#yeah they’re all sitting there with five stars

[artyandink]

You should definitely do an imagine of Jensen's characters reacting to stretch marks!! I need that 😜😔

nature’s beauty

SUMMARY: You have stretch marks. How would the boys react to that?

TW: Body image, issues with stretch marks— but they’re normal girlies, I have them too, Jensen’s characters being normal about it cause yeah, mild angst, mild smut, mentions of sex, making out, spice

SONG INSPO: Golden Hour by JVKE, Scars to Your Beautiful by Alessia Cara

DEAN WINCHESTER

Dean kissed down your body, undoing your jeans and pushing them down. He had you on your back in his bed, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he marked your skin like the possessive son of a bitch he was, taking your panties with them. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous.”

Dean was the type of guy to hit on every girl he saw, but that’s cause he found them beautiful. Shape or size. Then he met you, and he kept coming back for more and eventually made you his girlfriend after being a charming son of a bitch instead. He normally kissed every dip and curve he found, but today, you pressed your thighs together.

Not in a sexy way. You’d closed your legs. That was a problem— were you ok? You weren’t hurt, right? Or maybe you were on your period, but he didn’t see a pad on your panties and your cycle would be coming way too early— better to ask you.

“You ok, sweetheart?” Dean asked you, lifting his head up and sitting back on his heels, and you were turned on by the sight of his freckled, muscled upper body but also scared he’d get turned off by seeing the stretch marks that had appeared on your stomach and upper thighs. Well, not so much appeared, but you figured you lost some weight.

You nodded, trying to not look at the very obvious stretch marks and play your crippling insecurity off at the same time. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But Dean’s eyes followed yours, and they landed on the stretch marks, and his thumbs immediately moved to trace them. “Darlin’, you can’t seriously think I’m gonna mind these.” Then he saw the embarrassed look on your face, and he kissed down your stretch marks, which surprised you. “God, I love ‘em. It’s nature, baby. Shows you’re a damn beautiful woman with damn beautiful normal things. And guess what?”

He climbed back up until your face was level with his, and he gave you a kiss that blew your mind, took your breath away. “You’ve earned yourself a first class, five star worshipping.”

Your eyes widened, knowing what that meant. “Wait, Dean—”

Your legs went over his shoulders, a wicked grin on his face. “Can’t have my gorgeous girl feelin’ insecure, hm? So you’re gonna feel good. All. Night. Long.”

BEN

You’d just come off the effects of giving birth, and man, when Ben realised that one, you had his kid and two, you were ready to get fucked into oblivion again, he was ecstatic. You’d had a baby girl, Austin, named after the city (“Austin? What the fuck kinda name is— wait, that’s actually perfect.”) and she quickly became a daddy’s girl, as Ben promised you she would as soon as he held the baby in his gigantic hands.

But then there came the problem of stretch marks.

Your belly had, in your words, ‘deflated’, but now you were left with the horror of stretch marks, which kind of made you think. What would Ben say? He loved his women ripe and pretty and perfect, what would he say if he saw those marks on your skin?

You found out when you were standing shirtless in your bedroom, inspecting the marks when Ben stepped in, and his libido fired up the moment he saw you standing with only your bra on. That’d be torn off in a few moments, he was sure.

“Hello, sexy mama.” He grinned wolfishly, stepping behind you, dropping his lips to your neck as his hands rubbed over the stomach that held his kid. “Don’t know about you, but I’m lookin’ to pamper my gorgeous wife and the mother of my kid. Gonna make you come so many times, I swear to God.”

But when you stopped his hand from going down the front of your pants, he raised his eyebrows. Not the time? Or… did someone hurt you?

“Sweetcheeks, did something happen?” He asked, his brow now furrowing. Ben was an impatient man. “I swear, baby girl, you tell the name of the motherfucker who hurt you and I’ll-”

“You don’t see them?” You asked in confusion, and his eyes travelled around the room and then back to you in mirrored emotion. See what? What the fuck was he supposed to see?

Ben chuckled, cupping your cheek. “Did you get into my weed? Are you high, gorgeous?”

“No, I’m not high.” You smiled despite yourself, and gestured down to your stomach, rubbing over the marks. “These. You don’t… see them? You don’t care?”

Ben scoffed, his hand resting over yours to stop them from moving. “Why the fuck should I care when this is proof that you carried our kid? Shit, darlin’, you did that for nine months. If anything, that’s a mark of a damn strong woman, and that? It turns me on. Gets me going.” A kiss to your neck. “Gets me rock hard.” Another kiss, pressing himself fully against your back so you could feel it. “Ain’t no life in which you won’t turn me on, babydoll.”

It brought a smile to your face.

“Now, you’re gonna sit pretty, and I’m gonna fuck this crap out of that gorgeous little head’a yours.”

Shit.

BEAU ARLEN

“H-Hey, Beau, c’mon, that tickles!” You were lying on your back on the bed, your shirt pushed up while Beau kissed over your stretch marks, beard tickling your skin while his hands held your hips in place.

But the Texan cowboy looked up with a shit-eating grin, pressing another kiss to another mark. “You’re the one who felt insecure about this, darlin’. I’ve gotta give it some good old Texan lovin’, so you brought this on yourself.”

He continued kissing over them, fingers tracing them while you couldn’t help but giggle and squirm, but also feel reassured. “Come on, handsome, I get the point.”

Beau still gave you an indignant look paired with a smirk— the stubborn bastard. “No can do, gorgeous. Can’t tear myself away from these. It’s like they’re magnetic.” He continued pressing kisses to them, chuckling under his breath.

His hands kneaded your hips, then rubbed comfortingly up and down your sides, humming at every press of his lips to your stretch marks as if he belonged there.

Beau kissed up your body, then nuzzled his nose against yours before pressing a slow kiss to your lips, covering your hand that came up to cup his cheek, your giggles dissolving into an identical hum. His lips were soft, and they felt like home. He was your home.

When he pulled back, Beau took your hand in his and pressed kisses to your knuckles this time, then every finger.

“I love every inch’a you, sugar.” He rumbled with a loving smile, brushing your hair out of your face. “Don’t you ever forget that, y’hear me?”

CJ BRAXTON

You and CJ were cuddling on the pull-out couch in your co-ed, your head tucked into the crook of his neck while his arms were around you like a koala. His hand rubbed up and down your side over your shirt, fingers lightly brushing your skin and tracing patterns.

It was no secret to anyone that CJ adored you so much it could give him a cavity with how sweet he was on you. He kept on looking down at you, a small smile on his face while he thought of how much of a lucky bastard he was.

His hand slipped under your shirt, not to initiate anything like sex but to just feel you closer, but his fingers brushed your stretch marks and he instantly felt your hand take his wrist, stopping him. That set him off into a world of worry.

“Woah, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, frowning as his eyes abandoned the movie, instantly locking on you. “Everything ok? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, it’s fine, just don’t wanna be touched there.” You murmured, kissing his cheek, but he didn’t believe that. His hand slowly lifted up your shirt, watching you for any signs of extreme discomfort, or even slight. But you didn’t stop him, so when he saw your stretch marks, he raised his eyebrows with a smile.

“Hey, there, beautiful.” He chuckled, rubbing his thumb over them. “Where have you been hiding?”

Wait, what? He didn’t mind?

“You don’t- you’re not grossed out, or you don’t hate them?” You asked, severely confused but hopeful. And slightly embarrassed that you immediately expected him to hate them.

CJ’s eyebrows raised to his hairline, and he kissed your forehead. “Being grossed out by these is like being grossed out when you get your period, and I love you even more when you’re on your period. I get to cuddle with you and love you. This right here just gives me an extra opportunity to show you how beautiful you are. These are normal. It’s a natural process, and I’m a nature guy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.” He grinned, kissing you briefly but sweetly, and it melted all your nerves. He was controversially perfect, you thought, and that made you love him even more.

Damn him.

“Thank you.” You sighed, cupping his cheek. He responded with a smile and kissed the inside of your wrist, rubbing the marks on your skin with a grin on your face.

CJ looked down to the stretch marks, kissing you deeply. “Don’t you ever think anything about you makes you less than.” He murmured against your lips, hand coming up to cup your chin.

ALEC MCDOWELL

Alec McDowell, a cocky-ass son of a bitch. He knew it, everyone knew it, and he did well to remind everyone of it whenever he opened his goddamn mouth. However, he was your cocky-ass son of a bitch, because he was your boyfriend.

As he was a transgenic and you were a human, he’d heard of stretch marks but never seen them on a person because transgenics didn’t have bodily imperfections. It was practically impossible. So when you opened up to him about your insecurities about them, well, he was more than willing to comfort you even if he was inwardly confused as fuck.

You were beautiful. What was this nonsense?

“I don’t see anything that ain’t beautiful, if that’s what you’re asking.” He shrugged, being a little shit and acting as if your stretch marks didn’t exist. “In fact, I see some gorgeous tiger stripes. Absolutely stunning.”

The comparison had you chucking a throw pillow to him, which he caught, obviously. “Alec!”

Alec gave you a grin, setting the pillow aside and catching another one. “What, you’re telling me those things don’t look like tiger stripes? Come on, dollface. Be entirely honest.” He pointed at the stretch marks with a sexy smirk that would’ve had your knees weak not for the situation. “Tiger. Stripes. Cause you’re fierce. Majestic.”

“You’re actually crazy.” Despite yourself, you were grinning like a lovesick idiot.

“Crazy for you, baby.” He replied with a wink, setting the pillow aside before reaching the bed with his advanced speed, beginning to kiss your neck. “Now, about that body of yours…”

JASON TEAGUE

“Wait- hold on for a moment.” Jason raised an eyebrow, pulling back from kissing you senseless on your bed. “You saying ‘I wanna show you something’ wasn’t code for sex? Baby, we gotta make signals more clear.”

You lifted your shirt, showing Jason the marks around your stomach. His eyebrows raised slightly at them, and you bit your lip. “Is this ok with you?”

Is this ok?

Is this ok?

“Should it not be?” He raised his eyebrow with a small smile. “I’m not fazed by these, sweetheart. In fact, the fact that you have normal bodily reactions, that makes you more gorgeous to me. In fact, the knowledge that you breathe turns me on, because it’s normal.” You could practically taste the amusement in his words, and you swatted his shoulder with a laugh.

“Alright, I get it.” You pouted, and he let out a small ‘aww’ and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your temple. “I get it.”

Jason hummed, cupping your chin so he could turn it for a slow kiss. “Look, I’m gonna revert back to… seventh grade. I think. And I have no shame in it, especially not when I say that I think you’re really pretty. And I think you’re smart, and funny, and you have a killer body - that’s not seventh grade - but my point is that nothing about that bothers me. Ok? So don’t let it bother you, I don’t love you any less.”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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@cheynovak

[msmk11]

Hiii!! I love your work so much and was wondering if you could do a poly marauders (and lily) x hufflepuff coded fem reader comfort fic 💛 maybe they are just having a bad day, being insecure and everyone tries there best to comfort her? thankyou (even if you decide not to)

Omg hi lovely! Thank you so much for the request. This is actually my first ever and I’m so excited and happy to write it for you! I hope it lives up to your standards - MK <3

Just Hold Me For Awhile

——————————————————————————

Poly!Marauders + Lily x fem!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Cw: low self-esteem, hurt/comfort, sad/anxious reader

A/n: Baby’s first request! Ngl I rewrote this like three times, but now it finally feels genuine and I’m very happy with it. I hope you all enjoy :)

There is no evidence to confirm your fears besides the incessant voice inside your head.

You’re not good enough.

You’re not smart enough.

You’re not funny enough.

You’re not pretty enough.

Eventually, they’re all going to leave you.

You are going to end up alone.

Deep down, you know none of these things are true. But reason is no match for your anxiety and the extraordinariness of each of your partners.

James- best Gryffindor chaser the team has had

in years.

Lily- number one in your class.

Remus- Casanova of Gryffindor tower.

Sirius- absolutely fearless in the face of adversity.

You- the ordinary Hufflepuff who just got lucky.

It consistently amazes you that you ended up in a relationship with these four bold, well-known, and well-liked Gryffindors. They all love you so much and you feel grateful that you get to love and be loved by them everyday.

But no matter how much love and care they give you, it cannot entirely soothe the deep-rooted feeling of inadequacy lurking within. You can’t help but sometimes feel out of place in your own relationship- not because your partners exclude you, but rather because your obvious ordinariness situates you outside their circular of extraordinariness.

It’s a feeling that’s lingered since the four first showed interest in you, but recently it’s been possessing you tenfold.

All these thoughts are racing around in your head as you sit at the foot of Sirius’ bed in the boys’ dormitory. Peter is off on a date, leaving you five with some much needed alone time. The moment is serene, with Sirius painting your nails a soft green, Lily braiding Sirius’ hair out of his face, Remus dangling over the edge talking to you three, and James on top of him, massaging his back.

The four are talking about some recent Hogwarts drama, so you’ve sort of zoned out of the conversation, only adding in commentary here or there.

“I mean, I’m so glad Pandora hexed him,” Lily says, “he totally deserved it.”

“I just never would’ve pinned her as the type of person to hex someone, with the way she’s so soft spoken and all,” Sirius replies.

“She does hang out with your brother and Junior though,” Remus reminds him.

“And Evan is her brother,” James adds with a laugh, “it’s in her blood. I just wish I could’ve seen Mulciber’s face.”

“It probably looked as dumb and stupid as always, if not more so,” Sirius jokes.

Everyone busts out laughing and you faintly chuckle through your anxiety-induced brain fog.

Someone taps the side of your cheek.

“Doll, you there?”

You jolt out of your trance and look at Sirius, “hmm? Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted anything else done to your nails.”

You briefly glance down at your perfectly manicured nails, “oh, uh, yeah. Perfect as always, my star.”

Remus reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “are you okay, dove? I feel like you’ve been awfully quiet today.”

You smile a little and wave him off, “oh yeah, fine. Just tired, Moons.”

“Wanna come take a nap, angel?” James asks sweetly, opening his arms.

Though you’re not actually that tired, it’s mainly just an excuse, you can’t pass up the offer from your cuddliest of boyfriends. You peck Sirius’ cheek as a thank you for doing your nails and then crawl onto James’ lap. You situate your head on his chest and curl up as he wraps his arms around you. His musky cologne eases the knots in your stomach a little and you try to focus on the steady beat of his heart.

“Better?” he mumbles into your hair.

You quietly hum in confirmation.

You keep your eyes closed all cuddled up with James as you listen to your partners quietly chat. Within minutes of your getting settled you sense movement on the bed. Remus shifts upwards to lay next to you and James- you can tell from the sudden increase in body heat- and you feel Sirius and Lily lay down at your feet.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of rough lips- Remus’ lips- against your forehead. Though he thinks you’re asleep, you hear him whisper, “get some rest, my sweet girl.”

Someone’s head falls on your knee and then you hear Lily’s voice, “she’s so pretty when she sleeps, isn’t she? All soft and peaceful.”

You recognize Sirius’ habitual stroking of your leg with his thumb as he adds, “I didn’t think she could get any softer or sweeter, but here we are.”

“Our angel,” James coos.

Though you suppose most would feel pretty lucky to hear these things about themselves, they only make you feel worse.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself for having four wonderful, caring, and loving partners, and you can’t even appreciate them because of your own self-loathing. You despise this nasty habit of self-sabotage, but you’re not sure how to break it.

As you lay there and listen to them say such nice things about you, you feel a lump grow in your throat and hot tears spring to your eyes. The tightness in your chest is near painful, and you need some relief.

You try to shift just the slightest- as if you’re just moving around in your sleep- to bury your head in James’ chest, out of everyone’s eyesight.

But once you let one tear drop, a whole rainstorm comes. You try and keep your sobs and sniffling quiet, but your hot, wet tears give you away to James.

“Angel?” James asks worriedly. He pulls you away from his chest to look at your face and sees the snotty, tear-stained mess you’ve become.

“Dove,” Remus pleads worriedly, “what’s wrong? What’s happened.”

Your sobs are too strong for you to respond and you can only shrug your shoulders. Your eyes are blinded by tears and you can’t see their faces, but you know they’re filled with concern and worry. To make them worry like this only causes you to cry harder.

You’re not really aware of what’s happening around you. All you know is one minute your in James’ arms, and the next in Sirius’. Sirius strokes your hair away from your face and holds you in his lap like a baby. He rocks you back and forth quietly, not saying anything at all.

It’s nice, not having to say anything and just crying. Even if you had the ability to speak through your tears, you don’t know that you could. There’s no easy way to describe your feelings of inadequacy, and no amount of ‘talking it out’ could ever just solve the problem either. So you just cry. Cry because you’re angry that you feel this way. Cry because you’re sad. Cry because you’re tired. Tired of not feeling like you’re ever enough. And you cry just because you can. Because you know that your partners will be there for you for as long as you need to cry.

And when the sobs finally quiet to a hiccup here or there, you appreciate that they give you silence to breathe and just process everything.

Lily stands and wanders off, coming back with a glass of water that she presses into your hands. You sip it gently before James takes it from you and sets it on the nightstand. Remus goes and grabs a hot washcloth, wiping your face oh so gently with a soft look in his brown eyes. Sirius hands you back to James- your most tactile partner- and settles again at your feet.

Then, with the most quiet and tender voice, Sirius asks you only one thing, “What do you need from us?”

“Just hold me for awhile.”

And so, like many days before, and hopefully every day after, you five pile into bed, reveling in each other’s warmth and security.

As you lay surrounded by your lovers, you know that even though those same lousy feelings continue to reside inside of you, you will figure it out. And when you’re ready to talk, or rant, or cry some more, your partners will be there.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ COMING DOWN kim chaewon x reader

↳ warnings wow!yn, slight smoking, chaewon is down bad that’s all, listening to coming down by the weekend fits the vibe wow!kim chaewon x wow!yn i suggest you read my other wow fics before this one they’re in my masterlist <3

the sound of rain and soft music filled the room setting a calming mood for the five girls in the room, like always the found their way in the girls room, it had a way of always setting the mood.

yujin had her face stuck in her phone as she laid in yn’s bed like always, while the other girls camped out on the floor.

rei drew on one of yn’s converse that she found in her room singing softly to the lyrics along with yn who sang along as well as she practically laid on top of the other girls, her head on wonyoung’s lap and her legs resting on jiwon’s thighs.

yn groaned as she stretched out her bedding causing her shirt to rise up revealing her star tattoo on her hip line causing wonyoung to gasp and bring her fingers to the girls lower front on top of the stars.

“when did you get this!?” she asked in shock causing yn to laugh.

“feeling me up like this? I knew you were in love with me.” she teased causing wonyoung to roll her eyes and remove her hands from yn and to the girls hair tugging it slightly.

“ow!”

“I got like a month ago, I brought jiwon with me.” yn says her face pinched up from wonyoung’s tug.

rei looked up from yn’s shoe in offence, “but I’m your tattoo buddy.” she whines.

