was only natural for him to get to know everything about you, from your favorite color to all your likes and dislikes. You were near his sight, and he felt at ease knowing that if anything happens to you, he would be able to try everything out until he finds the solution to bring back your smiling face towards safety again;

When you two shared a room and kept talking and giggling until late at night, pretending to be asleep as grandma entered the bedroom to check on both of you. When both of you fell asleep cuddling on a bed that seems so huge, surrounded by plushies and aircraft toys, just for Caleb to wake up earlier to pick up the plushies that had fallen out of bed, tiptoeing towards you again and feeling relieved you survived another rainstorm night because he was there to protect you;

But something flipped when the hormones started to kick in. That's when the obsession over being your favorite changed in a substantial way;

That was the first most confusing time for Caleb. When grandma morphed the dumping room of the house into a new bedroom in no time, and Caleb had a new bed, study desk and even a wardrobe just for him. Shouldn't he feel happy? Grateful, or at least a little excited for having a space exclusive for him?

He's growing up, and that inevitable separation from you is chasing after his powerless self. If you're not within his sight, how Caleb will know whenever you need him to be there for you? He didn't even asked for a new room, so why adults started to complain the older – safer and more cozy – setting of you two sharing a room wasn't ideal?

His perfect sleep schedule was ruined. Caleb couldn't find a way of sleeping the first night without you, nor the other night after that one, nor the night after tomorrow...

What if you kicked the blanket out of the bed and were feeling cold? What if your plushies fell out from the bed frame and you're alone? What if a thunderstorm starts and he's just not there to cover your ears until it goes away?

He tossed and turned on his bed for almost two weeks, until the night it started to rain heavily. Then he couldn't deal with his own agony. He got out of his bed, abandoning that prison of isolation (that's how he called his new bedroom) and slowly turned the doorhandle of his old room;

You were curled up with a plushie near the edge of the bed, crying. His heart sinks, he ran towards you, touching softly your arm as you turned your red puffy face towards him. "Caleb, is that you? You're back!" Tears running down your face as you cupped his face with your hands basically dragging him to get on bed. "Can you stay? I don't like thunderstorms, you know it."

And he absolutely loses it. Caleb isn't moving a single unit of feet outside that bedroom ever again. No, the only thing he can do is bring you closer in a warm hug, while he says he's back to protect you and he's not leaving, never, for nothing in this world.

He build a pillow fortress right after he notices that you calmed down a little, and after a long torturing two week period of (not) sleeping (at all) alone, you two fell asleep on each other's arms again, safe and sound, as it have always supposed to be;

The time passed by. And even if you didn't get that scared out of rains anymore, you two were always together, and if you weren't on Caleb's bedroom, Caleb was for sure at yours. Watching movies, helping you out with your homework. It wasn't enough anymore, no, never enough. Excuses such as "let me cook something for us, pipsqueak." or "let me dry your hair since you don't know how to do it." appeared on his never outdated list of excuses to spend time by your side and do useful things only he could do for you;

He couldn't run away from the eventual separation, but he could trick it, delay it, pretend it didn't existed at all;

Until the day he punched a boy and grandma had to pay a visit to the school's principal. It started when a girl was arguing with you about some topic Caleb didn't had enough time to figure it out. It was when that one of the girl's boy friends tried to touch you, and Caleb saw it. And all you could remember was seeing him jumping after the other boy's face;

After getting scolded by all present adults at the principal's office, Caleb saw himself standing at your bedroom door again. Poor boy was feeling so sad. Would you be mad at him as well? When everything he did was to protect you, would those doors finally getting closed to him to never enter that special place for only the two of you ever again? When he entered the room already mumbling all the excuses he could find, he got speechless when the first thing you did was to cup his face with your hands and ask him if he got injured;

He giggled at you, and the giggle turned into a laugh as he cupped your face back. Of course you wouldn't get mad! You, out of everyone, knew that Caleb only did what he did in order to protect you. He wasn't a juvenile thug or anything but a little boy trying to protect you from mean people. He was so relieved you wasn't mad. He didn't do anything wrong after all, right?

That's why he's back at your room again, softly looking at you like a puppy while you bandage up his bruised hands;

He took that day as an endorsement for that growing-out-of-control overprotection over you. As long as you're by his side and not feeling uncomfortable, he would do anything to protect you and keep being the first person you would look up for help;

That's his role after all, and he feels so good doing it, he can't stop, don't even want to. That's why he neutralizes all threats that comes near you, and that comes near him too;

Even though he's the popular kid and get along with everyone, when it comes to girls that left you out or are clearly acting like pick mes to get his attention, he's immediately blunt with them;

That includes: not landing any piece of clothing to any girl but you. Not a cap, nor hoodies, nothing. Not getting physical contact or engaging in conversations, especially if the topic somehow makes you uncomfortable;

Watch him freak out whenever a girl who's trying to get his attention ask you if you have a crush on some boy/celebrity that Caleb knows;

However, when the situation reverses and we're talking about boys trying to get your attention, he's ruthless;

If there's a competitive guy, that's Caleb for sure. If there's a sports competition at school and his fan girls club is cheering him up during the entire set, he couldn't care less about it. But are your eyes on him? Or did another guy caught your attention? If so, get ready to Caleb's show off party;

He will outdo that guy. It doesn't matter if it's an ally or someone from another team. Caleb's an natural outdoer. He'll win and bring that trophy/medal home just for you to praise him and tell him he did good;

He wants to spend the entire dinner at home with you bragging to grandma how amazing he performed while he carries an small smile and a fuzzy mind too overwhelmed with praises to think on any other thing;

And he'll never let another guy have his moment at the dinner table;

That's when he realizes he wasn't doing for the sake of it. He was doing it because he couldn't get anything more than that. And it frustrated him. Praises at dinner weren't enough anymore, landing you clothes weren't enough anymore. He wanted more, way more he could ask for, and Caleb was afraid of admitting it to himself.

But sometimes it got out of control for everybody to see it. Such as the time he chopped an entire carrot an putted on Zayne's meal when he spent a weekend at grandma's house. When he noticed you got mad he immediately stopped and reluctantly apologized to Zayne. (That doesn't mean he didn't use that "incident" as an twisted joke/provocation towards Zayne for the following years);

Things like chopping carrots happened with a shorter frequency whenever he noticed you weren't spending enough time with him. Tossing bouquet of flowers boys delivered at your door into the trash before you would notice, lying that you're not interested whenever a friend of him asked about you – then shortly after tossing this friendship into the trashcan as well – being dismissive towards girls that confessed to him or even rude;

You didn't notice those things, but he wish you would. He wanted you to catch him throwing unopened love letters away because at least then he would know he should stop doing it, that he would immediately get on his senses and feel guilty about it;

Then he would beg for forgiveness and you would accept him back, just like you did when you got separated rooms. And he would come back to be your sweet well behaved boy from your childhood that did everything only in order to protect you;

But you didn't do it. In fact he could swear he saw a faint smirk on your face when he didn't accept a date invitation from a phonecall, he saw the same lingering pleased smile when he threw off a plushie he received on valentine's day;

And it was driving him insane. He felt guilty about behaving like that, but how could he stop when you're a daily reminder of his disgrace? When you're wandering around the house with pajamas shorts that Caleb hold onto his dear life to try not stare than more than five seconds, or when he has to take a shower after you had showered and all those sweet fragrance products mixed with a faint scent of your sweat started to make his mind wonder to places tried not to but failed;

Oh, poor Caleb. Long years of self discovery, pent up frustration and repression waited for him.

