#‘sign up for all these clubs you don’t care about and will hate because you need diversity on your resume’

[gh-woah-st]

screaming and shaking the bars of my cell for my parents to just let me live my life

[navybrat817]

Feel the Pulse Beat: Intro

Pairing: Old Money!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Bucky didn't want to go to Tony's club, but he'll be glad he did by the end of the night.

Word Count: Almost 2.3k

Warnings: Swearing, frenemy behavior, family issues, bit of world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Oh, look, lovelies! A new AU no one asked for. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Why am I even here?” Bucky asked, eying the neon sign for Extremis. The one and only Tony Stark owned the club. A mix of people in clothes that ranged from expensive suits to revealing dresses stood in line with the hopes of getting in. “Because I have a car I could be working on as we speak.”

He could fit in at clubs, but he’d take greasing up his hands over dressing up any day. With cars, he didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than himself. There was no need to impress people who didn’t care about him beyond his name or fortune.

Steve, his best friend, sighed. “Because we promised Tony we’d show up. He’s our friend.”

“You promised, not me. He’s more your friend than mine and he acts like I wronged him in another life or something,” Bucky said. Tony didn't outright hate him, but didn’t seem to care for him and loved to give him a hard time. “I doubt he’ll notice if I skip this.”

“He will notice and he’s not that bad,” Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I swear, between Tony and Sam, it’s like you go out of your way to not be friends with our friends.”

Bucky didn’t comment on Sam for the time being. “Not that bad? Tony has the biggest ego in the city. I’m surprised he didn’t call the place 'Anthony’s' or plaster his name all over the building,” he said, tilting his head. “Given the outside, it wouldn't surprise me if the inside was just as bad.”

Steve snorted, used to his humor after all these years. “You’re in a mood,” he said. Bucky didn’t deny it. “Let me guess: another argument with your dad?”

Bucky hesitated. “What else is new?” He wished he could clock the guy, but he was his old man.

George Barnes couldn’t wrap his mind around why his son preferred cars to the boardroom and networking. Or why he chose to “destroy” his body with tattoos. Or why he wasn't dating an elitist. It was like he couldn’t stand that Bucky wasn't just another version of him. Thank God for his mom who encouraged him to forge his own path and respected his choices.

And, yes, she occasionally allowed him access to the family funds if he wanted or needed them because she adored him.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder.

They had grown up together, which meant they either witnessed or heard the ups and downs of their families. Steve wasn’t just his best friend, he was like a brother to him. He knew how his dad could get. And his dad was a good man most days, but he could also be a real pain in the ass.

“Don’t be. Not your fault,” he replied, looking at the sign again. “Never is.”

“It may not be my fault, but it doesn't mean I don’t care,” he said. He was lucky to have a friend like him. “Come on.”

Bucky felt eyes on them as they bypassed the line and approached the man at the door. Even if their names weren't on the list, the confidence he and his best friend carried would've been enough to pique the security’s curiosity. They also had enough money in their pockets to not necessarily flaunt their wealth, but to show that they had it. The same applied to their suits.

“Steve Rogers,” his best friend stated with just the right touch of pride. It was a fine line to walk between confidence and arrogance and he did it well. “And Bucky Barnes.”

“You’re on the list, but those aren’t the names the boss gave me and he won't let you in without them,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Aww, that’s too bad.” Bucky shrugged. It was the kind of shit Tony liked to pull and he wasn't in the mood to play. “Let’s go, punk.”

Steve held out an arm to stop him. “Just wait, jerk,” he said, shaking his head as he looked at the bouncer. “Golden Boy and Tinman?”

The bouncer to his credit looked thoroughly unimpressed instead of amused when he stepped aside to let them in. Bucky grit his teeth anyway, anger coursing through his veins. “That fucking-”

“Hey. It’s just Tony being Tony.” Steve trying to placate him wasn't working. “It’s better than Cyborg, right?”

Tinman. Cyborg. Tony tried to say the nicknames were because his left sleeve looked like a metal arm, but the man said in passing once that he was cold. Heartless. Just because Bucky didn’t show his emotions to people he didn't care for didn’t mean he didn’t have them.

“Tony being Tony doesn’t give him a pass to be a dick, Golden Boy,” he said, holding up a finger. “One hour. You get one fucking hour.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” Steve begged. The man with a heart of gold to match his hair and a pair of fists ready to strike for anyone who needed defending. Everyone in their circle looked to him as a man who always tried to do the right thing. “And fine. One hour.”

As they walked further into the club, vibrant energy surrounded them. Red and yellow lights cast a warm glow to create a welcoming ambience, while plush seats and sleek decor added a touch of glamor and sultriness. The bar, illuminated and inviting, beckoned patrons to select their drinks. The music was perfectly balanced, not too loud or overwhelming, allowing for easy conversation amidst the lively atmosphere.

Bucky didn’t want to give Tony too much credit and make his head swell more, but it was a nice place.

“So, where are we sitting?” He asked.

As if on cue, a woman in a smart black dress approached. Not a single hair out of place. “Pepper, good to see you,” Steve smiled at her. Bucky recognized her now. Tony’s personal assistant, had been for years. She did her job well and the man’s schedule and life would fall apart if he didn’t have her around.

“Good to see you, too. And you two are the first to arrive,” she smiled. “Right this way, please.”

Bucky looked around again as Pepper led them to a quiet VIP area flanked by a couple of guards. The space was just as bright as the main room, but above the center table hung a large, modern crystal chandelier: a focal point that hinted at the Stark fortune. The small stage set up at the back of the room surprised him. Was it for performers or merely for show?

“About time you showed up,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. Tony Stark, the man himself, sat in the middle of a sofa with a glass of whiskey in hand. With his three piece suit and perfectly trimmed dark goatee, he looked very much like the king of one of his many castles. Even had on a pair of his signature sunglasses because who didn't like wearing sunglasses indoors? “Or did it take you old men a while to figure out the names? Told Sy not to let you in without them.”

An apologetic look crossed Pepper’s face. “For the record, I told him not to do that,” she said, gesturing for them to sit. Bucky opted to sit in a chair that he didn't want to admit was extremely comfortable. “But he never listens to me.”

“You still love me,” Tony called after her as she left the area. “No hard feelings about the nicknames, right? It’s all in good fun.”

Bucky huffed as Steve took a seat beside Tony, effectively dividing them. “First the nicknames, and now you call us old men? You look older than we do,” Bucky said, pointing to Tony’s hair. “In fact, I think I see some gray you missed on your dye job.”

As Bucky got older, he had come to love the gray in his own beard and hair. It was a good look. Maybe the right girl would appreciate it.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Barnes. Always a pleasure.”

“Stark,” he said, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin. “Never a pleasure.”

“Cut it out,” Steve chastised, giving Bucky an exasperated look, which only earned him a shrug in response. Did he expect him to play nice when he didn't want to be there? “Tony, the place looks great.”

“Of course it does, Rogers. Did you expect anything less? Though it’s always nice to get a compliment from you.” Tony set his drink down and tapped the screen of his phone, causing the red and yellow lights to switch to blue and white. “That’s your cue, Barnes.”

“Nice lights,” he mumbled, leaning his chin on his hand. One hour…

Tony scoffed. “Would it kill you to give a real compliment, or are you holding back because I own it?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Does my opinion even matter? You already think it’s perfect. I’m sure everyone else has kissed your ass about it, and I don’t feel like chapping my lips.”

Tony sat up straighter. “If I really wanted my ass kissed, I’d call your little sister,” he sneered, nudging Steve’s arm. “She’s free, right?”

“Tony, stop.” Steve warned when Bucky's jaw clenched.

“What?” Tony smirked more. “I heard she just got out of a relationship and maybe I can help her get over that broken heart.”

Bucky almost got out of his seat. Becca was a sweetheart and Tony didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her. “You even think about touching her, I’ll break your fucking-”

“Hey! That’s enough.” Steve sounded pissed off enough that they shut up. “Tony, he’s not trying to be a dick. He just wanted to work on a car tonight. Doesn't mean you need to bring his sister into it,” Steve said to Tony in a calmer tone, giving Bucky another look. “And you know he wouldn't fool around with Becca. You’re letting your fight with your dad get to you.”

Bucky slowly exhaled. “I know.” He felt a pinch of guilt. He had let his dad sour his mood and dismissed Tony’s club when Tony was at least nice enough to extend an invitation. It also wasn't fair to make Steve play referee when he deserved a fun night. “And I think we’re all varying degrees of dicks here.”

Unexpected respect and understanding filled Tony’s eyes, replacing his usual disdain. “Rather tinker with something than hang out here? I get it. And asshole fathers, I get that, too,” he said, downing the remainder of his glass. Bucky had nearly forgotten that Tony had issues with his own dad. “But let’s be serious, we all know I’m the biggest dick here.”

That brought a chuckle out of all three of them. It was the closest thing to an apology. “I would drink to that if I had one,” Bucky joked.

Tony tapped the screen of his phone again in a short pattern and the middle of the table rose up to reveal a decanter and empty glasses. “Top shelf and on the house even though you can afford it.”

“We’re still going to tip. You can give it to the staff working tonight,” Steve offered, pouring each of them a glass and passing one over. “And now that we’ve gotten some of the unpleasantness out of the way, can we get on with the evening? Please?”

The men nodded, but Bucky still needed more than one stiff drink to get him through the hour. At least Tony brought out the good stuff for them to indulge. “I have to ask, where are the rest of your friends?” He expected the VIP section to be overflowing with his usual crowd instead of being nearly empty.

“On their way,” Tony said, waving a hand toward the stage. “I wanted you two to get a private show with my new star because I have a feeling you’ll appreciate her talent more than the others. And when I say this one is special, I mean it. Voice and body of an angel. Or a siren. Whatever you’re into.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a look. A new star? That was why he wanted them to stop by? “Have you slept with her?” Steve asked pointedly. Bucky almost asked the same question. Tony had a reputation for a reason and being a member of his staff wouldn’t stop him from trying.

“Nope. Not this one. Not for lack of trying,” Tony said, checking the time before the lights dimmed. “She told me to ‘kindly fuck off’ when I hit on her and I gave her a raise because why the hell not?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “She turned you down? I like her already,” He smirked, instantly intrigued by this mystery woman who didn't fall for Tony’s charms like so many others. “I may even have to buy her a drink.”

“Just wait ‘til you hear her sing, Tinman,” Tony said, resting back against the sofa. “Even you will love her.”

A spotlight illuminated the stage when soft music began to play. The curtain opened wide enough for a stunning figure in a long red dress to step through. Bucky leaned forward in his chair, captivated by your beauty. His heart raced, and his throat went dry as your gaze met his. He tightened his grip on the glass, nearly downing it in one gulp as you moved toward the microphone, but couldn't look away as you smiled.

Where the hell did Tony find someone so enchanting?

Bucky waited with bated breath before you began to sing. One note. That was all it took. He was lost. Gone.

Yours.

Oh, I just had to end the intro there. 😇 I wonder what our reader is like and what she'll think of Bucky. @targaryenvampireslayer @yenzys-lucky-charm @ghotifishreads @tavners @holacia3 a certain edit may come into play later... 😏 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[trustmypoison]

SVT when they have to discipline their child

Requested? Yes!

Request:  ‘Heya! Can you do how Svt will discipline your child when their misbehaving? I really love hoe you make 'em! take your time’

A/N: Obligatory ‘don’t take this too seriously’ warning. I’m not an expert and this isn’t parenting advice.

An absolute pushover - Jun, Wonwoo, DK

Jun will give the kid anything they want. All it takes is a look with some big, cute eyes and he’s getting them whatever. You will beg him to rein it in sometimes, and he’ll say he’ll do his best (and he does!!). But it’s a cycle. This child will definitely know the power that they have over him.

Wonwoo might surprise you, but I think he’d instantly fold if his kid asked for something, even if he’s aware he should say no. Definitely part of the ‘don’t tell mom’ club. If his kid wants something, he’ll find a way to make it work, even if it might have to be a secret from you for a minute. 

DK does his best, but the slightest sniffle has him folding. He panics at the first sign of tears. He’s all, ‘no, no, don’t cry. You wanted this? Okay, you can have it!!!’ You will have to give him pep talks and back him up when he really needs to put his foot down about something because it will kill him if this denial upsets his kid. 

So, so gentle - Jeonghan, Hoshi, Mingyu, Chan

Jeonghan is incredibly patient when his kid acts up. Wants to understand why they’re acting up and is very gentle about it. Will nod and listen and say, “it sounds like you had a hard day, but you said/did some not-so-nice things. Why don’t we go talk about it?” He asks you not to interfere with these little chats because it's really important to him to keep that line of communication open, but you never feel like you need to jump in. 

I think Hoshi would want to be best friends with his kid. He might be kind of crushed when his kid takes their anger or frustration out on him, but he’ll still hold them and let them talk it out when they’re ready. I think he’d give really thoughtful, sweet advice - the kind that you hide around the corner to listen in on because the interaction is just too cute. 

Mingyu is the first to scoop his kid up if they’re misbehaving. So sweet and patient, even if this kid is kicking and screaming. Let’s them get it out of their system and then talks quietly with them to see how their feeling. Will talk to them about identifying emotions and how they can behave differently, all the while gently soothing the child. 

Chan could very well be a pushover - and his kids might think he is sometimes - but he’ll put his foot down on more things than you think, so I put him here. He’s not mean when he turns down a second scoop of ice cream or tells them they can’t have anymore time in the park, and he might even be swayed on occasion if they’re upset with him. But still, most of the time he’ll gently insist that they can have more ice cream tomorrow and come back to the park again later this week. 

Hates being the bad guy, but sometimes it’s necessary - Seungcheol, Woozi, Seungkwan

Seungcheol would normally not discipline much, except in matters of safety. Example: if he’s told the child multiple times to not stand in the chair or on the couch, and they keep doing it, he might be a little harsh when he disciplines them. He’ll feel terribly guilty afterwards, but he has visions of his kid getting hurt, and those sort of things are non-negotiables. 

Woozi will not start out in this category, but inevitably, his child will get hurt. Say he was gentle about reminding his kid to be careful as they run around corners or playing on the jungle gym. But inevitably, the kid will run around the corner too fast and fall, or jump for a bar on the jungle gym and fall. Kids will be kids, but his kid does not need to be hurt. He’ll become kind of stern about things like that from that point forward. 

Seungkwan absolutely hates it. The kid will ask you for something, and when they think Seungkwan will fold, you’ll give him a look of pleading. He sighs because he has to be the bad guy sometimes and back you up. He’ll try to explain why he’s saying no, and sometimes it falls on deaf ears, but he’ll be the bad guy if it means you two can still be a team. 

Is not afraid to be the bad guy - Joshua, Minghao, Vernon

Joshua loves to be the good guy, but he won’t bat an eye about having to be the bad guy. You’ll be shocked sometimes at how his ‘no’s come out just as sweetly as the ‘yes’s. It might even confuse his kid from time to time. He won’t raise his voice, he won’t be super stern in tone, but he’ll be steadfast in whatever decision he’s made. 

Minghao is undoubtedly the disciplinarian. He couldn’t dream of harshly punishing his kid and he hopes he never feels the need to. But if you get frustrated or lost with how to handle a situation, he’s swooping in to set things straight. It’s one of those cases where the kid takes his statements seriously. Dad’s word is final (even if dad’s word was actually yours’ first just five minutes ago). 

Vernon is not the disciplinarian, but he’s definitely not afraid to be the bad guy. Let me explain. He’s very much a ‘what did your mom say’ kind of parent. He knows you might have a hard time remaining steadfast in some of your disciplinarian decisions, so sometimes you sigh and say ‘ask your dad what he thinks’. When they do, he says, ‘I think you should listen to mom’. 

[leahwllmsn]

the reason

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 6.1k

When you showed up to your first training session of the season, you weren’t expecting to see your ex-something standing in the middle of the locker room.

; some angst, happy ending though, just a bunch of miscommunication 

“Y/N! You’re here, perfect,” Jonas gave you a huge smile as he directed you towards the woman you hadn’t seen in months. “Meet our new signing!”

You swore you’d never seen Jonas smile that big during your time at Arsenal, which was understandable if he managed to sign Alexia Putellas to this damn club.

You looked at her outstretched hand, acting as if this was the first time you two met—acting as if she didn’t break your heart just a few months ago. 

At once, the memories came rushing in and you looked up to meet her eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart started to pick up its pace. For a second you were shocked at how familiar it was, to have her staring at you like you were interesting to her, but you quickly shook it off. You knew it was all a lie, a façade. Alexia was good at making people think they matter to her when she couldn't care less about anybody but herself. 

You ignored her and you ignored Jonas’ yelp of surprise when you didn’t kiss the ground Alexia walked on. You went straight to your cubby and did your usual routine.

Training gear checked.

Boots checked.

Hair tie checked.

Alexia standing next to you—

“What?” you hadn’t meant to sound harsh, or maybe you did. You didn’t really care.

Out of all the things you expected to come out of her mouth, an apology for breaking your heart, or a simple ‘how are you’ or whatever, you hadn't expected her to say, “I missed you.”

You were indifferent to her being here before (that was what you convinced yourself anyway), but now you were livid. 

“Seriously?” your voice apparently was louder than you intended because you could feel a couple of eyes on you.

“Y/N…” maybe it was hearing her say your name again after all this time. Maybe it was the way she said your name with a hint of longing when she had no right to do so after what she did to you. Maybe it was the way she was standing there within your reach after you thought that you were never going to see her again.

You think it was all of it combined that made the ache in your heart, which you’ve managed to seal tight all this time, to seep through the seams and inject itself back into your veins.

Taking a deep breath, you will yourself to stare into her eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Alexia.”