“sorry dude.” yn said as she leaned up from wonyoung’s lap and leaned forward towards jiwon, “i just love how concerned she gets when it’s finished .” yn says closely to jiwon’s ear causing the other girls face to heat up, “it’s cute.”

wonyoyng rolled her eyes and tugged yn back down into her lap, “you need to lay off the tattoos, you keep giving our managers a heart attack.” she says flicking the girls forehead.

“that’s what I've been saying!” yujin says from the bed, “but you guys make it seem like I’m being this crazy leader.”

“cause you are babe.” yn says opening her mouth to bite wonyoung’s finger causing the girl to shriek.

“that was gross!”

“there’s people in the world that would kill for me to bite their finger, consider yourself lucky.” yn teases wonyoung who can’t help but laugh at the girls comment.

silence fills the room again, only the sound of music and rain being heard before rei speaks again.

“yn are you going again tonight?”

“yeah probably,”

yujin sits up and looks at yn with concern, “going where?”

before yn could respond rei cuts in, “her little hide out.” she giggles, “yn found this abandoned shed looking place and her and her step dad have been working on it for months now, she didn’t tell you?”

“no.” yujin said offended looking down at yn who looked at her unapologetically while playing nudging jiwon with her leg who had most definitely spaced out.

“sorry dude, but you would have definitely stoped me from working on it.” yn shrugs.

yujin mouth drops , “I-I would not!” she looks at wonyoung for help but the girl only sends her a shrug.

“yn’s kinda right,” wonyoung says ignoring yn’s cocky smile, “but hey, it looks pretty cool, there’s like stars everywhere.”

“you’ve been!”

“yeah, we all have.” rei replies.

“I feel so offended right now, what the hell.”

“sorry love,” yn says to the girl, but she didn’t sound sorry, “I’ll take you next time.” she says getting up from the ground and stretching, she smiles at yujin who only glares at her.

“alright, everyone out of my room, I’m heading out.” the girls groan in response, they always loved the vibe of yn’s room, it was comforting and calming.

they all walked out the room while yn grabbed her phone and keys and followed closely behind them and towards the front door.

“be back before midnight!” yujin yells after the girl

“I’ll think about it!”

✮✮

yn loved the calming sensation she felt whenever she was there, she loved the smell of the incense that her little sister and her group member hanni brought for her to put there, she loved the glow in the dark stars that covered the ceiling, she loved the huge star rug that her step dad told her to put on the cold floor,

she just loved how comfy the place was overall, it felt like her, she felt comfortable, she felt happy with the silence that she could wrap herself with when she there, only the sound of music and rain filling her senses.

she blew the smoke out of her mouth as she laid on the gigantic bean bag that yunjin got for her to put in this place, she doesn’t smoke much, only when she’s with aeri but today just felt like the right time to do it, aeri would probably kill yn if she found out she was doing this without her.

the sound of the soothing music almost putting her to sleep but the sound of her phone going off interrupts her peace.

speaking of yunjin.

9:45 pm jenbaby bro chaewon has been on edge😭

9:45 pm jenbaby she’s acc stressing all of us out she needs to get out of here

9:46 pm jenbaby i have great idea 😁 call her pls that will definitely take her mind off of torturing us if ur torturing her

the things I’ll do for you huh yunjin.

yn slides through her contacts and finds chaewon number, she never really called the girl, only when she was helping her out with her performance, which she had a lot of fun doing cause if there was one thing yn loved it was messing with kim chaewon.

the phone rang for a while and on its last ring is when it was answered.

“hello.”

“hey chaewon ,” yn said looking at the glowing stars on the ceiling, she smiled when she could practically hear chaewon freaking out on the other line, “you free?”

“huh?”

“you heard me, let’s hang out, I’ll send you my location if you’re willing to come in the rain.”

“sure!” chaewon responds a bit to quickly causing yn to quietly chuckle.

“okay, I’ll send you the location, don’t leave me waiting.”

“of course not.” yn couldn’t help but smile at how cute the girl sounded, this was the person who was driving yunjin up the walls?

✮✮

it took kim chaewon under 20 minutes to get to yn’s small hide out.

when she saw yn calling her she didn’t know what to expect.

but she definitely didn’t expect yn to invite her to a very sketchy looking shed.

but when yn opened the door, there was nothing sketchy about it, it looked cosy, it looked homey and it looked like yn.

“hey chae,” yn said closing the door while chaewon walked, chaewon couldn’t help my smile at the girl’s nickname.

“hey..” she trailed off taking off the hood of her sweater, “this place is cool.”

“so cool right?” yn said guiding the girl to the area where she was laying down earlier, “so glad I found it.”

“go settled down.” yn said gesturing for the girl to sit on the big bean bag, “I’m gonna get a blanket.”

chaewon hesitantly sat on the overly large bean bag and tried her best to relax, trying her best to ignore that she’s alone with her crush again.

when yn came back she tossed chaewon a large blanket that had black and white stars all over it, before sitting beside the girl on the bean bag.

chaewon tensed at his close yn was to her, smelt amazing, the last time she was this close to yn, was when yn helped her practice for her stage.

just thinking back to that day had her face heating up.

“so…” she trailed off, “how come you invited me and not yunjin or something?”

“a little birdie told me that you need some cooling down and I just knew I was the right person to do it.”

chaewon face heated up in embarrassment, it was true she did need some cooling down.

“wanna talk about it? I’m like the least judgemental person ever.”

chaewon relaxed her body a little and looked down in her lap, “I’ve just been stressed lately, being a leader is hard, you always have to be strong you know.”

yn just hums in response indicating that’s she’s listening.

“and because I’m embarrassed to cry out of stressfulness, I guess I tend to make everyone else stressed as well, it probably drives everyone crazy no wonder they called you.” she laughs embarrassed.

“honestly it’s understandable.”

chaewon snaps her head to look at yn who laid on her back on the bean bag looking up at the glowing stars, “really?”

“hell yeah, I see it with yujin all the time.”

“I can’t believe me and yujin are going through the same thing, that’s so surreal to me.”

“better believe it,” yn says bringing her hands behind her head, “with all that responsibility it’s bound to get you worked up, I honestly find it impressive.”

“really?”

“yeah, I could never be a leader I’m way too unstable for that,” yn jokes(?) making chaewon let out a small chuckle.

“form the stories I hear from wonyoung, yunjin and yujin you do seem pretty unstable.” she laughs.

“and the ladies love it.”

“oh, shut up.”

“just the facts.”

her and yn talked for a while after that, she really was cooling down, she liked how it felt hanging out with yn, it felt right.

“enough about that, im curious about why you found this place?”

chaewon was starting to get comfortable, even laying down just like how yn was, she was just easy to talk to, even though she will always have that nervous feeling in her chest, yn really knows how to calm a person down.

“I’m a person who needs. to be alone sometimes,” yn says turning on her side to look at chaewon who does the same, “there’s only so much of noise I can take,”

“I went on a midnight walk, most of the time I walk with wonyoung but she was in paris, and I came across this place, it caught my attention because it had a spray painted star on it.”

“of course that was the reason.”

“yeah and during that time a lot was on my mind, their always is but more this time and all i could think about was how I would kill for a place to just have to myself so I can be alone for a little.”

“it looks like the universe really was looking out for you.” chaewon said her face heating up in the dark when she saw yn’s smile from the only light source, the glow in the dark stars that light up the dark room.

“it did, and it had a spray painted star on it, like come on it was meant for me, so I called my step dad about it and her immediately agreed to help me with it.”

“you’ve got a pretty cool step dad.” chaewon said amused at how passionate yn sounded talking about this place, it was cute.

“yeah,”

“it’s cute that you and him worked on this together.” chaewon said feeling a bit bold.

“you’re cute.”

chaewon smiled bashfully while yn brushed her bangs out of her face as the faced each other.

“I think you’re pretty cute too.” she didn’t know where this confidence was coming from.

“oh really?”

“yeah.”

the both started at each other and chaewon felt like she was getting dejavu as her eyes flickered to the lips, this felt exactly like how it felt when yn was helping her practice for her stage.

she hasn’t been able to get the feeling off her mind.

and here it is again, but this time she felt like digging further into it.

her leaned her face closer to yn’s, bringing her hand to the side of the girls neck pulling her closer.

yn carefully moved her hand to chaewon’s waist, leaning her face closer as well.

it felt like forever until chaewon gently pushed her lips onto yn’s.

she felt yns free hand wrap around her lower back and pull her up so she’s sitting on yn’s lower waist as she kissed her back.

this was a feeling she had never felt before, it felt amazing.

she knew who yn was, and she knew this wasn’t happily ever after just yet.

but for now she’s just gonna bask in the feeling.

[izurou]

“kats, you’re worse than i thought.”

this is the third weekend in a row that katsuki has gotten stuck with an overnight patrol—a gruelling twelve hours that starts friday evening at seven, and ends the following morning, at seven.

but, it’s just past five am—the sun is desperately trying to rise somewhere off in the distance, and you’re sitting beside your boyfriend, who is face down in bed—a little out of it, and in a lot of pain.

“how bad?” he mumbles, referring to his back—the spot that clearly took the brunt of whatever, or whoever it was that cut his night short.

you don’t ask for details. it doesn’t matter how he got here, just that he is here—that he would come back home after presumably being relieved of his duties by another hero from the agency, choosing to skip proper medical care altogether.

he’s earned himself a scolding for that little stunt, but it’ll have to wait. for now, your job is simple—do what you can to take his mind off of the ache pulsing up his spine.

“like, borderline slut, i would say.”

do whatever you can, to take his mind off of it.

“huh?” he cranes his neck to look at you, wincing as he moves, and through the dull orange hue of the candle sitting on your bedside table, you see his brows furrow, and his nose scrunch up.

he hit his head too hard, he must’ve.

“i’m serious, baby. you have one, two, three,” you start gently placing your finger over various spots on his back—stifling a laugh when you catch him staring at you, dumbfounded. “nine, ten, eleven.”

he tries to peer over his shoulder, but is quickly humbled by the persistent throb radiating from just above the waistband of his boxers.

“fuck,” he mutters, shoving his face back into his pillow with a groan. carefully, you run your fingers through his hair, and he turns his head to the side—peering up at you through tired eyes. “eleven?”

“eleven! and that’s just on your back,” you smile, and he knows you a little too well—he recognizes the glint of mischief behind your eyes too easily.

“the hell are you talking about?” he asks.

“look, you have one,” you pause and place your finger on his forearm, right next to a pigmented little circle—a beauty mark. “here, too.”

his gaze shifts back and forth between you and where you’re pointing, but he just can’t seem to connect his own dots.

“they’re places where your lover used to kiss you most often,” you explain as you lay down beside him. “you know, in all your past lives.”

oh, and because he has eleven on his back, he’s teetering on the edge of promiscuity? that has to be one of the single most ridiculous things he’s ever heard—and he spent three years at ua with kirishima and kaminari. but, it’s coming from you—so he finds it endearing all the same.

what a sweet way of seeing things, how very you.

“you made that up,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as sleep threatens to swallow him whole.

“did not,” you insist, “i mean, look at izuku.”

katsuki simply snorts in response before shuffling around—bearing the intense pain as he rolls onto his back and motions for you to snuggle into him, because it’d hurt more to not have you close.

at least, that’s what he’d say if he was a romantic—someone who’s beauty mark numbers are in the single digits.

“how many lovers do you think he’s had?” you hum, running a hand across katsuki’s chest in a soothing motion.

“none.”

“oh? two hundred you say?”

he sighs this time, muttering a shaddup under his breath as he allows his eyes to close once more. he’d like to leave it at that and drift off into dream world, but you follow up with a sentence that makes his heart flutter.

“don’t worry kats, none of them were me,” you laugh, like music to his ears—his favourite song. he can’t help the boyish grin that creeps onto his lips, and he thanks his lucky stars that you aren’t looking.

though your words make him wonder, if you were ever his in a past life—maybe you’ve always been his. yeah, he likes the sound of that, even if it is the single most ridiculous thought he’s ever had—it’s you, so he’ll think of it forever.

“good,” he says—feeling your weight shift a little, and when he opens his eyes, you’re there.

you’re close, inches away from his face, and you get even closer—pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, one that seemingly numbs him from the inside out, taking away his pain for that brief moment.

and as you both settle back down—snug in each other’s arms, he thinks he can finally fall victim to his drowsiness.

but you have one last burning question.

“baby, do i have permission to count izuku’s?”

“not even in your next fuckin’ life.”

[pshbites]

LOVE ON AiR: 29. YAP CENTRAL EP.137: has love lost its meaning?

WARNiNGS » profanity, ynhoon flirting, talks of love, drinking, yap central x round table realness, food, oh yeah and not proofread

wc: 3.7k

episode desc - beep beep! welcome back to another episode of yap central, today we are joined by a special guest, round table!! in todays episode we start off very light hearted and talk about the difference between a girl doing a thirst trap and a guy doing a thirst trap (there’s a lot) then we get a bit deeper and talk about love in this new generation and if it’s truly lost its meaning. to end the episode off we talk about our icks in FRIENDSHIPs. hope you enjoyed your stay with us today, till next time!

*the typical group is sat in the room, this time with four more mics and two big two seater couches. there’s clearly some empty space while they wait to invite their guests in. jungwon adjusts the sound board. everyone is dressed casually instead of a themed outfit. some of them are on their phones while riki and kat are talking about something that the mic can’t pic up.*

jungwon: hey can someone test out one of those mics, i just need to check. 

yn: i got it *you get up from your seat and walk over to one of the couches, taking a seat and speaking into the mic*

jungwon: okay great 

giselle: oh they just texted that they’re here 

yn: oh fun! *you stand up, sitting back down in your original seat.*

sunoo: oh i hear footsteps 

kat: i think [BLEEP] is stomping- oh no i said his name 

*the five of you groan, giselle shaking her head knowing she’ll have to edit it*

jungwon: you know you can come in right! *jungwon laughs at his stance as he waits at the door, peeping in then fully opening it revealing jay, jake, heeseung and sunghoon coming in one by one. they’re laughing as they sit. heeseung and sunghoon sit at the couch closest to yn and jake and jay sit at the couch closest to jungwon.* 

heeseung: cannot believe people thought the special guest was blackpink

riki: maybe that would’ve been better than you grandpa 

*heeseung gasps, causing a chain reaction of laughter to emerge from the group.*

jay: see i told you guys, he wouldn’t last a minute without making a heeseung old joke

sunoo: he barely could in the group chat. 

giselle: it’s okay you’re not insanely old. well i mean you are but 

heeseung: gee thanks..

giselle: anytime!

jake: who’s hosting today? *he looks around to the six of you*

kat: i actually am, should i sign us in? if everyone is good

jungwon: take it away

sunghoon: we’re also all good here

kat: beep beep you’ve arrived in yap central and i am your host for today kat, to my left we have..

riki: riki

yn: yn *you wave to the camera, sunghoon smiles at you softly*

sunghoon: uhh sunghoon 

heeseung: heeseung!!

jake: jake

jay: jay

jungwon: jungwon *he makes a peace sign at the camera, riki meows*

giselle: giselle

sunoo: and sunoo! 

kat: obviously if you can’t tell we are joined by round table today, our surprise guests

sunghoon: and we are not blackpink, as much as jake would like us to be

jake: i’m just saying if we did a cover of shut down it would EAT you have to see the vision

sunoo: none of you can pull off mother like jisoo can. 

jay: okay let’s be serious the real star of that group is jennie 

kat: rude, lisa is so iconic. money?? lalisa? rockstar?? NEW WOMAN?

jay: you’ve made your point *he rolls his eyes earning a smirk from kat, sitting back satisfied*

yn: i think they all shine in their own way

sunghoon: i think we can ALL sing

*everyone laughs, including you. sunghoon glances at you as if for approval and smiled, laughing along with you*

kat: okay! first question! what are some differences between a guy and a girl doing a thirst trap 

*heeseung snorts, causing sunghoon to side eye him. it was unspoken between them but he knew what he was laughing at*

jungwon: first of all when a guy does it it’s just a bit icky 

yn: okay well since there’s a majority of men here, raise your hand if you’ve thirst trapped 

*jungwon and riki raise their hands first. then followed by jake and heeseung. you look to sunghoon who simply smiles at you*

sunghoon: what?

yn: come on raise your hand hoon

sunghoon: don’t know what you’re talking about 

yn: you’re gonna do this? here? 

*kat and sunoo make eyes at each other then look to you two*

sunghoon: i don’t think ive ever thirst trapped 

*you rolled your eyes and leaned over, grabbing his hand and raising it high.*

yn: thank you, now what my point is that every man thirst traps, but it’s how you do it that’s different 

jungwon: to defend myself it was in highschool 

giselle: see anything a man does i automatically hate so you’re asking the wrong person

jake: im not gonna lie ive seen some men pull off a sexy thirst trap 

*riki furrows his brows at his sentence and the two of you make eye contact, bursting out laughing*

jake: okay im sensing im being made fun of 

jay: surprised your spidey sense are working

jake: can you not?? 

sunoo: i sort of agree with jake but not in that weird way he put it, like some guys can pull off a thirst trap

giselle: i think what icks me out is like guys intentions behind the thirst traps 

heeseung: some guys are very weird with it 

riki: girls aren’t really safe from that either 

yn: no i agree, but guys are more guilty of it 

kat: well now hold on. everyone here has thirst trapped and you’ve done it for reasons that are weird, that’s normal 

giselle: can i simply hate on a man in peace?

sunoo: girl fuck you

jungwon: i think unanimously it’s decided that some guys go about thirst traps weirdly 

kat: i agree with that actually 

riki: guys are just weird as fuck sometimes 

yn: the funniest ones are the ones on tiktok where it’s like #04 #latino #fyp 

kat: those get me everytime 

heeseung: it’s so corny because you know they watched it back and were like “this is the one”

jay: ladies gon loveeeee this

*the group laughs at heeseung and jays back to back joke, the two of them fist bumping*

giselle: i just personally think when a girl thirst traps its so much more elegant 

jake: you act like girls can’t do it in a weird way either

yn: they can but most of the time man make it weird 

sunoo: they both have valid points 

heeseung: i support women’s rights.. but more importantly i support woman’s wrongs 

*jay glances at heeseung then bursts out laughing, riki following along as the rest of you broke into laughter*

kat: oh my god when he said i hate periods in the group chat that got me 

heeseung: i felt bad!!!

sunghoon: what gets me is he texted our group chat a couple hours after saying he was embarrassed

riki: because he’s old?

heeseung: only four years bro

riki: one foot in the grave too grand pappy 

*sunoo and giselle attempt to hold back their laughter but fail when jake looks at them and laughs along*

yn: you’re never letting him rest 

riki: the other three fools are next your [BLEEP] isn’t safe either

*giselle laughs as you slap riki’s arm and sunghoon giggles slightly. it wasn’t very hard to tell what was bleeped out*

kat: so next question i take it?

yn: please before i kill him

riki: don’t threaten me with a good time

jake: this kid is funny as fuck *spoken in between laughs*

kat: so as we’re all well aware there’s a new generation after gen z, my question is how does this day and age affect love and has love lost its meaning since maybe shakespeare era?

riki: heeseung would know

heeseung: now this is bullying

jungwon: *he rolls his eyes at riki then looks to kat to gesture her to continue talking*

kat: *she nods and closes her phone* what i mean is that do you think that love now and love back then is different. like do you think you could find a jane austen love in a 2024 relationship?

sunoo: i mean ive never been in love so i couldn’t tell you 

riki: same 

kat: okay then a show of hands who has been in love. 