[posting-for-the-void]

So a lot of twins claim to have a sort of twintuition thing where they understand each other easily and often without words, and sometimes have high-level empathetic reactions to things that are happening to the other twin, even if they don’t know what’s happening to the other twin because they are in different locations at the time. There’s obviously not a lot of scientific evidence to back it up, but, eh. It’s a cool concept.

But what if, for the Skywalker twins, the force just ramped that up to 100.

Fic-ish thing below the cut.

Five-year-old Luke is learning the Tatooine slave language. After all, Aunt Beru used to be Beru Whitesun, before she married Uncle Owen, and his mom was Grandma Shmi, who used to be a Skywalker before she married Uncle Owen’s dad. Beru helps the recently-escaped hide in the secret compartment in the wall of their house more often than Owen does, but he claims it’s for plausible deniability, whatever that means. Leia, on Alderaan, begins mixing the harsh, clicking language with Basic subconsciously, but only when talking to herself in private. After all, she is a princess, and they must choose their words carefully in front of others.

Leia at age ten argues with her cousin about whether droids deserve respect, and across the galaxy, Luke is absolutely overcome with the need to thank every single droid he’s ever met for helping him with anything (he did this anyways before but for some reason he has to do it again Right Now).

Luke gets to drive a speeder by himself for the first time at 13 and Leia is practically begging for someone to take her out in a hovercar and go as fast as possible. And if that can’t happen she’s going to get the space equivalent of a Formula One racing sim, goddamnit.

Seventeen-year-old Junior Senator Leia’s heart skips a beat every time someone mentions Tatooine. She isn’t sure why. Obi-Wan lives there, yes, but something in her just knows that isn’t the real reason. Luke, meanwhile, yearns to see the galaxy, and often finds himself outside at night, staring at the sky. His eyes, for as long as he can remember, have always felt drawn towards a specific star. He asked Uncle Owen about it once when he was younger, and he gruffly explained that it was the Alderaan system. He feels like there’s something there, waiting for him. He’s not sure why.

And then they meet in person, and it’s “You’re a little short for a Stormtroope—Luke?”

“Leia?”

“Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so. Can I hug you?”

“Of course, you idiot. You’re my twin brother. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thanks, Leia. You know, I had the weirdest dreams when I was ten about you and Old Ben.”

“Oh, yeah, that was actually real. I got kidnapped.”

“Cool.”

“Is it true you got nicknamed ‘Wormie’ by your friends?”

“…Yeah.”

And Han is so confused, but it’s fine, and within two hours their conversations are more like, “Hey, Leia, could you pass me the—“

“Yeah, do want the green one or the—“

“No, the blue one, probably. I need it to—“

“Oh, yeah, of course, that makes sense.”

And then Yoda tries to do the whole “Attached, you are,” routine, and Luke is like, “Well, duh. I’m only here so I can teach Leia everything I learn as soon as I get back. I’m just a pilot, which is a lot more replaceable than a princess, so we thought it would be best if I come learn from you instead of her.”

And meanwhile Leia is a lot stronger in the force now, and she meets Vader again and just goes, “Darth Dad, what the actual fuck,” under her breath in the Tatooine slave language, and the hint of Anakin that’s left absolutely freezes. Because Palpatine—Sideous—whatever, he said his kid was dead. He said that Padme died and the kid did too. He lied. And, when he meets Luke later, and he says the same Sithspitting thing, Anakin gets so thrown he accidentally cuts the kid’s hand off. Luke falls, and the shock of it in the force is so strong, and Anakin’s eyes flash blue in grief and love and hope, all at once, and all of the sudden he can think clearly for the first time in years. And his kids’—his kids!—bond in the force is so strong, how did he not notice it before?

And, anyways, I just feel like Skywalker Twintuition would be on a completely other and incomprehensible level.

[suhosieun]

MBTI typings + analysis of weak hero class characters

disclaimer: this analysis would be based on cognitive functions, so please don't tag this post with "why is he an e, he should be an i" or something like that. please read about cognitive functions, it's life-changing.

and this is my personal observation and analysis, so i'm not claiming 100% accuracy. but i have been studying mbti typology for 5 years, and i believe my hyperfixation on weak hero characters is strong enough to offer an interpretation that's atleast in the right ballpark. feel free to share your own opinions, though.

yeon sieun — INTJ (Ni-Te-Fi-Se)

INTJs lead with introverted intuition (Ni), which means they're constantly absorbing patterns and projecting outcomes. that’s essentially sieun’s entire combat strategy. he fights with foresight, not force. his brain is always several moves ahead, calculating silently before acting. he also has auxiliary extraverted thinking (Te), which makes him prioritize efficiency. this explains why he’d rather stab someone with a pen and end the fight cleanly than try to brawl with someone much stronger than him. it's just more efficient.

INTJs have tertiary Fi (introverted feeling), which acts like a quiet internal moral compass. it’s always there in the background, nagging him. it's not loud enough to dictate his decisions, but still present in case he changed his mind. that’s why he hesitates to help juntae at first. not out of apathy, but because the voice in his head keeps getting suppressed by his dominant intuition, which keeps telling him to mind his own business. it keeps warning him of the consequences of getting involved. however, he takes action when he finally listens to his tertiary Fi telling him, you know it’s the right thing to do.

his inferior Se (extraverted sensing) makes him inattentive to his physical environment unless it directly interferes with his internal world. he's never interested or notices people around him, unless his peace is disrupted. a blatant example of this is when he completely misses seongje showing up at suho’s hospital. he doesn’t register what's happening around him until it directly concerns him.

he’s also emotionally private (typical INTJ trait — they don’t like performing vulnerability). sieun is more expressive in his unread text messages to suho than he ever is face-to-face. it's a classic Ni-Fi wall: he feels deeply, but processes everything internally, where no one can touch it.

ahn suho — ESTP (Se-Ti-Fe-Ni)

ESTPs are sensor-thinkers, grounded in the present and driven by logic. suho’s dominant Se (extraverted sensing) makes him highly reactive to his environment. he only intervenes when he senses something is wrong; not out of moral obligation, and definitely not out of concern for consequences. his instincts are fast, physical, and attuned to danger. we see this in his professional fighting skills (MMA trainee and all) and athletic abilities. it's also obvious in the way he expresses love through action, taking on tiring jobs for his grandma without complaint, teaching sieun how to fight. it's a classic Se expression of love: fixing, serving, fighting, guiding.

his Ti (introverted thinking) is what makes him sharp. he’s logical and objective, but not necessarily fair, because he's not led by morals (which doesn't mean that he doesn't have morals at all, but it's not the driver of his decisions). he's loyal to who he cares about, not to any sense of abstract justice. like how he’ll go to hell and back for sieun, but won’t extend that same energy to everyone (this can be backed up by sumin pd, who pointed out that unlike baku, who protects the whole school, suho only protects sieun. baku has a higher moral compass, as a high Fi-user, but more on that later). his humour is also very Ti-coded; dry, clever, and often rooted in logic ("how can you talk about food while eating?" "you talk about life while living it").