You heard everyone inhale a sharp breath all at once as you exited the room. You definitely were getting an earful from Jonas but you didn’t care.

Alexia could really go fuck herself for all you care.

—

It was Leah that Jonas assigned to talk to you.

You hated it because aside from the fact that she was your captain in the Lionesses, she also had known you since you were barely in diapers, seeing as your mothers were best friends. 

You were hiding in your usual spot, the old storage room that no one used anymore. 

“Want to talk about why you were so rude to one of the best footballers on this planet?”

You scoffed. Great. Even your best friend was kissing Alexia’s ass. “She’s overrated.”

Leah sat down on the floor next to you, grabbing the back of your shirt when you went to stand up. “You’re not going anywhere, mate.”

“You can't make me talk,” you scowled at her. “I just hate her. Don’t really care if I was rude to Jonas’ newest favourite.”

Leah laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Chill out will you! You’re acting so tense.”

“I’m not tense! It’s just been a shitty morning, with her being here and all.”

“I feel like there’s something I’m missing,” Leah looked at you questioningly. “You’re jealous of her or something?

You barked out a laugh at that. That was good. “Hell no. Why would I be jealous of her? Like I said, she’s overrated.”

“Then?”

“Then nothing,” you rolled your eyes. God, why was it so hard to be moody about your ex in peace?

“If it’s nothing then you wouldn't mind going back there and being nice to her, yeah?”

“No.” 

There was no way in hell you would be nice to Alexia. No. fucking. way.

“Y/N. Jonas is counting on me to talk some sense into you, he's scared Alexia is going to resign on the first day here if her teammate is rude to her.”

That sounded like a great idea, you thought. Just as you smiled at Leah, she was frowning at you.

“Y/N. Be nice. Please. For me?”

You always did have a soft spot for Leah.

“Fine.”

—

Everyone was already at the field when you returned with Leah.

You weren't sure who witnessed your little interaction with Alexia earlier so you kept to yourself for a bit, not wanting anyone to ask anymore questions.

You got through the training smoothly and it was over before you knew it. You kept on avoiding Alexia’s gazes, trying your best to pretend that she wasn't there at all. In your mind, Alexia was still in Barcelona, right where she should be.

Not in London Colney here with you. Definitely not.

“Hola.”

Damn it.

You were putting your stuff into your duffle bag aggressively, lifting your head just for a second to glare at her. 

Alexia seemed unperturbed at your cold gaze, sitting down on the cubby next to yours so she could look up at you and catch your eyes.

You were always a sucker for her stupid puppy dog eyes.

But you were stronger now. You were.

“Y/N,” she tried again, her voice a whisper. “Can we talk? ”

You replied with a simple “No.”

“We are going to be teammates, we should at least be civil to one another, no?”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, who did she think she was? “I’ll pretend you don't exist and you can do the same.”

Alexia scoffed at you. “Why are you being so difficult?”

That got your attention. “Me?” you raise your voice and Leah suddenly stepped in between you two, probably fearing that things might escalate.

“Hey,” Leah gave you a pointed look. “People are watching.”

You glanced back and people were watching, most had a curious look on their faces. No one knew you and Alexia knew each other, but everyone knew you and they knew you were anything but hostile. So this attitude might be slightly disconcerting for them.

You took a deep breath and willed yourself to calm down. You need time to process the events that happened today.

“I’m just gonna go,” you told Leah. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Not sparing Alexia another glance, you grabbed your bag and took off.

Tomorrow. You’ll face her again tomorrow and maybe you can try to be civil with her. Only for the sake of your teammates.

—

“You know… if you keep on staring at me like that, one might think you’re in love with me.”

You thought you were being discreet with your gazes towards the brunette who was sitting a few seats apart from you, acting as if you were staring at the ocean instead.

But apparently that wasn’t the case and as soon as you heard those words come out of her mouth, you choked on your ice tea and patted your chest repeatedly to stop the coughing fit. 

The brunette beside you laughed and you halted your movements to stare again because wow, the pictures really didn’t do Alexia Putellas justice.

She turned towards you and held out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Alexia.”

You accepted her hand with a bashful smile. “I know.”

She raises her eyebrows at you.

You could feel the blush rising to your cheeks, trying to play it cool with a simple shrug of your shoulders. “Who doesn't know Alexia Putellas at this point? It would be weird if I didn’t.” you paused. “And I wasn’t staring at you, by the way.”

“Oh, you weren’t?” Alexia smirked. She slid into the empty seat between you and you could feel your heartbeat racing once you caught a whiff of Alexia’s perfume. A strong flowering scent. Huh. You've never thought about what Alexia Putellas would smell like, but it probably wasn’t this. It somehow made you even more attracted to her.

You nodded, playing with the straw of your drink. “I totally wasn’t.”

“Then what were you staring at?” 

“The… sea.”

Alexia laughed once more and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. Her laugh was infectious.

“Okay, sure,” Alexia took a sip of her drink. “Just so you know though, I wouldn’t mind if you were staring at me.”

You hummed, pretending to be in thought. “I’d rather not.”

“No?” Alexia raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “Then you’d think I’m into you, or something.”

“Well aren’t you?”

You clicked your tongue. Her ego was through the roof. You get it though, if you looked like that, you’d think everyone was into you too. “No.”

“Your stare suggests otherwise.” Alexia smiled smugly.

You stepped down from your stool and put your hand out. “Why don’t you take a stroll around the beach with me?”

When Alexia was still staring at your outstretched hand, you motioned for her to take it. Alexia complied and let you drag her away to the shore. 

“It was getting kinda boring, wasn't it? Just sitting by yourself at the bar,” you explained, swaying your hands back and forth as you walked along the coast. “I don't know if you know me, but I play football professionally too. For Arsenal and England. I’m here on holiday with my family but they can get kind of crazy sometimes so I want to have some alone time for a bit.”

“I know the feeling. I'm here with my sister but she drives me crazy most of the time.” you laughed along with her. 

“So you’re free then,” you halted your steps. “Spend the day with me?”

Alexia gave you a huge smile and you wanted the waves to swallow you whole, because how can someone be so gorgeous?

“I thought the answer was obvious the moment I let you drag me away from my unfinished cocktail.”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“That’s okay,” Alexia leaned forward and whispered in your ear. “As long as you admit that you’re attracted to me at the end of the day.”

You gulped, the close proximity was making your head spin. “Never,” you stuck your tongue out at her.

“We’ll see.” Alexia leaned back and grinned. “For now, can we go see some dolphins?”

You had already seen the dolphins the previous day. You hated it because the dolphins thought it was a good idea to splash water all over your brand new Dior bag and you swore you would never come back. 

But Alexia was looking at you with wide, excited eyes and a smile so bright that you didn’t have the heart to say no to her. So you went to see the dolphins and you did everything Alexia wanted.

The entire day, Alexia didn’t let go of your hand and you swore you had never been happier.

—

You and Alexia ended up talking to each other everyday ever since the Ibiza trip. She didn't exactly tell you that she felt the same way you did, but you figured that her constant flirting was supposed to clue you in. 

It went on for months and before you knew it, you were hopelessly in love with Alexia. 

Alexia was kind, thoughtful, she was so passionate about the sport that you both loved so dearly and you were just a goner. 

Who wouldn’t be, honestly?

It was certainly a bonus point that she was super attractive too. 

In the morning when Alexia would call you on facetime, and you were greeted with her face still full of sleep, blanket engulfing her as she recounts to you her plans for the day, you couldn't do anything but stare helplessly at how good she looked and how extra raspy her voice was. 

You and Alexia never put a label on things but you figured you were sort of… dating? Or it was a… situationship? Whatever it was, you knew it was beyond the level of friendship.

You loved your friends and you called them on the daily, but you couldn't imagine doing it to this extent. Alexia would call you in the mornings and at night. You’d call her when you got off training, you’d call her when you heard a funny joke Kyra said and you wanted to tell Alexia about it. She would call you when she got anxious because she was starting her match and her doubts of still being not good enough post ACL still haunted her.

You loved Leah, your bestest friend in the whole world, but you couldn't imagine telling her the things you told Alexia in the early hours of the morning. There were some things that you didn’t think you'd share with anyone, but with Alexia, it was… simple. It was easy. It felt right.

But maybe it was all in your head.

It went on for so long that you didn’t even think labeling it was important anymore. You were Alexia’s and she was yours.

She told you she loved you, for fuck’s sake.

She told you she loved you and one day when you were at camp, Lucy mentioned how Alexia was seeing someone.

Someone who you thought was you, but how could that be if Lucy was talking about having a double date at the best paella place in Barcelona with Alexia and her girlfriend when you were all the way in London. 

Apparently Alexia’s girlfriend was someone named Olga and they'd been dating for a few months and your blood pressure went through the roof.

A few months.

You thought you were dating Alexia for a few months (one year actually, but you didn’t give a fuck anymore).

You ignored Alexia’s call that night because, what the fuck? She had a girlfriend in Spain and you were what? Her side piece? That thought made you sick.

You didn't reply to Alexia’s messages anymore. Too hurt, too embarrassed at everything.

don’t text me again, Alexia 

I mean it

You declined all her calls and never bothered replying to her texts that were pleading to tell her what was wrong.

Eventually when weeks passed by and you still gave no response, she stopped trying.

You didn't know if you were relieved or disappointed.

—

It seemed like the universe had something against you because as soon as you got out of your car, Alexia was also getting out of her car across from you.

If you weren't so pissed off at the reminder that she was actually a part of Arsenal now, you would laugh at how comical this sight was—you scowling at her and Alexia scowling back at you.

“Bon día,” Alexia had the decency to greet you.

“Morning,” you grumpily greeted back.

You walked side by side into the building. you didn't know why, you could have walked faster, or slower, or turned in the other direction so you wouldn't have to walk by her side, but you did it anyway.

Despite only having hung out with her in person a few times during your time together/not together, you kinda missed her.

“Is this you finally being civil with me?” 

“I still hate you.”

“Okay ouch,” Alexia placed a hand over her heart, pouting at you. You continued to scowl at her, trying to hide how your heart had betrayed you and skipped a beat.

Before you had the chance to respond, you two arrived at the locker rooms. Only Leah was there, who immediately came over and sling an arm around your shoulder and grinned cheekily at you. “Best mates already, are we?”

You flicked Leah’s forehead, causing her to yelp and do the same to you. “Leave me alone, Leah,” you grumbled.

“Someone’s moody this morning,” Leah whispered to Alexia, to which the latter hummed in agreement.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate you both?”

Leah chuckled, whispering something to Alexia that you didn't quite catch. Nor did you care enough to find out. 

How funny was your life right now? Your best friend and your… something were friends. Ugh. Your ex-something, now your teammate. Ugh.

You were too caught up in unpacking your things that you didn't notice Leah calling your name.

“Y/N!” 

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“I’ve been calling you twice! Alexia distracting you that much?” Leah said teasingly.

You looked towards Alexia who was changing her clothes, leaving her in a Nike sports bra and her abs on full display. Fuck. Bad idea.

“Oh fuck off,” you quickly turned back around, feeling the heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Stop being so moody,” Leah shook her head in amusement. “You’re terrible when you’re moody.”

“Not moody.”

Leah chuckled like she couldnt believe you but she let it go. “We’re planning a welcome party for Alexia this weekend at my place. You’ll be there, yeah?”

Your reply was immediate. “No.”

“Oh I’m hurt,” speak of the devil. Alexia joined in on your conversation with Leah, now all dressed in her Arsenal training kit. Your eyes raked up and down her body. You didn’t have time to admire her in her Arsenal kit yesterday. (You wouldn't admit that it looked good on her.) “You won’t attend your own teammate’s welcoming party? Dios mío. So much for being a team.”

“Not if the teammate is you,” you retorted.

Alexia pouted at you. Leah looked like she was having the time of her life watching your interaction. “Do not be like that, darling,” Alexia teased. You badly wanted to smack her in the face. “You did say you have always wanted us to play together. Now we are on the same team and you are acting like you hate me?” 

At that your eyes bulged out of its sockets. Leah looked mostly confused. “I never said that!”

Alexia only smirked at you as she passed by, blowing you a kiss before she went off to the pitch. 

“She’s so bloody annoying,” you grumbled after her. “I never said anything like that!”

—

The first time you argued with Alexia on the pitch, it was entirely your fault. You could admit this. 

Alexia was dribbling the ball—looking so good doing it, like everything was so effortless for her, that you sort of got annoyed and went in to tackle her. It could’ve ended badly if it weren’t for Alexia’s quick reflexes.

“Oh come on! That’s a yellow!” Alexia looked genuinely pissed off, she quickly stood up, throwing her hands in the air. 

“Oops,” you shrugged, mockingly patting her cheeks. “Good reflexes though.”

All your teammates looked away as Jonas scolded you in front of everyone—not that you care, you weren’t hearing a word he said. You were too busy sending a smirk Alexia’s way. You didn’t look guilty in the slightest and that was probably what made Alexia’s blood boil.

She took her water bottle and she didn’t just spray water on you, she turned the cap and poured the whole thing on top of your head.

“Oops,” Alexia mocked your earlier words. 

Oh you were livid. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!” 

Alexia leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You should work on your reflexes, babe,” before walking away. She didn’t get to walk very far before you ran after her and jumped on her back, tackling her to the ground.

You didn’t know what you wanted to do but you were so annoyed at Alexia—annoyed that she was able to get under your skin, annoyed that she was so attractive and you were still so attracted to her even though she broke your heart! It was ridiculous.

You were tackling each other on the field, and you could hear Alexia start to laugh and you realized it was because you were tickling her and Alexia was ticklish.

“Y/N! Stop! What the hell!” You sure as hell weren’t stopping now.

(It was definitely not because of how addictive the sound of Alexia’s laughter was.)

“Say sorry!” You shouted back, you were straddling her at this point, your hands still poking at her sides.

“No!”

“Alexia! Say sorry!”

“No! Get off!”

“I’m not getting off until you say sorry!”

All your teammates were watching the scene with bewilderment on their faces. Earlier, when you tackled Alexia, everyone was holding their breath, anticipating the bomb that was due to explode anytime (the bomb here being the tension created by you and Alexia being in each other’s vicinity). 

Now, everyone was just amused. You two were still taking turns straddling each other, trying to outpower the other, a scowl ever present on your face (although if one were to look closely, you did let a smile slip). Everyone thought you hated each other. Jonas was making himself go crazy trying to find the history between you, needing to find a solution to make you like each other as one of you leaving was not an option.

Now, everyone could see that you two were fine. Some unresolved tension, for sure. Full on hatred? Not so much.

—

The days passed by pretty quickly and the next thing you knew you were standing in front of Leah’s door, about to enter Alexia’s welcoming party, the one you were adamant to not show up to.

Leah then threatened to take away your PlayStation for a month to which you finally caved in with the biggest sigh and “Remember Lee, it’s not about me wanting to be friends with Alexia, okay? I literally cannot live if you revoke my PlayStation privileges!”

You entered Leah’s place with an even more sour mood than you were at training this week.

Training was fine, as always. Having Alexia there to train with you in London Colney was not fine.

(Although you couldn’t help but notice how well you and Alexia played with each other, managing to have some sort of telepathy that let you two find one another on the pitch. 

Just your damn luck.)

You made your rounds and spoke with everyone. You were less tense now, somehow having adjusted to Alexia being around.

You could see the relief in Leah and Kim’s face when they saw you weren’t trying to start fights with the new signing anymore.

So much so that they decided it was you and Alexia that had to be the one to get more beers in Leah’s pantry. You took the instructions with a scowl, Alexia trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You entered Leah’s pantry (if one could even call it that, it was spacious, Leah had more space than one living alone would need), and you were about to tell Alexia to hold the door open and not let it shut because the handle was broken and Leah still haven’t gotten it fixed when Alexia shut the door closed.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Guess we’re stuck here.”

—

After both of you had tried your luck by pulling the door handle and nothing seemed to work, you two settled on the floor, sitting on opposite ends of the room.

You were scowling at the blonde, who was looking everywhere but you, a guilty expression on her face.

“This is all your fault,” you were sulking. You both stupidly didn’t bring your phones and you couldn’t call anyone for help. “This is all your fault,” you repeated.

“I told you, I’m sorry,” Alexia mumbled, bringing her knees to her chest. You hated that she looked like a kicked puppy.

You sighed. Maybe you were being too harsh on her. “I’m surprised there hasn't been an uproar online with you leaving Barcelona,” you changed the subject.

Alexia raised an eyebrow at you, not expecting you to start another conversation apart from telling her that being stuck here was Alexia’s fault. “It hasn't been announced yet,” she clarified.

“Well, goodluck,” you felt bad for her. Just a bit. “They’re going to rip you apart for that. Unloyal, how you downgraded, and all that.”

Alexia let out a big sigh. “I know. I have prepared myself for it. The goodbye video is a good one though, it was so emotional, I even cried. I just hope people understand.”

You looked at her, you still couldn’t understand her. “I thought you loved Barça? You are quite literally a carbon copy of Leah with Arsenal.”

“I did. I do. I love the club with all my heart, you know that.”

When you didn't reply Alexia continued.

“There were a lot of factors, to put it simply. Financials, is one. I didn’t like that in order for me to receive more, someone has to get less. We won the Quadruple, we won a lot of fucking things for the club, there should be enough money going around. Anyway, I won’t go into detail because it is a lot more complicated than that. Then there was going to be changes, with Jona leaving and all. I didn’t like where it was headed.”

Alexia took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t want to leave everyone behind, but I felt that it was for the best. They still have Marta and Patri so I’m leaving them in good hands.”