*everyone except jake, riki, and sunoo raise their hands*

kat: then you guys who raised their hands, do you think it was true love or do you think you conditioned yourself into thinking it was. 

sunghoon: me personally i don’t think i was ever truly in love, it sounds bad but i think i sort of said it because i was obligated to? like i felt like i couldn’t be in a real relationship without saying that we were in love. 

heeseung: it’s kind of the opposite for me.. i was in love with her like i can say we were in love. 

jungwon: in sunghoons case i can see what kat means. i think some people don’t know what love is anymore. 

giselle: it’s so conditioned in people��s heads that love has to be this bond that can never be broken and just everlasting but sometimes it really isn’t like that. love is hard to overcome and some couples never make it to that stage no matter how long they’ve been together 

sunoo: that was poetic giselle *he smiles at her softly causing her to smile and nod as well*

jake: can i be honest? i feel like ill never fall in love. 

jungwon: cmon don’t say that 

kat: i promise it’ll come towards you when you least expect it. 

jake: it’s not like im incapable of love, i just think that it’s hard to realize if it’s just love or something else? i’ve been in relationships but i guess i never got to feel that 

jay: it’s hard to pinpoint like i really couldn’t tell you. 

heeseung: love is like.. that inescapable feeling you have with someone. it’s sometimes left unspoken, kinda just a sigh from them and you can tell how they’re feeling. 

giselle: it’s the little things as corny as it sounds, it doesn’t even have to be romantic sometimes but you could feel like comfort with them. 

*whilst heeseung and giselle talk, sunghoons looking at you. it seems a million thoughts are going through his head and he looks down at his hands, then to you again. there’s this look in eyes, admiration? hard to pinpoint. riki’s eyes shift between you and sunghoon and he smiles at how he looks at you. he then looks away*

yn: bottom line is, no matter how much you feel like you’ll never experience love you will and it’ll be so worth the wait. 

jake: thanks guys, i kinda needed to hear that. 

riki: i still wanna experience a shakespeare or jane austen kind of love

sunoo: okay look at you not being mysterious. 

*riki rolls his eyes and smiles softly* 

yn: as much as people want to say that love back then was dramatized i don’t think it was. i would want someone to fight for my love, to overcome every obstacle thrown at us and be equally as in love with me as i am with them 

kat: i agree, i mean we’ve talked about how unequal love just never works out. 

jay: recipe for disaster, i think shakespearean love is beautiful. 

giselle: it’s not even the picture perfect representation of love but it shows how far people are willing to go for someone they feel so true to. 

sunghoon: is it weird to say i’m almost.. jealous of it? 

jungwon: no, not at all. i mean i am too 

sunoo: i am too honestly, it’s kind of one of those things that keeps me up at night 

jake: i would give a lot up to experience a kind of love like that 

yn: i think anyone would 

*there was a silence amongst the group, a couple of you made eye contact and started laughing.*

heeseung: i didn’t know what else to say

jay: i kinda need to use the bathroom… *sunghoon glances his way only to laugh at him*

kat: that is perfect because i was gonna announce a break anyways 

sunoo: i was gonna go get water jay so ill show you where the bathroom is

*both jay and sunoo get up, pushing their mics out of the way so they can go*

giselle: wait can you get me my red bull sunoo! *sunoo gives her a thumbs up as they both leave the room, talking about something that the mics can’t pick up*

jake: wait you guys have red bull

jungwon: we have a lot, do you want something i can text sunoo

jake: no no it’s okay *its clear on his face that he does want something, he’s just too embarrassed to say it*

kat: we can tell you want something spit out

jake: i could use a kool aid jammer… *mumbling*

jungwon: okay ill text him, was that so hard?

*jake shakes his head no, making heeseung giggle at him. currently everyone is scrolling on their phones, checking their notifications since they couldn’t earlier.*

kat: did you guys see chilis is closing down?

riki: oh my fucking god don’t bro i’m gonna cry

heeseung: why is chili's closing down when the real enemy is burger king

jungwon: i’ve been saying that for years 

giselle: oh i need me a triple dipper real bad

jake: *groans* those fucking mozzarella sticks

yn: they started saucing those babies up 

jake: i am so picking up chilis on the way home

heeseung: can we stop and eat there because you’re taking me home today 

jake: i’ll place an order right fuckin now 

kat: there’s a chilis right down the corner here and it is so heavenly 

jungwon: most rundown place ever but when i tell you the food is life changing i mean it 

jake: really? because usually i would go to the one in LA but that one is so busy all the time 

riki: yeah like there’s barely anyone and it’s just right down the corner

yn: i might go too honestly 

jungwon: okay wait i’ll go with you 

sunghoon: should we all just go after this

riki: i’ll place a fat one on your lips right now bro

sunghoon: excuse me?

giselle: YES let’s go after recording 

jake: i need to try those sauced up mozz sticks

*jay and sunoo enter the rooms again, sunoo giving jake his kool aid jammer and giselle her red bull*

jungwon: we’re all gonna go to chilis after this

sunoo: god bless

jay: i’ve never been to chilis 

*theres a couple gasps and riki side eyes him with a nasty look. heeseung furrows his brows then looks at jay*

heeseung: he’s fucking lying because yes you have

jay: i literally haven’t 

heeseung: my mom took us after we lost the lacrosse game in like 6th grade

jay: how the fuck am i supposed to remember that bro

sunghoon: that lacrosse game was so messy 

sunoo: you know you look like you would lose at lacrosse 

jay: in my defense there was some dirty shit going down there

yn: at a middle school lacrosse game? *you tried stifling a laugh but jungwon laughing set it off for the rest of you*

heeseung: don’t get him started

jay: will you shut up? no i SWEAR someone was setting me up because i had that match in the palm of my hand

jake: it’s been like 15 years bro 

jay: oh yet you can’t shut up about your senior year basketball match

jake: THE LAST FUCKIN MINUTE AND THAT DIPSHIT MISSED THE BASKET  *he yells, pointing at heeseung*

jungwon: senior year was so rough the same thing happened 

riki: no im so blessed you fucked up senior year so after you i could like messi after you graduated 

kat: i love when men start plotting against each other

yn: i know they’re doing the work for me 

sunghoon: weren’t you the one who told me about your videography club incident 

*you slap his arm, making him laugh aloud and giselle looks at you with furrowed brows*

yn: i told you in confidence can you not! 

giselle: waittt you didn’t tell us this

riki: oh my god the story is so fucking funny

yn: i am not saying it front of the camera 

*sunghoon starts humming the theme of boyfriend by big time rush, making you slap his arm once more*

sunoo: chilis, you have to tell us

yn: fine i will *you side eye sunghoon who only grins at you, making you laugh*

giselle: im already dreaming of my order 

jake: i am going to murder that triple dipper bro 

jungwon: okay let’s not talk about it or else ill want to sign out and go right now

kat: good for you i have one more question and it’s pretty short. so you know what are your icks in friendships 

yn: okay thank god because i am like i have a list i swear. *you sit up, sitting criss cross on the couch.* one big thing for me is a girl who just always needs a guy in her life 

giselle: *groans* ohhhh my god it is so frustrating 

kat: like talking to a girl who just always thinks of a man is so annoying because she is worth so much more than that

riki: lowkey [BLEEP] is like that

*sunoo and jungwon look at each other, the 6 of you bursting out in laughter. heeseung snickers a little*

heeseung: she was in my dms like last week

jake: oh my god i remember 

sunoo: i thought she was with [BLEEP]? 

yn: noooo i think it’s casual sex 

sunghoon: *he elbows heeseung, giggling* you wanna slide in there

heeseung: worry about you and [BLEEP] bro 

*everyone laughs at heeseungs comment, giselle knowing there’s so much she has to edit out*

sunoo: i think having a friend who can never have a deep conversation like for the life of them

jay: it’s so hard to talk to people like that, it’s like a conversation can’t go surface level 

yn: talking to yeonjun is like that 

giselle: i am not editing that one out 

jungwon: he is does not care 

sunghoon: oh my god his last party he asked to be on the pod 

riki: dream guest on my podcast *jojo siwa voice*

sunoo: here you go again

yn: the same party you dumped a drink on me?

*sunghoon only looks at you and smiles. he tilts his head and held eye contact with you.*

sunghoon: how many more times do i have to tell you im sorry? you want me to beg on my knees pre- yn? 

*jungwon and jake side eye each other at sunghoon almost slipping out a petname*

yn: maybe, don’t know yet. *you smile softly at his slip up*

sunghoon: well i am sorry 

yn: hoon i was joking 

*the two of you hold eye contact for a little while longer, a small smile growing on your faces. your friends know the two of you are idiots who are unaware at the moment but hey, what they know can’t hurt you*

jay: anyways.. i think having a friend who cheats in relationships is such a red flag

heeseung: we’ve talked about this

jungwon: it’s like having a liar as a friend

*you make a face when jungwon says liar, sunghoon shifts himself in his seat causing heeseung to send a look his way*

yn: i despise liars. i don’t care nasty the truth is if you felt as if you had to hide it from me it shows how little you care for me

giselle: i agree so heavy with both statements 

jake: it’s kind of hard talking to someone who just lies to you. 

sunoo: i agree, it’s almost like at some point i stop believing everything they tell me 

jungwon: another ick for me is someone who doesn’t have a single close friend 

yn: meh, if it’s a guy i get it but for some girls it’s so hard 

giselle: i agree with yn. i mean i know so many girls who were simply wronged by their friends and left alone

heeseung: they’re always like the nicest people who ever met 

jungwon: i guess so but a guy it’s just.. what the fuck are you doing for that to happen?

yn: no yeah i understand 

jay: some guys we’re friends with are sooo weird 

sunghoon: [BLEEP] or [BLEEP]

giselle: you guys have been name dropping all day 

riki: that’s real because i know those two and they’re weird as fuck 

sunghoon: we were in a group chat with them and yeonjun and even yeonjun was weirded out 

giselle: what were they saying 

jake: just some nasty shit about girls, it’s so weird

jungwon: why are some guys like that 

jake: wish i could tell you 

kat: i think an ick for me is someone who doesn’t have good music taste 

jungwon: maybe you hate yourself 

*riki snorts, causing a chain reaction of laughter*

kat: i MEAN people who listen to only tiktok music 

jake: oh my god it’s like hellaur listen to something 

*sunoo mumbled ‘hellaur’ in jake’s accent, causing everyone to laugh*

jake: don’t piss me off bro

sunoo: yeah i am so threatened 

jungwon: im thinking of that shark attack drink from chilis 

giselle: once i asked my server to spike it for me 

kat: wait.. that’s an amazing idea 

heeseung: those espresso martinis are so good 

riki: this old hag 

heeseung: imagine not being the legal drinking age 

the rest of you: OOOOO

*you reach over to dap heeseung up, who only reciprocated it, giggling a little*

riki: okay whatever 

jungwon: should we sign out then? 

yn: god yes i need to go NEOW 

kat: *looking at the camera* i hope you all enjoyed your stay in yap central, please like, share, subscribe and check out our other resources in the description as well as round tables which will be linked below. till next time!! 

previous masterlist next

AUTHORS NOTE » can u tell i wanted chilis LAWL, pls like n reblog as always 🫶

TAGLiST 1 » @lqfiles @strawberrysavi @blockbusterhee @onlyhyunjin @purennn @aewon @flwoie @imheretoread @firstclassjaylee @pinkishyng @luvgiselle @kang-ulzzang @cherryxbxmb @jkslvsnella @urslytherin @somerandomf1fan @i03jae @s0urcherry @nshmurarki @kittykangz @hyuckies18 @seungwaitamin @taehyunnzly @luvvhaerin @brii-sunwoos-version

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[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me - Five

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

Continuing immediately from part Four. And I hear your screaming, and enjoy it, but I am pretty sure that I'm not going the direction you expect me to.

------

“Huh?”

“I asked them to,” Eddie repeated, quieter.

It didn’t make more sense the second time.  His kids were stubborn. They were obnoxious, and someone asking them to do, or not do something had never once changed anything. Steve spent the last few years asking them not to leave crumbs in his car, and to call before coming over, and to please, just once, let him choose the movie on a movie night. Plus the part where everyone asked them not to put themselves in danger when monsters crawled out of the ground. 

Threats didn’t work on them, law enforcement didn’t work on them, like hell was something as delicate as asking going to do a damn thing. 

“Yeah, no, I heard you, but I don’t get it. So you, what? You sat them down and asked them to ice me out? And they said ‘sure why not!’ Man, even if you asked them to, they’re still the ones that did it. Shit, you’ve never liked me. There’s no way that you didn’t tell the boys to stop hanging out with me last year during your game meetings before everything happened.” Eddie shrank further into the seat, so Steve added, “So, it’s not your fault, but I guess I forgive you if that makes you feel better.”

Eddie gnawed on the inside of his cheek, wincing at what felt like every other word.

“Shit, Steve, it’s -- Shit,” he cursed as he sloshed some of his coffee over the brim. His eyes were clenched shut, and he was curled in on himself. “I didn’t sit them down and tell them to stop talking to you. That -- no way that would work. You’re right. They wouldn’t just -- Like I said, they’re crazy about you. It’s more, it’s all of the, I told them about how ever since -- shit. Look, it doesn’t matter why or how I did it, just trust me, I’m the reason. It’s my fault, and I fucked up, and I didn’t mean it to make -- but you left, and it’s killing them, and so you gotta forgive them, at least talk to them, cause its not their fault.”

“Yeah,” Steve stalled, “still don’t get why you think this is on you, dude.”

“At the beginning it -- shit, no. Doesn’t matter. Jesus Christ, Munson, don’t make this about that. Okay. I asked them not to invite you if I was around, cause I wasn’t -- I didn’t want to see you, and then I made sure they were always around me because -- because I wanted them to. And then I, you know, kept poking at them about it when they’d bring it up, reminding them that you don’t like D&D and that you wouldn’t want to watch the new Star Trek movie, and when they said anything I just kept telling them that -- Shit, just believe me. I’m the one that made them do this, it’s my fault, it’s not them.”

Okay, so Eddie was pushier since Spring Break than he was before it. Or the kids listened to him more. Or they were trying to take care of him. So Eddie was the prompt for them cutting him out of everything. Fine.

Still didn’t make it the guy’s fault. 

Steve got close with Robin after she found out about the Upside Down. But he didn’t get close to Jonathan. Dustin became, for a while at least, his brother. Steve would die for Mike, but they didn’t hang out if it wasn’t a group thing. All of them were tied together, and any one of them could make a call, and everyone would come to help, but that didn’t make them all automatically into friends. 

God, Eddie looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown in a booth in a diner. 

“Look, it’s,” Steve spun his coffee cup, “you’re real close with the guys in your club right? The ones in your band?”

Eddie went tense, then nodded awkwardly.

“You’re close because of that stuff, though. Not just cause you had some classes together or were next to each other on a bus. You got pushed together for some random reason, but  that happened with a lot of people. But you had shared interests, right? You like that game, and you got bullied at school and you like the same loud screaming music. So you got to know each other, and you had a bunch in common, and so you guys are friends. You’re close, so even though you graduated, and you don’t have class and lunch together anymore, you’re still friends.

“Christ, Steve, no,” he protested. 

Steve ignored that and kept going.

“I never had that with the kids, or any of them. Shit. Never had that with Nance either, but I didn’t know it back then.” His inner Robin glared, and he stayed on topic. “It wasn’t as simple as sharing some classes, there were monsters and all that, but that’s what kept me and them around each other. No more monsters now, so.”

His stomach twisted, like it always did if he got too close to thinking about this. 

He only barely managed to talk about this with Robin, because when it was Robin he was honest, and when he was honest, really honest, he ended the night quiet and hurting and picking apart the past year trying to find what he could have done differently. Shoving all of that back into the dark of his mind, he conjured up a casual shrug and a smile. 

“I get that they’re probably freaking out right now, but they’ll get over it. Give it another month or two and it’ll be fine. Start one of your campaign -- your big story things and distract them if they’re bugging you about it.” 

He wiped up the coffee Eddie spilled on instinct, and shoved the napkin in his now empty cup. 

Time to get home and get a nap before he went to the stockroom that night. He wouldn’t see Robin until he picked her up for work, but they were scheduled alone, so he could talk all of this through then. Trying to pretend this day didn’t happen would last all of eight seconds of contact with his best friend. Maybe she could make sense of how he was feeling. 

“Wait, stop, you can’t leave yet.”

“Munson, I’ve been here since before dawn, I wanna leave.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you have to talk to them. They miss you.”

“They didn’t six weeks ago, did they? Or for the holidays? Or for the months before that, huh?” Steve finally snapped, then took a breath. “Sorry. Answer’s still no.”

He bussed their cups and the creamer to the pass through and grabbed his coat and gloves. Steam rose off Hopper’s truck where he had the engine running to keep warm. They exchanged a single nod before Steve turned towards the road to walk home. 

“Steve!” 

It wasn’t a shock to hear, but Steve had hoped that Eddie wouldn’t follow. 

“Okay, I get that you’re not going to just forgive them, and that you don’t want to talk to them, but--”

“No. I don’t. And I know you think this is your fault, and I’m telling you it’s not, and I told you, I’m not mad at you about this. We weren’t friends. I’m not mad at you for not wanting me around or whatever. That’s fine. And? They’ll get over it, and everyone can just move on with their lives with the people they actually like.”

Steve’s stupid voice betrayed him, cracking, and he cut off the rest of what he might have said. Anger was the fastest way to shut down weakness, and it was easy for him to sink into it.  

Eddie had his hands in his hair, clutching at it near his temples, looking borderline hysterical. 

“Would you at least listen if they talked?”

“They don’t have my phone number, and if you tell them where I live, I’ll send Mrs Buckley after you. And Hopper.”

“You could call them.”

“No.”

It wasn’t about who placed the call. If he heard them, if they said a fraction of what he wanted to hear, he’d cave, immediately and entirely, and then both the real life Robin, and the mini Robin in his brain would give him hell. 

“Steve come on, something, anything. Letters? If they write letters?”

“I’m not giving them my address, and Hopper already asked about mailing stuff through him instead. No.”

It was cold and he was tired. Just about the only person in the party that he didn’t care had abandoned him was trying to pull Steve back into the vat of slow simmering pain he was still climbing out of. 

“Look, Eddie --”

“I’ll drive them. The letters. You don’t even have to answer, or read them. Let me tell them that I can bring you letters, and I’ll drive them up here. If you do want to answer I’ll wait and then drive whatever it is back. As many times as you want.”

“Come on, man.”

“I won’t even -- I don’t have to know where you live, or your number, anything. I can come here. To the diner. Won’t even come inside, just drop them off and wait. You won’t have to talk to me, or see me. Just, come on. Even if you never forgive them, or answer them, let them have this. Even if you don’t read what they say, let them think they got to apologize.”