tertiary Fe (extraverted feeling) gives him just enough charm and emotional fluency to read a room, crack a joke, or comfort someone. but it’s also fragile. he gets defensive fast, especially when misunderstood or unfairly blamed (like how he gets physically aggressive when beomseok starts beefing with him for no reason). weak Fe makes him take criticism personally and lash out emotionally.

he also has inferior Ni, which means his intuition is weak, and he rarely thinks ahead. like when he gets into gilsu’s car without a solid plan. he improvises well (texting sieun from his watch), but forgets to consider that gilsu could check his phone too.

personality-wise, sieun and suho are actually a lethal pair in combat. sieun has the sixth sense of an Ni-dom, while suho has the reflexes of an Se-dom. but romantically, they’re lowkey doomed. a tertiary Fi and tertiary Fe pair. neither are good at emotional communication. both express love through action and protection, not words.

oh beomseok — INFP (Fi-Ne-Si-Te)

beomseok runs almost entirely on introverted feeling (Fi), a deeply internal moral compass that tells him this is right even when it objectively… isn’t. healthy Fi stands for staying true to your values and beliefs. unhealthy Fi becomes a justification engine. and beomseok's Fi has been warped by years of trauma. that’s how we go from offering to pay suho to save sieun from bullies to wanting to destroy suho for betraying him. he does what he feels is just. the line between good and evil becomes how do i feel about it, and the trauma twists those feelings into something darker.

his Ne (extraverted intuition) gives him imagination and ideas, but unchecked, it creates spirals; overthinking, projection, paranoia. like how he starts believing that suho and sieun were replacing him with youngyi.

tertiary Si (introverted sensing) makes him cling to what’s familiar. that’s why youngyi’s addition to their group unsettles him: she disrupts the group dynamic he’s grown attached to.

his inferior Te (extraverted thinking), the logic function, is like a faint alarm bell in the back of his mind, whispering this won’t end well, but Fi drowns it out. he knows best. or thinks he does.

youngyi — ESFP (Se-Fi-Te-Ni)

youngyi leads with dominant Se, paired with Fi — which means she lives in the moment, feels things deeply, and owns it. she’s unapologetically herself, unbothered by rejection, which is exactly the kind of ability that gets her to befriend someone as guarded as sieun. she isn’t intimidated by anyone. she's grounded in the present, quick to act, and physically assertive, often responding to situations with bold, instinctive energy.

what sets her apart from suho (who's also an Se-dom), though, is that her actions aren't filtered through detached logic (Ti), but through a strong internal value system (auxiliary Fi). she doesn’t analyze her choices with practical calculation, she feels her way through them, led by what resonates with her personally.

but Fi also governs identity. so when beomseok accuses her of ruining the group, and essentially causing suho’s coma, it doesn’t just sting, it shatters her. she doesn’t just feel attacked; she feels like her sense of self is broken. that's why she disappears from everyone's lives, because how can she face sieun, when she can't face herself? that’s the danger of Fi: when it internalizes blame, it takes everything personally.

park humin (baku) — ENFP (Ne-Fi-Te-Si)

ENFPs are chaos with a conscience. and baku is no exception. baku’s auxiliary Fi makes him emotionally honest and morally anchored, but his dominant Ne keeps his mind in motion, always bouncing between possibilities, fears, and imagined futures. that’s why he hesitates to fight again (because what if it ends the way it did with gotak?) but when something triggers his core values (Fi), when someone he loves is in danger, he acts out. consequences be damned.

he jokes around to defuse tension, but he's deeply intuitive, emotionally attuned, and cares more than he lets on. it’s why he’s one of the only people who can get someone like sieun to open up; not by forcing it, but by simply being emotionally available, non-judgmental, and real.

while his high Fi gives him access to vulnerability, it also acts as a strong boundary. he refuses to work with baekjin, despite his history with him, because it violates his sense of right and wrong, because baekjin brutally hurt gotak and ruined his career, which is unforgivable. he only crosses that boundary when threatened and forced.

baku’s tertiary Te is blunt, explosive, and reactive, especially under stress. it acts before planning. when stressed, he grabs for Te, takes charge, punches first, thinks later. his Fi follows his own moral compass. he refuses to fight and preaches non-violence. but when people precious to him are hurt, he almost chokes a guy to death.

seo juntae — ISFJ (Si-Fe-Ti-Ne)

juntae is the emotional backbone of the group. ISFJs are built to nurture, and his Fe (extraverted feeling), paired with Si (introverted sensing), makes him deeply attuned to others' emotional needs. he notices sieun skipping meals, withdrawing, and not sleeping. his Si gives him observational memory; he tracks patterns and changes, then responds with quiet care.

he’s the only character with strong Fe in the whole cast, which is why he's the only one who genuinely hates conflict, and is the peace-maker of the gang, readily resolving misunderstandings and arguments between his friends. Fe also gives him strong empathy, which is what makes him slow to judge. he can easily read tone and emotional behaviour. it’s why he doesn’t believe sieun when sieun lies and says he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, because he knows it’s not true. he’s the one who tells both sieun and bakugotak that the other doesn’t mean what they’re saying.

Fe + Si makes him the one person who understands without demanding. he’s the first to tell sieun, "it’s not your fault," not because he thinks it’ll help, but because he knows it will. and yet, he holds grudges. because Si doesn’t forget. that’s why he refuses to forgive hyoman, even after he joins their side.

go hyuntak (gotak) — ISTP/ESTP (Ti-Se or Se-Ti)

this might be a controversial take since gotak is often typed as an ISFP, but i see a strong mix of Ti and Se in how he operates. i'm still unsure which one leads, but what’s clear is that he’s an active, physical, and analytical thinker. he’s impatient, yes, but also deliberate. he observes, processes, then acts, like when he tells juntae to escape before counting opponents in the underpass fight with seongje, or when he decides to fact-check the rumor that sieun wants to fight him instead of reacting right away.

his Se is undeniable: he’s aggressive, athletic, and always grounded in his body. even after quitting taekwondo, he stays physically engaged, taking up basketball, aggressively skipping rope despite his bad knee, because “he has to do something.” that’s textbook Se: movement as expression. like suho (another high Se user), gotak communicates care through physical action; teaching juntae to fight, teaching sieun how to play basketball, physically lashing out when hyoman insults baku, or breaking into the union garage when baku disappears, even though sieun asked him not to. he acts because he has to: Ti wants clarity, Se wants momentum.

but what truly leans him toward xSTP is his low Fe. His emotional communication is clumsy; he needs baku to prompt him to apologize or say thanks. His Ti strives to stay calm and factual, but his emotions; protectiveness, irritation, and loyalty; simmer just beneath the surface. he doesn’t judge quickly (a sign of Fe-awareness), like how he defends sieun from trashy gossip despite a rocky first impression of him. still, like suho, he lashes out when he feels misunderstood, like when he says cruel things to sieun during their fallout. And with low Ni he rarely thinks far ahead; breaking into the garage wasn’t a plan, just Ti-logic and Se-impulse running full speed.