“Sorry to hear that,” you murmured, now feeling guilty for your behaviour towards her ever since she got here.

Alexia turned to look at you and gone were the wistful look in her eyes. She looked serene—if that was even possible after leaving the club of your life.

“Then you were also a factor, definitely,” Alexia said so softly that you might have missed it. “I didn't know why you were suddenly ignoring me, I feel like I definitely did something wrong because we were fine one day and not the next. I want to apologize for whatever it was. I really do miss you.”

You could only look at her as you processed her words. Your loud laugh broke the silence “Me? You moved to shitty Arsenal because of me? Please be serious.”

Alexia laughed at that. “Don’t call your club shitty. I think it’s quite a good club. With an interesting league.”

“If you're comparing it to Barcelona—“

“I like it here so far,” Alexia interjected. “You should be proud of your club.”

“Of course I am—”

“And you’re here so it’s definitely a bonus point.”

“No, no, wait, just pause,” you ran your hand through your hair as you took a deep breath. What the fuck was going on. You stood up and started pacing the floor, Alexia looking at you expectantly. “You,” you pointed at her. “Moved to Arsenal, to bloody London,” you waved your hand around, “because of me?” you pointed at yourself in disbelief.

“One of the reasons, yes.”

“No!”

Alexia looked taken aback at your outburst, her face showing that she was amused at you. “What do you mean no?”

“No as in you're lying.”

“I’m not lying,” she rolled her eyes at you. 

“Yes, you are.”

Alexia mumbled some Catalan you didn't understand and stood up, inching closer to you. When she was about to take your hand, you immediately pulled away, “Stop,” you warned her, “you have a girlfriend.”

“What?” Now it was you who was taken aback by her outburst.

“I know all about your Spanish girlfriend,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “So cut it out.”

“I don’t have a Spanish girlfriend?” Alexia was confused and you were too, but you know she has a hot, Spanish girlfriend somewhere in Barcelona and it was igniting the rage in the pit of your stomach.

“Lucy told me that you went on a double date with her and Ona. While we were together,” you scoffed. “So not only do you have a girlfriend but you cheated.”

“What!” Alexia looked at you like you were crazy. “Cheated? Sí, I was in love with you, but we were never together?!”

Your jaw went slack at that, how could she?

“Never together- all the daily calls and texts and the I love you? Jesus, Alexia. What was all that?”

Realization seemed to dawn on her face at the same time as yours. There was a chance that… Alexia didn’t think you were together when you thought otherwise…?

“I didn’t—” Alexia sighed, shaking her head. “I thought we were friends!”

You groaned, palming your face. Oh my god. This must singlehandedly be the most humiliating point in your life. You were heartbroken over someone who didn't think you were together? “What kind of friends—”

“Okay, okay,” Alexia stepped closer to you, her hands reaching out in an attempt to touch yours. “Lo siento. I really am.” You let her touch you, Alexia immediately holding your hands and running soothing circles with her thumb.

“I didn't know you felt that way towards me, honestly,” Alexia continued. “I was trying to forget you, so I went out with someone for a bit but it was nothing serious. I—wait, was that why you stopped talking to me?”

Still feeling the embarrassment, you pulled your hands from her grip and began walking towards the door. Before you remembered that you were locked in. Great.

Alexia caught up to you, essentially blocking your path. Not that you could go anywhere anyway. 

“Y/N,” Alexia gave a small laugh and you frowned at her. What was so funny about this? “You thought we were together?”

Your frown deepend even further, hearing her say it out loud was so, so embarrassing. “Yeah, whatever, go ahead and laugh at me.”

Alexia turned serious at your tone. “I am not laughing at you. I promise,” she took your hands in hers. “I think it is… cute. We both suck at communication. I’m sorry.” Alexia brought your hands up to her lips, pressing the softest kiss to your knuckles. 

You wanted to die, in a good way. But you were still so embarrassed about this whole thing, so you remained quiet.

“I was in love with you,” Alexia clarified. “Still am. But I did not know that you feel the same—“

You groaned. “I don’t call my friends 24/7 or end everything with an ‘I love you’. Of course I was in love with you!”

“I am oblivious, I know!” Alexia laughed. “Sorry! But you never clarified things.”

“I thought it was obvious,” you pushed her shoulder halfheartedly. “If we were to date and you do those things with someone else, I would be concerned.”

“Never,” Alexia placed her hands around your waist, having you essentially pressed against her. “Sorry again about everything.”

“You should be,” you whispered, the close proximity making your heart beat wildly against your chest. “You broke my heart without knowing it.”

“Won’t ever do it again, te prometo,” Alexia rested her forehead against yours. Alexia filled all your senses and you were overcome with a wave of contentment. “Just so we are clear… you like me in a romantic sense and you want to date me, romantically, yes?”

You could only roll your eyes, grabbing her by the neck to pull her in for a kiss.

Suddenly the door flew open, causing you two to break apart. It was Leah, a bewildered look on her face with a screwdriver in hand. You didn’t even realize she was trying to open the door.

“I thought you two hated each other?!”

You opened your mouth to reply but you didn't get the chance to, not when Alexia grabbed your jaw to turn you towards her and placed her lips back on yours.

“Seriously?!”

You heard Leah muttering curse words as she slammed the door shut and Alexia giggling against your lips at the same time. You were the most content you had ever been.

—

bonus:

When you and Alexia weren’t throwing snide remarks at one another, people started to look at you weirdly, apart from Leah, obviously, who was sporting the biggest scowl on her face.

You didn't get a chance to talk to her after she caught you, your best friend prying the door open once more then left without a word, trying to act like a good host and preparing unnecessary foods and drinks for everyone. Basically, she was ignoring you.

You've known Leah all your life and you knew she was pissed that she was kept in the dark about your… developments with Alexia. To be fair, the developments did happen a few minutes before Leah got the door to open, so you didn't really have time to tell her.

Plus, you hadn't told her about how you and Alexia were sort of together but not really for a year and you knew Leah would be even more pissed that you decided to omit this from her. You loved Leah for it though. You knew she meant well. She was very protective over you.

You knew better than to approach Leah when she was like this, opting to leave her to brood in peace for a few days.

You would tell her about Alexia eventually, never really one to keep secrets from her. 

At the thought of Alexia, you instantly had a smile on your face.

You two were back to the way it was before—regular calls and texts, only this time you could meet each other for coffee in between the time you weren’t calling or texting each other.

This time, you two were on the same page. You were in love with each other. No one else. And you were dating each other—no one else.

Training became… eventful. 

Not only were you and Alexia civil, you two were making jokes with each other. At one point, you even managed to hug her discreetly, when no one was around—or so you thought anyway.

“Whoa.”

You instantly pulled back at the voice, it turned out to be Mariona, Alexia’s Spain teammate.

“Since when is La Reina a hugger?”

“Shut up, Mario,” Alexia glared at her, although you could see the small smile on her lips. “We are dating. Of course we hug. Just be thankful we were not in the middle of making out or doing something worse.”

What?

You could only stare at Alexia in shock, mouth hanging open. Mariona was the same, she was catatonic.

Whatever you were expecting to come out of Alexia’s mouth, it wasn't that.

“I think you broke poor Mario,” a voice chimed in from the doorway. “I was the one who walked in on their making out session,” Leah continued, stepping into the room. “That was pretty traumatizing.”

Leah was looking at you with that glint in her eyes, one that told you all was well. “You still mad at me Williamson?”

Leah scoffed. “Oh please. Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I didn’t tell you Ale and I were a thing, and because you had to walk in on me being all over her- in my defense, have you seen her? How could you not want to jump her bones—”

“Okay, nope!” Leah closed her eyes with a grimace, trying to burn the memory away. “Please, please keep it in your pants.”

You shook your head fondly at her, moving forward to engulf her in a hug. “Dinner at my place tonight?”

Leah pulled back and placed the sloppiest kiss on your cheek. “Sure, darling. I know you’ve missed me!”

“Lee! What the fuck!” Leah was giggling and you were shooting daggers at her. Alexia was looking at the both of you with amusement on her face. 

Mariona suddenly burst into laughter, taking everyone by surprise. “This is gold,” Mariona said in between her laughs. “So I am not the only one who moved countries for a girl?”

Alexia looked genuinely offended at the accusation. “I did not move here because of a girl!”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, “Oh you so did, babe. That’s okay, no one is holding it against you. I am pretty hot.”

Alexia was about to counter your statement when Mariona chimed in, an ear-splitting grin on her face, “I am going to go tell everyone about this.”

“What- no! Mario!” Alexia went to chase after the brunette who had made her exit. You could hear their voices echoing throughout the hall. “I moved here because of a lot of reasons, you know this!”

“So,” Leah kicked your shoe to get your attention. “Alexia, huh? Didn't you say she was overrated?”

“Shut up.”

[eomayas]

crawling back to you • ljh

pairing: producer!woozi x f!reader, exes2l

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! angst & fluff

synopsis: reader sees her ex boyfriend for the first time after avoiding him for months, and they realize just how much they miss each other

warnings: p in v, fingering, unprotected s*x (reader takes BC), praise, dirty talk, groveling, drinking, they’re at a club

a/n: eeeek sorry i’ve been MIA! i hope u like this. unedited. excuse any plot inconsistencies i started this weeks ago. will be finishing up reqs soon!!

music blares through the club speakers and bodies fill up what feels like every square inch of space available. your drink sloshes in your cup when a club-goer collides with your shoulder, a drunken “sorry” thrown your way as they stagger off. luckily, nothing spills on you and you got an apology.

walking up the stairs to the section your friends got, doubt and anxiety creep around the corners of your brain, the cage of butterflies in your stomach ready to be released. here’s the thing: your ex is up in this section, here because this night is partially about him and partially because your friends guilt tripped him into coming. otherwise, you know he wouldn’t be here. you also wouldn’t be here, if not for being tired of skipping out of fun activities just to avoid him. it’s tiring making up excuses as to why you can’t go to something whenever you catch wind of him being invited as well.

that’s really the problem with your breakup; you shared a group of friends. they all vowed to not get involved, staying true to their word on being impartial, though sometimes you wish they’d show favoritism and not invite him to things, just for your sake.

tonight, you’re here because you’re tired of being tired, tired of being afraid of running into him. you even stopped frequenting the places you used to go together because of the mere threat of possibly running into him. you’re tired of it.

also, you came because you knew he’d be here. not that that matters, or anything.

stepping into the section, you take a sip of your drink to calm yourself, before you’re spotted by soonyoung who waves at you enthusiastically. “y/n! you came!” he cries, jumping up from the couch and nearly tackling you in a hug. he hugs you around the shoulders and squeezes you tightly, and you can smell the alcohol wafting from his breath. “i’m so happy you’re here!” he slurs, and you wonder how many drinks he’s had.

when he releases you, you can’t help but return the toothy smile he gives you. “me too,” you say, though you’re not really sure yet. placing a hand on his cheek, you gently pat him. “youre drunk.” you declare, giggling when he smiles proudly.

out of all of the friends you shared with jihoon, you got the closest to soonyoung. probably because he was always around, but his personality is infectious and he’s just overall a good time. it sucked when you and jihoon broke up because you saw less of him until he reached out a few weeks after to reassure you that he wasn’t ‘picking sides’, but was trying to be there for his friend. you understood, but you needed a friend too.

you and soonyoung release each other, and he grabs your hand and begins to drag you over to where he’s sitting. knowing how close him and jihoon are, you relent and try to pull yourself back. “no, hosh, i don’t think it’s a good idea,” you start to panic, eyes frantically scanning the section for any sign of him.

“nooo, he’s not even sitting with me!” he pouts, rolling his eyes. you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he sighs, gnawing on his lip like you’re goin to hate what he’s about to say. clearing his throat, he says, “he’s made a friend.”

you ignore the pang in your chest and swallow down the lump in your throat. everything in you stops you from whipping your head around in search of him and this new found friend of his. shrugging your shoulders, you attempt to act nonchalant and like you don’t care, but soonyoung sees right through your facade. “good for him,” you say, but it comes out like fuck you.

“let’s drink.”

tipsy, not drunk. that’s your goal for tonight, and you’re dangerously on the verge of approaching drunk, the shot glass in front of you tempting. jeonghan raises his eyebrows at you from across the table, his shot glass hovering in the air. you eye the cup full of liquor, stomach roiling at the thought of taking even a sip. with resignation, you shake your head at last and lean back against the couch, a collective groan and pleading coming from your friends.

“cmonnnnnnn!” they say in unison, making you cover your face and shrink against the cushion.

“this is peer pressure, you know,” you say, pulling your hands from your face and looking at the shot glass. it’s practically calling your name (or maybe it’s seungcheol complaining at you), waiting for you to drink it. “nah, guys, i’m tapping out.” you declare.

“i’ll drink it,” wonwoo says, reaching across the table and grabbing your shot. he clinks both of the drinks in his hands against everybody else’s before downing one after the other. you watch in astonishment, feeling slightly nauseous for him, and a drink is placed in front of you on the table.

“water,” soonyoung says before you can question him, and sets a few more glasses down. somehow, despite his drunken state earlier, he’s managed to sober up as you drank more and more, despite it being his idea to keep on drinking.

you thank him and immediately grab the glass and begin chugging, not realizing how dehydrated you are.

“can i cut in?” you freeze, nearly choking on your water, and pray to the heavens that that voice doesn’t belong to who you are 101% sure it belongs to. you’ll never not know that voice, never not hear it ringing through your head when you watch a tv show you both liked or walk by your favorite restaurants. all the blood in your body rushes to your face, cheeks and neck burning red.

sliding your eyes from the table in front of you and up to the voice, it’s like your brain is wiped of every thought in your head and your senses are working over time. suddenly the music feels too loud, and the lights too bright, and your dress too tight. jihoon is looking down at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously—a habit he’d never been able to shake.

you realize much too late that he’s waiting for an answer from you, being under his gaze after so long of even seeing him making your brain work extra hard to process anything. jihoon stands above you, looking sexier than ever in all black with hair pulled back, a few loose strands framing his face. you nod choppily, hands clutching your water glass so hard that it might break from the pressure.

everyone at the table magically disappears after that, soonyoung vanishing from your side the moment you tipped your chin up. the only sign of anyone else having been sat around you are the empty glasses littered across the table.

jihoon takes a seat next to you on the couch, not so subtly wiping his palms on his pants. “are you gonna throw that at me?” he says as a greeting, nodding down at the glass in your hands.

at that, your grip loosens and you set the drink on the table, wiping the condensation from the glass on your dress. “no,” you reply, meeting his eyes. jihoons face softens when you look at him, and you wish you didn’t notice it because you feel your heart break in your chest.

“hi,” he says.

“hi.”

there’s a gap of space between the two of you, wide enough for another person to sit. you want to scoot closer and simultaneously scoot away from him, but stay planted where you’re at. “how’ve you been? it’s good to see you, y/n,” his voice is sincere, and it makes you feel confused, and like you miss him. because you do—it’s why you’re here.

you nod, nervously sliding your hands underneath your legs. “good. it’s nice to see you too,” you reply, and you wonder if this is how the night is going to go; you agreeing with and repeating whatever he says. “how are you?”

jihoon mirrors your anxious over-nodding. “good! just been working.”

“sounds like you,” you offer, earning a smile from him that shoots straight to your chest, followed by a ripple of sadness. work. the one thing you couldn’t compete with, so you never tried. and because you never tried, you were always second. second to the music, second to the studio, second to everything you let him put above you.

sensing your discomfort at the mention of the thing that drove a wedge between the two of you, jihoon scrambles to change the subject. work is his fault, but music is something he could never give up. music is his passion, it’s his calling and his purpose in this life. he blames the hours, not the thing. “i’ve been meaning to call you, but i was trying to give you space,” he says.

you nearly scoff in his face because if anything, space was the last thing you needed or wanted from him. you wanted time, but certainly not space. he gave you enough of that while you were together. space is what you got when you allowed yourself to be second. you can only hum at his words, a proper response lost on you.

“i miss you.”

those three words echo through your skull and bounce around the corners before they land squarely in the front. i miss you. somebody had to say it first.

“you don’t show it,” you murmur, looking down at the floor. you’re acutely aware of how much space is between you when the gap lessens, his thighs centimeters from your own in an instant.

“hm? i couldn’t hear you,” his mouth is very near your ear, leaving you no space if you were to turn your head to look at him. you go to lean back against the couch to put some distance between the two of you, but collide with his arm that is strewn over the back of it.

a surge of nerves runs through your body. finding a new sense of boldness, you scoot away from him and turn towards him, looking him square in the eye. “i said, you don’t show it,” jihoon blinks at you, mulling over your words.

“i don’t show it?” he asks, leaning in. you shake your head, your eyes never leaving his. jihoon brings a hand up to rub his bottom lip. those lips. your eyes drag down to rest upon the soft, pink lips that adorn his face. you fight the urge to trace his bottom lip with your thumb, grateful for the darkness of the club because your face is on fire. “well, it’s true though. i miss you.”

in place of a response, you pick up your water glass and chug the rest. you can feel him watching you, his eyes burning right through you. it’s bad enough that you’ve been craving his presence ever since you called things off with him, but having him this close so soon wasn’t exactly as easy as you dreamed it to be. you’re hot under his gaze, and the water is doing nothing to cool you down.