The wind shifted, and Steve tucked his chin into his coat to wait it out. 

Eddie was shivering two steps away, gloveless hands shoved under his arms, hair tangling into more of a mess than usual. 

“That’s a stupid idea, Munson,” he said when the gust stopped, “If they know that you know where I am, and you don’t tell them, they’re going to hate you. They’d drive you insane trying to get you to tell them, and they’d be horrible the whole time. They already ditched me for you, so, don’t make them hate you too.”

“They already hate me.” The response was immediate and defeated.

“Dude, they don’t.”

“They do. They figured it out a few weeks ago. That I was the reason. Just cause you don’t get it doesn’t mean they don’t. This is my fault. They already hate me. They won’t even talk to me long enough to yell. They act like I don’t exist.”

“Christ, Munson, is that why you’re up here, freezing your ass off in a parking lot and bitching at me? So you can get them to like you by getting me to talk to them?”

Eddie flinched. Didn’t say anything for a minute as he shivered with wide eyes. Then, without any of the dramatics the guy was known for, “Please, Steve. Even if you throw them out right after. Let them write to you, and let me tell them the truth when I say you got them. I think they can survive if they don’t hear back. They’ll blame me, but that’s fine, they should. The silence is what’s killing them. They need to say how -- they need to believe that you heard how sorry they are.”

It was so fucking cold it was making Steve’s eyes water. That was the only reason for it. The cold front that came in overnight.

“I’m not gonna promise to read them,” he caved.

The tension collapsed out of Eddie, and he slumped forward, hiding his face in his hands. 

“I work here in the mornings Monday through Wednesday every week. You should drop them off then. M’not saying I’ll read them, or write anything back, but if they want to write, fine.” 

Eddie nodded over and over, hiding behind his hands, and whisper-mumbling something that Steve couldn’t catch. He was shaking again. The kind of full body wracking that meant the cold was sinking deep.

“Christ, go get in Hop’s truck before your fingers freeze off or something.” 

Without waiting for a response, or checking that he listened, Steve turned and kept walking. Another gust of wind tore through him, loud enough that he wouldn’t have heard another call of his name. It was a good thing that John messed up the big combo that morning, and Steve had eaten it during the lull after breakfast. He wasn’t going to manage anything else until tomorrow at the earliest. 

That was assuming Robin didn’t kill him on the spot for his stupid, stupid decision. 

Ten steps down the road, and he already regretted it. Even if he didn’t read anything, even if they never sent anything, the choice would sit like a rock in his gut; a new ache, a new bruise, and Steve was dumb enough that he’d keep poking at it. 

---

I'm sad that this is two chapters without Robin. That's some kind of a crime. Can guarantee that Robin has Strong Opinions about this when she talks to Steve that night.

I don't do tag lists or regular updates, and I have no shame about that.

>>>>>Part Six

[xoxoladyaz]

It Hits Different This Time

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

“Steve.” 

He hears Robin knocking on the door, her knuckles tapping firmly against the wood.

“STEVE.”

He’s lying on the bed in Robin’s guest bedroom, limbs starfished across the plush gray comforter, staring at the ceiling fan. Taylor Swift is singing to him, blasting from the Alexa speaker next to him.

Oh my, love is a lie, shit my friends say to get me by 

“Alexa, volume up.”

“Steve – STEVE!”

It hits different, it hits different this time

“Alexa, off,” Robin says as she marches into the room. Taylor’s voice cuts off almost immediately and Steve huffs, frustrated.

“Steve, as much as I love listening to your ‘Sad Taylor Swift’ playlist, you need to eat something. Go for a walk. Take a shower.”

“I’d rather not.”

Sighing, Robin kicks his left leg until he’s made enough room for her to collapse down beside him and gaze up at the spinning fan. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

They lay in silence.

“It’s just – our three-year anniversary, Robin.”

“I know.”

“He didn’t even text me.”

“I know.”

“And the supermodels at the club! And the tweets!”

“I know, Steve.”

There’s moisture pricking at the inside of his eyes now. “I just – it’s dumb, okay? I thought we could make this work. But I guess I’m not as important to him as he is to me.”

“Dingus,” Robin chides, and he turns his face away so she can’t see that he’s actually crying now. (She still probably knows that he is; Robin always knows. He just doesn’t want anyone to see.) “Okay, is Eddie Munson a huge idiot? Yes, and he has been for as long as we’ve known him. Is he kind of an asshole now that he’s famous? Yes. Do I think this is the end? Not necessarily.”

Steve snorts. “It’s been four days, Robin. Nothing for four days. I think it’s already ended.”

Robin cuddles up to his side so now they’re legitimately snuggling together. “Look, all I’m saying is he’s going to be back in the state in a few days and I think you owe it yourself to at least have a conversation with him. Either you two decide to work things out and start communicating better or you decide that he’s not pulling his weight to make his relationship work and you get closure. Either way, I think you need to talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Steve sniffles. “You’re probably right.”

“Steven, I’m always right.”

“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about the Pixar question you fumbled on trivia night?”

“Dingus, I swear to god if you don’t let it go - ”

/////

Eddie’s groggy and nauseous and fuck the sun is too bright. He pulls at the window-shades as he stumbles into their kitchen, dropping his Louis Vuitton bag on the floor. The fact that he’s managing to walk while coming down from a five day bender that he barely fucking remembers is kind of a miracle. 

“Steve! Stevie, baby, I’m home!”

Silence.

What day is it today, Saturday? He’s probably at the farmer’s market with Robin. Eddie’s a few days early anyways, wanted it to be a surprise. And honestly, it’s probably a good thing Steve’s not home, Eddie needs to keep sobering up.

He pulls a fresh bottle of water out of the fridge and collapses onto the restored dining-room chairs they bought a few months ago. He tips it back and drinks it down greedily, swallowing the cool water down his aching throat. “Oh, that’s good,” he moans to himself, dropping the now empty bottle onto the dining room table.

The empty bottle that clangs against something. Squinting, Eddie opens his eyes and looks down.

There’s a small box sitting at his spot, a card laying haphazardly onto the side. It looks like someone opened it and scribbled all over what they originally wrote.

Eddie frowns and grabs for the card. It’s Steve’s writing. Whatever he’s crossed out is unreadable. Instead, all there is is the following:

I would say Happy Anniversary, but judging by the fact that (1) you didn’t return my call or even text me back and (2) the paps caught you at the club with the guys and a bunch of supermodels instead, I’m going to assume that you’re not interested in celebrating it anymore.

Eddie feels his stomach sink so fast that he’s going to lose all the water he just drank. 

Look, Eds, I am so proud of you for making your dream come true. I would never ask you to give that up or sacrifice your music for me. But I’m tired of feeling alone in this relationship. Of feeling like you don’t love me as much as I love you. Because I would do anything for you, but I think this all proves that you wouldn’t do the same for me.

Anyways, I still want you to have your gift. It wouldn’t make sense to give it to anyone else. 

Your biggest fan, Steve

He can’t see straight and it’s not because of the drugs. He can’t breathe and it’s not because of his asthma or his wicked smoking habit. 

He grabs the small box, flips it open, and chokes back a sob.

It’s a perfect replica of Aragorn’s ring, the ring he’s given that proves he is Isilduir’s heir. He’s wanted it foryears, but it was never something that he thought he could buy for himself. Sure, he could buy whatever random luxury shit without a sweat, but something so meaningful to him? Because reading The Lord of the Rings saved his fucking life in high school? His brain couldn’t deal with him buying it for himself. His therapist says it’s one of his many hang-ups regarding money and fame and his self-esteem issues, but that’s not what matters right now.

What matters is that Steve gave this to him, loved him enough to have it made for him.

And now Steve is gone.

Eddie grabs for his phone with shaking hands and checks the date.

“Fuck.”

Five days. 

He’s five days too fucking late.

He’s dialing Jeff before he can even realize he’s doing it.

“Dude, I really don’t want to be talking to you right now.”

“Jeff,” Eddie barely gets out, his voice choking on a sob. “Steve is gone.”

Jeff’s silent for a moment. 

“I’m on my way.”

[anna-the-undertaker]

The Boys reaction to a Blue Collar Worker MC who was summoned to the Devildom in nothing but a towel...

I finally did this after so long.... Idk whats happening but I've been on a writing kick recently so we will see how you all like my writing I guess lmao also we are ignoring how mammon wasn't in the room when MC arrives in game cause I'm lazy.

Tags: @lurkingblue @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

part 1

Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him. A human, fresh out of a bath and barely coherent, standing in the heart of the Devildom, had the audacity to speak in such a manner. The request for clothes, food, and rest was delivered with a bluntness that bordered on insolence. Normally, he wouldn't tolerate such disrespect, especially not in Diavolo's presence. Lucifer prided himself on order and discipline, and this human's arrival was anything but. He could feel his patience thinning, a not so rare occurrence that he worked hard to suppress. This was the human chosen by Diavolo? His expression remained impassive, but the air around him grew colder as he spoke. "You are in no position to make demands, human. Consider yourself fortunate that Lord Diavolo is more generous than I."

How he looks back on it now: Lucifer, sitting with a glass of Demonus in hand, would let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I still can't believe that was our first impression of them. Summoned to the Devildom in a towel, dripping water all over the floor like they owned the place. And then—then—they have the audacity to demand food, clothes, and a bed as if they were checking into a five-star hotel. I knew from that moment that MC would be nothing but trouble... and I wasn’t wrong.”

Mammon

Mammon, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement, couldn’t help but let out a bark of a laugh. This human was something else. Appearing in the middle of the Devildom, demanding food and a place to sleep like they owned the place? Mammon could almost admire that kind of guts, if it wasn't so ridiculous. But he was also intrigued. They were obviously tired and out of their depth, but there was a spark of defiance in them that piqued his curiosity. "Hey, hey, maybe we should cut ‘em some slack, yeah? Look at ‘em, they’re about ready to keel over. Not exactly how I pictured meetin’ a human though…"

How he looks back on it now: Mammon would be laughing, practically doubled over. “Ya shoulda seen Lucifer’s face! He was so mad, but he didn’t know what to do! And then there’s MC, barely awake, tellin’ us off like we were the ones who interrupted their shower! They’re a riot, I tell ya. I knew right then and there—this human was gonna be somethin’ special.”

Leviathan

Leviathan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was seeing. This was supposed to be the human exchange student? This tired, wet mess of a person who was talking like they had just walked into a convenience store? Levi was torn between feeling embarrassed for them and being mildly impressed by their nerve. But mostly, he just felt awkward. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding direct eye contact, his facing burning with a fierce blush as he searched for something to hide behind. "This is so… weird. Like, who even does that? Walking into a place like this… in a towel? It’s like something out of a bad anime."

How he looks back on it now: Levi would be blushing, trying to hide behind his manga. “I mean, it was like something out of an anime, right? The clueless protagonist just casually demanding things from these powerful beings… it’s straight out of a ‘reverse isekai’ plot! But honestly, I was too busy being embarrassed for them to laugh at the time. Now, though? It’s kind of hilarious. They just… stood there, barely dressed, like it was no big deal!”

Satan

Satan observed the human with a critical eye. The situation was strange, even by Devildom standards, but it also presented an interesting puzzle. Who was this human to speak so boldly? They were clearly exhausted, pushed to their limits, but there was something almost… primal about their directness. It was as if survival instincts had taken over. "Interesting. They’re either incredibly brave or too exhausted to care about decorum. I wonder how long they’ll last here if this is how they start."

How he looks back on it now: Satan would smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I admit, I didn’t expect a mere human to have the nerve to make demands right after being summoned. It was… refreshing, to say the least. I could see the frustration in Lucifer’s eyes, and I knew I was going to enjoy having MC around. They didn’t bow down in fear—they just wanted a nap. Brilliant.”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus couldn’t help but giggle, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. This human was definitely not what he had expected. They were dripping water everywhere, their hair clinging to their skin, and yet, instead of being mortified, they were making demands. It was almost endearing in its own way, like a lost kitten mewling for attention. "Oh my, aren’t you just precious? But darling, if you’re going to make demands like that, at least do it with a bit more flair. Still, I think we can find you something more… suitable to wear or you could just lose the towel all together."

How he looks back on it now: Asmo would be giggling, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. “Oh, it was such a scandal! A human, in a towel, dripping wet in front of everyone! And yet, they had this… effortless confidence. It was kind of hot, honestly. And their skin looked amazing—I was so jealous! I just knew I had to befriend them. Anyone who can pull off an entrance like that is someone I need to know!”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s concern was immediate but simple. The human was obviously tired and hungry, and those were things he could easily understand. He frowned slightly, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to step in and help. "They should eat something. And rest. They said they’re about to pass out. We can figure everything else out after."

How he looks back on it now: Beel would nod thoughtfully, his focus split between the memory and whatever snack he’s holding. “I just remember being really confused… and hungry. They said something about food, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I could go for a snack too.’ But they didn’t even seem scared, just tired and hungry. I get that. We connected on a deep level that day.”

Diavolo

Diavolo, on the other hand, was more fascinated than anything else and couldn't help the booming laugh that escaped him. The human’s arrival, so raw and unfiltered, was not what he had planned, but it was a glimpse into their true character. He appreciated the honesty in their exhaustion and the way they set boundaries despite being in an unfamiliar and likely frightening situation. "Welcome to the Devildom," he said warmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will, of course, ensure you are taken care of. Rest first, and we’ll discuss everything else when you’re ready."

How he looks back on it now: Diavolo would laugh heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, that was classic! I thought we were about to welcome our human exchange student with a grand, royal introduction. You know, something to set the tone! And then… poof! In they come, in nothing but a towel, demanding food and a nap! I couldn’t help but admire their spirit—who else would have the audacity to make demands of a demon lord? Honestly, I knew right then that they were going to make things very interesting around here.”

Barbatos

Barbatos watched with his usual calm demeanor, though his mind was already calculating what would be needed to accommodate this unexpectedly demanding guest. He was intrigued by their bluntness, a trait not often seen in someone so new to the Devildom. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. I’ll prepare something for them to wear and eat. This situation, unusual as it is, can be addressed once they’ve had the rest they need."

How he looks back on it now: Barbatos would smile subtly, a hint of amusement in his usually composed demeanor. “It was certainly… unexpected. I remember thinking, ‘Ah, this is going to be a challenge.’ I had prepared everything for a formal welcome, and suddenly I was considering where I could find suitable clothing on such short notice. But what really stood out was their confidence. They weren’t intimidated at all—just tired. It was almost endearing, in a way. Though I must admit, I’ve never had to prepare a royal feast for someone who was dripping on the floor before.”

The other characters after hearing of MC's dramatic arrival later -

Belphegor

Belphegor, still hidden away, was not present to witness the scene firsthand, but the way the human handled their introduction would later reach his ears. He would find it amusing, this tired human, dragged into a world they couldn’t possibly understand and still demanding rest. It would have made him laugh, perhaps even endeared them to him in a strange way, though he’d never admit it. “I think it's hilarious. They were so focused on getting some sleep, just like me. Honestly, I'm impressed. I don’t even care that they're human. Anyone who prioritizes a nap over everything else has their priorities straight in my book.”

Simeon

Simeon would laugh softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, MC. Only you could be summoned into a realm of demons in nothing but a towel and somehow manage to make demands! I can just imagine the look on Lucifer’s face. It’s impressive—you're like a stubborn ray of sunshine cutting through the darkest clouds. I’d love to have seen it!”

Luke

Luke would be flabbergasted, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and indignation. “They were summoned like that? That’s so unfair! I bet they were freezing! Who does that? Demons, apparently! But you know what? Good for them for telling those demons off! That’s what they deserve for being so unprepared. If I were there, I would’ve given them a piece of my mind too!”

Solomon

Solomon would be grinning, clearly amused by the whole scenario. “That’s classic MC—turning a moment of complete chaos into one where they’re the one calling the shots. I can just picture them standing there, dripping water all over the floor, and casually telling the future King of the Devildom that they need a nap. Honestly, it’s moments like this that make me glad I chose them as my apprentice. They’ve got the kind of audacity that most people can only dream of!”

Rapheal

Raphael, known for his serious demeanor, would hear about MC’s first arrival to the Devildom and probably raise an eyebrow, trying to picture the scene. "So, they appeared in a towel and demanded food and rest? Bold. Very bold." After a pause, he’d add with a rare smirk, "They might survive down here better than I thought."

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles, with his aristocratic air, would be caught between disbelief and amusement. “They really told Lucifer and Diavolo off in a towel? If only I could’ve seen that! The looks on their faces must’ve been priceless. Perhaps I’ll write a column about the ‘indecent’ summons of the human exchange student!” He’d chuckle at his own joke, imagining the uproar it would cause.

Thirteen

Thirteen, with her mischievous streak, would find the whole thing hilarious. “They really popped in like that? A towel, dripping water, and told everyone to get their act together? That’s brilliant! I would’ve loved to see everyone’s reaction. I bet Lucifer’s face turned fifty shades of red. I like this human already—got some real spunk!” She’d laugh, already planning some pranks inspired by the story.

[mercillery]

You already know who this is lmao. Since you wrote Andrew perfectly from IDV I GOTTA see how you write Frederick relationship overview 🙏💕 I love my poor disgruntled ex prodigee French man

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I’ve got nothing to say about Frederick mains yet because I stopped playing around his release…but i’m sure his mains are fun to play with. I imagine they accidentally pop ciphers a lot too.

At first, Frederick would charm you in a way that feels almost unfair, like he’s playing a game you didn’t know you’d signed up for???

You’d find yourself completely entranced by Frederick—there’s no escaping it. This man doesn’t just walk into a room; he makes an entrance with a grace so smooth it practically slides in on polished shoes. He’s got this natural elegance that makes you wonder if he spends his weekends secretly training under some Victorian-era etiquette coach.

Every word, every subtle movement, is meticulously chosen to leave a lasting impression. You can almost hear a soundtrack playing whenever he talks. His gaze? Oh, it’s not just looking at you; it’s reading your very soul, flipping through your emotional pages like a well-loved book. This guy has the power to sweep any lady off their feet, whether they want to be swept or not. But don’t get too worried—you’re not just anyone to Frederick.

Dating Frederick is like a high-stakes thriller with poetic intermissions. When he’s chosen you as his focus, you’ll know it. He’s as devoted as a knight in shining armor with an artistic twist. Forget flowers—he’s out there composing symphonies that embody the way you laugh or the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re annoyed.

And yes, he’s that extra. But it’s not all rainbows and heartfelt sonatas. His passion runs as deep as the Mariana Trench, and with that comes a protective streak that would put guard dogs to shame.

His moments of jealousy? Let’s just say he doesn’t do halfway—Frederick only knows extremes. If you so much as wave at your barista a second too long, brace yourself for a brooding soliloquy about loyalty and his existential fear of being forgotten.