gotak is a head-heart-body kind of character. he’s loyal without needing to say it, perceptive without being flashy, and thoughtful in a language that often goes unnoticed.

geum seongje — ENTP (Ne-Ti-Fe-Si)

this is really the easiest one to type because seongje is a textbook ENTP: chaotic intellect.

dominant Ne makes him erratic, unpredictable, and dangerously flexible. he's constantly probing, experimenting, and testing limits. people are like a puzzle to deconstruct. Ne is the function that gives you the skill and urge to explore multiple possibilities, which explains how seongje can justify switching sides mid-fight if it feels fun. he'd join his enemies, then betray them for the punchline.

his tertiary Fe doesn’t function like suho or gotak’s, who pair Fe with Se. while suho and gotak are highly reactive and defensive over them/their loved ones being insulted or misunderstood, seongje’s Fe is more detached. he treats insults like jokes ("is it fun playing na baekjin's minion?" "it is fun. i get to beat up losers like you.").

his Fe makes him socially aware, but it's not a strength, it's weaponized. he understands emotional tones, social roles, and twists them to provoke or entertain. he mocks sincerity (like how he laughs at gotak over his protectiveness for juntae) but still craves attention and reaction (feels hurt because baekjin didn't ask him if he was okay after fighting with sieun).

so ENTP makes seongje unpredictable, perceptive, and always a step ahead.

na baekjin — ENTJ (Te-Ni-Se-Fi)

baekjin, as an ENTJ, is essentially a more dangerous, volatile version of sieun. he's smart, strategic, and ruthlessly efficient; a master planner who relies on his introverted intuition (Ni), to forecast outcomes and his extroverted thinking (Te), to execute them with precision. to baekjin, efficiency isn’t just useful; it’s everything. he doesn’t waste time on what feels good or what’s morally right, only what gets results.

but his inferior Fi (introverted feeling) means he lacks the internal framework to process emotions authentically. he struggles to recognize emotional nuance, both in himself and in others, which leaves him disconnected from his own vulnerability. that’s why, instead of just saying “don’t leave me,” he orchestrates emotional hostage scenarios (like threatening to hurt gotak) to keep baku close. it's twisted, but, to him, weirdly efficient. and in baekjin’s world, effectiveness often replaces intimacy.

he knows what works, not what's right. he weaponizes logic without empathy. and you can’t out-think him, because he’s already seen your next ten moves and calculated exactly where you’ll land.

baekjin uses control and intelligence as a shield, mastering manipulation to avoid vulnerability.

so that ends my analysis. if you need a detailed analysis of a specific character, have contrary opinions, questions about mbti, or need any clarification, then leave me an ask!

[hiramaris]

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 6

Chapter Summary:

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice from not shaking. "You don't want to dance with me." "I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: none i think?

Notes:

The most awaited Flower Festival. Buckle up, simps.

Spring 24

Four days.

Four freaking days since you had abruptly decided to avoid her.

And yes, she's definitely counting it. 

What she didn't get is why? Why the sudden aversion?

Haley had tried to rack her brain for any reason, just anything but she couldn't find any. She tried to recall the events that night.

Haley took you home from the saloon because your ass was so drunk you couldn't even stand on your own feet without tripping.

And then there's... that.

With a heavy sigh, Haley placed her white dress for the flower dance on her bed.

She should have been excitedly preparing for the upcoming dance, but the stupid farmer had been occupying her mind today.

Even yesterday.

And even the day before that, and the day after that. 

After your sudden declaration of 'feelings?' (yes, she's questioning because what the hell does that mean?), Haley had found herself speechless for the umpteenth time that night.

She couldn't find her voice, or rather, she didn't know how to respond to that. Fortunately, before she could, you shook your head as if you had said something silly.

Your moment of soberness dissipated completely as you slumped back to Haley. You had been a bit cooperative after that as both of you were able to go to your farm without any further hitch.

Haley was all but familiar with your farm. She had occasionally taken her pictures here when Old Railey was alive. She was fond of him.

He was kind and he kind of reminded her of her grandma. When he died, there was a large part of Haley that still grieves for him until now. Which is maybe why she was a bit apprehensive at you when she first came. At Haley's little time at Pelican town, she knew how much Old Railey sacrificed for the farm, to see it run down like that and be given to a complete stranger— a city girl no less, never mind you're his granddaughter.

But as she stood at the entrance of the farm, with the same farmer she loathed beside her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she saw the state of the farm for the first time since you moved here. 

The once-overgrown grass and unruly weeds that had taken over the farm were now perfectly tamed. A neatly constructed wooden path led towards what Haley assumed was your cabin.

Despite the darkness surrounding her, she could spot a variety of spring crops flourishing in the distance. Blue jazz, cauliflower, green beans, parsnips, and many others were thriving under your care. While there were still renovations to be done, Haley couldn't help but be impressed by how well you were doing. As if you're really meant for farming.  

The cabin looks freshly renovated, too. Last time she heard it was a bit crusty and on the verge of collapsing.

As Haley stepped into your home, she was greeted by a small ginger cat. The feline locked eyes with her for a moment, assessing her presence before realizing she meant no harm and had come with her owner.

Sensing Haley's intention, the cat let out a loud meow, leading her towards a closed door on the right, which she assumed to be your room.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Haley had managed to settle you on the bed and was ready to head home herself. However, it appeared that you had other plans.

You suddenly sat up straight and grabbed her hand as if sensing Haley was about to leave.

Haley looked at you, waiting expectantly.

And then it happened.

There's vomit.

It was everywhere—on Haley's pajamas, the blankets, and even your own shirt.

Haley wanted to scream in frustration, but worry had won over her disgust as she heard you have a coughing fit. She gently shook your shoulders, trying to get your attention.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

"I'm..." you coughed, voice strained, "my head hurts..."

And that's the sole reason Haley has to borrow some set of clothes from the farmer's wardrobe, change the bed sheets and blankets—

And...

Change your clothes.

The memory made Haley's cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she had no other choice. There was no way she could sleep beside you with vomit-stained sheets, and you smelling like that.

Haley's face flushed with embarrassment as a sudden realization hit her like a ton of Emily's hippie rocks.

Oh...

There's also one bed. You and her slept on the same bed.

So, it kinda makes sense now.

Why in Yoba's name has she just realized this now?

No wonder Emily had given her a funny look earlier when she had returned that morning wearing obviously your varsity shirt.

Haley had also completely missed the bright, bold letters spelling out "L/N" stitched on the back of the shirt, which is also why Penny couldn't look at her in the eyes when they crossed paths that morning when the redhead decided to visit you at the farm to check on you.

Yoba.

They must have thought that you and her had slept together.

And maybe you thought that, too as well.

The thought made Haley cringe and she facepalmed at the awkwardness of the situation.

It certainly didn't help that you couldn't remember anything from that night after your eighth bottle.

And to add to the mix-up, you had to wake up with a hangover and everything and seeing Haley casually cooking breakfast in your house while wearing your shirt.

It was practically a neon signboard pointing at her as if saying "hey, last night was an absolute blast, why don't I make you some breakfast while I'm here?" 