“you don’t act like it. you didn’t even call,” and maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or you’re simply feeling extra bold but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

jihoon works his jaw and pushes a few strands of hair out of his face. “i didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

“i’ll always want to hear from you.”

at your admission, jihoon leans back against the couch cushion, teeth running over his bottom lip. your gaze lingers on his lips for a brief moment, long enough for jihoon to catch. he shifts against the couch, and you let your thoughts get the best of you and rake your eyes over his figure, shamelessly eyeing his lap. his legs are outstretched in front of him, slightly bent at the knee and fallen open wide.

it’s been months since you’ve had sex, jihoon being your last. you’ve managed to take care of yourself, though you miss feeling full. jihoon watches you drink him in, hand curling around the back of the couch. “are you seeing anyone?” he asks, leaning forward slightly. you shake your head, looking at him pointedly. you don’t have the strength to ask him back, brain taking you back to what soonyoung said earlier. a friend. clearly, there’s something there.

he’s watching you again, and this time you don’t have anything to preoccupy yourself with under his gaze. “congratulations, by the way,” you blurt embarrassingly, trying to find something else to talk about. jihoon blinks a few times, like he’s trying to figure out why you’re congratulating him for anything. “on your music. tonight is for you, isn’t it?”

“oh. thanks. and no, it’s not for me. they just needed an excuse to go out,” he says, brushing the stray strand of hair out of his eyes. you follow the movement and let out a small sigh, hands holding onto your knees.

jihoon leans forward and rests his elbows atop his knees. his face is close to yours, mere inches away. if you leaned in towards him, your lips would brush, and you hate how aware of it you are. you should hate him, shouldn’t want to see him, and certainly shouldn’t be imagining kissing him right now. you left him. but he marked the end of your relationship.

a zing of heat spreads through your chest as you look him in the eye. the club feels too dark, too hot, too loud, and jihoon too close to you. “i need some air,” you rush, standing up on wobbly knees. you pull the hem of your dress down, making the mistake of looking down at jihoon. he stares up at you, his eyes wide as they drag up your legs. when his gaze settles on your face, his lips part and his to the darts out to lick the corner of his mouth.

you swallow the newly formed lump in your mouth and make your way towards the stairs and hobble down, hand gripping tightly to the railing. you manage to make it down the flight of stairs without embarrassing yourself and push past people to get to the exit, outside calling your name like a siren. “y/n!” or maybe it’s literally your ex calling out to you.

jihoon is right on your heels, looking a little stressed as you round the corner around the side of the club. you suck in some air and look over at him, a breeze blowing his hair out of place again. “what?”

he holds his arms out to the side for a brief moment before dropping them at his sides. “i don’t know. i don’t know what to say, i just…” he trails off with a light shake of his head, wiping around his mouth. you just stare at him, bottom lip tucked under your top lip. “i just want to talk to you, i guess. i don’t know. i miss you.” he says for the third time tonight.

you only hum, looking up at the inky black sky. you hear his shoes scuff against the pavement, and then he’s right at your side, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking onto his heels. “i’d do it differently, if i could, you know? i fucked it all up.”

“what would you have done differently, jihoon? quit your job? stopped making music? i wasn’t going to have you resent me, jihoon,” tonight doesn’t feel like the night for this conversation, but maybe it is. maybe that’s why you came here knowingly, hoping that you’d run into him to make sense of the end of your relationship. “there’s nothing to really change, jihoon. you came home. you checked in. you did it all.” you don’t know why you’re trying to spare his feelings still, but something in you won’t let you dunk on him to his face like you did behind his back.

jihoon is listening, he hears you. but the only thing he can focus on is the way you keep saying his name, and just how much he really misses hearing you say it. blowing out a breath, he shrugs his shoulders up to his ears and drops them, eyes flicking up to you at you. your bottom lip is tucked underneath the top, your eyes already on him. your arms are crossed over your midsection, and a breeze blows a few strands of hair out of their place and jihoon has the urge to put them back, but he stops himself.

“so now what?” you ask, peering down at him. jihoon stares back at you with parted lips, eyes dropping to the ground before flicking back up to you.

“i don’t know. i just miss you, y/n,” he flicks his bangs out of his face and you purse your lips. it’s not like you don’t miss—you do, way too much, in your opinion—you just don’t necessarily know what to do with what he’s saying to you. is he expecting you to magically forget everything and take him back? should you take him back? should you even be talking to him? “you look really nice tonight.”

and he looks too good right now, too approachable, too take-back-able. he looks good enough to do something you might regret in the morning.

jihoon takes a half a step closer to you, the toe of his shoe touching your heel. you turn, interweaving your legs and pressing your abdomen against his and putting a hand on his shoulder. he swallows and ignores the thump thump thump of his heart, nerves skyrocketing the longer you look at him with your hand on him.

in an instant, you’re ducking down and pressing your lips to his. jihoon kisses you back urgently, one hand resting on your hip and the other cradling the side of your face. it’s rushed, messy, and feverish in seconds, jihoon trying his damndest to pull you impossibly closer.

he grows hard below you and the slightest brush of his erection on your leg makes you shiver and part your lips against his, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. jihoon drops his hand from your cheek and places it over your ass, pulling your crotch against his own. “i drove here,” he pants against your lips when he gets a moment to pull away.

that’s all you need to hear to let him lead you to his car, your heels echoing off the pavement. jihoon helps you into the back and climbs in immediately after, pulling the door closed and caging you against the backseat and the side of the door.

jihoon settles one knee on the floor of the car and the other on the seat, hands bunching your dress up around your hips as he kisses you fervently. your hands work the buttons of his shirt open, mouths pulling apart for a brief moment when you get to the end of his shirt and fumble with the last button for too long. his shirt falls open and you push it off his shoulders, and wet your lips at the sight of his bare torso.

the air in the car is thick as he sits above you, chest heaving as you drink him in. you rake your nails over the toned body that you once used to get to touch just like this. jihoon nudges your nose with his own, gently pressing his lips to yours once you angle towards him. he holds onto the headrest to brace himself, quietly groaning when you start to work his belt open.

“i need you,” you whine when his belt is pulled free, already rushing to unbutton his pants.

“lemme stretch you out first. you can’t take me yet,” and he’s not trying to be cocky (he definitely is), but he doesn’t need to know if you’ve been fucking other people to know that you definitely aren’t ready for him.

you whine at the thought of having him inside of you, your core aching with need. he’s 100% right, but you want him so bad and feel like you can’t wait.

jihoon is already working his fingers inside of you, pulling your panties down to your knees and dragging his fingers up your folds to collect your slick. he doesn’t tease you like he otherwise would if you were still together, rather he dips two fingers into your sopping, warm hole and curls them upwards. you gasp and he bites his bottom lip, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

arching against the seat, you whimper when he presses against your clit with his thumb as he works his fingers inside of you, reaching that spongy part that makes your vision spot and harsh pants leave your lips. jihoon leans down and kisses on your neck, lips dragging under your jawbone and nearing your collarbones. “i missed this,” he groans into your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the soft skin there. you only buck your hips in response and bury a hand in his hair. “missed you and this perfect pussy.”

a soft grunt escapes you when he slips in a third finger. “you take my fingers so well, baby,” he adds, pulling back from your neck to look down at where you mold around his three fingers. you suck him in greedily, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“hoon, i want you,” you whimper, tugging on his hair. his eyes fall closed as he lets you pull on his hair, head falling back as you do it. “i can take it.” you add, pussy clenching around his fingers. you bring your other hand over to pull down his zipper, eagerly pushing at the waistband.

“you sure?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, fingers still moving inside of you. you nod and lean up from the seat and press your chest into his, turning your head to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss.

jihoon pulls his fingers out of you and pull away from you to shove his pants down to his ankles, haphazardly wiping his hand on the fabric of his boxers. jihoon throws himself onto the seat next to you and tugs you onto his lap, one hand making use of unzipping the back of your dress and helping you out of it, followed by your bra and panties.

you’re left in just your heels and him in just his open shirt, his hard cock flat against his stomach. jihoon palms your breasts, letting out a breath when you rock against his lap. “fuck, i need you so bad,” you say, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his neck. reaching between the two of you, you take his thick shaft in your hand and slowly start pumping him, reveling in how he pants into your ear and grips onto your ass tightly.

“i wanna feel you, baby. ride me,” he rasps, biting his lip to hold in a whimper when you swipe your thumb over his tip. you raise your hips and position him at your entrance before slowly sinking down on him, gasping when the head of his cock presses into your hole and stretches you out. “fuckkkk.” he drawls, leaning his head back against the seat.

you hold onto his shoulders for support as you move lower and lower onto him, breathing quickening with each inch you take. his cock fills you up in a way that is so familiar yet so foreign after months of going without. it would be overwhelming if not for the way he rubs your lower back and kisses across your chest, mumbling at you to take your time. “you feel that?” jihoon groans, hands squeezing your hips.

you only whine pathetically and draw your bottom lip in between your teeth. you sink lower, finally bottoming out and shuddering at being stuffed. jihoon lets you sit on his lap and adjust, his ego swelling knowing that you even need the time. “shit,” you whisper, running a hand through your hair and tilting your head back. the stretch is bordering on painful, but you’re not about to quit now, not when your cunt has its own pulse that’s in sync with your heart.

a heavy hand falls on your neck and jihoon pulls you down to his lips, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth. you moan against him and rock your hips back and forth, sucking in a breath each time you move forwards. you falter in the kiss, simply pressing against his mouth as you grind against him. “you’re so tight,” jihoon grunts, dropping his hand from your neck to toy with your clit. you clench around him and his breath hitches. “i missed this pussy, fuck. i’ve been thinking about you every night.” he admits, earning a whimper in response.

moving up onto your knees, you work up the strength to fuck yourself onto him and place a hand on the roof of the car to steady yourself. “f-fuck, jihoon,” you hiccup, mouth falling open.

“do you miss me too?” he rasps, pinching your clit , hips bucking when you let out a whimper that goes straight to his cock. “you think of me fucking you like this?”

“yes!” you cry out, a response to both of his questions. your thighs burn but you keep bouncing up and down, a familiar tightness forming at the base of your stomach. “missed this so much.” you squeak, dropping onto his lap and rolling your hips.

“yeah?” he pants out, lips ghosting over your neck. “cum for me and show me.” and you look down at him and swear you see a demon for a second, jaw falling to your chest when he rubs his thumb across your bundle of nerves.

putting both of his hands on your ass, he surprises you when he hoists you up before slamming you back down on his cock, careful to avoid knocking your head against the top of the car. you moan and encircle your arms around his neck and hunch down into him, crying out his name as he manually moves you up and down. “j-jihoon!” the air gets pushed from your lungs each time he pulls you down onto his cock, vision blurring.

your cunt clenches around him in a vice grip, making him stutter as he lets out a string of curses mixed with praise. “s-shit, feels so f-fucking g-good,” jihoon manages. he can feel his release creeping up on him, but he’s determined to have you cum first. he still knows all of your tells: heavy breathing, lack of talking back, the tight grip you have on him. “are you gonna cum for me?”

it only takes him fucking you onto his cock a few more times before youre sputtering out his name and your cunt is spasming around his cock. you gush onto his lap and shake against him, nails digging into his shoulder blades. feeling you against him spurs his own orgasm, and ropes of his cum shoot up into you. you want to blame the alcohol for your lack of concern for a condom, but you’re too far gone (and take birth control pills) to take up an issue with letting him fuck you raw.

you settle in his lap and tuck your face into his neck. jihoon rubs your back soothingly and makes no move to get you off of him, or to move. for a few minutes of you sitting on top of him, he lets himself pretend like you’re still together, and softly peppers kisses into your neck, all while his finger tips gently stroke up your spine. you love and hate the intimacy, wishing it were real and yours to hold onto. wishing that it meant something.

“jihoon,” you’re the first to break away after what feels like forever. you sit up and peel yourself off of him, involuntarily moaning when he slips out of you. you roll onto the seat next to him and shyly try your best to cover yourself. “did you really mean it?” you ask.

“mean what?”

“mean it when you said you’d do it all over again?”

he places a hand on your bare leg and looks over at you. “i did. i’d do anything, really, to get you back,” he admits. he doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic, he just wants you back.

you only hum. his bluntness puts butterflies in your stomach, and has you wondering if a second chance would really be that bad? or maybe it’s the fact that you can feel his cum leaking out of you and onto the seats.

“it’s not going to be this easy, jihoon,” you say, playing with the ends of your hair. his hand slides higher as he scoots closer to you, seemingly pulling you back into his lap. you wrap an arm around his neck and toy with his hair. “you’ve really got to try. show me that you care.” you add softly.

jihoon peers up at you with big, pleading eyes, and you feel yourself soften against him. he kisses the center of your chest and you let out a sigh, curling into his body. “i can do that. i just want you back, baby.”

and if he keeps calling you baby, it really might just be that easy.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

AMBER FREEMAN | GHOSTFACE (scream 2022)

—

“Sent A Whole World Crying - pt1” (unrequited Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader) and (background Mindy Meeks-Martin x Fem!Reader)

| You accidentally let Amber know that you think she’s Ghostface (through DM’s); she’s not about to let you live through that mistake, obviously…probably.

| NSFW, canon typical violence, psychological trauma, unrequited feelings, angst (TW: general sadism, malicious concern, some taunting, reader-insert is harmed, slight metaphorical smut - some of the descriptors and dialogue I use are suggestive enough that it could be triggering.)

| Listen I’ve seen the analysis of who killed who in the movie, but for the sake of this fic I don’t care. (pic source: scream 2022 + promotional poster)

| Happy Early October!!

| 4k+ words

You:

- Mindy I’m telling you! - She keeps disappearing during the kills and then coming back all twitchy - Why aren’t you answering? You were all for looking into this shit earlier - Mindy! - I know you love Tara and they used to date or whatever but you know I’m right. - She’s probably Ghostface - Come on girl I’m being serious

You’ve been texting Mindy for the last two hours now and she’s still yet to answer you.

You didn’t know if it was because of how much shit you gave her for her insistence on trying to figure out who’d attempted to kill Tara a few nights ago (as if murder accusations were just mere gossip), or because she just hadn’t checked her texts yet, but this was bugging you to much for you to drop.

Hypocritical or not.

At first you’d blown off the signs, but red flags were red flags and eventually if they added up enough they started to look like blood splattered on the walls. Which didn’t help with the way your friend’s particular brand of paranoia was starting to rub off on you.

Now, you’ve managed to work yourself up so much at Amber’s most recent disappearing act that you’d nearly ran home so you could safely text Mindy.

In a circumstance that was beginning to be rarer and rarer for you both you couldn’t be up underneath each other right now so her DM’s would have to suffice.

She was busy with the film club at the moment, but she’d never once begrudged you texting her whenever and after going out with her and her friends last night then stewing over your observations all day you needed to tell somebody what you thought.

You weren’t very close to the group Mindy hung out with — you fucked with your own company just fine — but you and Mindy had become close over your mutual hate of your philosophy class and eventually she’d stumbled through asking you to hang out as a group (still blunt as ever even despite her raging blush) so you’d been with her friends at the bar only because she asked.

Friendship obligations, and all that.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to figure out who would do something so horrible just as much as they did either. It was just that you only truly cared for Mindy and Chad’s sakes.

Or at least as much as most of them wanted to figure this situation out.

Amber talked a big game about caring for Tara’s safety above all else and vetting everyone the smaller teen came into contact with, but after that jerk who got y’all kicked out left Amber had disappeared too. She came back overly excited — weird considering her best friend was almost brutally murdered — and there had been smudges on her shoes. You couldn’t confirm that it was that guy's blood, but you certainly felt like it was. The glint of something thick and wet was pretty hard to miss even on black boots.

Which was why you needed Mindy to answer you. You couldn’t bank on Amber fucking off around the same time the news reported Ghostface killed that man being a happy little coincidence.

Amber was pushy and rude on a good day and on a bad you’d seen her be downright malicious before, tripping someone down the stairs after he’d bumped into her type of malicious.

Plus ever since you started hanging out with Mindy you’ve noticed her staring at you more often, and no matter the contemplative look on Amber’s face whenever you caught her staring, her attention still made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Sighing, you unlock your phone and check your messages again, pacing around your room all the while, before something catches your eye.

That wasn’t Mindy’s handle. It just looked nearly identical.

Shit, no wonder she wasn’t responding.

Jolting to a stop in the middle of the room, you rush to delete the messages.

It’s as you’re deleting the fourth that the green ‘active now’ dot shows up beside the unfamiliar username and then ‘read’ pops up underneath your last three texts.

“Damnit,” you grumble, still deleting the last couple texts. It won’t do much now, but if you were fast enough the person at least won’t be able to show anyone else or prove what you said.

Your stomach flips a little as you see the three dots pop up in the vacant space left behind by your erasing spree.

You freeze.

And then, heart in your stomach, you just react, exiting out of the conversation and going to the person's account and blocking them.

Oh god, you were so fucked. Shit. You really hoped that wouldn't come back to bite you on the ass.

You sit down on your bed with a huff, heart beating so fast it feels like you just ran the mile in gym class again. Dropping your phone on your comforter you shake out your trembling fingers. You suppose that was a sign that maybe you should just keep your opinion to yourself.

You rub your hands down your face.

Yeah, okay. Problem kind of (maybe) avoided for now. You’d just have to hope for the best.

You grunt, “Okay, I need a nap.”

And then you take that nap. As is your right.

─────

You’re jarred from sleep a few hours later by the sound of a continuous series of buzzing, and glare sleep crusted eyes up at your blurred ceiling fan.

Mindy had better not be calling you for some contrite shit again, like helping her beat Chad at whatever late night game they’d decided to occupy their twin insomnia with at — rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look at your phone — eleven pm.

Honestly though, who else would be ballsy enough to start rapid texting you like this in the goddamn middle of the night? The other girl knew you went to sleep around nine on school nights, but Mindy did whatever she—

It feels like your heart stops beating as your Face ID unlocks your phone and you finally read the messages. Ones sent from what looks like a throwaway account with a handle you don’t remotely recognize.