See, the man doesn’t just want to be liked or loved; he needs to be your everything. He’s got this internal scoreboard and if he’s not winning the gold medal in your heart, what’s the point? To Frederick, being mediocre is worse than losing—it’s being invisible, and he won’t settle for that. And honestly, why should he?

When it comes to love, Frederick doesn't do simple—no, he composes entire symphonies that could put Hollywood’s most dramatic love themes to shame. His idea of showing affection? It’s nothing short of an epic masterpiece.

You’d find yourself at the center of a grand concerto, where each note is painstakingly crafted to echo the highs, the lows, and those delicious in-betweens of your relationship. And, of course, private performances would become as routine as morning coffee.

Picture this: Frederick seated at a piano, fingers dancing across the keys, eyes darting to your face every other second as if he's trying to capture every flicker of your reaction. Is that awe? Is that admiration? Good. He’ll take that as a win. Your approval? It’s like a five-star review in a world where his love language is measured in crescendos and decrescendos.

But let's not forget—Frederick is a hopeless romantic, the kind who’s read Wuthering Heights one too many times and thought, Yeah, I can top that.

Love letters? Oh, they’re not just notes; they’re beautifully penned, metaphor-laden works of art that could make Shakespeare sit down and take notes. Candlelit concerts? He’s already planned three for next month, complete with a playlist that rivals the greatest romantic ballads in history.

And the surprises don’t stop there; you'll find flowers and little notes tucked into places you'd never expect: your bag, the fridge, maybe even the laundry hamper (don’t ask how they got there).

But for all his flair, Frederick isn’t just about grand gestures. There are those quieter, softer moments that catch you off guard and remind you that his love is as layered as one of his symphonies.

A simple lean of his head on your shoulder while you read, a touch so subtle you almost question if it happened, or that electric, intense gaze from across a crowded room—those moments are like a secret shared between the two of you. It’s like speaking an unspoken language, one where every glance and touch is a verse in an ever-unfolding poem that only the two of you understand.

Frederick’s sensitivity is a double-edged sword in your relationship, like owning a cat that’s both affectionate and completely unpredictable. On one hand, his perceptiveness is unmatched. This man could tell you’re upset from the way you’re stirring your coffee or the subtle shift in your smile.

Before you even have the chance to sigh, he’s there with those eyes full of concern, ready to listen and offer comfort that feels like a warm blanket on a cold day. It’s this deep empathy that forges an almost magical connection between you two, making you feel seen and understood in a way that’s rare. When Frederick’s with you, he’s with you—body, mind, and soul.

But there’s a catch, and it’s a big one.

His own emotions are about as stable as a teetering Jenga tower in the middle of an earthquake. Frederick feels everything on a scale of 1 to 100, with no in-between. Did you forget to say goodnight because you fell asleep? Prepare for an orchestra of internal questioning that could rival Hamlet’s soliloquy. Did you compliment a friend’s new jacket without immediately reassuring him that he still has the best taste in the room? Cue the silent spiral of doubt. He doesn’t just overthink—he over-operas. (Am I funny yet or do I just sound corny?)

Reassurance isn’t just appreciated; it’s essential. A simple “I’m here for you” can turn his internal storm into a calm, clear sky. Without it, his mind becomes a symphony of self-doubt, complete with the tragic overture of “Are they slipping away?”

And while it might sound exhausting, knowing this about Frederick means you’re sharing in something unique: a relationship where vulnerability is met with raw honesty and a commitment to each other’s emotional landscapes. Just be prepared for those moments when your calming words are the only thing standing between him and a full Shakespearean-level existential crisis.

While Frederick effortlessly projects an aura of undeniable charm and sophistication, it’s in those rare, private moments that you get to see beyond the polished exterior. These are the times when the cracks in his armor show, and you catch glimpses of the man behind the grandeur.

He’ll sit beside you, the gleam in his eyes softened, and open up about the disappointments that still gnaw at him. He’ll talk about the aching void left by his estranged family, the times he felt abandoned, and the relentless fear of mediocrity that follows him like a shadow he can’t shake.

It’s then you realize that his vanity isn’t just there to dazzle; it’s a well-crafted shield, desperately protecting the perfection-seeking artist who’s terrified of being truly seen and found wanting. In these moments, your acceptance of him—raw, imperfect, and honest—is worth more than a standing ovation at a sold-out concert.

But, spoiler alert: listening quietly won’t cut it.

He doesn’t just want to see that you’re present; he needs to hear your voice, feel your words like a balm on his frayed nerves. A silent nod isn’t enough when his mind is a cacophony of insecurities. He craves your reassurance like it’s the only song that can drown out the dissonance of self-doubt.

Then there are those times when Frederick’s paranoia takes center stage, and his brain transforms into a crime scene investigator looking for clues of your potential disinterest. Did you pause a beat too long before answering a question? He’ll dissect that silence like a forensic expert, eyes narrowing as if you just handed him the Rosetta Stone of heartbreak.

Even your simplest words or expressions are put under a microscope, magnified until he’s convinced he’s found proof that you’re slipping away. And yes, this can lead to some tension that’ll have you wondering if you’re in a relationship or a 24/7 reality show with constant performance reviews.

But here’s the twist—your patience and understanding are the keys to unlocking the security he craves. Sure, it might feel like you’re on an emotional tightrope at times, but when you take that moment to reassure him, to tell him he’s enough, you’ll see the tension melt away, and the storm in his eyes settle. Your steady, confident love is what helps Frederick silence the relentless chorus of doubt, making him feel seen, cherished, and—finally—secure.

Frederick has an eye for beauty, a radar for aesthetics, and a deep appreciation for life’s most elegant experiences, so if you’re with him, get ready for a whirlwind of high-class romance. Dates with Frederick aren’t just nights out—they’re productions.

Picture this: a night at the opera where he’s reserved the best seats, just for you and him, leaning close to whisper his insights on the music while his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your arm. Or an evening spent at a prestigious art gallery where he guides you from piece to piece, sharing stories and perspectives that make the artwork come alive.

Even a simple walk in the park with Frederick is elevated; he’s not just strolling—he’s carefully navigating to the most scenic routes, stopping at every blooming flower and golden-lit pond to take in the view and share a quiet moment of awe with you. He’ll glance at you with that expectant smile, as if to say, Isn’t this incredible?—and yes, he’ll definitely be checking to see if you agree.

And yes, if you’re wondering, he does have standards—expectations, even. Frederick doesn’t want to enjoy these experiences alone; he wants to bask in your shared appreciation, revel in your mutual admiration for art, architecture, and all things exceptional.

He’ll be delighted to show you off to his social circle, introducing you with a certain pride, as if you’re the finest piece in his collection of treasured things. But with that comes an unspoken agreement that you’ll match his refined demeanor and partake in his world of cultured conversation and elegant gestures.

Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s not expecting you to memorize 18th-century sonatas overnight or debate the merits of impressionism versus post-impressionism at every cocktail party. But if he catches even the slightest yawn during a concert or a vague, non-committal “It was fine” when he asks your thoughts on an exhibit—oh boy, brace yourself.

His brows will furrow in a way that says Is this really happening?, and suddenly, the air will feel a bit tense, like you’ve hit a wrong note in the symphony of his evening. He thrives on shared enthusiasm, so when he doesn’t see that spark in your eyes, he’s left wondering if you’re really on the same page or if you’d rather be anywhere else.

The key to navigating these moments? Patience and a touch of reassurance that, yes, you’re in this for the full experience—fancy outfits, whispered critiques at the opera, picturesque paths and all.

One thing about Frederick? He holds mediocrity in absolute contempt. This extends beyond his own aspirations and into the realm of your relationship, which, to him, is just another area where greatness must reign supreme.

If you're with Frederick, get ready for a personal coach, cheerleader, and, occasionally, an overly intense life mentor wrapped into one. He’ll push you to chase your dreams and won’t just clap when you reach a milestone—he’ll give you a standing ovation, complete with dramatic applause.

But with that passionate encouragement comes an edge; Frederick will also be your most unsparing critic, the kind who’ll say, “That was good, but it could be phenomenal,” right when you’re ready to celebrate. It’s motivating, sure, but if you don’t share his relentless pursuit of excellence or just need a break now and then, it might feel like you’re jogging beside someone who’s running an ultra-marathon…

If you really want Frederick to beam like he just won an award, show a genuine love for his craft or nurture a passion of your own. Respect for talent and hard work is practically woven into his DNA, so when he sees that you have your own spark, that’s when you become more than just a partner—you’re his muse, his equal, the one who fuels his artistic spirit.

Conversations with Frederick are not your run-of-the-mill small talk. Forget chatting about the weather or weekend plans; he’s here to unravel the mysteries of the human mind, ponder the nature of ambition, and debate the intricacies of creativity.

His interest in dissecting emotions, motivations, and talent isn’t just a casual hobby; it’s like he’s running a one-man TED Talk every time he opens his mouth.

And you? You’ll probably find yourself nodding along, wide-eyed, captivated by the way he speaks with such eloquence that even the most mundane statement sounds profound.

Honestly, he could say, “An orange is orange,” and you’d be nodding like, “Absolutely, that’s so true,” while trying not to swoon from the sheer brilliance of his delivery.

That said, these conversations aren’t just one-sided lectures. Frederick expects engagement, intellectual back-and-forth, even if it turns into a bit of a debate. And make no mistake—he’s got strong opinions and isn’t afraid to challenge yours, especially when it comes to art and talent.

But here’s the thing: he respects those who can spar with him in these verbal duels. If you stand your ground and hold your own, you’ll earn a rare, approving smile that makes all those philosophical tangents worth it.

Plus, there’s something quite mesmerizing about listening to him—his voice, rich and confident, pulls you in, and you’re left thinking, “Yes, Frederick, tell me more about the complexities of human nature and why oranges are orange,” while internally planning your Nobel Prize acceptance speech for keeping up with him.

Beneath Frederick’s air of grandeur and confident public persona, there’s a side of him that only you get to see—a soft, almost fragile version of himself that craves simple, unguarded intimacy. These are the moments when he lets the mask slip and the weight of being Frederick Kreiburg, the heir, the prodigy, the perfectionist, melts away.

It’s in these quiet interludes that you find him seeking solace, laying his head in your lap as you read, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your knee while he closes his eyes, enjoying the rare sense of peace. He doesn’t need to fill the silence with grand words or impressive declarations. In your shared space, the performance is over; he’s just Frederick, vulnerable and human, grateful that he doesn’t have to strive for perfection in your presence. Your presence alone is enough to soothe the symphony of doubt that usually plays on loop in his mind.

And while he might dazzle the crowds with his musical prowess and philosophical musings, one of his quieter passions is equestrianism—a skill that, unlike many of his pursuits, isn’t about impressing others but about finding a rare moment of freedom. It’s a pastime that lets him shed the pressure and simply enjoy life for what it is, the rhythmic pounding of hooves syncing with his heartbeat as he gallops across open fields, feeling the wind tug at his platinum hair.

When he invites you to join him on horseback rides, it’s more than just an activity; it’s an invitation into this private realm where he feels unburdened and alive. Teaching you to ride? Oh, he’ll approach it with all the patience and joy that he usually reserves for his most cherished pursuits. He’ll guide you with an amused smile as you find your balance, his hand never straying too far from yours, ready to steady you at the slightest wobble.

But nothing makes his heart lift quite like seeing you experience the same exhilaration that riding brings him. That shared thrill—the wind in your hair, the laughter that bubbles up as you both race through sun-dappled trails—is something he treasures. It’s one of the few times where his worries, ambitions, and relentless pursuit of excellence fade into the background, and it’s just the two of you, free and unbound.

And when he looks over at you, eyes bright and a grin cracking through his otherwise composed demeanor, you realize that, yes, this is Frederick at his happiest—not the heir or the virtuoso, but a man who, for once, is simply living in the moment, sharing it with the one person who makes it all more vibrant.

Ah, the shadows of Frederick’s past—a specter that never quite left him, always lingering in the corners of his mind, whispering doubts and sowing restlessness. There are days when this presence looms larger, and he becomes a man consumed by his inner turmoil, pacing like a caged lion or retreating into the sanctuary of his study.

In these moments, it’s like he’s waging a war with his thoughts, wrestling with the frustration of creative blocks or the relentless voice that tells him he’s never enough. He might shut the world out, drowning himself in a storm of music that’s as chaotic as his thoughts, fingers flying over the keys, each note a plea for peace that never quite comes.

It’s during these times that your role is both simple and profound. You may not know it, but your quiet, unwavering presence is the lighthouse guiding him through the storm.

A soft touch, the brush of your hand against his arm as you pass by, or just sitting in the room while he spirals—these things are the lifelines he doesn’t always know how to ask for but desperately needs. And while you might think that just being there isn’t enough, oh, how wrong you’d be.

The truth is, your patience and silent support do more than calm the chaos; they remind him that he isn’t alone in the struggle. Your reassurance is like a hidden chord in his symphony, one he clings to when the rest feels dissonant.

Of course, it’s not always easy. There will be times when the emotional weight feels as if it’s pressing down on you too, and you catch yourself thinking, Is this worth it?

And then you remember—remember the man behind the polished façade, the one who laughs a little too loudly when he’s truly caught off guard, or who looks at you with such raw, unguarded affection that it makes your heart stutter. The one who finds solace in resting his head in your lap and who lights up when he shares the simple joy of a horseback ride. The man who, despite his brilliance and bravado, is just as flawed and human as anyone else.

And in those moments, it doesn’t feel so exhausting. It feels like you’re part of something beautiful and rare—like you’re holding a piece of someone that no one else gets to touch, no matter how flawless his public persona may seem.

You realize that while being with Frederick comes with its trials, it also comes with moments of breathtaking vulnerability and love so consuming that it makes every struggle worth it. Because underneath the charm, the intensity, and the restless ambition is a man who, at the end of the day, needs you more than he’ll ever admit out loud. And that? That makes it all worthwhile.

[nephalem-da]

I saw you have requests open for Bill x Reader.

I wanted to ask if you'd write a playful sarcastic Bill who realizes he has feelings. And for f!human reader (or GN!reader) no less. And he does a terrible job acting like Bill usually acts when reader is present or the subject of the conversation. Dare I say he acts normal, so very unlike the weird reader is used to. But reader doesn't pick up on the obvious signs either so it's a mutual pining and awkwardness while everyone else just wants them to kiss already.

I hope you have a great day/ night/ weekend and take your time with my ask. No rush!

M'kay byeeee <3

Sarcastically Yours

(Bill Cipher x GN!Reader)

First of all, thank you so much for being my first ask! 🥳 I’m super excited to write this, and I hope you enjoy the playful chaos that is Bill Cipher realizing he’s got feelings (and doing an absolutely terrible job hiding them). Here’s a little fic with plenty of awkwardness, and pining! Enjoy!

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Mutual Pining, Slight Crack

Warnings: None (it’s all fluff and awkward cuteness)

Summary: Bill Cipher, the sarcastic demon, realizes he has feelings for you, and he does a terrible job hiding it. Meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious, and everyone else is suffering through the awkwardness, waiting for you both to figure it out.

You knew Bill Cipher was weird. A literal one-eyed triangle from a dimension beyond comprehension? That’s not exactly normal. But you’d gotten used to his sarcasm, his chaotic presence, and his annoying habit of invading your personal space. It was just Bill being Bill.

Until recently.

Something about him had changed, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Bill, the same demon who once turned your kitchen appliances into tap-dancing minions, now seemed to be avoiding eye contact with you. And when he did speak, the usual biting sarcasm was gone, replaced by awkward muttering and half-hearted jokes.

Today, Bill was sitting—yes, sitting—in the Mystery Shack, flipping through a book he clearly wasn’t reading. His usual floating, bouncing-around-the-room energy was nowhere to be found.

"Are you sick or something?" you ask, leaning on the counter, staring at him.

Bill glances up from the book, his single eye narrowing. "Sick? Me? Of course not!" His voice is just a little too high-pitched, and Dipper, who’s watching from the other side of the room, immediately raises an eyebrow.

"You’ve been acting... off," you continue, your suspicion growing. "Usually, you can’t go five seconds without making some smart remark."

"Yeah," Mabel chimes in, bouncing over to your side. "You haven’t even insulted [Y/N] today. I thought that was, like, your favorite hobby."

Bill sputters. "I—I’m giving them a break! Geez, maybe I don’t always have to be sarcastic!"

Dipper snorts from behind his journal. "Since when?"

Bill glares at him. "Since now, nerd!"

You exchange a look with Mabel, and it’s clear she’s thinking the same thing: Bill’s acting weird, even for him. Normally, he’d be pranking everyone, floating around causing mayhem, but lately, he’s been... quiet. Almost normal, and that’s what makes it even weirder.

"So," you say, eyeing him. "Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or are you just gonna keep pretending like nothing’s wrong?"

Bill fidgets in his seat. "I told you, nothing’s wrong! I’m just... thinking. Yeah, thinking about... the stars."

"Stars?" Dipper repeats, looking up from his journal. "What, are you planning another apocalypse or something?"

Bill lets out a nervous laugh. "Nope! Just... admiring them! They’re pretty, you know?"

Mabel gasps, slapping a hand to her chest. "Did... did he just call something pretty? I didn’t know he even knew that word!"

Bill shoots her a glare, clearly flustered. "I know a lot of words, okay? Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous—"

He stops mid-rant, realizing what he’s just said. His yellow triangle face turns a strange shade of pink, and you stare at him, completely confused.

"Are you okay?" you ask again. "You’re acting really weird today, even for you."

Bill quickly waves a hand in the air, trying to brush it off. "I’m fine! You’re the one making this weird!"

"I’m making this weird?" you repeat, completely lost. "What did I even do?"

"Oh, I don’t know, exist? " Bill blurts out, and then immediately claps a hand over his mouth.

There’s a heavy silence in the room. Mabel’s eyes go wide, and Dipper looks like he’s just seen a ghost.

Stan, who’s been standing in the doorway this whole time, mutters, "This is painful to watch."

Bill, clearly mortified, stumbles to cover up his slip-up. "What I meant to say was, uh, you’re... distracting. Yeah, you’re a distraction. That’s why I’m... off my game today."

You blink at him, still completely clueless. "A distraction? How?"

"You know, just... being around," Bill stammers, waving his hands vaguely. "Being... you. It’s... distracting."

Dipper and Mabel exchange a look, and it’s obvious they’re both screaming internally. How could you not see what was happening?

Mabel steps forward, putting her hands on her hips. "Okay, Bill, enough with the weird cryptic stuff. Why don’t you just tell [Y/N] what’s really going on?"

Bill shoots her a look of pure panic. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, Shooting Star! Why don’t you mind your own business, huh?"

Mabel rolls her eyes. "Come on, everyone else has figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" you ask, completely confused.

Dipper sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is so painful to watch."

"Painful for you? I’m the one being interrogated here!" Bill snaps.

Stan steps in, shaking his head. "Kid, just tell ‘em. This whole thing’s like watching a car crash in slow motion."

Bill groans, burying his face in his hands. "Fine, fine! You wanna know what’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on!"

You lean forward, curious. "Okay?"

"I—" Bill starts, then stops, clearly struggling. He takes a deep breath. "I... like you, okay?"