Just great.

This is an absolute disaster.

****

"Is she joining the dance?" Haley wondered aloud, her eyes fixed on you who was engaged in a conversation with Penny, Maru, and Harvey.

"Hmm?" Alex paused in his fidgeting, adjusting his suit that had somehow grown on him. He followed Haley's gaze and spotted you amidst the group. "Oh, you mean Old Mac? I don't think so."

Haley turned to him with furrowed eyebrows," Old Mac? What's with you and all these people calling her all sorts of names? Why can't you just call her Y/n and stick with it?"

"Whoa, slow down, cowgirl." Alex barked out a laugh at her sudden outburst. "What's got your panties in a twist?" 

"Nothing!" Haley replied, trying to brush off her frustration. Deep down, though, the different names people used for you bothered her more than she cared to admit.

And the worst of it all is she doesn't know why she's pissed.

She turned away as she began pacing back and forth in the middle of the performance area.

She needs to practice her moves. Despite being crowned the flower queen for five consecutive years and having the dance steps etched into her muscle memory, she didn't want to be so full of herself.

But in reality, she was just trying her absolute best to not let her eyes settle on someone who wasn't even looking her way. 

Which she have found to be a challenge.

You looked dashing, if Haley would dare admit that aloud.

Your hair is down too in its slick, natural wave, which you usually tied up in a messy ponytail.

You looked pretty similar to the way you looked when you first arrived in the town though you forgo the black slacks in exchange of a more brighter blue one, the same shade of the ridiculous suits the men wore for the dance which have made her assume you'll be dancing as well.

But with whom? 

Usually, there are already designated partners for the dance and it would be quite impossible for you to learn the steps in just a month. 

Maybe Penny? Leah? Or that weirdo that dyes her head blue all the time? She assumed you were close with her when you dominated all the eggs Abigail was after which earned the kids to win during the egg festival. 

Whatever.

Why would she care anyway? You weren't even looking in her direction. Not even noticing that Haley did her hair differently or that she had chosen to apply a more natural make-up because you told her she's pretty enough without them.

"Ah!" 

The sound of cry from Alex had made her dash towards his place in alarm.

Sam was immediate to his side, along with the other townspeople. "What happened?" she asked in urgent.

"Sorry, pal. I may have thrown it a bit too far." Sam scratched his neck in shame.

"Samson!" Jodi angrily admonished her son. "Look just what you did!"

"Ow..." Alex grunted as he tried to reach for his foot. "I think I broke my ankle." 

"Can you stand?" You questioned as you helped him up. "Why'd you even bring your grid ball here?"

"H-hah. I can but I don't think I can walk it off. Hey, gramps. Mind if I borrow your wheels?" He tried to joke it off.

"Alexander!" Evelyn wasn't pleased with ay all with his humor.

"Heh, I'll give you this if I could go back home and watch TV."

"George! Don't even encourage him."

"Ehem," Mayor Lewis cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the crowd. "The festival is about to begin in five minutes. Will you be able to dance, young man?"

"I don't think so." Alex immediately answered, causing Haley to snap her head towards him in disbelief.

"What do you mean you can't?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. "How am I supposed to dance without a partner?"

She knew it was a selfish question but how can he be so stupid bringing his ball with him?!

A mischievous grin spread across Alex's lips as he pulled you closer, resting his hand on your shoulders. "Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

"What?" you choked, eyebrows raising so far it hid behind your bangs. "I don't..."

"You got this. There's no need to worry. In fact," he shrugged off his coat and handed it over to your shaking hands. "It doesn't fit me anymore. It'll probably suit you better."

"B-but..." 

"Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?" Penny tentatively suggested as she eyed Haley. "I know how much winning the crown means to you, Haley. It might be best for Sam to step in for Alex, considering it was his fault too." She glanced apologetically at Sam. "Sorry, Sam. I can dance with Y/n/n instead."

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important." 

"W-wait a second," Haley finally found her voice, her gaze still avoiding the person standing beside her. She could feel your eyes on her, and Haley wasn't ready just yet to see the look of refusal from your eyes. "Can't we get a say in this?!" 

"Nope!" Alex chirped.

"Very well, then," Mayor Lewis interjected, clapping his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Haley whispered, her hands trembling slightly as they held onto your neck. Her palms had grown clammy, and her racing heart seemed to drown out the lively rhythm of the music.

"Huh?"

Your voice held a hint of confusion, drawing Haley's gaze away from the ground to meet a pair of captivating gray eyes. The faintest tinge of pink colored your cheeks and your eyes struggled to hold steady.

You looked... bashful.

It also did not miss her how the hands securely wrapped around her waist were shaking as well.

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice for not squeaking. "You don't want to dance with me."

"I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

"Could've fooled me," Haley muttered under her breath as you gracefully twirled her around and pulled her back into your arms.

Despite the thick tension between you two, it looked like you really did actually perfected your moves and were able to dance in sync with Haley's.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, don't you?" She almost sounded accusatory.

"I don't." Your answer was swift. "I don't want to dance with anyone but you. And I wasn't avoiding you."

Haley avoided your gaze. "Where were you then? I haven't seen you in days. You haven't visited us for breakfast." Her grip on your coat tightened as she looked up from the taller woman. "If it was because of what happened that day, nothing happened, okay?"

As you twirled her once more, your bodies drew closer, so close that she could also see bits of hazel from your gray eyes.

Your cheeks burned once more as you muttered, "It's not that."

"Tell me," Haley demanded.

"I was out mining." You admitted sheepishly. "And maybe I was kind of avoiding you..." Your eyes started cringing at the glare Haley was giving you. "I was embarrassed that I puked on you. Alex told me it was your self-care day and... I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. "Idiot," she mutters, her arms finally relaxing against your shoulder. "You haven't ruined anything." She told you simply.

"Yet," you added, chuckling.

As the tension dissipates, you grow a little bolder as your hands relaxed around her waist, pulling Haley a little tighter against you. The warmth radiating from your palms gave Haley a profound sense of security, one she haven't felt for a long, long time.

"You know," Haley whispered against your neck, relaxing against your embrace. She didn't care if this wasn't part of the choreography. "You smell good today."

She felt you smiled against her hair, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

****

Previous

Next

Notes:

Spring's finally over! Summer here we come! Question though. Is my pacing fast or slow?

[mad-hatter-memes]

FunkyFrogBait Starters

A collection of dialogue prompts from the videos by FunkyFrogBait. Feel free to edit quotes as necessary.

TW: Swearing, threats, and suggestive references

"My fellow Caucasians astound us with their ingenuity yet again..."

"This is just an evil, evil thing to do with pasta..."

"No spaghetti for you, sir."

"I could be doing any number of things with my life, but I've chosen to share this moment with you...Don't you feel so special?"

"This feels very forbidden..."

"I don't know what this is but it's not fettucine!"

"I just scalded myself! That was uncomfortable..."

"To be clear...I would not feed this to a dog..."

"This esophagus is rated E for everything!"

"Aren't I a lucky little boy? Only 40% of these are broken!"

"Is this a complaint that I'm hearing? Spitters are quitters, [Name]."

"It's just you and me, [Name]. So...who's gonna union with you?"