The particular messages, on the other hand, are horribly familiar.

Unknown:

- Mindy I’m telling you! - She keeps disappearing during the kills and then coming back all twitchy - Why aren’t you answering? You were all for looking into this shit earlier - Mindy! - I know you love Tara and they used to date or whatever but you know I’m right. - She’s probably Ghostface - Come on girl I’m being serious - •••

Wide eyed, you can’t do anything but watch as another series of messages are sent.

Unknown:

- you think I’m some bitch faced little girl - well I’ll show you

And just like that you hear the power in the house cut off and watch with stilted breath as the service bar at the top of your screen goes down.

Immediately afterwards a message pops up on your phone to inform you that you’ve lost service even.

Shit.

You blink at your screen for another few seconds, brows furrowing, before whipping your head up to look around your room. Flashes of Tara battered to hell in the hospital and the memory of Sam telling you all about the attempted attack on her in that very place, mere hours after Tara had been checked in, fill your brain to the brim.

Mind feeling stuffed with static you let out a harsh breath through your nose, hand squeezing hard onto your device, and take a glance out the broken blind in your window to clock that there for sure wasn’t a power outage happening anywhere else but at your house.

So someone was definitely fucking with you.

Fuck, you gotta think.

How the killer even got the dm’s you sent if they weren’t Amber wasn’t a question for now, but how you’d get out of this mess certainly was. With your younger sibling down the hall from you, and your parents still out of the house clubbing, there was only one other person you had to worry about.

Now you just had to figure out how to get to them without tipping off whoever the hell else was also in your house.

Hold on.

You never checked who exactly it was you’d been texting before.

Opening Snapchat, you simultaneously tumble as quietly as possible from your bed, only briefly getting caught up by your blanket tangling around your legs.

When you check you see that, yup, it was Amber’s account (who’s handle was now ridiculously similar to Mindy’s and was only saved on your phone in the first place because Mindy had asked you to send her one of your summer assignments from this year to copy).

Goddamnit.

“Why me?” you whisper; but truly, you should’ve made sure you were talking to the right person if you were going to start making fucking murder accusations.

This shit was on you.

Teeth grinding, you stuff your phone into the pocket of your shorts then start crawling around the floor till you can begin prying open your door. Opening it as far as you know it can go before it starts creaking then inching yourself the rest of the way into the hall.

Sure you had a problem if this wasn’t some elaborate prank — which you doubted, but the possibility was always there considering the kind of assholes you went to school with — but you couldn’t jump out of your window and just leave your sibling to die.

It’s when your mission is about halfway accomplished, and you’re nearly to your sibling's room, that you hear a creak.

You freeze alongside it. Breathing with your mouth slightly open to minimize the amount of noise you’re making.

Should you just make a run for their room? Should you duck back into yours? Should you shout their name and hope for the best?

In your periphery a flash of white streaks across the dark abyss that is the rest of your house.

Then, you’re only allowed enough time to start the beginnings of a scream before you’re being thrown into the hallway wall, cutoff exclamation choking in your throat and something blunt and heavy slamming into your forehead before you can catalog anything but the sound of fabric billowing in a rush and the feel of hands grabbing at you.

The shout you let out at the second hit is muffled by a gloved hand slapping over your mouth, the impact stinging your face and making your eyes water.

In that same motion your attacker catches you by the hip, hauling, and combined with the force they barreled into you with that’s all they need to make you trip backwards.

You slam into the wall with an ‘oof,’ but your attacker hardly pauses before using their body to flatten yours against the wall and force your wrists together in front of you.

As you’re blinking the spots from your eyes and trying to make out the person in the darkness a metallic click sounds through the air. And all you can do is flinch as two icy metal bands are cinched around your wrists in quick succession and your vision finally adjusts.

The metal locking together pinches at your skin but there’s so much else going on that you don’t even grimace, too busy trying to find your breath after the sight in front of you stole it.

A face. White, screaming in agony, and floating in the shadow like something straight out of Munch’s worst nightmares.

There’s a Ghostface mask less than a foot away from you.

Real and unavoidable and close enough for the starkness to hurt your eyes against the blanket of night all around you.

In Woodsboro it's a familiar sight, whether on the screen during local stabathons and tv edits at home or in costume shops around any one of the many killing spree anniversaries or Halloween.

Up close as it is to you in this scenario, however, it almost doesn’t feel real.

The mask is tilted in a way that feels like the person behind it is examining you; like a dissection. A hand sprouts from the darkness and shifts it back straight over the person’s face, however, and instantly your worry is no longer an assumption.

If you’d thought before that the tilt felt violating, the full force of Ghostface’s direct gaze actually on you feels heavy enough to strip flesh.

Like acid dripping past your throbbing head, over your face, and down the upper half of your body.

From how crooked the mask was you’d guess that’s what hit you, what’s caused the drowning thump thump pounding through your skull and the stinging sensation traveling across your forehead.

The freak had head butted you.

Slow as you can, you shift your head to the side — hoping there isn’t a streak of blood against the wall left in your wake — just enough to press your temple into the cool wall with a groan.

It’s then Ghostface’s head truly tilts and you get to know what the weight of their curiosity really feels like.

The movement itself is silent, but the click of a tongue and the hand that comes up to press over your forehead is not.

At the first touch of covered fingers to your dark skin your blood practically flash-freezes in your veins.

Gritting your teeth against your possible concussion you make a valiant attempt to meld into the wall, but a hand making itself remembered once more on your hip keeps you from fully running away, and the other reaching for you doesn’t relent.

“You’re so pretty like this, Y/n,” Ghostface’s modulated voice says, deep and smooth, as your assailant pushes on the sore area where you temple meets the wall until you turn to face them again; their tongue wrapping possessively around the call of your name without hesitation. “Submitting for me.”

“Jesus,” you whimper, shaking against the insistent feel of their thumb rubbing against the angry vein showing on your temple. “How do you know my—?”

“—Uh uh,” their overbearing timbre cuts in as they pull themselves closer to you, “keep asking questions like that and you’ll ruin the surprise.”

What fucking surprise? Did this asshole plan on dragging this out all night?

Could you figure a way out of this mess by then?

Biting the inside of your lip, you meet the abyss of a gaze in front of you in spite of the chill it sends down your spine. Try to think past the sensation of spiders crawling through your bloodstream that Ghostface’s generous touch elicits.

You swallow, saliva thick past the budding lump in your throat.

“Can you stop?” you force out.

The killer freezes.

You nearly pass out trying to keep yourself from recoiling or apologizing or both by holding your breath before they finally talk again.

“Why? You don’t want me to be concerned?”

Concerned?!

“I don’t,” you say, lips stiff.

What you wanted was to have this over with, not whatever twisted brand of care this Ghostface operated on.

A beat passes where you think they’ll keep pressing, maybe make a point of knocking you again, but then they…stop. Slim hands retreat from your space entirely and down to the killer’s sides.

You doubt their hands will stay still for long, though, and you haven’t thought up how you’re gonna get around them yet — call for your sibling to go get help, maybe?

You cut your eyes at the ghostly specter, at their height and intense focus on you, and remembering the speed they’d ambushed you with earlier you reconsider.

Risking your sibling’s life over a hunch that you already weren’t confident on wasn’t happening. There was no part of you that believed you’d stand a chance at overpowering this Ghostface long enough for no one but you to get hurt.

Something glints in the corner of your eye and you come out of your head with a start. There’s a knife in the killer’s hand now, twisting and twirling around deft fingers before their gaze swings back to you and the blade swings out to lazily point your way.

“Planning?”

“No.”

They laugh, likely not trusting your answer for a moment.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. We can play a game instead.” They pivot once, angling their body towards the door closest, and your heart skips a beat. “I spy with my little eye something that squeaks and creaks and leads to fresh meat.”

And just in case you managed to miss the killer’s meaning, they use the tip of their knife to point towards your sibling’s closed bedroom door twice in a motion too similar to stabbing for your liking.

“What do you think?” they ask, and take a slow deliberate step to the door right afterwards.

“Don’t!”

Lunging across the space Ghostface has made between you, you grab hold of their wrist with trembling hands and bite the proverbial bullet.

The “Please,” comes falling out your mouth like water, and only a tinge of something sour follows it.

Ghostface doesn’t do so much as twitch when they glance back at you, though, shoulders shaking under the cloak.

“‘Please’,” they repeat, roiling laughter clear even through the distortion, “but I thought you didn’t want my concern?”

“I’ll scream,” you counter, pushing past the sinking in your gut to bring your other hand up to form a double clamp around the killer.

Bottomless perpetually gaping eye cutouts stare back at glistening ebony brown eyes for one breath— four, until you yank.

There is no plan when you rush past them, just the sinking feeling that something was going to have to give soon and the knowledge that you’d be damned if it was the person in the room you're running to.

Your hand is on the doorknob, your sibling’s name on the tip of your tongue, when a sound cracks through the air. Your leg buckles, there’s a pressure at the back of your knee, the heat of another body latches onto your back, a hand claps over your mouth, and then you’re tipping over.

Ghostface brings you down with so little fanfare you’d be embarrassed if you had the wherewithal. Wrestles your flailing ass to the floor right in front of the door and keeps you down with their legs pinning your hips.

It’s not until you hit the floor that everything catches up with you.

Heat like you’ve never known screams from the bend of your knee like a piping kettle, and the wail that scratches its way up your throat when you instinctively try to get away by gaining purchase on the tile with your injured leg leaves you shaking into the floor.

With a chuckle your attacker shushes you, gloved hand made wet from your drool and tears patting against your open mouth.

“Shhh.” They shift back and you whimper at the feel of every millimeter of movement that even that small motion forces your foot to make. “You wouldn’t want your little sibling to hear, would you?”

The voice modulator makes the question sound even more taunting and the deep timber of it curls your toes — the twitch making your left leg burn — coming from so close to your ear.

Gloved fingers run along the serrated edges of the hole in your cracked knee where the knife’s still embedded, circling the pounding back of your leg until shivers rack up your body.

The touch is light.

You want to saw your leg off so you never have to deal with even the memory of the feel of it ever again.

“I’d hate to have to deal with him if he comes to investigate the strange noises, yeah?” they say, pausing right afterwards.

It’s a prompt if you’ve ever heard one. They even lift their hand from your leg.

Mind whirling with thoughts of the blood seeping out the sides of your knee to stain the floors and the agony emitting from the stab wound it takes you a few seconds to answer.

You force your words out past your shaky lips eventually, however. The stuttering agreement tasting like ash on your tongue.

“Good girl,” the modulated voice damn near coos in response, and part of you wishes you’d gotten stabbed through the ears instead.

There’s shuffling from above you, the sounds of fabric slipping over something barely registering over the rushing of blood through your ears.

You’re bleeding—

You’ve been stabbed—

Fuck, your leg is on fire—

Without an ounce of remorse deft fingers press down on where the back of your knees’ been stabbed through again, hand holding tight to the side of your leg, and a whimper falls unbidden past your lips.

Breathy, throaty, feminine laughter sounds right beside your ear as your killer settles over you.

Soft lips brush the shell of your ear and wispy black locks of hair fall into your peripheral.

“I guess it was me after all,” a voice you recognize croons, barren of any modulation.

Holy shit, Mindy had been right.

“A- Amber…?”

Your voice is small where you get it out from between pants for breath, leg throbbing hard enough to cut your focus completely.

Nothing feels real except for the throbbing, not the floor beneath you or the drool running down your chin.

“Mhm,” she giggles, breath ticking the side of your neck and making you shiver. It only takes a second for her to shiver back, breathe against your skin stuttering when she groans and presses down harder on your wound. You mewl and can feel exactly how Amber’s smile spreads. “Aww, just like that, Hun. Now we’re getting to the good part.”

Amber rises up from over you and then relentlessly grabs ahold of your shoulders and has you twist around until your upper body is facing her, and fifty percent of your concentration has to go to keeping your lower body in the opposite direction than the rest of you so you don’t aggravate your knee anymore.

Hair wild and damp with sweat atop her head the smile she gives you is all teeth in the faint moonlight that halos her face.

“Bet you’re reconsidering who you got close to now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying and failing to get enough leverage so you can spit in her face.

At the angle she’s forced you into her weight over your hips was more effective than you’d thought, though. Spitting from where you were would only serve in getting you smacked in the face with your own saliva.

“Gah— fuck! It’s not Mindy’s fault you’re a fucking sociopath,” you say behind clenched teeth.

You wonder if your friend would care if you died. Would Mindy cry when your death was announced? Would she immediately suspect Amber again? Confront her?

You’d been the one to comfort her when the news about Tara had come through before Chad could get to you guys. She’d struggled for a few minutes before a few tears had trickled down her cheeks, tears that she’d wiped away with a personal vengeance until you took one of her hands and wove your fingers together. Mindy had given you this wide look you’d never seen before, hazel eyes lost, before finally letting herself sob curled up to your side with her hand in yours. Did you hold that same amount of space in her mind, though?

In her heart?

Amber clicks her tongue, and instantly you’re reminded that whether Mindy and you could’ve ever been more than friends won’t matter anymore. “Wrong answer, Sweetie,” she says, and without another word rips the knife from your body in one pull.

Just barely you manage to stop the scream you want to let out by clamping down on your lower lip, teeth completely bypassing putting an indent into the skin and instead cutting directly through the plush of it as you buck uncontrollably against Amber.

Chest heaving and with tears sprouting in your eyes and beginning to pool, you watch for her next move and are heartbroken to say you aren’t disappointed.

With a flourish she brings the knife up to your face. You watch it with wide shaky eyes, heart sounding louder than your labored breaths in your ears.

The sharp side of the blade runs feather light down the side of your face, her gaze intent on it. On how the silver contrasts with the little streams of blood it leaves in its wake against your dewy brown skin. On how your lashes flutter anxiously, and the muscles in your face twitch beneath her touch.

“I didn’t mean that,” she says softly. She shifts the blade so that she can splay the flat of it over your mouth and purses her lips, eyes glittering and crazed and a little hurt. “I meant that you should’ve picked me, Sweetheart. I like you. And I like that you were thinking about me so much you figured me out. If you had just picked me I would’ve spared you,” she whispers last, face closer to yours now, before leaning in to press a kiss to the other side of the blade over your quivering lips.

The scent of your own blood makes your stomach roil, but the feel of her breath fanning your skin and the ecstatic expression that takes over her face when she leans away to lick her lips forces a sob from you.

Shuddering, you look up at her, a tear finally breaking free to roll down your face.

There is no one to hold you when you break.

Amber giggles, the flash of her teeth bloody.

“Just let me do it,” she whispers, voice low as she moves to run the warm tip of the knife down your side. “Be good for me, be mine this once, and I won’t go into that room and paint those walls red with your sibling’s blood.”

And so you cooperate; biting down into your forearm as muffled cries and wails tear up your throat. Amber plunges the blade deep, hits organs and cracks through bone with low grunts, and each stab feels like a little more of your soul drifting away.

You jolt, she adjusts her weight to accommodate your pained reaction like it’s practiced. You bite down so hard you break skin, teeth sinking into your body and feeling like masochistic relief that at least this pain was your own doing, she leans over to lick around your teeth with a groan. She gives and you take and you don’t scream out loud.

What a perfect victim you’ve made.

The tears never stop flowing from your eyes. So much salt they begin to burn alongside the bite in your arm that’s steadily mixing with blood and snot, and the entire rest of your body that’s near indistinguishable apart from the pain.

Nothing feels real except for the way Amber rides out your death spasms and the never ending stream of pleas to keep yourself silent that have long since turned into a sequenced tune in your head that you’re already forgetting.

As Amber’s honeyed taunts follow you under you know without debate that you have never known pain so intimate as what she’s brought upon you, and nothing so tender as death’s incoming embrace.

At least your younger sibling would be okay.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I tried posting this yesterday, but it wasn’t showing up under any of the tags so I’m trying again. ❤︎

I missed some shit when editing for sure, but I will come back to catch them later. I also don’t know how I feel about the way this flows, but maybe I just need to not look at it for a bit idk.

So the reader-insert may not have actually died here, but I don’t know for sure just yet. I would like for the second part to be a GF!Mindy x Reader-Insert x Jealous!Amber type deal though.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[iheartduckie]

being best friends with oikawa and iwaizumi

reader x oikawa tōru | reader x iwaizumi hajime (PLATONIC)

900+ words | gender neutral

a/n - i just wanna sing barbie things by nikki minaj with oikawa in the car while iwaizumi drives like the smexy person is

warnings: unedited AND from 2021… how could it get any worse

—————————————

- you three (3) have been friends since childhood, often hanging out at oikawa’s

- the days you were together, you spent either playing around the neighborhood, watching the boys play volleyball, catching bugs, watching volleyball games on the tv, playing fun games, etc.