There’s another heavy silence in the room. Dipper drops his journal, Mabel lets out a dramatic gasp, and even Stan seems momentarily stunned.

You, however, just blink in confusion. "Like... like me? As in... what, like a friend?"

Bill lets out a frustrated groan. "No, not like a friend! Like... like like you! Like... in a romantic way!"

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Bill Cipher, the sarcastic, chaotic demon, likes you? Romantically? The idea is so bizarre, so utterly out of left field, that you can’t even process it.

"You... like me?" you repeat, still in disbelief.

"Yes!" Bill throws his hands in the air. "Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been trying to not be a weirdo around you, but apparently, that’s even worse!"

Mabel gasps dramatically again, clasping her hands together. "Oh my gosh, this is so cute!"

Dipper just stares at you, then at Bill, then back at you. "How did you not notice this? He’s been acting like a total freak!"

Bill glares at him. "I wasn’t being a freak! I was... handling things!"

"Handling things?" Stan repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Kid, you’ve been acting like a nervous wreck. It’s embarrassing."

Bill turns to you, still flustered and obviously out of his element. "Look, I’m not great at this whole... feelings thing, okay? But I do like you. A lot. So... there. I said it."

You stare at him, your brain still trying to catch up. "You... really like me?"

"Yes!" Bill practically shouts, throwing his hands up again. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

You blink a few more times, and then finally, it clicks. Bill Cipher, the same demon who once turned your house upside down for fun, likes you.

"Wow," you mutter, still processing. "I... I didn’t expect that."

Mabel jumps up and down, clapping her hands. "Finally! I’ve been waiting for this moment forever!"

Dipper groans, burying his face in his hands. "This is so awkward."

You look back at Bill, who’s staring at you with a mix of hope and dread. You’ve never seen him look so... vulnerable.

"Well," you start, smiling a little. "I guess I like you too."

Bill’s eye widens. "You... do?"

You nod. "Yeah, I mean... you’re still annoying, but... yeah."

Bill stares at you for a moment, clearly stunned. Then, slowly, his eye wrinkled like a grin. "Well, well, well. I guess this whole feelings thing isn’t so bad after all."

Mabel squeals, jumping up and down. "Kiss! You have to kiss now!"

Dipper groans even louder. "Mabel, no, and I don't think that's even possible with his... eye?"

Bill just scoffed but ignored him, floating closer to you. "Well, I did say I like you. Maybe I should prove it."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re still a dork, Bill."

"Yeah, but I’m your dork now," he says, leaning in.

And maybe, just maybe, you let him kiss you.

Thank you again for being my first request! I hope you enjoyed all the chaos and awkwardness between Bill and the reader, and feel free to send in more ideas anytime! 😊

[yatsurinamikaze]

Wager [completed!]

Series : (first) - (second) - (third) - (fourth) - (fifth) - (sixth) - (seventh) - (eight) - (ninth) - (tenth_last) - (BONUS!)

tw// shit show, cringe, word vomit, objectification, shitty writing, grammatical errors, curse words.

Oikawa Tooru x Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Summary: They strike a bet. The Wager? You.

Five years have passed since that chaotic day in the gym, and life has unfolded in ways you never could have predicted. You’re now a leading architect, renowned for your innovative designs and dedication to your craft. Your life is busy but fulfilling, and you’ve carved out your own path—one that, as it turns out, was the right one for you.

Today, you find yourself courtside at the Tokyo Olympics, watching Argentina and Japan warming up before their big volleyball match. The energy in the stadium is electric, fans from all over the world cheering in anticipation.

As you sit down, your friend Aeri nudges you, her eyes wide as she spots the players on the court. "I can’t believe you dated Oikawa from the Argentina team back in high school," she says, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief.

You smile, shaking your head with amusement as you wave at Tooru, who just winked at you from the court. “Not just him,” you say, laughing softly. “I almost ended up dating Ushiwaka too.”

Aeri’s jaw drops, and she turns to face you with wide eyes. "Wait, what?! Ushiwaka as in Wakatoshi Ushijima?!"

You laugh goofily, nodding as you watch both the Japan and Argentina teams warming up. “Yeah, those were some crazy days.”

Aeri is still in shock, her gaze bouncing between you and the players on the court. "You almost dated both of them? And now they’re both Olympic volleyball stars? That’s insane!"

You shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Well, life takes you in unexpected directions."

As you watch the players finish their warm-ups, your mind drifts back to the choices you made after that day in high school. You had chosen your own path, focusing on your future and self-discovery instead of jumping into relationships. It had been the right decision. You’d grown into the person you were meant to be, without being tied to someone else’s journey. And seeing Oikawa and Ushiwaka thriving as pros? It only reinforced that they, too, had followed their dreams and flourished.

You made the right choice, you think to yourself, it wasn’t about being with someone, it was about finding yourself first—and you were grateful for how it all worked out in the end.

The stadium’s noise fades for a brief moment as everyone prepares for the opening whistle. The excitement builds, and you lean forward in your seat, ready to watch the match. But just before the whistle blows, you hear someone clear their throat near you.

You turn your head to see a tall, athletic-looking man standing next to the empty seat beside you. There's something familiar about him, though you can’t quite place it. Your eyes flicker between him and the court, where one of the Japanese players—a faux-blonde in a red and black jersey—catches your attention.

The stranger grins, clearly noticing your confusion. "Are you…" you start, pointing at the blond player on the court. "Are you his… brother or something?"

The man chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Twin, actually."

You burst into laughter, the realization dawning on you. "Oh yeah, that makes sense!" you say, feeling a little silly for not seeing the resemblance sooner.

He smiles, his gaze warm and lingering as he looks into your eyes. There’s something about his demeanor—calm, confident, and inviting—that immediately pulls you towards him.

"So…" Nodding towards the empty spot next to you, he asks, "Is this seat taken?"

Masterlist

haha, just a fun bonus.

[otrtbs]

BARTYLUS BASEBALL THING

(inspired by this which haunts my thoughts 24/7)

Word Count: 5.2k

Part: 1/?

Summary: every summer begets the baseball tournament of the year. barty drags regulus to the opening game, kickstarting a series of unintended events.

Barty’s whole body hums, the way it always does when he’s around Regulus. Like the old TV his father has that crackles to life in static whirs, or the green boxes in the neighborhood that Barty would sit on until the sun went down. Constant electricity.

“I mean, they’ve been doing this for years now and I have been explicitly forbidden from going,” Regulus returns. Still, he doesn’t seem affected one way or the other. “Mother wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh, mother wouldn’t like it?” Barty snorts, mockingly. “So what? It’ll give us something to do. And it’ll give us an opportunity to see each other since your parents plan on keeping you locked up in the house all summer,” he counters, and Regulus knocks a sharp shoulder into his arm. “It’s good to stick together. Mother doesn’t have to know.”

They’re walking side by side on the pavement. Slow, shuffling feet. Hands in their pockets. It’s the last day of class for the school year. Without school, there’s no way for Barty to see Regulus. Barty went all of last summer without seeing Regulus and it was boring and brutal.

Regulus takes a hand out of his pocket and pushes the hair out of his face. The sun is bright, and it causes him to squint. “Sirius still playing?”

Barty nods. “Yeah. He’s still on the James Potter all-star team. I heard Potter even talked Frank Longbottom out of retirement for one last summer.”

“He’s only two years older than us,” Regulus scoffs.

“Still, he didn’t play last summer.”

Regulus nods slowly.

They walk down the pavement silently, dragging footsteps, trying to delay the inevitable.

“It is good to stick together.” Regulus looks at Barty and traces the bruise on his cheek with his finger lightly. Barty is proud of the way he doesn’t flinch, even if the bruise is still tender and aching. He’s not so proud of the way he leans into the touch, even if it hurts.

This entire time, Barty was worried about leaving Regulus alone for a summer with no one but his parents for company. Now he thinks Regulus was equally worried for him, for the same reasons.

“But, I don’t like baseball,” Regulus muses, pulling his finger away.

“No, but you like me,” Barty grins wickedly. “Besides, we’ll just make fun of the whole thing, and I’ll steal my dad’s liquor and we’ll make it fun.”

Regulus pretends to think about it, but it doesn’t matter. Barty knows him. He knows Regulus is going to give in.

The summer baseball tournament is a local legend among the neighborhood kids, and the kids from surrounding neighborhoods too. The first baseball game began five years ago after they knocked down an old rickety building and reduced it to rubble. It didn’t take long for the land to reclaim the area and grow into tall stalks of grassy growth. That’s when, at age 12, Frank Longbottom got the bright idea to turn it into a makeshift baseball field.

The first year, Frank could barely get enough people together to make two teams, and it was so hot in the daylight that they never finished a full game before the kids scattered back into their air-conditioned homes. By year two, Frank had taken the entire school year to recruit people from surrounding neighborhoods and moved the games to the evening to beat the blazing heat.

This would be the fifth consecutive year that the tournament would run. Some kids still used the lot to play baseball in the winter or the spring, but this? This was official. After five years, the summer games became a thing of wonder for all of the young people in town. Anyone aged 12-17 could be on a team, you had to have nine to a team to enter, and each team wishing to compete in the tournament would have to have an official group name, a poster, and a roster. You had to submit and finalize your team two months before the school year ended.

That’s when the fun began. Students would make fliers and posters advertising their teams. Slips of copy paper folded up into tiny squares and passed down the aisles of desks to avoid the sharp eyes of teachers and administrators. The official list is always posted on the first Saturday of May. One expertly crayola, stickered, and markered sheet listing the teams, players, and field positions was nailed to the hollow oak tree stump in the woods by the creek. All the children knew where it was, and all of the adults would never stumble across it. Once the list was posted, the betting could begin.

Mundungus Fletcher and his group of friends ran the baseball betting ring. They would sit out by the old tree stump every Saturday with their journals taking meticulous notes of everyone placing bets and what they brought in. Nothing was off limits, Mundungus Fletcher accepted everything from stickers to lighters. Packs of bubble gum, nail polish, the two or three cigarettes you could manage to steal from your father, anything. Of course, not everything was of equal value. A lighter was worth two full-size candy bars (and it couldn’t be one of the bad ones like Almond Joy or 3 Musketeers they had to Reece's or Twix) and two small stickers. A nail polish was worth a rubber band ball and a blow pop. Mundungus Fletcher and his team took their jobs seriously, monitoring the conversion rates and doling out prizes. Every Saturday the children of the neighborhood would scramble, bringing in whatever they thought would be best for the pot. A few stray dollar bills, their coins, candy, lip gloss, sunglasses, bouncy balls, yo-yos, marbles, stamps, pokemon cards, queued-up mp3 players, necklaces, baseball caps, and even beloved childhood stuffed animals weren’t safe when it was time for baseball bets.

Mundungus kept all of the bets in one of his mother’s large kitchen mixing bowls, then two of his mother’s large mixing bowls, then in empty shoe boxes as things began to overfill. He said he hid all the betting goods in a secret, secure location, but Barty was pretty sure he was just keeping it all under his bed. Regardless, Mundungus would bring out the spoils every Saturday so that all of the kids in the neighborhood could see their potential spoils, provided they picked the right team. It was a great incentive to get people to partake.

As for the baseball teams, there were eight this year, the most they’d ever had. They would be competing to be number one. The winning team of the summer baseball tournament became town celebrities for the year. They always got first dibs at the carnival that came to town (they could skip the ride lines and take two turns in a row on the Ferris wheel), they got to use the tire swing into the creek whenever they wanted (they never had to wait to use it or take turns), and, because some of the older kids had jobs already, if you were on the winning baseball team you would often get free movie tickets and popcorn, or free ice cream if one of the other kids was working. There was an unspoken rule, a reverence, that the winning team had with the other kids in town, they were Gods among mortals, they would want for nothing, ask for anything, and receive it. The winning team also gets crowned with Coca-Cola canned bottle crowns that Barty thinks look stupid, but everyone else seems way too into them.

This all happens without the supervision of any adults. It was the most sacred vow that everyone tried not to break. No adults allowed. Adults always had the propensity to ruin things. They would think too hard about things, create problems that didn’t exist, and they would shut the baseball tournament down. This year, like last year, the games don’t start until one in the morning, while almost every adult is asleep soundly in their beds, getting ready for work the next morning. Of course, more than a few adults know about this tournament, and most don’t care. Regulus’ mother, like Barty’s father, is allergic to fun, so they’re both banned from going. Some kids have meltdowns over being banned from the games. Two years ago, a game couldn’t be played because two players were grounded and the team had to forfeit.

The stakes and the pressure were always high.

The stakes were high for Barty this year too, even if he wasn’t playing. He looks at Regulus as they come to the end of the street, shuffling feet. Regulus' house looms behind him, and Barty can see Walburga watching from the window on the second floor, peering purse-lipped through the curtains.

Barty’s hands stay in his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

Regulus nods. His face doesn’t waver but his eyes sparkle with secrecy. “Yeah, later.”

—

Throwing rocks at people’s windows is the worst.

Barty isn’t enthused.

First, he had to collect a bunch of rocks to stuff his pockets with on the way over, second, it was dark and there weren’t any street lights on Regulus’ street so everything looked exactly the same, and third, he was rapidly running out of rocks.

He skims them lightly at first. Tap. Tap. Tap.

They bounce off the glass of Regulus’ window in soft thuds.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jesus Christ, how long did it take for Regulus to sneak out and come down?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Barty’s annoyed now. Maybe he wasn’t throwing them hard enough?

He throws the next few with more force.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

He keeps throwing them until he’s out of rocks.

Now what?

He stands on the side of Regulus’ house, trying to squint up into the dark window. He’s not sure if Regulus would turn a light on in the house and risk it, but it looks like nothing is going on in there. Regulus had promised him that he wasn’t a deep sleeper.

Outside the crickets chirp in song and the blades of grass tickle Barty’s ankles as the night breeze causes them to sway.

Fuck it.

Barty picks up a much larger rock that’s at his feet, and forgetting himself for a moment, he throws it with all the strength of the last throw and then some. The glass breaks and shatters with a delicious noise, but Barty can't admire it, because he’s already turning on his heel and running.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Past the first house and then the second and then–

Oh.

Oh.

His feet all but screech to a halt on the pavement as he looks up at Regulus’ house. Regulus’ real house. This time he’s sure of it.

It’s not his fault everything looks the same in the dark.

Barty shrugs, trying to calm his racing heart and catch his breath as he leans down to pick up some smaller rocks from the ground.

As quietly as he can, he stalks over to the side of the house Regulus’ bedroom window is on, and starts the process over.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He uses a much lighter touch.

Thankfully, Regulus comes out after nine stones, no lights ever turned on inside the Black family residence.

“I’m surprised you don’t play,” Barty says as they walk side-by-side to the baseball field.

“Why’s that?” Regulus looks at him like he’s sprouted another head.

Barty shrugs, looking up at the waxing moon. “Your whole family does. Sirius and Andromeda are on a team. And Narcissa’s a pitcher. Bellatrix is on Tom’s team. Also a pitcher. You mean to tell me you haven’t thought about it?”

“Narcissa plays?” Regulus furrows his brows. “I didn’t know that.”

There was a lot about summer baseball that Regulus didn’t know. Barty takes it upon himself to explain on the walk over.

“There are really only three teams to beat in this tournament. Tom’s team, they’re the Death Eaters, that’s their team name. Nobody likes them and everyone is afraid of them because they play dirty. Last year, Bellatrix beamed Remus in the nose so hard that she broke it. Tom ordered it. Then you’ve got the Serpents, they’re my favorites. That’s the one Narcissa plays on. They haven’t won a tournament ever, but this is their year. Trust me. And then there’s,” Barty rolls his eyes for dramatic effect. “The Lions or whatever the fuck.”

“Horrible team name,” Regulus’ mouth twists up into a smile.

“Truly,” Barty nods. “James Potter is the captain, right-hand man is your brother, and they of course have recruited the legendary Frank Longbottom to come back and steal the baseball title from Tom’s Death Eaters. It was a huge upset when Tom’s team won two years ago, so much so that Frank quit the following year, and Tom won again, and now,” Barty shrugs. “I guess he’s back.”

“So the Lions are like the founding team?” Regulus asks, and Barty nods. He’s surprised Regulus doesn’t know this from his brother.

“Yeah, the original team. Doesn’t mean they’re gonna win though, even with Frank. Tom might actually kill somebody before he lets that happen.”

“But the Lions, they’re the favorites?”

Barty fake gags. “Depends on who you ask. Not my favorites.”

“Mine neither,” Regulus says decisively.

Barty wonders if he’s thinking about all of the lion posters and memorabilia that Sirius used to keep in his bedroom. Regulus would always complain about the bright red and gold team colors and the obnoxious designs, but he doesn’t complain about anything anymore now that Sirius’ room is empty.

Barty looked out for him then. When Sirius packed up everything and ran away to James’ house. It was odd, Regulus seemed to be the only one who knew what it was then. Walburga and Orion seemed to be in denial. Sirius would come home, it was an extended sleepover– which they were never allowed to have, Sirius would realize how good he had it and he’d come back. Only Regulus seemed to understand that they’d never live under the same roof again.

Barty was there. He was there while Regulus ranted and raved and paced and shook his fists at the sky. He was there when Regulus crumpled up like a sheet of paper and collapsed in on himself, shoulders shaking in silent cries. He was there when Sirius spent every second trying to convince Regulus to come to James’ house with him, begged Regulus to talk to him, tried to pass him letters in the street that Regulus would let fall to the pavement. And he was there when Regulus picked himself up and pretended as if the entire affair was beneath him.

They were there for each other. Alway had been. Barty would never leave like Sirius did. He wouldn’t dream of it. He’d stick around as long as Regulus would let him, as pathetic as that sounded. He’d like to think that Regulus would stick around too. Regulus with his dark eyes and all-too-serious look of someone always deep in thought. Sharp, gray eyes that narrowed in displeasure at everything. It took a lot of effort to get Regulus to smile, even more effort to make him laugh. Barty had never done something so rewarding. The surge he felt in his chest whenever Regulus would grin or laugh at something Barty had said was addicting. It made him lightheaded and delirious.

“Look what I brought,” Barty grins, pulling out the flask from his back pocket. The silver can glints in the moonlight.

Regulus’ hand reaches to grab at the flask as they walk in time. Barty likes the way their feet sound on the pavement when they’re in step. He hates that he’s been having thoughts like these more and more frequently. He can’t fucking help himself.

Regulus takes a swig and does his best not to shudder as the warm liquor lights a fire down his throat. Barty finds it slightly endearing as he raises his eyebrows at Regulus, waiting for him to cough and sputter. It never comes.

Barty watches as Regulus licks his lips and hands the flask back to Barty, cheeks pink. Barty is overcome with the desire to kiss him, to taste the honeyed bourbon still on his lips and feel the lightning bolts race through his veins, but he contains himself. Another annoying and incessant thought.

In an attempt to recover, he swings hard at Regulus’ shoulder, harder than he should, as he tuts, “Don’t drink it all, save some for the game.”