"If there is a god, he has abandoned us for celestial milk and cigarettes."

"That looks like something that would leak out of an infected wound!"

"This looks like porridge was spilled on the floor of a gym locker room and left to ferment for forty days and forty nights!"

"Trying to boil Pringles to make mashed potatoes is like trying to send her flowers after she's already taken the kids."

"Hahahaha, that's really cute, how about you go fuck yourself?!"

"Being a dad seems pretty fun; All you have to do is sometimes remember their names and forget to pick them up from soccer practice. "

"Now, now, don't be hysterical, dear. This is a nearly painless procedure...For me anyways!"

"I have not been allowed around a glue gun since...The incident..."

"The caveman method usually works in my experience."

"Aw babe, your texture makes me wanna barf."

"Now the nice thing about turkey bacon is that you can eat it raw! I think..."

"This says it serves twenty four people...They haven't met me."

"Hello, Mr. [Last Name]. I'm here to pick up your daughter."

"Please don't call the police...I know this a weird use of my free time but it's technically not illegal."

"I'm about to give myself an accidental haircut..."

"Can I just call up a priest and have him waterboard me...?"

"Whoookay...This makes me want to join a nunnery."

"Who up praying with they rosary right now?"

"STOP FINGERING EVERYTHING! I AM A CHILD OF GOD!"

"Girl, what foundation is that?! Not a pore in sight!"

"[Name], honey. You're already slaying, you don't need to slay innocent civilians."

"Where did they find this child? The Victorian Era?!"

"ASAB: Assigned Sidekick at Birth. How unfortunate..."

"Who is giving these children access to deadly weapons?! Hello?!"

"The kids like thirteen. Just throw a Roblox gift card as hard as you can and run in the opposite direction."

"[Character Name] is dead, [Muse Name]! And you're worried about the fidelity of this game to it's source material?!"

"Paint a picture for us, [Name]! Don't hold back!"

"I would've bully the fuck outta this kid. And I did musical theater!"

"Where are people getting all this Tannerite?! I want some!"

"Is the cockroach infestation required or optional?"

"I'm being manipulated by a gothic aesthetic and common sense!"

"Yikes! Don't show that to your grandma!"

"That's my heart after the hot girl in my Com Sci class tells me that our star signs are incompatible!"

"I really wouldn't talk how other people look if your eyebrows can't agree on what timezone they're in."

"Is god really rockin' with you? Sinner..."

"Let me eat my oreos in peace goddamnit!"

"I'M GONNA START POWERWASHING THE CEILING!"

"You know what crybaby fumblefingers? At this point you owe me money. Hand over twenty, pretty boy!

"Why is she beckoning me ominously...?"

"That's because you've been selected for ritual sacrifice, [Name]. You know how they are this time of the month..."

"Do you have family, [Name]? Anyone you'd be particularly devastated to lose in a violent and sudden way?"

"You know what, [Name]? I'd probably punch you over a Hot Wheels too!"

"I see god's law not as a restriction...but a challenge!"

"I am deeply dissatisfied with my life choices and I am NOT afraid to make that your problem at five o' clock in the morning!"

"I hope one of your family members is in a car accident this week!"

"It's fucking terrible and I'm overcome by a desire to kill James Corden for some reason!"

"I'm sorry...Do you think mother earth is just lactating blue raspberry surprise, bitch?!"

[fabbyf1]

besties,

i was debating on whether to share this or not - because it's very personal and has nothing to do with this fandom - but i've always kept it real with you all, and i wanted to let you know why i'm going to be MIA for a bit.

my grandfather died unexpectedly in his sleep last night. he was pretty healthy, all things considered, so this came as a shock to all of us. on one hand, i'm glad he went peacefully and didn't have to suffer or spend ages in a hospital, but on the other hand, i wish we had some warning.

my grandparents raised me and my brother as if we were their own, and i spent more time at their house than i did in my own childhood home. i'm not close to either of my parents, but i never felt like i was alone growing up because of my wonderful grandparents.

they were there for me every time i needed them, or needed a parent, or needed someone to listen to me cry and whine about my teenage problems. they made me meals, and bought me my first guitar, and made me believe that nothing was ever out of reach. they taught me all of my life skills, gave me my sense of humor and potty mouth, and always encouraged me to do whatever i wanted to do.

my pop knew that i liked to write, and while he didn't quite understand what fanfiction was, he always asked me how my writing was going and if i had written the next great novel yet. he was always asking me how our family book was coming along (which is NOT being written) and liked to joke that i should title it "My Grandmother: A Pain In The Ass" just to rile my grandma up.

and it worked, every single time.

i don't ever plan on writing a book about his life, but we loved to talk about writing together. i'm not sure how he'd feel knowing that i wrote explicit gay fanfiction for the masses, but i'd like to think he'd get a good laugh out of it and tell me something like, "Well ain't that a fucking choice."

here's to you, pop. you wonderfully grumpy old man.

it's weird to think that my grandparents are gone now, when they had such an impact on my life. grief is weird, and sadness is weird, and i don't always know where to put it. when my grandma died a few years ago, i sat down and wrote vapor over the course of a few weeks. now... i'm not so sure what i'll do or where i'll put my grief. i guess I'll let you know when i figure it out.

for now, i'm going to be traveling home for the first time in years to say goodbye and see the house one last time before it's sold. i know a lot of you have sent a bunch of asks this weekend about what i'm working on, trying to inspire me to write, etc. and i wanted you to know that i wasn't ignoring you... life has just gotten in the way.

see you soon, fam.

[itendtothinkalot]

beomgyu!spiderman au (part 2)

summary: just a few scenarios of how it would be like having beomgyu!spiderman as ur bf

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader

words: 3.5

a/n: i wasn't done

warnings: danger! knives! guns!

part 1!

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The one who kept your little town safe, who swung through the streets like a silent guardian, leaving behind ripples of hope. The one who, despite the weight of a city on his shoulders, always stopped to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.

Just the other day, your grandma couldn’t stop talking about him.

“Oh, what a fine young man,” she said, eyes sparkling as she recounted the story for the third time. “He helped me cross the road and even carried my groceries all the way home!”

You had laughed softly then, a knowing kind of laugh. Because you knew the truth. You knew he wasn’t just helping some random sweet old lady—he had helped her because she was your grandma.

But the thought lingered longer than you expected. There was something deeply personal about knowing that Spider-Man, the hero everyone adored, was yours. That he went out of his way for the people you loved. That even in the midst of saving the world—or at least this small corner of it—he still remembered the little things.

It warmed your heart, but it ached too. How could one person carry so much? The city adored Spider-Man, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t see the bruises he came home with or the weight he carried in the slump of his shoulders when no one was watching. They didn’t hear the way his voice cracked when he confessed how hard it was to keep everyone safe—how much he wished he could do more.

“You’re doing fine,” you murmured against Beomgyu’s neck, your voice low, trying to be supportive.. “You have to stop thinking that you owe the world everything. You don’t, Gyu. You really don’t.” Your arms tightened around him slightly, hoping that this small gesture, this closeness, could carry what words couldn’t.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body held itself too tightly, like a coiled spring. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I almost got Soobin hurt the other day.”

You froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What?”

He wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind you, as though staring into some memory he couldn’t shake. “Someone was following me. I–I didn’t even know. I don’t know how I didn’t know, but I didn’t—”

“Don’t you have those tingles? Like, when something bad’s about to happen?” Your voice rose slightly, more out of disbelief than anger. “What’s it called again?”

“Spidey senses,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Right.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Which is why this freaked me out so much. They followed me. Back to school.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Our school?”

He sighed, his hand coming up to drag down his face. “It was the day of the test. I guess my anxiety just… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even realize they’d been trailing me until it was too late. And then…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought he might stop altogether.

“And then what, Gyu?” you pressed, your own heart racing now.

“Soobin,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was there. He was just…waving down to me, you know? Trying to make sure no one else saw me. But they did see him. They saw him.”

Your breath hitched as you imagined the scene. Soobin, his usual warm and carefree self, unknowingly stepping into danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“God, Gyu…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally looked at you then, his dark eyes full of guilt, fear, and something raw you couldn’t quite name.

“I can’t let that happen again,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I can’t let someone I care about get hurt because of me. Because of this.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “No one got hurt. Soobin’s fine. You’re fine. But, Gyu, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. You don’t have to. Please…”

He didn’t respond, but the way his hand clung to yours told you everything. For now, it would have to be enough. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over—not for him, not for either of you.

—

Beomgyu, the neighborhood’s ever-friendly superhero, had always been the happy-go-lucky guy at school—the one who cracked jokes even during exams and smiled at everyone in the halls. But lately, everything felt heavier. The shadows felt closer, and the weight of his secret life seemed to press down on him more than ever. No one really noticed the change, not at school, not in the streets where he swung between buildings. But he felt it.

Lost in thought, replaying every close call, every mistake, Beomgyu didn’t even notice the bird heading straight for him until—

“AUUUGH!”

The collision sent him tumbling through the air, momentum completely lost. He flailed helplessly before crashing down five levels and landing, with an undignified thud, in a dumpster.

“Dang,” he groaned, clutching his ribs as he tried to sit up. The stench was an assault on his senses, but at least the garbage had cushioned his fall. Small blessings, right?

He barely had a second to regain his bearings before he froze, realizing he wasn’t alone. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks. Guns peeked out from behind their backs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them muttered, staring down at the very superhero who had been tailing them for weeks.

Beomgyu blinked up at them, then sighed. “What a night,” he muttered before pulling on a smirk under his mask. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are we heading to some kind of costume party, fellas? I wasn’t invited—kind of hurtful, honestly.”

The guy on the left swore under his breath, visibly rattled as he yanked a gun from behind his back and aimed it at Beomgyu.

“Ooh, wrong move there, buddy.” Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. A second later, a sharp thwip echoed through the alley as his web shooter activated, yanking the gun from the man’s grip and sending it clattering to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Beomgyu swung up and ensnared the guy in a sticky cocoon of webbing.

“C’mon,” he teased, landing lightly on the ground. “We could’ve gone to the party together. I’ve got a killer mask, and I hear ski masks are making a comeback.”

“He’s fucking with us,” the second guy growled, pulling his gun and advancing.

Beomgyu tilted his head. “I mean, yeah. What’s the point of doing this gig if I can’t have a little fun?”

The second guy lunged, but Beomgyu was faster. Another flick of his wrist sent a web shooting out, pinning the man’s arm to the nearest wall. He struggled, growling like a trapped animal, but it was no use.

“Pro tip,” Beomgyu said, perching casually on a nearby railing. “If you’re going to pull off some shady back-alley operation, maybe avoid the guy who just fell out of the sky. Statistically, probably not your night.”

Both men glared daggers at him, though their predicament made it more comical than intimidating.

“Anyway,” Beomgyu continued, hopping down and dusting himself off, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have homework to procrastinate on, so…” He shot another web, this time connecting the two robbers together like a makeshift package. “Consider this a group bonding exercise. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

As the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the alley, Beomgyu gave them a mock salute before swinging away, muttering to himself.

“God, I need to start watching out for birds.”

—

Your head rested heavily on the table in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp doing little to soothe the mounting frustration. The math homework in front of you blurred together into incomprehensible scribbles. You groaned aloud. Where was your genius boyfriend when you needed him? He’d promised to help with at least half of these impossible questions.

A sharp knock on your apartment window jolted you upright, a scream escaping your lips. It wasn’t a small sound either—it was the full-on, “I’m being murdered” kind of scream. To be fair, you lived on the 14th floor, and unexpected visitors weren’t exactly common.

When you turned, your heart still racing, there he was. Red and blue spandex clinging to him like a second skin, mask slightly crooked, and an unapologetic grin plastered beneath it. You sighed, pressing a hand to your chest.

“Geez, Gyu,” you said, walking over to unlock the window. “You need to start giving me some warning. I could’ve died from a heart attack.”

He slipped inside with practiced ease, his suit slightly scuffed but still intact. “Sorry,” he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll work on my window etiquette.”

As he adjusted his gloves, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Y’know…” you began, leaning against your desk and giving him an exaggerated once-over, “I kinda get why girls like this whole superhero thing.”

“Oh?” he teased, pulling off one glove and flexing his fingers. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you can kinda see everything,” you said with a wicked grin, poking at the firm outline of his abs. “Like, literally everything.”

Beomgyu groaned, swatting your hand away. “Great. I gotta talk to Mr. Kang about some suit upgrades. Hopefully, that includes censorship.”

“Even from me?” you teased.

“Especially from you,” he quipped before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, his way of apologizing for being late.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I kinda swung into a bird, fell into a dumpster, and got two guys arrested. You know, just another Tuesday.”

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “You swung into a bird?”

“It’s a long story,” he laughed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Anyway, which page are you on?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, a bit sheepishly. “Still the second page.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Second? You’ve been at this for hours.”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Math isn’t exactly my strong suit. It’s yours.”

“Alright, alright.” He grinned, pulling out the chair beside you and plopping down with an exaggerated groan. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

As he adjusted himself to get comfortable, Beomgyu tugged at his mask, lifting it ever so slowly. Your eyes were glued to him, watching as the fabric revealed his face inch by inch. His messy, shaggy hair flopped into his eyes, the slight sheen of sweat only making him look more effortlessly perfect.

You hated to admit it, but every time Beomgyu pulled off that mask, something inside you… shifted. Maybe it was the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at you. Or the way his hair always seemed to look even better messy. Whatever it was, it made your heart do cartwheels.

He caught you staring, of course, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Nothing,” you lied, quickly turning back to your textbook. “Just… hurry up and help me before I fail this assignment.”

“Sure, sure.” Beomgyu chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “But you’re staring at me like I’m the homework you’re trying to solve.”

You flushed, shoving him lightly. “Shut up and teach me algebra, Spider-Boy.”

—

It had barely been ten minutes since school started, but the routine was already in full swing. You and Soobin had a well-rehearsed system for dealing with Beomgyu's inevitable late arrivals, thanks to his extracurricular Spider-Man responsibilities.

You called yourselves Team Spider-Man. It wasn’t a title you chose willingly, but you had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, being the newest member came with its fair share of grievances—like finding out Soobin had been in on the secret way before you.