- oikawa’s older sister absolutely adorned adored you, and always joked about trading tōru for you and iwa

- for all of grade school, you, iwa and oikawa were practically attached at the hip

- you often supported them at their games, and with their passion for volleyball. understandably, you and iwaizumi had a secret agreement to watch over oikawa and make sure he wasn’t overworking himself

- when you heard about the incident with kageyama, you made sure that oikawa apologized and scolded him for giving the poor boy a hard time

- you also tried to make it up to kageyama by giving him a little gift basket and greeting him nicely in the halls of kitagawa first

- by the time you all enrolled in aoba johsai, your bond was unbreakable

- despite oikawa’s pleads, you didn’t sign up to be the manager for the volleyball club.. although this didn’t stop you from visiting them during practice, usually with snacks and the occasional gossip

- by your third year, the team and new members were familiar with you and recognized you as the team’s good luck charm

- of course, you couldn’t help but beam whenever you see oikawa perfectly set a ball for iwaizumi to spike

- when attending their games that are hosted at aoba joshai’s gym, they were both sure to designate a spot JUST FOR YOU

- both iwaizumi and oikawa are VERY protective of you, and would literally intimidate any potential suitors who try to approach you

- either oikawa or iwaizumi would leave you with one of their jackets, mainly so that people don’t mess with you

- the 3 of you would often have sleepovers too!! godzilla movies are probably watched (request of iwa), with relaxing face masks and baked goodies to indulge in.. the night often controls what you guys go

one sleepover, when oikawa got dumped earlier that day because of volleyball, you decided to have a self care night while watching the movie titanic.. trying not to laugh at the pictures iwa took of oikawa, you would help them apply face masks to the boys’ skin. oikawa looked silly with the hair clip you gave him to hold his bangs back, and as heartbroken as he was, oikawa was still down to sing “my heart will go on” with you. iwa would occasionally sing some parts with you both, but the fact that you all butchered that beautiful song- it just left you all laughing by the end of it. a video of you and oikawa was recorded by iwa, so it is used as friendly blackmail :D

- whenever you three (3) had outings, iwa always drived NO MATTER WHAT- AND HE LOOKED HOT while oikawa had the passenger seat and aux. you always sat in the back, either sleeping or singing along with whatever nicki minaj bop he chose (FAVORITE GO-TO SONG: BARBIE TINGZ)

- with oikawa’s fan girls, some of them hate you while some of them love you. oikawa constantly voices how they all want them to respect you, and they all understand that.

- if you were to ever go on a small date with some suitor, then i can GUARANTEE that they would follow you with terrible disguises (and positive intentions ofc) all while you try not to laugh at them

- if you were to ever hear about any of their crushes, you’d put in a good word for them.. and depending on how long the relationship lasts, you’d also befriend their s/o

- the gc you have is UTTER CHAOS thanks to whatever memes or funny insults oikawa sends

- facetimes are also a thing, as well as taking really funny and ugly photos of each other

tw: sad things (when they lost)

- whenever they lost the qualifiers against karasuno, you were there to comfort oikawa and iwa, plus assure the team that they were all good players regardless

- you were also the one who paid for the ramen after (make them pockets hurt ig)

- and you sat while they practiced one (1) last time as a team after the ramen, meaning that you were ALSO THERE WHEN OIKAWA THANKED THEM FOR THE LAST THREE YEARS AND UGLY CRIED WITH THEM TOO-

- moving on, graduation was one of the best days of your life. it was bittersweet, of course, but to be spending time with them both was all you wanted.. and even when you were all in different time zones, you all put the effort in staying in touch

- you all supported each other, and often sent them care packages from home while they sent you goods from california and argentina

- when iwaizumi came back to japan, the two of you met up more often, probably calling oikawa and just doing best friend things woo

- during the olympics, you were given special seats to watch the event takes place

- not to be sappy or anything ‼️, but with seeing how far your boys have gotten, YOU WERE ABSOLUTELY BEAMING WITH PRIDE WHEN YOU WATCHED THEM AT THE OLYMPICS

- overall, your friendship with oikawa and iwaizumi allows a very fun and carefree bond shared between the three of you

——————————————

iwaizumi hajime route | oikawa tooru route

reposts/feedback are appreciated!

masterlist

[budbuddnbuddy]

Little obey me headcanons (pt3)

(Pt4)

A/n: uhhh not really sure what to say here, but I’m glad my posts are getting the attention similar to what I had when I first picked up writing fanfics and headcaons. Thank all of you so much hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas.

As MC spends more time in the Devildom and makes more pacts with the brothers, they’ll start to have a slightly more evil look to them. Get what I mean? Like how Megan Fox has “evil beauty.” However its not as visible, they’ll still look like your normal boring human first glance.

“The celestials know every language in the human wor-“ *LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER* Sorry but I respectfully hate this headcaon with all my heart, it doesn’t make sense. Sure these guys are immortal powerful beings that have lived for millions and billions of years, but they don’t even keep up with the human world like that and that’s CANON. Also if we’re looking at it through their perspective where as a hundred years is literally just a couple of blinks, humans would be making new languages every second.

They probably know 2-6 MAX, and that’s not me underestimating them that’s me saying that they either don’t have the time or will to care about 7,139 OFFICIAL languages there are in the human world. But enough of that let’s dive into the languages that they can speak.

Lucifer: English, French, Italian. and a little bit of Japanese due to Levi but not enough to be fluent. Mammon: English, Spanish. Levi: English, Korean, Japanese, and sign language. (idk if that counts) Satan: English, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, French, Spanish, Arabic. Asmodeus: English, French (mainly because he thinks it sounds hot 💀) Beelzebub: English and German. Belphie: English, Spanish, German (because of Beel), Japanese. Diavolo: English,Italian, a bit of Spanish but not enough to be fluent. Barbatos: Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, English, French. Simeon+Luke: English right now but Luke wants to learn Spanish.

Solomon is probably the type of person to wake up at 12:30 in the afternoon whenever possible. Mf probably has an alarm set for that exact time too, and when you ask where he’s been for like half of the day he’ll tilt his head to the side and be like “I was sleeping????”

I feel like we can all come to a sort of mutual understanding of this, but the brothers fan clubs and MC do not mix well together like at all.

“Asmo, get your crazy ass fans under control! They’re fucking insane!”

“Oh they can’t possibly be that bad dear! They’re MY fans after all!”

“I let it slip that we had a date planned for this Saturday and one of them threatened to cut me before calling me a warm toilet seat!”

“Oh.”

Asmodeus, Barbatos, and Simeon call you Hon/Honey sometimes.

For all of your RAD classes, every brother except Lucifer shares at least ONE class with you. Also all of the exchange students are in the same Main classes.

Everyone is a tad bit insane about you, just a little bit, a sprinkle if you will. No I am not explaining this.

[thetwstwildcard]

“Only a few find the way, some don’t recognize it when they do – some… don’t ever want to.”

"Yes, your majesty. I cut out my heart for you."

Full Name: Catherine Shire (Host), Alice Pinka (Body) Bea (Protector)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 18

Sexuality: Pansexual

Birthday: November 13th

Star Sign: Scorpio

Height: 168 cm (roughly 5'6)

Eye Color: Amber

Hair Color: Pink Ombre to darker pink

Dominant Hand: Right

Voice Claim: Miyuki Sawashiro (Japanese) Natalie Van Sistine (English)

Inspiration: Alice from Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland", Cheshire Cat (animated)/Boris Airay from "Alice in the country of hearts" and Alice from "Alice: Madness Returns"

Homeland: Forbidden Forest (Rose Queendom)

Dorm: Heartslabyul

Year: 2nd

Club: Light Music

Best Subject: Flying

Worst Subject: Alchemy

Favorite Food: Anything with fish (also likes rose and strawberry flavors)

Likes: Riddle, "trust falls", her found family, having the freedom to use magic, exploring music (outside of classical music), getting to be her own person, being needed, having a purpose, being dorm security

Dislikes: Her brother (aka Che'nya), her mother, any memories of when she was a child, Chase Shard, being limited or underestimated, being the butt of the joke, having her flaws be pointed out, having someone look too closely at her beastfolk features, happy/functional families, that she cares so much about people's opinions and her need to run away before anything gets too serious

Personality: The stray cat of Heartslabyul. If you show her an ounce of kindness she'd be willing to die for you. While she's all smiles, there's a certain sadness in her eyes where her "happiness" doesn't reach. Never one to double check herself in the mirror, she's never one to talk about her childhood. Blindly devoted to Riddle and will do whatever he asks of her.

Unique Magic: Wildcard: Allows her to randomly mimic the UM of someone who she's knows the UM of (within reason). For full body shifting UMs (ex: Jack), she can only change certain body parts such as her arms and legs. She can also grow wings, horns, claws or sharper fangs though these mimics do hurt her. For people with magic out of her range (ex: Malleus), she is unable to mimic. Her UM is essentially picking a card from a deck face down and guessing the face. She can only mimic those who she knows the intricate details of their UM of. While mimicking, their voice doubles hers and she takes on their eye color

Trivia

Twin sister of Che'nya though she hasn't seen him in around 10 years

Met Riddle and Trey while they were children where she snuck out one day. She was caught by her mother and as none of the boys "stood up for her" (because they were scared children), she initially wanted to hate Riddle and Trey (still dislikes Che'nya)

Is very protective of Riddle

Ran away from home at age 12

She is a tsundere when it comes to men/masculine presenting but women/femme presenting can fluster her/she's softer towards (in the forest is was like 90% males so she's not used to women)

Che'nya does not know she's his sister as Catherine is an alter to Alice, though he does eventually regard her as his sister (Catherine always called Che'nya her brother even when she hated him)

Her knuckles are scarred due to breaking mirrors as she can't stand to look herself in the eye (only sees Alice and hates to be reminded that "she's not real")

Was betrothed at a young age for social status but he doesn't know who or where she is now

Magicam famous

The body is Alice, who has been "asleep" since she ran away. Bea is the physical protector and the only one to change out with Catherine (though she mimics her) while Catherine is the emotional protector.

Her DID is revealed post OB when she awakes and instead of Catherine it is Alice.

Her mother was very physically and emotionally abusive to her as a child so she's usually on edge

Due to her childhood she memorizes how someone's footsteps and breathing sounds along with their scent so she's quick to tell the slightest change in someone. She can tell slight body language changes (from learning to anticipate what her mother would do)

Is "security" in Heartslabyul to stop people from sneaking in. Her magic pen is actually a collapsing baton since she often pins someone down when sneaking in.

She does a complete 180° when Riddle is around, when he's gone she much more laid back and joking but as soon as he's near she's more serious or cold to others (since her two cards are the joker and the jack of hearts)

While she can use magic, she's quick to physically fight instead.

[cieloclercs]

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 | joão félix

genre: social media requested: yes pairings: joão félix x fem!reader warnings: twitter environment, online hate

can be read as a part 2 to surprise, or as a standalone!

liked by joaofelix79 and 20,546 others

tagged: joaofelix79

y/n_y/l/n surprise 🤍

view all comments…

joaofelix79 amo-vos para sempre, meus anjos / i love you forever, my angels 🤍🤍

y/n_y/l/n e nós amamo-vos / and we love you

username LMAO WHAT

username bro…you’ve got go be joking

antogriezmann congratulations you two!

y/n_y/l/n muchas gracias anto!

*joaofelix79 liked this comment

username aren’t they a bit young to be having a baby…

username and how is that any of your business?

username 🤢🤢🤢

enzojfernandez felicidades y/n! y joão también supongo / congratulations y/n! and joão too i guess 😒

y/n_y/l/n gracias enzo 😂

joaofelix79 @/enzojfernandez ¿no seguirás enfadado? / you’re not still mad are you?

enzojfernandez vuelve al chelsea y no estare. / come back to chelsea and i won’t be.

username BAHAHAH ENZO

username he says that like poch didn’t reject joão 😭

username having a baby at the height of joão’s career when he doesn’t even know what club he’s going to next…yeah probably not the best timing 😳

username congratulations y/n! you just signed your life away to be a footballer’s housewife for the rest of your life 👏🥳

username LMAO imagine…she’s only 23 as well 😭

username i honestly feel bad for her. she’s gonna end up taking care of it all by herself, because let’s be honest…it’s not like joão will be that involved 🤣

username true! especially at the height of his career, he’ll probably be too busy!

username poor y/n…

username housewife at 23? where’s the ambition in that 😭

liked by y/n_y/l/n, reecejames and 4,463,836 others

tagged: y/n_y/l/n

joaofelix79 i don’t normally engage with people who make hateful comments about me, but when it involves my girlfriend and our baby, i feel like i have to say something. y/n and i are beyond happy to be future parents. we’ve given our situation a lot of thought, and we’re looking forwards to our future together with our little one

please, whether you are a fan of mine or not, don’t make comments about my girlfriend or our situation. y/n is the most wonderful person i know, and she doesn’t deserve this kind of criticism - especially not over something which is as much my decision as hers. please respect our privacy, and keep your opinions to yourselves. we are happy. that’s all that matters

ao meu amor / to my love - thank you for giving me this gift. i will forever be grateful to you, and i can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together ❤️

ao meu anjinho / to my little angel - the day i found out about you was the best day of my life 🤍 mamãe e papai love you so much x

comments on this post have been limited.

requests are open! send something in if you’d like!

[losing-it-lately]

Pretty when I cry by Camila Cabello for TASM!Peter Parker.

Or

Birds of a feather by Billie Eilish for TASM!Peter Parker.

Pretty When I Cry

wc: 0.8k

tasm!peter parker x reader

this is a bit angsty so beware!

You look good, really good. In the way that Peter doesn't know what he should be doing anymore. Makeup smudged all around your eyes, a shiny dress of some kind and the most beautiful clear tears adorn your cheeks like small crystals. You always get sad when you're drunk, and he always takes you home when you're drunk.

Peter hates clubs. He always has. When he was younger, he couldn’t stand places with too much noise or too many people or too many random stains, and all of his dislikes increased abundantly after he got bit. It’s been so many years and Peter still hates clubs, he can’t fathom why anybody would ever willingly spend their Friday night in one. But, ever since you both turned old enough to frequent one, you would bring him there and he would look after you. And without a doubt, every Friday since he broke your heart, Peter continues to lurk in the club near your apartment and watch over you.

Yes, your friends can look after you, and it’s dingy and dirty and downright disgusting, but you’re there too. Every Friday, you’re there, so every Friday, Peter will be there too with a watchful eye.

You were Peter’s classmate, then the cute girl who found out about his double life, and then his girlfriend. You both had grown up together. Your first drink was a shot shared with Peter; it was sour and caused a visceral reaction, and that night, he gently lay you in your bed after the alcohol had suspended you in a drunken stupor. Peter promised you that night that he would be there for every drunken evening, and he hadn't yet broken that promise.

Every Friday, you would dress up in your finest party outfit, anything that you could scrummage from anywhere to try to get your mind off the love of your life's swift abandonment. And you knew you were doing something right, because without a doubt, Peter would end up taking off your shoes and draping warm blankets over your tired body. The liver damage was worth the potential undoing of the damage that Peter inflicted on your heart.

Your arms begin to drop more when you dance; Peter knows your tells and he can see that you are exhausted from the hours of dancing and drinking. He looks so out of place, in a dark hoodie with some darker jeans to let him blend into the background; he must be naive if he thinks you don’t notice him even in the dark. Peter shoves through people. He’s going to take you home: seat you in his car, play your favourite music and hold the back of your seat to pretend that he is holding your hand and resting alongside you. You both participate in this routine every week like clockwork. He picks you up out of the crowd and drives you back to your place, he helps you get unready and takes off your makeup and whispers whatever he wishes he could say when you’re sober, and then he breaks off completely and leaves you alone in your apartment without a note or a message or any indication that he still cares.

But today, something feels different, you’re completely silent in the car. No humming or mumbling or even moving, something has washed over you. Your eyes are even glossier than usual, a telltale sign of an incoming sob- but you’re still dead quiet. “Hey, are you ok?” Hif voice is soft and it floats around you like music.

“Why did you leave me,” in the lowest whisper you can muster up. If Peter’s car was any older and louder, he wouldn’t have been able to hear that question, and for a fourth time, he feels his heart shatter.

How can he properly explain to you all of the guilty nights, knowing that you were in danger. There were a myriad of villains who hated him enough to try to find you, to try to hurt you, and everyday that you loved him felt like another death sentence. So he ended it. Looking after you from afar was still looking after you, and even if it felt like a prison of his own making, he was keeping the promise he made you. Maybe it was selfish, but he hadn't taken the time to consider how horrible you felt too. “Just… you keep coming back, and I keep wanting you to come back, but then you leave again.”

Your voice seems so small now in comparison to how much space and attention you try to take up on the dance floor. And you look so pretty, then and now, even with your mascara making trails down your cheeks and your lipstick smudged and your tears wet. “I’m sorry,” is all he can muster up.

“Just take me home.” You turn to the window and watch whatever drives by. Next week and the weeks after that, Peter won't be there, and eventually you will stop frequenting that club. But he won't stop taking care of you, even if you don't know and you don't stop missing him, not until he comes home to you.