Regulus turns to him once more, face indignant as he rubs his arm where Barty has just punched. “Fuck you, I barely even drank any.”

“It looked like a big swallow to me.”

Now it was Regulus’ turn to punch Barty, but there was no heat behind it. “Fucking hell, I told you to stop swinging on me like that. I’ll break your nose next time, I swear to God.”

Barty grins. “Is that a promise?”

“Freak,” Regulus shakes his head, but he’s back to being amused.

“You love it.”

They make it to the field early, but there are already people streaming in with bright battery-operated lights for the game, talking excitedly to themselves. A team is warming up the field, practicing their swings and stretching, Barty listens to the clatter of the bleachers that someone had brought to the lot two years ago. He’s not sure how they did it.

He watches Regulus watch the scene in wonder.

“They have concession stands?” He asks, looking at the girl and boy selling things on the pavement in front of the lot. They both sit at a little plastic table with plastic chairs, their sign advertises what they're selling, crackerjack, peanuts, sodas, trail mix, lemonade.

“Uh, I guess,” Barty shrugs. “That’s new. Seems a bit much.”

Still, he buys two bags of boiled peanuts and two cokes for them anyway.

Mundungus Fletcher and his friends are there, calling out to everyone to join in the bets. Tonight is the last night to enter.

Regulus stops by and drops off a few things, about ten dollars, 4 packs of gum, sunglasses with flames up the side that used to belong to Sirius, and 5 spinning tops.

“Regulus Black,” Mundungus fills out his name in the notebook in inky black pen, carefully recording the list of everything he’s brought. “Let me guess, you’re betting it all on the Lions?”

His voice is loud and booming, with the confidence of a sports announcer but the underlying hint of deception like a used car salesman.

“No,” Regulus scowls at him.

“Oh, I just assumed because of your brother that–”

“I want to bet it all on the Serpents. I hear their pitcher is really good.”

Barty smiles as Mundungus nods. “And you Crouch? Any last-minute bets?”

Barty shakes his head. “I’ve already got over $50 in the game. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

Regulus signs on the dotted line confirming his entry and they make their way to the bleachers. Even though it’s dark out, it’s still uncomfortably warm outside. Some kids have brought battery-operated handheld fans with styrofoam propellers to keep them cool. Others have ice packs.

Barty figures that he can just sit behind someone with a fan and benefit from the airflow. The bleachers begin to fill up as the game draws closer. Kids bring signs elaborately decorated with all of their best art supplies. Glitter glue, puff paint, rhinestones, and neon markers. Some have even painted their faces.

Barty and Regulus spot Remus Lupin at the same time. He’s walking towards a group of kids scrambling to set up a radio and microphone at the announcer's table.

“One. Two. One. Two,” Remus says into the microphone and it resounds throughout the lot, as a hush falls in the bleachers.

“He’s not playing?” Regulus leans in to ask Barty, his shoulder brushing against him.

Barty shakes his head. “Not since the Bellatrix incident, no. He’s no good anymore. Flinches when the ball comes towards him, forgets to swing the bat.”

“Remus Lupin?” Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up like he doesn’t believe it. But he doesn’t have to believe it, he can see Remus take his place at the announcer's table.

Remus runs the scoreboard, calls the players up, and explains the plays for the kids who don’t really know what’s going on. Mary MacDonald helps him with the music and the score when she’s not playing, otherwise, Rita Skeeter helps out, much to the annoyance of everyone.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Regulus snorts. “What’s next, they bring out someone to sing the national anthem?”

“Don’t give them any ideas.”

The mood shifts in the stadium as they get ready to begin. Remus clears his throat in the microphone and it emits an ear-splitting feedback. Still, some kids were trickling in, sitting in the grass now that the bleachers were full.

On the other side of the field, sat the other teams that weren’t playing that night, just behind the makeshift dugouts.

“They like to sit and scope out the competition. They keep to themselves,” Barty explains when Regulus asks. “Can’t mingle with the common folk.”

Regulus scoffs, but Barty doesn’t miss the way his eyes search for Sirius across the field. When Regulus finds him, Sirius sits up straighter, already looking back. He goes to raise a hand to wave at him but Regulus turns his head away sharply, making a show of it.

Barty watches as Sirius moves to stand up like he’s going to run over to them and talk to Regulus, but a blonde girl, Marlene McKinnon, grabs his arm and pulls him down as the first players run out onto the field.

Remus introduces the two teams, the Death Eaters versus the Badgers. All around them, kids shake their yellow signs exuberantly, while some sport all black signs with skulls on them.

The Badgers are going to get destroyed. Anyone with half a brain would know it the minute they heard the match-up. While you had to be 12-17 to play, most of the kids on the Badgers’ team were closer to 12, whereas the Death Eaters were all 17. Barty was actually certain that a few of the kids were 18 or 19 and only getting by because they’d been held back a year or two in school.

He starts listening in to what Remus is saying as he passes Regulus his bag of boiled peanuts.

“With starting pitcher Bellatrix Black, and your team captain, Tom Riddle.”

The stands go wild, everyone stomping their feet on the metal bleachers causing a thunderous metal rumble and Regulus’ eyes widen at the commotion.

“Let’s play ball,” Remus called, rather monotone and complacent about the ordeal.

Regulus snorts. “This is beneath him.”

Barty nods in agreement.

Since there were eight teams in the tournament, there would be seven rounds total. Each round was a best-of-three battle to move on, for a maximum of 21 games, 21 nights, of baseball madness. They were guaranteed at least 14. Two full weeks of baseball. The event of the summer.

They watch as Bellatrix takes the pitcher's mound, licking up little clouds of dirt with her feet. He knocks his knee against Regulus’ at his cousin taking in both the crowd’s cheers and boos. Barty pours some of the bourbon into his Coke can and does the same for Regulus.

Bellatrix’s wild hair was long and curly, falling down her back. It was only kept out of her face by a black baseball cap, and she smiles sharply at the stands.

A soft tune plays as a short kid with spiky brown hair walks up to home plate, giving his bat a few test swings in preparation.

“I heard she puts some kind of resin or wax on her baseball cap to make the ball sticky,” Barty whispers like it’s some kind of secret.

“I believe it,” Regulus says, also leaning in. Barty tries to ignore the lightning bolts. The static frequency once again turned up a notch. “She used to cheat in every game we played growing up.”

They share a look as Bellatrix puts her fingers to the brim of her baseball hat and nods, baseball glove at the ready. The atmosphere has gone quiet like everyone is holding their breaths. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

The kid at home plate assumes position and Bellatrix winds up. The ball moves so fast that Barty doesn’t have time to register it, and neither does the kid at home plate, as the ball hits the catcher’s mitt with a hard thud.

“Strike one,” Remus’ voice echoes, and the spell is broken.

The crowd roars to life once more.

Barty and Regulus get lost in the atmosphere, the crack of the bat, the whizz of the ball, the cheers of people telling their friends to steal third. They crunch through their boiled peanuts and slowly work their way through their cokes, which get stronger as time passes, due to Barty constantly topping them up with flask bourbon.

At the top of the third, a Badger player manages a triple on Bellatrix, running in two of her teammates, so Bellatrix beams her at the top of the fourth, and lets her walk. It doesn’t matter though, the score is already 6-2. At the bottom of the sixth, Tom scores the first home run of the night, and more than a few of the silly girls from high school chirp and cheer loudly, making heart eyes in his direction.

“I mean,” Regulus leans in to whisper. “I kinda get it.”

Barty screws up his face in disgust. “Fuck no.”

He makes more than a few sarcastic remarks and snarky comments, all of which make Regulus laugh or smile. Barty is humming with delight, but he desperately tries to curtail it. Regulus is also getting into the game. It’s a gradual interest, but Barty finds that he’s watching Regulus more than the game. He watches as Regulus’ eyes furrow when someone gets an out, watches the slight smile grace his face as Bellatrix throws a particularly nasty screwball, watches Regulus’ vague curiosity at Tom’s simpering smirk. At some point, their knees touch, and they stay that way for the remainder of the night. Regulus, who shies away from any sort of contact, hasn't moved his knee away.

Barty fucking loves baseball.

The game ends at a brutal 11-2 at the top of the ninth inning. Though, to the Badger’s credit, they do not look defeated or deterred. They seem more than pleased with their two runs, all jostling and shaking the girl who made it possible with wide smiles and congratulations.

The bourbon has satiated Barty and left his head perfectly hazy. He offers a lazy smile to Regulus. “Walk you home?”

It’s late, and he’s feeling tired, he’s sure Regulus feels the same.

Regulus nods, finishing off the last of the coke, and subsequently the last of the bourbon.

“Can’t let you sleep through morning violin lessons, or French tutoring, or whatever the fuck your weird-ass family has you do.”

“Piano.” Regulus rolls his eyes as he corrects Barty. His cheeks are tinged slightly pink and his eyes are a little glassy.

Barty bites his lip to keep from smiling. What a lightweight.

They’re almost out of the field, about to slip down the quiet streets, when Regulus is pulled back by a hand on his shoulder.

Barty spins around to see Sirius with a group of his teammates.

“You came?” Is the first thing out of Sirius’ mouth.

“Not for you, for Barty,” Regulus shoots off just as quickly.

Sirius’ teammates stare at the ground nervously. He makes note of them. The blonde girl from before, Marlene, and he’d know James Potter anywhere. He’s never seen James without Sirius. And the redhead, Lily.

“Well, we play in four nights if you want to watch,” James offers a slight smile. “I’m James, by the way.”

Regulus regards him coldly. “I know who you are.”

“I just wanted to, uh, say hi.” Sirius’ voice is stilted, odd. Almost pained. Barty makes it his duty to glare daggers at him.

“Well, don’t do it again,” Regulus says smoothly, and Barty can tell he doesn’t mean it.

So can Sirius, as he smiles.

“You know we could always use an extra player on our team.”

“In your fucking dreams, Sirius.”

“Come on, we want to get uniforms made,” Sirius offers again, as if this fact would entice Regulus.

He doesn’t know Regulus like Barty knows him. Regulus would hate wearing matching baseball uniforms. He would detest it. He’d rather die.

Marlene rolls her eyes. “James just wants to prance about in those tight little pants.”

“Yeah,” James shoots back quickly. “And all the girls want to see me prance about in those tight little pants, and who am I to deny the people what they desperately want?”

Lily scoffs as Regulus turns to leave, dragging Barty with him.

“Wait,” Sirius calls. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Maybe. It’s none of your business,” Regulus snaps as they walk out of earshot.

They’re striding down the pavement, no shuffling feet and no delay of time, as Regulus huffs.

“Wait,” Barty can’t help himself from asking. “We are going back tomorrow, right?”

Apart from the Sirius interlude, he had a good time with Regulus. And he figures if Sirius hadn’t ambushed them, then he and Regulus would be taking their sweet time walking home. Time that Barty craved more than anything.

“Yeah,” Regulus nods shortly. “I shouldn’t have talked to him. I should’ve just ignored him.”

“Well, he did make it kind of difficult to do that,” Barty reasons as Regulus fumes.

“Fuck, and then stupid fucking James Potter trying to be so–”

“Annoying,” Barty says at the time Regulus says charming.

He tries to ignore the funny thing his heart does in his chest as they both fall into stunned silence.

“Well,” Barty breathes out. “Not what I was going to say.”

“No, I just mean– you heard him,” Regulus says quickly, taking on a crude imitation of James’ voice. “I’m James. I wear tight pants and steal people’s brothers from them for fun.”

Barty snorts. “Yeah, what a dick.”

Regulus nods and repeats after him. “A dick.”

But it doesn’t sound like Regulus really means it. No one can be both charming and a dick. It doesn’t work like that.

Barty walks Regulus all the way to his house, doing his best to skirt the home with the broken window.

Regulus smiles at him softly. “It was fun.”

He admits it like a secret, like it reluctantly has to be true.

Barty nods in agreement, fighting off the urge to punch Regulus again. “Same time tomorrow, baseball boy?”

Regulus nods, his hand brushing against Barty’s slightly before he turns to head inside through the propped-open window on the bottom floor.

Barty stands on the street corner, just him and chirping crickets as he waits for Regulus to flick his bedroom lights on and off to show he’s made it. Once he does, Barty heads towards his house, trying to ignore the parts of his hand that Regulus has touched crackling to life.

[jihyoruri]

can we get fans/dives fave wow!yn moments ?

☆WOW!YN BEST MOMENTS ive! member reader

⭐️🎧 clip one

yn leaned against her chair, letting out a aloud groan, “it’s so hot in here, are they trying to kill me?” she unzipped her sweater, fanning herself frantically.

she squinted her eyes at the comments that seemed the have gotten faster than they were before, “unnie, when did you get those abs?”

“I’ve always had them.” she says nonchalantly.

she then scrunched her face at the comments, “no, why are all you guys talking about is my stomach now?”

yn zips up her sweater, smiling as the fans beg her to not.

⭐️🎧 clip two

the interviewer smiled at yn as they began to ask the next question, “what groups among your generation have you been listening too lately?”

yn looks up for a second before answering, “I’ve been listening to lesserafim lately.” she smiles, “I really like their latest comeback.”

“they’re pretty girls right?” the interviewer said.

“oh, yeah totally they’re really pretty.”

“definitely prettier than your members” he jokes

yn side eyed him before answering, “my members are on a different level of beautiful in my eyes.” she fake laughs. “both are definitely better looking than you.”

⭐️🎧 clip three

yn, giselle and somi sit, huddled in front of the camera as they read comments, it was obvious that the trio was tipsy but that made the live funner for fans.

“what is yn unnies biggest secret?” somi reads before giselle laughs, “yn’s biggest secret.”

“I don’t have secrets.”

“yes you do.” both giselle and somi say at the same time, yn’s bigges secret is that she has a cr-” giselle starts before. “shut the fuck up.”

the comments get faster at yn’s vulgar language, and both giselle and somi laugh at their teasing.

yn quickly changes the topic, as soon as fans try to guess what giselle was going to say, “yn, what tattoo should I get.”

“get a tattoo of my face on your ass.”

⭐️🎧 clip four

yn holds her camera facing her bathroom mirror, she takes out her scissors and starts cutting away at her hair, untill it’s in a wolfcut.

fans spam the comments asking how did the girl do that.

“and that’s what I call skill.” she says to the camera, before accidentally dropping her phone , now her full body on display, exposing the star tattoo on her lower waist.

“oh shit.”

⭐️🎧 clip five

yn pulls jiwon by her waist into her side, brushing the girls raven hair out of her face.

she holds her chopsticks towards the girls lips, motioning for her to eat.

jiwon tries to shake her head but yn doesn’t let her, “you’ve been eyeing it this whole time, eat.” the taller girl says, grabbing ahold of jiwon’s jaw and putting the chicken in her mouth.

jiwon hums at the taste and yn smiles at her, “want more?”

★☆HERE YOU GO WOW!YN SIMPS

[impishtubist]

Happy birthday, @arliedraws ! I'm so happy that our paths crossed online and then in real life 💙 I tried writing you a little ficlet based on your Sirius tramp stamp art, but uh, this happened instead.

---

The new math teacher is cool. 

He walks into class on the first day wearing a leather jacket and carrying a motorcycle helmet under one arm. His dark hair is long enough to pull back into a short ponytail, though some strands escape, and he’s got a neatly-trimmed beard and tattoos. The entire class breaks into whispers, and Harry is fascinated. 

Mr. Black is fun. He dresses and acts like a former rock star, and he makes math interesting for once. Harry can’t remember the last time he paid close attention in this class, and he diligently fills the pages of his notebook as Mr. Black takes them through each lesson.

“Excellent work, Harry,” he says one day as he passes back a test, and Harry blushes furiously. This close to Mr. Black, he can smell leather and cigarettes, and see the way the man’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

Mr. Black holds office hours before school most days, and Harry asks Mum if she can start dropping him off early. Mum is delighted he’s taking such an interest in his studies, and agrees. 

“Your father never studied,” she says one day as they’re driving to school. “He still got top marks on everything. Drove me insane. Some of us have to actually work for our grades, and I’m happy you’re putting in the effort, sweetheart.” 

“Morning, Harry!” Mr. Black greets one day when Harry walks into the classroom. Office hours started a few minutes ago, and he’s the only one here. That won’t last long--Hermione won’t be far behind him, and several more of his classmates will come before the hour is up. Mr. Black’s office hours are always busy, which is why Harry tries to be the first one there every day. “I’ll be down in a second. Go ahead and get settled.”

Mr. Black has shed his button-up and is wearing only a thin t-shirt. He’s standing on a stepstool so he can get something down from the top shelf of one of the cabinets in the room. The t-shirt is tight, and Harry watches the muscles of his back and arm flex.

“O-okay,” he squeaks, but he stands there staring at Mr. Black until Hermione comes flying into the room a few minutes later, a dozen questions tumbling out of her at once that Mr. Black is only too happy to answer. 

***

“Harry, are you packed?” Mum calls up the stairs to him.

“Yeah, been packed for ages! Can we go now?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Mum says as Harry comes down the stairs, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Why are you in such a hurry to get to Dad’s, anyway? What mischief does he have planned for you two?”

“Nothing!” Harry says, which is a complete lie. He’s been texting Dad for the past couple of weeks about pranks they can pull on Dad’s awful neighbor, Severus Snape, and he can’t wait to try some of them out. 

His parents have been divorced since he was a baby; Harry doesn’t remember a time when they all lived in the same house.They don’t live far from each other, though, barely a ten-minute drive, which means that Harry can attend his school no matter which parent he stays with. He lives with Mum for a month, and then Dad, and they’ve switched off like that his whole life. Neither of his parents have remarried yet. When Harry was little, he’d wanted his mum to marry his kindergarten teacher, but then Mr. Lupin had married Mayor Shacklebolt and Harry had cried for a week about it. He’s fine with it now, though. They’ve got like five kids now, and Harry does not want any siblings. He likes having his parents to himself, thanks.

Mum pulls into Dad’s driveway, and Harry leaps out of the car and runs to the front door. He lets himself in with his key, shouting, “Dad, I’m home! Wanna go--” 

He stops short. Dad leaps up from the couch, startled, quickly disentangling himself from the man he had been sitting with and--and kissing--

It’s Mr. Black. 

“Harry!” Dad says, running his hand through his hair. “You’re, ah, you’re early--”

“Oh!” Mum had come into the house behind Harry, and she stands there with her hand over her mouth. “James, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it would be an issue to be a little early. I didn’t realize you had, um, company. I should have called ahead.”

“It’s okay, Lils.” Dad gives them both a sheepish smile and holds out a hand to Mr. Black, pulling him up from the couch. “It’s about time we told you both, anyway. Harry, this is Sirius--”

“He’s my teacher,” Harry blurts. “Dad, you’re kissing my teacher.” 

“Er, yes, well.” Dad clears his throat. “We didn’t want to tell you until we were sure…but I’ve been seeing Sirius for a few months now, and--”

“Months?”

“I am sorry, Harry,” Mr. Black says. He’s still holding Dad’s hand. “I met your dad at the shops right before school started. I didn’t realize his son was in my class until I saw you that first day. We talked about it, and we decided it was best not to say anything to you until we knew…well, until we knew that this was something serious. No pun intended.”