“So, let me get this straight. This idiot knew before me?” you had demanded, months ago, glaring at both of them like they were the absolute bane of your existence.

“Well, I was at home waiting for him, and… my aunt let him in,” Beomgyu had explained with a wince. “I climbed on the ceiling, and he saw me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I wasn’t there?”

Needless to say, you weren’t over it.

Now, as you sat in class with Soobin, the two of you brainstorming yet another excuse for Beomgyu’s tardiness, the absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh. Almost.

“So,” Soobin began, tapping his pencil against his desk, “diarrhoea excuse? We haven’t used that one in a while.”

You shot him a look. “Seriously? He’s my boyfriend now, Soobin. My reputation is kind of on the line here too, you know.”

“Oh, please,” Soobin snorted. “As if anything could tarnish his already perfect reputation.”

You hated to admit it, but he had a point. Beomgyu wasn’t just well-liked—he was practically a school legend. Teachers adored him. Students gravitated toward him. Even the custodian always waved at him with a fond smile. It was infuriating. (You just didn’t want to admit that you had to share him with well, everyone else.)

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement outside the classroom window. There he was, crouched behind a tree in his unmistakable red and blue suit, though the white gym shirt thrown on top of it was… new.

Your phone buzzed.

Beomgyu: Friday, send message. You: What? Beomgyu: Don’t send message. Send message. Beomgyu: DAMN IT FRIDAY. Beomgyu: I mean send message—I forgot pants. I have no pants. Send message.

You stared at the screen, barely holding back a laugh.

You: You don’t have an extra pair of pants?

Soobin: Well, this does tie in nicely with the diarrhoea excuse.

You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

Beomgyu: Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying the teachers think I’ve had diarrhoea this whole time? Is that why Mrs. Lee asked if I was okay two nights ago at the store?

Soobin: That’s why Mrs. Lee probably bought you a whole bottle of Pedialyte. You: Just stay put. I’ll grab you some pants. Beomgyu: You’re the best. Also, don’t let Soobin talk to the teachers anymore.

You sighed, glancing at Soobin, who was now snickering into his notebook. Sometimes, being part of Team Spider-Man felt more like babysitting a group of overgrown toddlers.

—

The three of you were crammed into the corner booth of the diner you occasionally visited, the one with sticky menus and the best milkshakes in town. The warm hum of conversation and clatter of dishes filled the air, but none of it distracted you from Soobin’s next words.

“Hey,” Soobin started, far too casually, as he leaned back in his seat. “Isn’t that the guy you said was cute?” He gestured—not subtly—toward the waiter, the one you had offhandedly mentioned finding attractive months ago, long before Beomgyu was even a consideration in your love life.

Your heart dropped. “What?” You shot Soobin a warning look, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No, you definitely did!” Soobin grinned, ignoring the daggers you were shooting at him. “I remember it clearly because he was carrying that JJK keychain on his–”

“Choi Soobin.” Your voice was low, a deadly whisper, as you glared at him, teeth gritted.

Beomgyu, who had been happily sipping his milkshake until that very moment, set it down with deliberate slowness. His lips twitched, the kind of expression that meant trouble. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “So…” he drawled, voice teasing but edged with curiosity. “The waiter, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was before we started dating!” You said defensively, looking up at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “Way before. Ancient history. Irrelevant.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And where was I during all this?”

“How would I know?!” You threw your hands up.

Soobin, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned in conspiratorially, voice just low enough to sound like he was helping. “It was the day you were over at Mr. Kang’s office.”

Beomgyu’s brows shot up in mock realization, and you immediately regretted ever confiding in Soobin about anything.

“Mr. Kang’s office, huh?” Beomgyu repeated, turning his gaze back to you. “So while I was working on tech to save the city, you were out here scouting waiters?”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands again, your cheeks burning. “It wasn’t like that!”

Beomgyu smirked, reaching over to flick a fry at Soobin, who was now laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the booth. “Remind me to block this guy’s number,” Beomgyu teased.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind the menu.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his voice dropping low just for you, “I’m cuter.”

You peeked out from behind the menu, your lips twitching despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. “Debatable.”

—

Beomgyu was excited. It had been days—no, weeks—since he’d had time alone with you. Between school and his Spider-Man duties, quality time with you had become rare. Especially since Soobin was usually a third wheel, even on your study dates.

He swung through the city, doing a final sweep before heading to your house. “Well, isn’t Seoul just so safe today, all thanks to me,” he muttered to himself, breaking into a little moonwalk mid-swing.

But he spoke too soon.

A chilling scream echoed in his ears.

A scream too close to home.

A scream from near your apartment.

“BEOM–GYUAAA!”

His blood ran cold.

Without wasting another second, he swung towards the sound, heart pounding in his chest. As he neared, the scene came into view—you, clutching your bag, screaming as you struggled against a thief.

His heart dropped.

He never expected to see you in harm’s way. A wave of guilt and terror swept over him, gnawing at his insides. He felt terrible.

Beomgyu's heart raced as he swung toward the sound of your voice. The scream—your scream—kept echoing in his head, shaking him to his core. He'd handled countless situations like this before, but this was different. This was you.

The thief yanked at your bag, his grip tightening as you refused to let go. Beomgyu could see the fear in your eyes, even from a distance, and his blood boiled. But fear wasn’t an option now. He had to act quickly—and smartly.

Clinging to the side of the building just above the alleyway, Beomgyu scanned the situation. The thief was armed, a glinting knife in his free hand. Too close for comfort. One wrong move and—no, don’t think about that, he told himself.

“Hey, buddy,” Beomgyu called out, voice steady but sharp, “how about you pick on someone your own size?”

The thief froze, glancing around wildly until he spotted Beomgyu perched above him. “What the–”

Before the thief could finish, Beomgyu leapt down, landing behind him. His sudden appearance startled the man enough to loosen his grip on your bag. You took the chance to stumble back, clutching it tightly to your chest.

“Stay back,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself between you and the thief. “Unless you wanna find out how this web feels up your ass.”

The thief lunged with the knife, but Beomgyu was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, sticking the knife to the wall. The thief panicked, trying to run, but Beomgyu had already shot another web, trapping him against a lamppost.

“Okay, now you just hang tight, buddy” Beomgyu said, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Police will be here any minute. And by the way, knives? Seriously?”

With the danger neutralized, Beomgyu turned to you, his voice laced with worry, even through the mask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head, though your hands trembled, and tears pooled in your eyes as the adrenaline coursing through your body began to subside. “I-I’m fine,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed. He stepped closer, his gloved hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced by something tender. He leaned in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours.

You sniffled, a faint smile breaking through the tears as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure…you’re gonna kiss me in public, Mr. Spider-Man?”

Beomgyu froze, his masked face tilting in realization. “Oh. Right.” He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. “You’re safe, citizen! You may now go home!” he announced dramatically, his hands moving to his hips in mock superhero fashion.

“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you replied, unable to hold back your laughter, though your voice still wavered with lingering emotion.

Beomgyu winked—or at least you thought he did—before muttering under his breath as he turned to leave, “You're not gonna let this go, aren't you?

You shook your head.

-

part 1!