[andrewmsaidso]

ok so i kinda sorta feel bad for the ravens yk. and not just riko kevin and jean but all of them. every raven ever who had to go through that bc imagine you grow up watching a sport and seeing your favourite player on tv and then decide you want to be like them when you grow up; score all the goals, win all the trophies, play a game you love so much and get paid for it, etc. so you join the exy team at school. you’re ecstatic when your parents buy you your first set of gear; your first stick, your first pair of shin pads, your first helmet, your first ball. due to being so passionate about it, soon you’re the best player on the team. your coach sees it. your parents see it. the other teams’ coaches see it. so your parents put you in a private club so you can get even better. and the more exy you watch, the more you fall in love with the sport, the more you want to be like the players on tv.

so you train super hard bc the end goal is to be the next *insert legend player*. and you get so good that by the time you’re in your senior year of high school, edgar allen wants to sign you. tetsuji moriyama, the man who created this sport you love so much, the father of exy, the ultimate legend, wants you on his team that ranks higher than every other collegiate exy team in the country, his team that have never lost to anyone ever.

so you don’t think twice signing. and then there’s the summer after high school. arguably the best summer ever. you’re probably not gonna see many of your friends ever again so you guys make the most of it bc you’re just an ordinary teenager doing ordinary teenage stuff, high off the expectation of how spectacular college is gonna be.

and then it’s june which means summer practices and you move into the nest for the first time, not knowing you won’t leave for the next 5 years, which actually end up being 7 and a half bc oh yeah btw, we do 16-hour days here.

you’re no longer the best on the team. you’re now playing amongst national champions. you struggle with the drills. you’re coaches beat you for struggling with the drills. you’re partner hates you because he’s also getting beat for your shortcomings. you hate him back because you get beat for his shortcomings. but you can’t really hate each other because you’re not allowed to talk to anyone who isn’t on the team. the coaches tell you the way you’ve been playing exy for the last over-a-decade is wrong. you need to be play dirtier, more violent.

it’s too dark. you have no say in what you eat, when you eat, when you sleep, when you’re allowed to leave, where you’re allowed to go, what you’re to study for the next 5 years. you’re struggling. you can’t call your parents. no outsiders. you can’t tell your friends. no outsiders. you don’t have friends. only partners and teammates.

and the hazing. it’s horrible. inhumane. the things they do to you. the things they force you to do. it happens so often, you become desensitised. you get used to it. you’ve blurred the line between right and wrong beyond repair. you become obsessed with everything raven and begin to hate the outside world. you become someone else. someone your parents won’t recognise when you see them for the first time in in 5—no, 7—years.

you don’t care. they don’t matter anymore. they’re not the coaches. they don’t decide your punishment or whether you can play in the next game or not. you’ve signed with a good team and are expected to go court. and you did it all by yourself. you endured for 7 years. by yourself. you didn’t need them then and you don’t need them now. so you push them away.

people think there’s something wrong with you. they call you crazy. you’re too angry, too violent, too callous. but that’s what ravens pride themselves on. anger, violence, and callousness. you’re ranking is high and you score a lot of goals so who cares. none of it matters.

exy doesn’t excite you anymore. you can’t even bring yourself to celebrate when you score goals. you don’t care about being anyone’s favourite player anymore. you’ve lost your passion.

your not even 30 and you’re sore all the time. you can’t play for more than a 45-minute half. your muscles are getting weaker. you don’t run as fast anymore. you’re sold to a weaker team. you injure yourself over and over from simply playing. you continue to push yourself until one day, you tear something beyond repair. you’ll never play again.

you have no family. no friends. you pushed them away remember? you’re still only in your twenties but it feels like life has no meaning anymore.

you are officially truly and utterly alone. your life has ended before it even began.

all because you, like every other kid, wanted to be like your role models you watched playing on tv.

and not to mention the kids who were signed to the team before riko’s death. like imagine watching the internet go crazy over a team you’re gonna play for, finding out that said team just might be a cult. just maybe.

like isn’t that just a tad bit … ☹️

[dumpywrites]

Fish in Disguise - Jin / Kim Seokjin

Prompt: Sworn enemies by day, restaurant mascot by night.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, enemies to lovers(?), university au, they are both dumb lol

Pairing: Jin x she/her reader

a/n: Welcome home Jin!!! 💜 I was saving the only one Jin request I got to post it on his coming back date, but I didn’t finish it on time 😔

Your life was simple. You attend your classes by day and help your family’s restaurant by night. 

How you wished it was that easy though. You were on the verge of failing your classes, trying to balance your studies, social life, and work. All that while trying to make sure you get a good rest, which honestly, you had not been having in quite some time. 

The days were not exactly the smoothest ride. Being someone who was new to the town, you needed some time of getting used to. It was a big decision your parents made to move to a new city, but as their only daughter, you supported them fully. 

One thing that somehow helped you get through the day was this tuna mascot of a seafood restaurant next to yours. Yes, a mysterious man who refused to show you his face, in a full tuna fish costume, who you got to meet every weekend. 

The first meeting the tuna intern was actually kind of wholesome. You were helping your family setting up the store and he just appeared to be there, standing with a sign that had something about the freshness of their seafood written on it. The fact that he dropped the sign and helped you carry two boxes while still being in his full attire, still amused you until this day. 

And that was how your friendship bloomed. You would occasionally visit him and or just to say hi when he worked his shift. In return, he cheered you up with just simply being there. Sometimes meeting him and talking about random nothings just made you forget all your worries. 

**

“I heard you got paired with Seokjin for the group project.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” You said to your friend as you yawned. 

“Why? He’s hot.”

“And a narcissist.”

“And still hot.” Your friend argued and laughed. “Stop being so sulky, I bet everyone’s jealous of you right now.”

“Minji, he’s dumb. Have you seen his test results?! I don’t want to fail history class just because of him!” 

“You’ll be fine! Plus, since he’s really easy on the eyes, just make him do the whole presentation and that’ll get you good grades.” Minji laughed again. 

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, as you kept your focus on your phone instead, scrolling through Instagram. 

“Why do you hate him so much anyway?” Your friend asked as she mimicked you slumping on the cafe table. 

“I don’t… it’s just.” You sighed. “I don’t know, he’s cute but he really didn’t have to rub it in my face like that.”

“You’re still not over that?”

Once upon a time you were at your campus festival. Enjoying your freshmen days, simply admiring people doing all the festivities from afar while you sip on your lemonade. The crowd felt a little bit overwhelming, intimidating even, since it had been only a week since you enrolled. 

That day was also the first time you met your friend Minji, the girl who was also a freshmen like you. You both were lost trying to find the main hall and somehow bumped into each other. 

Both of you were just passing through the food stalls and club fair when you came across a juice bar. You noticed how there were two attractive men in the booth. Clearly whatever their team or club was trying to do, was working because you and your friend stopped to sneak a look. 

One guy was extremely well built and had tattoos all over his right hand. The inks and piercings definitely did not match his doe-looking eyes though. On the other hand, the second guy looked like a prince. He had the most luscious lips and his skin was so clear that he looked like he might modeled for a skin care brand. The light brown hair was permed and styled. You also thought his smile looked very pretty. 

“Hello! We’re selling fruit juice to support our music club!” The one with tattoos kindly waved at you and Minji. 

“Oh my, they’re cute…” Minji whispered to you and practically dragged you closer to the stall. 

“We have strawberry, orange, mango, and peach.” The taller one mentioned with a grin. 

“You guys are really cute, you sure they didn’t tell you to watch the booth just because of that?” Minji chuckled. 

“I’m aware, not sure why they picked Jungkook right here when he could barely talk to women, but yeah.” The guy said proudly. 

“That’s not nice.” You said bluntly. 

“Oh, that’s just how he jo—“ Jungkook spoke, but was soon interrupted. 

“Why, you don’t think I’m good looking?” The man eyed you, judging.

“I think you’re full of yourself.” 

You heard Minji called your name in a low voice, trying to calm you down, but you refused to listen. 

“So you’re not denying that I’m good looking.” The man smirked at you as he scoffed. 

That comeback gave you the biggest ick and you proceeded to link your friend’s arm in yours. “Let’s go, we’re not buying shit from them.”

You dragged your friend away as you listened to the man who turned out to be Seokjin himself, whined from a distance. 

Ever since that scene, you swore you wanted nothing to do with the music club. It sounded pretty unfair considering you only despised Jin and the rest of the members did not wrong you in any way, but you had already made up your mind. That was until he failed art history class and now had to retake the subject, hence how you ended up being misfortune enough to get grouped up with him.

**

“Look, do you wanna do this project or not?” You folded your arms and crossed your legs. 

In the library, you sat down eye to eye with your worst nightmare himself, the self proclaimed “World Wide Handsome”, Kim Seokjin. You both had agreed to meet up for the project but you didn’t realize it would be this irritating. Hell, as much as he was easy on the eyes as your friend claimed, all you wanted to do was to leave and stay far far away from him.

“I just don’t get why I have to do all the verbal work here.” He complained. 

“You barely did the slides and research, of course you have to.”

“That’s because you just decided it by yourself??? I never told you to do all the work!” The guy said, now crossing his hands back at you. 

“You see why? Because this.” You pointed back and forth between the two of you. “How can we get any work done when all we do is argue when we are together?!”

“Why do you hate me so much?” 

The seriousness in Jin’s eyes scared you. He was staring straight into your soul and you did not like how it made you feel. Not even one bit. 

“Because you’re conceited.” 

“And the problem?” 

“See?!” 

“We’ve never been in normal conversation before, you can’t just decide that.” 

Once again your eyes met his and you felt stuffy, nervous, but mostly anger. The thing was, you began to question yourself. Was the excessive anger really necessary or were you biased because of the bad start? Not like any of that mattered anyway.

“Screw you.”

You stormed out the library, making sure you stomped extra hard, childishly so he could see how pissed off you were. 

**

“Someone’s in a bad mood…”

“Oh, hi.” You waved at the moving Tuna mascot, trying to form a smile. “I’m just really tired today, that’s all.”

“Aww, come tell papa tuna about it.” 

He moved closer to you as you kept wiping the tables. It was already at closing hour and he should be off his shift right now. It was sweet how he sometimes would stay longer just to accompany you cleaning. 

“Eww, since when do I call you papa?” You cringed, but laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re like super old or something?”

“Oh, I’m older than you alright.” He chuckled. 

“How do you know?”

“I just know.” He patted his chest through the costume. “So? What’s wrong?”

“I kinda have this group project.” You said, hands still spraying cleaning products onto the table. “And I got paired with someone I don’t particularly like.”

“Oh…” He muttered. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice and you wondered why. 

“It’s fine, the project’s almost done anyways.” You smiled at him and moved to the next table. “You’re not going home?”

“I might stay for a couple of minutes.” He took the empty seat not too far from you. “I don’t have morning class tomorrow.”

“You’re also in uni?” 

“That’s for you to find out.” He snickered. “Anyways, tell me more. What’s bothering you?”

“Okay, you tell me. Am I wrong if I dislike someone because they’re like, I don’t know, so full of themselves?”

“Hmm.” The tuna guy put his hand under his chin comically, making him look funny and adorable. “Have you maybe try talking with them about it?”

“Why would I? He clearly doesn’t want anything to with me.” You sighed. 

“Has he ever said that to you?” 

“Well no, but that’s not really necessary when his action is already telling me that…”

He went quiet for a second, humming to himself before responding. “You’re right. Maybe he made a bad impression. But maybe, just maybe, if you give him a chance he could be a decent person?”

“I don’t know, he’s very popular and there’s really no reason to talk with him anyways.” You shrugged. 

“Right…” 

“But I kinda feel bad for walking away from him today.” You said with a sad expression. 

“How so…?”

“Dunno, maybe I shouldn’t just decided on my own and did all the paperwork myself…” 

“Maybe you should apologize?” The guy said in an unsure tone. 

“I don’t know how.” You sighed. “What if he just laugh at me or something?”

“He wouldn’t. Trust me.”

You didn’t know why, but his words sounded weirdly assuring. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” The guy gave you two thumbs up. 

“It’s getting late, you should head back. Being a tuna for hours must be tiring.” You smiled at him. “Oh, wait.”

“What is it?”

You quickly ran back inside, leaving the man in the costume alone sitting on one of your restaurant tables. When you came back, you had one plastic container with a few pieces of fried chicken inside. 

“Here.” You extended your arm to him with a big grin. “You must be hungry after standing up all night.”

“You don’t have to!” He suddenly stood up. 

“I insist.” You grabbed his fluffy arm and put the container in his hands. “As a thanks, for being my friend.”

“Come here I need to hug you for this.” 

You laughed and gave him a big hug. “You’re so fluffy!” 

He patted your head playfully. “Don’t rub your face on me, they never wash this costume.”

“Eww.” You scrunched your nose and quickly let him go. “I’ll see you next week?” 

“Yeah.” 

** 

Today, you had decided to finally swallow your ego and actually try to have a normal and functional conversation with Jin. It was almost surreal to think that you practically swore to have nothing to do with the music club, but now here you were, standing right in front of their club room. 

It took you almost ten minutes of pacing back and forth before you finally knocked on their door. The response was not immediate, as their room was loud, filled with music instruments playing. Once the door opened, someone with a very warm smile greeted you. The colorful outfit and his tinted glasses made him look so hip, you thought. He held the door slightly ajar, just enough to fit his body to peek at you. 

“Hello, what can I do for you?” 

“Hi, uh… I’m Y/N and I’m looking for Seokjin? Is he here?”

The guy widened his eyes and looked back inside the loud room. “Yeah, he’s here.”

“Cool. Can I maybe borrow him for a few minutes? He’s my history project partner…” You said and smiled awkwardly. 

“Do you wanna come inside?”

“H-huh?” You pointed at yourself. “Me?”

“Who else.” The guy chuckled. “We’re almost done but you might need to wait for him to wrap up.” 

You replied with a skeptical “okay” and quietly followed the man from behind. The sound of drums and laughter filled the room and the bright decorations matched the vibe and atmosphere the place was giving. There were a few people inside and one was the boy with tattoos that you recognized from before. 

“Usually we have more people around, but there wasn’t any official activity today so it’s just us.” The guy who opened the door for you explained. “I’m Hoseok by the way, you can call me Hobi. Want me to introduce you to them?”

“Why is Y/N here?” One blond guy suddenly spoke as soon as he saw you. 

“You know me?”

The guy playfully shrugged and grinned. “Jin sometimes talks about you.”

“Really?” You asked, genuinely shocked by the news. 

“Uh… Jin? Jin?? Someone’s here for you.” Hoseok intervened. 

“What? Who—” You heard the man shouted back, but he was unable to finish his sentence as soon as your eyes met. 

“Hey, uh… can we talk for a sec? I won’t be long.” You said. 

“Like right now?” He looked at you questioningly. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, give me one sec.” 

“So, you’re Y/N huh?” The same blond guy came up to you from behind. “I’m Taehyung, but they call me V.” 

“Stop trying to make your stage name happen, Tae.” Hoseok said. “The one with the bucket hat there, is Yoongi. The tall one is Namjoon, and Mr. Tattoos and piercings right there is Jungkook.” 

“Usually our main group has one more person but Jimin’s sick at home.” Taehyung mentioned. 

You nodded politely. In your head, you were still processing the information that Jin was apparently talking about you to his club friends. You wondered what made him do so. You wondered if he bad-mouthed you, if he told all the ugly things about you, telling his friends how much you annoy him. 

But why do his friends just seem so… friendly? None of them acted hostile towards you. The first two that spoke to you were really nice and bubbly, and even Jungkook who was with Jin the first time you met him, smiled when he saw you. Surely they would had acted differently if Jin hated you that much. 

“Alright, let’s go?” Jin approached you. 

“Uh, yeah.” The newfound information got you feeling nervous. 

“It was nice meeting you!” Hoseok waved at you cheerfully and the rest smiled and nodded at you as you waved back awkwardly. 

“They didn’t say weird things to you right?” Jin said as soon as both of you closed the door behind. You were now walking aimlessly across the campus hallway. 

“No, I guess…” 

“Awesome.” He clasped his hands together. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“Oh yeah that…”

Right, what was you wanted to talk about again? How could you talk when his soft fluffy hair was just there, distracting you. And now that you were standing up facing each other this close, you had never realize how well built and tall he was. Screw the universe for making him so attractive. 

“Yeah?” 

“I want to apologize… for last time.” You looked away, rocking your body back and forth again out of nervousness. “I’m wrong for deciding to work on the project myself. I should’ve at least try to work things out to find the middle ground with you.”

“Pfft…”

You looked at him in disbelief. How could he laugh when you were trying your best to apologize to him properly??? 

“Excuse me?!”

“Sorry, your expression… it’s so cute.”

“Cute?!” You were offended by this point. “Forget what I said. You’re beyond saving.” 

“Wait! No, that’s not what I meant…” He tried to stop you but it was too late. 

You did not want to hear more from him. Was it really that hard to just take you seriously? You felt ashamed to even think that you could at least have a normal conversation with him. You were right all along.

And so you chose to ignore him. A few days passed and it was only two days left until your final presentation. Quite frankly, you could not care less. You had given him all the material and all you needed for him to do was to just blatantly accept his role. 

“Mr. Tuna?” 

You were now back with your night cleaning duties again, accompanied by your fish friend. You had told him everything about what happened between you and Jin, needing reassurance and validations for being angry at him. 

“He really did you know… He laughed at me.” You bit your lips, maintaining your emotions. “Do you think I’m in the wrong? I’m not, right? Like what did I do? Am I ugly? Does he not want to talk to ugly people is that it???”

“You’re not ugly.” 

“Well I don’t think so either… but what if I am in his eyes??? Maybe he just doesn’t want to associate himself with—“

“I don’t think you’re ugly!!!” The guy suddenly spoke up, a little louder than he intended. 

You were taken aback for a second, and smiled. “Thanks, but I was talking about that person.” 

“I cannot defend him anymore, I think it’s valid for you to hate him.”

“Why do you sound so sad?”

“Would you hate me if I turned out to be someone you know?” He asked without answering your question. 

“Huh? Why suddenly?”

“Just answer it.” 

“I don’t know, but I guess I enjoyed talking with you and I consider you as my friend if not best friend at this point already. I don’t think it would change anything.” You assured.

“Promise?”

“Why?” You looked at him suspiciously. “You’re scaring me, am I going to get a face reveal soon?”

“Who knows.” 

**

The presentation day finally has arrived upon you. Everyone was seated with their corresponding partners and you were still sitting alone, as Seokjin was nowhere to be seen. The class session had already begun and you were minutes away from your turn. It was unbelievable the amount of disrespect that this man chose to show to you, by not showing up at all. 

Your team was next in line. At this point you had given up all hope. Maybe it was for the best that you present it yourself since you did all the research anyway. 

In the midst of the presentation in front of you, you saw how everyone’s eyes shifted to the back of the class in a flash. They stopped for a brief seconds, fake coughing to regain their composure, before continuing. They occasionally stole glances up and down, eyes looking dubiously. 