He winks at Harry, fucking winks, and Harry is going to die. 

“I’m Lily,” Mum says, breaking the awkward silence, and Mr. Black lets go of Dad to shake her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I take it you’re Harry’s math teacher, then? He loves your class. I’ve never seen him so excited about a subject before!”

“Mum!” 

“Harry’s a great student,” Mr. Black says. “I love having him in class.” 

Harry can feel his face burning. “I’m not that special.”

“You are,” Mr. Black says, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. A strong, solid hand. Harry’s knees are going to buckle. 

“I think you’re embarrassing him, Sirius,” Dad says, and Mr. Black steps away. Harry misses his touch immediately. “But we were thinking, Harry…if it’d be alright, Sirius could spend the weekend with us. We could all get to know each other? Maybe go to the cinema, out to dinner, that kind of thing?”

Dad looks and sounds so hopeful. Harry sighs.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, and both Dad and Mr. Black beam at him. “But no funny business, okay? Your room is right next to mine, Dad.”

Dad goes bright red. “Right, no funny business. You’ve got it.” 

Mum kisses Harry on the cheek and gives him a quick hug, and then leaves. Harry’s left standing awkwardly in his dad’s living room with his dad and his teacher, who are dating. Harry grimaces inwardly. The whole time he was noticing Mr. Black’s beard and eyes and muscles, his dad was--was--

Harry stops that train of thought dead in its tracks. He does not want to go there. 

“So we’re still pranking Snape, right?” he asks loudly, more to drown out his own traitorous thoughts than anything else.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Dad says quickly. “Sirius even has some ideas about that.”

Mr. Black pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and unfolds it. It’s covered in his chicken scratch handwriting. “Where do you want to begin?”

[chvnnie]

Okay: but like break-up sex with chan?

He wants children but you don't and I'm imagining just praise, tears and adoringly looks of love and pain.

me: happily opens asks

angst: exists

me: typing through tears

SMUT - MINORS DNI

The last truck left a little over an hour ago, memories tucked away in pink tubs and light brown, flimsy boxes. You’re only moving across town, there was really no reason to hire movers. But each time you touched a tub, or a box, everything returned to you. Why your stuff was packed away, the five hour “argument” last week.

Was it even an argument? Maybe it started that way. He had come home late. Mail in hand, excited to show you an announcement Changbin had sent. You smiled when you opened it, sharing in your partner’s joy.

“I can’t wait for that to be us.”

And then it crashed. Voices raised in frustration, pain. Tears flooding the tiny kitchen as you both walked in circles. Back and forth, back and forth, until your voice was raw and his eyes were on fire. It was just past four in the morning, and your back was against the fridge. Chan sat directly across from you, head rolled back against the cabinet. He’s sniffling, and you’re exhausted.

“What now?”

All things considered, it was amicable. There was no resentment on either end; both of you knew this could be possible. Though you both hoped and hoped someone would budge. Change their mind.

Neither of you did, and thus ended the most beautiful thing on the planet. The apocalypse on the horizon, each second more precious than the last. When a love like this dies, so does everything around it.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The front door opens. Shuts. Heavy, familiar footsteps up the stairs. Turn to the right, reach for the bedroom door handle—

But the door is propped open. And inside you sit, knees to chest. Chin on knees. Tears in eyes.

“I didn’t want to leave until you got back.”

Chan nods, trying to focus his attention on anything but how drastically different the bedroom looks. Even if there aren’t any noticeable changes, he can tell the difference. There’s something missing. As if without it, there’s no life.

“Thank you.” His voice is raspy. Still heavy with tears.

You simply nod, finally looking at him. Fuck. Fuck, why would you do that? The agony is back, claws and teeth, ripping you to shreds.

At least you won’t have to watch the world implode.

“This sucks.” You bring the heel of your palms to your eyes, rubbing roughly. Don’t cry. Don’t. Do. It.

Chan huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Fucking sucks.”

“Chan, I’m so sorry—“

He waves the apology away. Out the window, as if it never existed. “You have nothing to apologize for. We can’t help our wants.”

Can’t help our wants. Like either of you want this.

You finally stand, feet hitting the hardwood floor. Though the urge to give the room once last look tugs on you, you can’t do it. You’re already barely breathing.

“Hug?”

No is never an option. Not when it comes to him, not when it comes to you. Arms open, Chan accepts your embrace, giving you a firm squeeze. You let your eyes shut, holding back every tear that wants to spill. In the car. Not here.

He cradles the back of your head, pressing a light kiss at the top. “I’m always going to be here, you know? This isn’t the end of us. It’s just…”

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.

You look up, not leaving his embrace even for a second. “I’m always going to love you, Chan.”

The first tear comes from him. “Always have loved you, and never will stop.”

What is this force? The grounds are crumbling and separating, yet they’re pulling you together. Who kisses first, was it you? Offering a final goodbye? Or him? Desperate to remember your taste?

Does it truly matter?

In the distance, there are explosions. The dusk sky lighting up with a million fireworks. Planets, stars, universes. The end of it all.

You’re certain his shirt came off first. Followed by your sweater, both in a pile by the door. It’s when your back hits the bed that things blur; firsthand accounts are never truly accurate.

How will you remember the end of the world?

Limbs tangled, tongues clashing. Chan knows just how to please you. Deep thrusts, softly pressing your sweet spot. It’s not too fast, but not too slow. The perfect way to love you.

Your knees buckle, thighs twitch. Breaking the kiss, you search your ex’s eyes. In the galaxy, there’s only one thing left. A small, golden orb. Home to you and him.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

“F-fuck.” You say breathlessly. “‘S good. S-so good.”

And he smiles. Oh, how it brightens the room even when the sky is on fire. “Yeah?”

A nod.

“Good.” He grunts as he starts to drag out his thrusts. Making it even better. “That’s what you deserve, angel.”

He’s beautiful. Perfectly sculpted face, wonderful smile, bright eyes. Otherworldly. You’re proud to say he was once yours.

“I love you.” Chan says again. Though you’ll never tire of it, it breaks your soul to hear it. Like this. “Until the end of times. I adore you, my girl.”

You sniffle. Cry. It’s okay. “B-but.”

There’s no need for more.

“You’re always mine.” His voice cracks. “My girl. Until the e-end of time.”

When your lips crash again, the rumbling is louder.

How will you remember the end of the world?

You hope like this.

[storiesforallfandoms]

accidental drunk confessions ~ matthew lillard

word count: 2971

request?: yes!

@shinichirosanos​

“Can you do a Matthew Lillard x female actress reader imagine where everyone kinda assumes they're dating and maybe they're at the Scream 1996 premiere and during interviews they constantly get questions about what their relationship is, but they deny it all the time and then later that night one of them finally confesses their feelings? 💛”

description: after being questioned about their relationship all the time, one of them lets it slip that they want more than friendship while drunk

pairing: matthew lillard x female!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol usage

masterlist (one, two, three)

I sighed and splashed a handful of col water on my burning face, not caring about if it ruined my makeup. I knew the night of the premiere was going to be rough, but I really didn’t expect for it to be this rough just from the red carpet.

I was lucky to have gotten cast in my first big film while still very new into my acting career. It was a comedy-horror called Scream, directed by Nightmare on Elm Street director Wes Craven, so it was a pretty big deal. I had auditioned with very little expectations on getting the role since I was a new actress and all. So no one was more surprised than I was when Wes himself called me to tell me I got the role.

It was a dream come true and everyone in the cast was so kind that we became a big friend group very fast.

And then there was Matthew. Sweet, goofy Matthew who always made everyone laugh on set, and who managed to steal my heart from the very first moment I met him.

But dating your co-workers is a big no-no in any profession. Even if the movie ended with Stu seemingly being killed and my character being one of the five survivors, who knew where a potential sequel could lead us? Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t about to mess up my first big gig by risking an awkward work environment after dating - or being rejected by - a co-worker.

All those words to say I was too afraid to ask him out.

The night of the premiere had come before we knew it and I was beyond giddy with excitement...until I got to my first interview of the night and the third question was about Matthew.

“Some have said that you and your co-star, Matthew Lillard, have been very close behind the scenes. Anything going on there between you two?”

The question took me by surprise, but I managed to stumble through an answer confirming that we were just friends and move on to the next interview...

...who asked me the same thing.

As did the next one.

And the next one.

And the next one.

Until I had to make the decision to completely bypass the rest of the red carpet and escape into the venue. That’s how I found myself alone in the bathroom, trying to cool myself down.

A knock came at the locked door. “Occupied!”

“It’s me.”

I unlocked the door and opened it just a crack so I could peer out at Neve. When I saw it was just her, I let her in and quickly locked the door again.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I saw you basically running off the red carpet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just overwhelmed,” I said, which wasn’t a total lie.

“Does it have to do with the interviewers asking about you and Matthew?”

I looked at her in disbelief, which caused Neve to chuckle. “I went after you and was asked about it, too. Apparently your potential relationship is a big scoop.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Why? I’m a nobody. This is my first big acting job.”

“On set romance would be huge for them I guess.” She reached for some paper towels and ran some water over them. “You have mascara running down your face.”

She wiped the black smudges from my cheeks and under my eyes. I mumbled a soft, “Thank you.”

“We gotta get to the premiere. It’s starting soon,” she reminded me

I sighed. “I can’t face Matthew. They definitely asked him the same questions. It’s gonna be awkward.”

“You only have to see him in the movie. Sit between me and Rose, and then hang out with us at the after party. You’ll be fine.”

I smiled and hugged Neve. “You’re such a good friend. “Thank you, Neve.”

It was hard not to glance at Matthew as we entered for the premiere. I kept my eyes trained on the movie screen the entire time, but I was still very aware of his presence. He had sat just behind us with Skeet and Jamie. It took everything in my power not to turn around and look at him or ask him what the interviewers had said to him.

I was glad when the time came around for the after party. I didn’t want to go at first, but now I definitely needed a couple drinks in hopes of forgetting this entire night.

The after party was at Wes’ mansion, which was big enough to hold basically everyone who worked on Scream. Food and drinks were provided and Wes was even offering to let anyone who was drinking stay the night. The party was already in full swing when I arrived. All of the cast were there already and the crew were slowly trickling in. When I walked into the house of course the first person I saw was Matthew.

He had a drink in his hand and was laughing at something one of the crew members had said. Hearing his laugh caused my heart to flip in my chest. I didn’t realize I was just stood in the doorway, staring like a creep, until someone entering basically shoved me out of the way. I stumbled forward, stopping myself from face planting onto the ground. When I managed to stabilize myself, I looked up to see Matthew was now looking at me. My heart started pounding as he turned to approach me.

“Hey,” he said. “What happened to you on the red carpet? I was hoping to see you when I got there.”

“I got a little overwhelmed during the interviews and stuff,” I responded.

Is he going to talk about the interviews? Is he going to bring up what people are apparently saying about us?

“That makes sense. The first red carpet can be hard, especially for a big movie like this.” He threw his arm over my shoulder and pulled my against him. “Just stick with me, kid. I’ll help you through it.”

I found myself speechless, so I just nodded. I let Matthew lead me towards the kitchen for a drink. I let Matthew lead me towards the kitchen for a drink. My original plan of avoiding him the whole night was effectively down the drain the moment he put a drink in my hand. However, my plan to get drunk to forget the night was still very much in play as I made sure my cup stayed full.

I was incredibly drunk when Neve and Rose finally found me lounging on one of Wes’ couches, my legs draped over Matthew’s lap while Skeet was sat opposite of us in a chair.

“There you are,” Neve said. “I thought you were hanging out with us tonight.”

“Matt found me first,” I slurred. I giggled and added, “Isn’t that ironic?”

Rose and Neve shared a look before Rose said, “Maybe we get you some water and get you home.”

“You guys don’t have to rush off,” Skeet said. “I mean, (Y/N) definitely needs some water, but we can all hang out.”

“I don’t want water,” I whined. “I like being drunk. No feelings when you’re drunk. No thoughts or worries or anything.”

“I’m fourth on you getting water,” Matthew said. “It’ll decrease the intensity of your hangover.”

I looked over at him and sheepishly smiled. I reached out and cupped his face with one hand. “You’re so sweet, looking out for me and shit. No wonder I like you so much.”

Even through my drunken haze I could feel a sense of panic go through the room from everyone besides Matthew. My rush on him was probably the worst kept secret of all time. I had told Rose and Neve about it early on since I viewed them as such close friends, but Skeet and Jamie figured it out on their own. Somehow, Matthew was the only one who was oblivious to my feelings for him.

“Hey (Y/N), maybe it is time to go,” Skeet said.

Matthew was chuckling at what I had said, either ignoring Skeet or not hearing him speak. “I like you too, (Y/N).”

“Yeah but you only like me. I like you. Like, romantically.”

I was pulled off of the couch the second the words were out of my mouth. I drunkenly giggled and waved goodbye to Matthew and Skeet as Neve and Rose quickly carried me towards the exit. My head was swimming from the alcohol so much that not even the fresh air helped to sober me up.

Neve helped me into the backseat of her car, laying me on my side in case I got sick. She and Rose got into the front, rolled down the windows so I had some fresh air blowing in on me, and started up the car.

“She’s gonna regret that in the morning,” was the last thing I remembered hearing before I passed out.

~~~~~~

And I certainly did regret everything the next morning when I woke up and felt like a million nails had been poured into my head and were shaken up. I tried to open my eyes but still the dull sunlight coming though the curtains caused the headache to be much worse.

I dragged myself out of bed eventually so I could get some water, only to find a half empty glass on my bedside table. I finished the contents of it and continued my pain filled journey to the kitchen, which I knew would also have Aspirin there to take.

When I stepped into my living room, I let out a yelp upon seeing someone asleep on my couch. My outburst caused them to wake with a start.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I wanted to be here when you woke up in case you needed some help with the hangover,” Matthew responded as he groggily sat up.

“Okay, better question: how did you get here? I may not remember a lot about last night, but I do remember that Neve and Rose were the ones who brought me home.”

“When you guys left, I followed because I was worried for you,” he explained. “I caught up before Neve drove away and practically begged her to let me come with you guys.”

I cringed as cloudy memories including Matthew came rushing back. It should’ve been a good sign that I hadn’t weirded him out so much that he didn’t want to be around me, but I knew what came next here. We were going to have “the talk” where he would reject me and I would have to act like I was okay with that as not to ruin our friendship.

I went to the kitchen to get what I had come for before returning to the living room. I popped an Aspirin into my mouth and downed a mouthful of water, then sat down next to Matthew on the couch.

“Alright,” I sighed. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room then.”

He looked at me in confusion for a moment before realization crossed his face. “Oh...so you do remember...that?”

“Admitting that I have a crush on you? Yeah, I unfortunately remember,” I said. “I did it in the heat of the moment while drunk. I never meant for you to find out about it. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, or if it weirds you out. We can both just forget about it and move past the whole ordeal.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

I wanted to scream Of course not! I want you to like me back. I want you to kiss me, to hold me, to put your hands on me and call me yours! But I knew that was a bad idea. I had already embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime.

“It’s what’s best for us,” I said. “I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“Ruin it how?” he asked.

“By having things be awkward between us because I like you and I know you don’t like me back.”

Matthew looked at me for a moment, looking like he was trying to fight back a smile, before he said, “Can you let me talk before we make this decision?”

I looked at him, curiously, and nodded for him to proceed.

“(Y/N), I’ve had a big, fat crush on you since the moment you walked into the first table read for the movie. You were so timid and shy, but you were also extremely beautiful and when you were reading your lines, I could see you had this confidence in that was so strong for someone who claims to be such a newbie. I don’t know what it was, but all of those things combined just drew me to you. The more I got to know you, the more those feelings I had grew.”

It felt like his words had shut off my brain completely. I had no idea how to respond. I just looked at him, blankly, like a complete idiot. I could see him watching me, waiting for some sort of reaction.

“Really?” I finally asked, but then immediately cringed at my own stupid question.

He chuckled, though. He reached for one of my hands and gave it a small squeeze. “Really.”

“But you never said anything,” I said.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

I scoffed. “You afraid? You’re like...the opposite of afraid. You were always so confident and fearless both on set and off.”

“Yeah, but not when it came to admitting how I felt about you. No one knew because I was afraid of it getting back to you. I kept it to myself the entire time, which was the hardest thing I ever had to do because whenever I saw you I just wanted to admit everything.”

I let his words soak in for a moment before burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t help but start laughing at the situation, which earned me another confused look from Matthew.

“I got super duper drunk last night because I wanted to forget the interviewers who were asking me if we were in a relationship,” I admitted to him. “I started freaking out because I thought that you were going to feel awkward around me because of what they were saying, so I intended to get drunk, hang out with Neve and Rose, and then make a quick escape home before seeing you.”

“They were asking me about you, too. That’s why I got worried when you left the red carpet and it felt like you were avoiding me. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was, but I was doing it because I thought it was going to make things awkward between us!”

We both looked at each other and burst out into laughter realizing how twisted we had the entire situation. All of it could’ve been resolved if we had both just been courageous enough to actually talk about our feelings, but we were both absolutely chickens.

We both leaned back onto the couch as a silence took over. The next question was “where do we go from here?”, but I think we both knew the answer to that without even explicitly asking. I looked over at Matthew and finally gave myself a moment to take him in - while sober anyways. Everything about him was so perfect; perfect skin, perfect blue eyes, perfect messy brown hair, perfect lips that always turned up into a perfect smile.

Perfect lips that I really wanted to kiss.

So, I decided to go for it. No more chickening out, no more excuses. Now that everything was out on the table, I decided to make the first move.

I leaned forward. When Matthew turned to look at me, I quickly attached my lips to his before I could let myself get too scared to do so. It was awkward at first due to how roughly I managed to smash our lips together. But Matthew pulled away and cupped my face in his hands, then leaned forward to kiss me properly.

Just like everything else about him, the kiss was perfect.

I could’ve stayed like that all day. I definitely wanted to. I just wanted to lay on the couch with him and feel his lips on mine and his hands on my face. I’d even be so bold as to take him back to my bedroom if he wanted to come, and we’d never have to leave my bed again if we didn’t want to.

Matthew pulled away first, a big, goofy grin on his face. “That was nice.”

I giggled and buried my head in the crook of his neck. I had managed to forget the pain in my head and the nauseous churning in my stomach for a while, but now it was starting to come back to me and my giggled quickly turned to a groan.

“You poor thing,” Matthew said, putting an arm around me and rubbing my back, soothingly. “Let’s get you back to bed with some water and something very bland so that you can eat but don’t actually throw up.”

“I don’t even think I could eat anything bland,” I admitted. “But I appreciate that you’d want to help me.”

“Of course I want to help you. Can’t let my girl go through this hangover alone.”

Hearing him say the words “my girl” definitely helped me to forget the agony I was in, even if it was just for a quick second.

At least there was one good thing that came out of this whole drunken ordeal, I thought as Matthew helped me to a stand and led me back to my bed.