Your curiosity was not left hanging for too long because just seconds later, someone in a big tuna fish costume just took the seat next to you. As a matter of fact, you were very familiar with the costume itself, but the reason behind him being in your class was truly bizarre to you. 

Everyone was looking at your direction at this point and you were scared to ask any question. In your head you were starting to connect some dots, but too afraid to actually confront them. Some parts of you refused to believe it.

It was too implausible for them to be the same person. One was selfish and conceited, while the other was funny and caring. There was simply just no other explanation for the situation. You began to question your own sanity. Perhaps the lack of sleep had started to catch up on you.

“I’ve read all the emails you sent me. Don’t worry, we’ll ace this.” The guy suddenly spoke. 

Hearing his voice from inside the mascot suit just sealed the deal. You had been friends with the guy you despised so badly this whole time without knowing. Not only that, you basically told him stories about himself and mentioned how bad of a person you thought he was. 

He stood along with you when both of your name was called, fully confirming that the name belonged to him. Everyone started whispering and some started laughing immediately upon seeing the hilarious looking costume. 

“Hello everyone, we’re from team seven and we’re now about to present to you about the history of mixed media.” He waved playfully while you were standing stiff right next to him. “As you can see, I’m in this costume that I had to convince the restaurant that I work at to let me borrow.” 

Everyone laughed again in unison. 

“You may wonder why, and the answer is because my partner right here,” He pointed to you. “She did all the research herself because I was being a dumb jerk.” He moved his body, looking at the direction of the professor. “I know that’s not great for my name but I promise I’ve learned all the materials she had sent me well. So the least I could do to her was to give you all an entertaining presentation…”

The presentation then went on fully with him still with the suit on until the very end. All you did was simply pressing the next button as he deciphered the slides, entertaining and engaging the audiences, even the professor himself. He truly was a charming guy and no mask could hide that. You should have had realized that sooner. 

It just did not make any sense to you. How could he hated you while at the same time acted like your best friend in another form?

“I’ll go change and we’ll talk?” 

You just looked at him, no words at hand. Everything still felt so unreal. You watched as he strugglingly entered the washroom. He went out minutes later with sweat clinging to his t-shirt, hair damp from the heat of wearing the costume. With the set hugged in his hands, he mentioned something about sitting down somewhere, and you just followed from behind. 

“Do I smell?” 

You shook your head quietly. 

“Oh cool.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Is my—“ He huffed before even finishing the sentence. “I’m sorry, I’m stalling.” 

For some reason his smile seemed differently now that you were seeing him in a new light. 

“Here I am, I guess…” He laughed nervously. “I understand if you don’t wanna be friends again after this. I just wanna say that I’m truly sorry for what I did.”

Why was he speaking like that? Why was he speaking in the way your friend spoke? All with that damn annoyingly attractive face?

“The first time we met, I was being sarcastic.” He stated. “If you actually let Jungkook finish, he was about to tell you. I love that boy a lot, he’s a really nice guy, you know.” 

“You were?”

His smile brightened when you finally opened your mouth and said something. It was the first time he heard your voice today and it felt like a huge weight just lifted off his shoulders. 

“And uh, about when you apologized… I honestly didn't mean to laugh. I know that's what you feared but honestly I just got nervous.”

You raised one of your eyebrows at him. “You? Nervous? I’ve seen neither Mr. Tuna or the Seokjin I know being nervous.” 

“You were really cute that day.” He smiled giddily, a rosy tint covering his cheeks. 

That was new.

“Oh my god, I need some getting used to seeing you say that with your real face.” You looked away, the corners of your lips curled up helplessly. “So, when I met you as Mr. Tuna you’ve already known me?”

“Yeah.” He sighed with a smile. “I’m sorry, I was a coward. I should’ve told you sooner but you keep avoiding me at campus and you don’t exactly like the real me either so…”

“But this is the real you, right? The one that helps me out and listens to me rambling every weekend?” 

He nodded, making you smile. “Can we be friends?”

“We already are, dummy.”

He exhaled loudly, grinning like an idiot. “Truce?” He offered his fist.

“Truce.” You shook your head and gave him a fist bump.

“Alright, we usually finish with a hug…” He looked at you with side-eyes. “It might feel slightly different without the costume and all—“

You cut his sentence short by jumping him with a big hug, surprising the guy.

And you know what, the hug did not actually feel that much different. It was still fluffy, fuzzy, and soft like how the used costume material would rub against your skin when you hugged him. Because when he hugged you back, you were sure you felt all of that even when he was without the mascot fish attire.

You felt that inside your heart.

Prompt request: HERE

[stcrgazings]

like a tattoo ➳ (c.l)

part two is up and you can read it here

note: sooooo I literally wrote this out of nowhere, but i like how it turned out, it’s nothing like the song really buttt it has some of its lyrics so it only seemed fitting to name it that. thx to my girly @hey-kae who was my beta reader, and convinced me to post this, love ya. happy reading and don’t be a ghost reader!

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

summary: in which you’re having a very hard time trying not to think about your ex-boyfriend charles, and with his dnf in the first race of the season, everything seems to remind you of him.

warnings: use of alcohol, lots of swearing (mostly fuck), a very heartbroken reader, mentions of a dick-ish charles, smoking ¿?? kinda

word count: 1,5K (it’s a shortie but I promise is soooo good)

“and it’s a Ferrari slowing down guys, and it looks like it’s Leclerc” the commentator in the tv says and your heart immediately drops.

Yes, you hate him, and don’t even wanna look at his face ever again but your heart still aches for him and the way his team is failing him yet again in what is barely the first race of the season.

Your model friend turns to look at you as the stylist sips you up over the black tube dress and fixes your hair in the tight ponytail that adorned you head.

“That’s karma” says the girl besides you, as you inevitably roll your eyes.

“That’s one way to call it” you say and everyone in the room that was starting at you bursts out in laughter.

You wanted to hate him, you really did, but you couldn’t help but wanting to text him after that awful race for him.

But fuck him, right?

He had a championship to win, at least that what he said when he broke up with you cold blooded, so yeah, fuck him and his stupid unreliable little red car.

you look at yourself in the mirror and smile at the reflection, you’re pretty, the most wanted model of every single luxury brand, and you eventually will get over him.

So you say your goodbyes as you exit the Prada building after signing yet another contract to add to your portfolio, your girl best friend hooked in your arm as you both giggled softly about where you both will be partying that nigth.

“But in Monaco right?” She asks as you both enter the limousine waiting for you at the front.

“Yeah I guess” is all you answer as you manager turns to look at you both.

Your hand lingers through your phone and eventually Charles contact, you wanted to text him, but at the end you decide against it, but something in the back of your mind tells you to unblock him and so you do.

Maybe some vodka will give you the courage to text him, or at least to hook up with someone else to forget about those haunting green eyes.

“We’re going to a club” you answer, finally lifting your eyes from the device your managers face quickly going pale.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” He asks serious, you roll your eyes.

“Why?” You play dumb as your friend besides you giggles.

“Bella don’t support her!” He complains.

“I’m actually curious why not?” The model asks again, also playing dumb, the man in front of you squeezing his fists as the both of you gang up on him.

“You going out partying and getting hammered when your ex just got his ass kicked at the race, how do you think the media would react to that?”

you meant this with absolutely every bone of your tiny body, when you say this;

“Do you really think I care what the media thinks? Fuck them for all I care” You spit and Bella besides you claps and cheers and picks a fight with your manager who is clearly unhappy with your plans of the night, he lists all of the cons and the reasons you should stay at home tonight.

“It’s a Sunday y/n, for gods sake!” He says but you didn’t listen and truly did not care a bit.

This is what you’ve been doing for the pasts weeks to try and cope with what he had done to you, and you hated yourself for not just getting over him.

Because it’s not like he was boyfriend of the year when you two were together, in the last months of your relationship he barely even acknowledge you, and he had dump you over call after what it was the biggest fight of your relationship.

Because you had exploded out frustration from his constant indifference, and dick ass attitude, and then ditched the apartment you both shared together.

So naturally when when he called you hours later you thought it was maybe to fix the things between the both of you.

But boy were you wrong.

Somewhere along the lines of “you’re just a model you don’t understand anyway” and “text me when you come get your things” the person you had love the most for the longest time broke your heart and didn’t looked back.

And so you went into self defense and destructive mode and if he didn’t looked back neither did you, blocking him in every social media known to men.

And like that you were strangers with who one was your favorite person in the entire earth.

And so if you wanted to go and get completely hammered after he lost a stupid race you would.

(…)

The Weeknd was playing as you downed another shot with people surrounding you as they cheered you on.

you were pretty wasted, but you still couldn’t get the Ferrari driver out of your mind.

All that you could think about was him, how much you missed him, and how much you wanted him right now.

As you danced with strangers hand all over your body you couldn’t help but remember his.

You remembered his hands, the way you would squirm under his touch, how he would show you how the stars looked like with just his fingers, the way his hands fit practically like they were meant to be holding yours, how good it feel when they were wrap around your neck, and how he would woke you up with them as he tickle you in to his arms, the way he held you at night as you both talk about your days and how much you missed each other.

Suddenly it all feels like too much, you pushed the stranger away from you, his grab in you becoming overwhelming and you need air, a single tear running trough your cheek and you can’t breath and it’s so unfair.

It’s unfair because you’ve had the worse months of your life and he had just moved on, with who used to be one of your best friends.

(Or at least that’s what every single media outlet said)

And you probably shouldn’t believe it but you still remembered the bile coming up your throat as you stared at the pictures of them at the Paris Fashion Week.

So you sit with your head thrown back in on of the sofas of the private booths at the club, and as the air conditioner hit your face, you remembered his hands and the way the mountains looked when you took that trip to the French Alps last Christmas, and you wanted to sob because of how awful it all felt and how much your body ache for him, you close your eyes and take some deep breath, and you can almost feel his lips against yours, you can almost see the life shooting diamonds from his eyes, his beautiful eyes.

The ones that would haunt you at night when you couldn’t sleep because all you did was think of him, how he was doing, if he missed you as much as you did him.

“You want a cig? Looks like you need it” a stranger asks in front of you, you mumble a no as you can, being so lost in your own head.

For the longest time Charles was by far, in your books at least the best person in the world, always so happy and perky, his smile lighting up your days, and nights, always so hungry for life, wanting for you to know the world the same way he did, always so passionate about the things he loved, always so passionate and loving of you.

You can’t help but wonder when it all went wrong, maybe somewhere between France and Abu Dhabi, the last being the last time you remembered being genuinely happy beside Charles, because yes he had come second in the championship but you remembered the way he held you up and kissed you in the hotel room and for a moment you thought you both will be fine.

But when you reach the top, it comes the fall.

And it was all fighting and misunderstandings and misery because you just wanted to be with him but he just wouldn’t let you.

Now you were there, still falling, wanting to forget about those times when you were happy with him.

He moved on, why couldn’t you?

Sitting there you beg for the universe to help you, to give you a sign, anything really, that eventually things would change, that you would stop feeling this way, that the hole inside your chest would disappear and finally the air would feel the way it’s supposed to and breathing and waking up in the morning wouldn’t be as hard as it had been lately and happiness would return your way and things would get better.

Obviously the least that you expect is your phone screen lighting up.

Especially with the name of the one that hadn’t been able to leave your mind in the entire night.

Suddenly an “I miss you” text from Charles hits you out of nowhere like a brick in the face.

Maybe you’ll take that cigarette now.

[bonesandthebees]

Hi!

I don’t have any friends irl or online who knows anything about this whole mess of a situation, so I hope you’ll allow me to mull this over here or just scream into the void.

I just find the whole broader context of this whole issue fascinating in a deeply disturbing way. I was going to try to understand why dream acts the way he does, but I think I might drive myself mad doing so. Anyway, I think it’s very apparent the happy go lucky time of progressiveism online is over. Obviously, there has always been bad shit online and marginalised communities have been under fire for a long time. What I’m trying to say is there has been this illusion of progressive attitudes, which has eroded away and people are just saying the quiet part out loud these days.

I don’t know if dream is publicly shifting to draw in a right wing audience or if he completely lacks the ability to empathise with/is too stubborn to recognise other people’s feelings and perspectives. Neither options would surprise me tbh. I could go on, but I don’t want to spoil my evening and your whatever your time time of day is. Idk, weird guy.

Anyway, I hope you are doing well! 2025 have been a lot this far, huh? I watched eternal sunshine of a spotless mind this weekend, which made me read Alexander Pope’s Eloisa to Abelard and I finally got the title to World Forgetting. That fic is my all time favourite fic, so I have no idea why I didn’t look into the title before. That’s on me!

(I hope you’ll allow me the moon as a sign off. lol that reminds me that I need to put my tarot cards in the window just in case the full moon decides to show up)

– 🌕

hello welcome to the anon club!!! I shall call you full moon anon :)

it really is getting scary to see the backwards steps we're taking culturally right now. like with all the social media tech billionaires cozying up to trump and the way people are caring less and less about things like calling others slurs and of course the entire tradwife/hating on feminism/i'm just a girl tiktok bs. but I do try to remind myself that backwards steps like those are usually in response to progress. we've seen a huge positive shift in attitudes towards the queer community over the past decade and a half alongside other social issues like racism and feminism, so it's kind of expected that we were going to swing backwards at some point. the reason this is reassuring though is because it's a reminder that it's cyclical, meaning we will push forward again and make even more progress next time. we just have to (unfortunately) wait this out and keep trying to push forward.

ok now as for dream talk I am going to put this under a read more because I do not need to subject my followers to thoughts on what's going through his head unless they wanna see it

yeah, trying to understand dream's whole thought process here is really enough to give you a migraine. it just doesn't make sense because he is objectively making himself just look like a terrible person to work with to outside ccs (will leak your private dms if you ever have a falling out, might go on a huge essay length twitter rant about you if you ghost him, etc.) while also just annoying everyone who isn't part of his core audience. also, I feel like if you're trying to get a more right wing male audience I don't know if openly discussing how you're autistic is going to help you there given... yknow. how those people tend to be in regards to neurodivergent people. like I could be wrong but to me that just doesn't seem like the best strategy if that's where you're trying to shift.

so I'm inclined to think it's the latter: that he's too stubborn to recognize other people's feelings and perspectives. that seems to be where his head is at when he talks about his gripes with tommy and tubbo, especially when he calls tommy disingenuous for... not having the same opinions he did when he was 16? idk man I don't want to understand dream too much

2025 has been so much though. like what the hell.

BUT YEAHHHHH eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!! I hope you enjoyed that it's literally one of my all time favorite movies. and yeah that line from Eloisa to Abelard just hits so hard both in the context of the movie and just in general, so when I was writing a story about amnesia I knew I wanted to tie it into eternal sunshine somehow

[mylifestylearedilfs]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ cillian murphy x daughter!reader ࿐ྂ

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WASHING MACHINE HEART : angst ; imagine ; all is fictional ; cillian is a bad parent here (probably a great father irl)

, , ,

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ BEING THE OLDEST childnever had been easy. y/n was cillian & his wife's first child, but she wasn’t wanted by them; she wasn’t in their plans. they were just before marriage when y/n was born, and she totally ruined all of their plans. unfortunately, she wasn’t this kind of child who was unexpected but loved anyway. maybe her mom paid attention to her when she was a newborn because she has this maternal instinct. but everything has changed since her brothers were born; they were the apple of her parents' eyes. they have always had the attention and affection of both of her parents; even if cillian was filming a new movie and didn’t have time for anything, he had time for his boys.

her parents always wanted the best for their boys; they have everything they asked for, and she was in the shadow of her brothers. she never heard her parents say ‘i love you’ to her. her childhood was full of crying and wondering, ‘why don't my parents want me?’ she was jealous of her younger siblings, she wanted to be loved like they were.

but the worst part of this came when she started to be a teenager. she started to understand more than she could as a child, but the nightmare didn’t stop. she started to be aware of the fact that her parents never really wanted her, and she could not do anything to make them love her. she was trying her hardest to get her parents' attention. she even signed herself up for a drama club because she wanted to have common interests with her dad and make him proud. but he never showed up for her performance because one of her brothers always had his own performance in theater, and he chose him, just like always.

she remembered, like today, her play where she was playing the main role, and after the show, she was looking for her parents in the audience, but nobody was there. she was still a kid, crying at the scene because her parents didn’t care about her, even on an important day like this one. she was doing all of this acting because she thought that her dad would be proud of her, and she wasn’t even enjoying it. she wasn’t happy doing that; she just thought her dad would be happy.

seeing other people her age having the best time with their families makes her wonder why her parents hate her so much and what she has done for this type of life. watching happy families makes her suddenly feel like a child who begs her father to pay attention to her.

, , ,

years passed, and she had her eighteenth birthday. it was supposed to be her happiest day in life because she started to be an adult, but of course nothing can be perfect, even for one day in the year. she wanted to celebrate this day with her family, but when she came to the living room, everyone was acting like they forgot what day it was.

she was mad. she had enough of being ignored all her life; all she wanted was to be loved by her parents and have a bit of attention this day. without thinking, she grabbed the family photo she wasn’t even be at and threw it on the floor. watching as the glass broke into small pieces.

“what is wrong with you y/n?!” her dad snapped at her, didn’t understanding what she was doing.

“what is wrong with me?! you-” she didn’t realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “you don’t care about me; you don’t give a shit about me” cillian wanted to say something, but she interrupted him. “you shouldn’t just make people if you are going to treat them like shit and make them think they do something wrong their whole life.” at this moment, she just broke into tears as she looked at her father’s face, and without saying a word, she came back to her room.

she didn't deserve it. she didn't deserve it at all.

, , ,

⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! and im sorry for any mistakes. and remember it’s all fictional, cillian is probably great father but i wanted to write something like this. take care!