#-> im going to flop 🙏

[szua]

𐔌 repost and credit for usage. small recolours are okay. credit for inspo. ؛ ଓ

Renders : ♡ ☆

Higher quality

Edit: bonus stamps for testing. Frame here

[megagrind]

Here we go squad

[safflinas]

feeling hateful today

<- realized that the steam prison fandisk announcement means another project to keep yumas from working on obachestra

[nytfythfhtyf]

i love thinking about horrible and violent ways to kms before i fall asleep

[aeribbon]

target acquired pt2 | oscar piastri

summary; part one here the only thing more dangerous than your job is dating an f1 driver in secret and oh...! oscar is just trying to survive lando's gossip group chat

featuring; f1driver!oscar piastri x bau agent!f!reader

fc; yu jimin

warnings; english isn't my first language + not proof read YET !

an; if i ever make a tag list y'all would be interested to be in it ? btw i'm free from my exams in four days sooo i'll work on the requests i got !!

navigation masterlist request

oscarpiastri

liked landonorris, yourusername, charles_leclerc and 987k others !

oscarpiastri enjoying the calm before montreal

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username the plushies. the matching energy. THE DOG. we’ve entered the domestic era

username not him soft-launching his gf via stuffed animals

pierregasly10 custom made plushies and a dog ??

kikagomes i mean have you seen her ?? my pretty girl deserves everything

yourusername (🔒) uhhh i love you, simba and magneto needs to meet for a dog date

lewishamilton magneto is the name of the dog ?? i'm dying of laughter

yourusername (🔒) why are they laughing at my dog's name ?? oscar i'm gonna dox them block them before its too late

yourusername (🔒) god forbid a woman is mourning magneto's death ?

landonorris you have every right yn i promise you 🙏❤️‍🩹

username HE'S SOOOO FINE

username yeah but he's off the market now

username the plushies are HAND SEWN. give me the gun

username stawwwp that's so romantic

f1paddocktea if a man posted a pic of me holding a dog and two plushies that look like us??? i’m framing it.

carlossainz55 you blinked in one of the pics. your gf is losing respect for your field awareness

yourusername (🔒) thank you for noticing carlos

texts between oscar → you

texts between lily, carmen and kaka → you

texts between lando → you and charles → you

texts between oscar → you

texts between lando, charles, carlos, george, kimi, pierre, max, alex → oscar

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, yourbestfriend and 27 others !

yourusername hopefully my superior won't know about this private account

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lilymhe sooooo cute

yourusername you are

carmenmmundt omg are federal agents not supposed to have social media accounts ?

yourusername nah i'm pretty sure im allowed but i'll never heard the end of it if my superior sees me all lovey dovey on instagram 🙉

oscarpiastri if only they knew

yourusername lets not oscar

landonorris can i also have the cute little thing to put it in my jeans ?

oscarpiastri are you in this relationship ?

yourusername i'll buy you one lando don't listen to him

landonorris lets me screenshot this and send it in the group chat i'm officially your favorite

yourbestfriend you're so pretty and his back is here ig

yourusername i knew i shouldn't have sacrificed that second slide for him

oscarpiastri you liarrrrrr

yourusername i am :/

alex_albon it feels illegal to be on this account rn

charles_leclerc LITERALLY

oscar leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you skim through your folder with that signature hyper-focused, agent face he pretends doesn’t make his heart beat like it’s lap 58.

''hey, profiler. you’re not allowed to analyze serial killers when I’m right here looking this good." he said as you looked up, amused but mostly unbothered. "you’re shirtless. that’s your only argument." he gasps, real dramatic.

''that might be the rudest thing anyone has ever said to me after a win." you close your folder slowly shifting your full attention on him now.

''fine what's your counteroffer ?'' oscar crosses the room in a few steps, flops beside you, and lets his head rest onto your shoulder with a sigh that sounds like it’s been waiting all weekend.

''i ask for kisses, ten uninterrupted minutes of cuddles or massage and absolutely no more mention of your work or any criminals you might have in mind right know". he listed in one breath, almost impatient to hear for what you're going to say next.

you set the file down on the nightstand, the edge of it still marked with your notes and scribbles from earlier. your boyfriend’s fingers brush yours as he shifts closer on the bed, one arm sliding around your waist with easy familiarity. the hotel room smells like him, vanilla soap, something clean with a touch of citrusy, a trace of champagne from the podium spray still in the air.

you lean into his chest, nose grazing the collarbone you pretend not to be obsessed with.

"we have a deal mister," you murmur, pressing a slow kiss to his jaw. "but after that, i do need to brief you on the psychological implications of what that red bull engineer said during the safety car."

he groans into your neck like you’ve just said the most offensive thing possible.

"nope. you're not allowed," oscar mumbles, arms tightening around you until you’re tangled in that warm, post-race kind of quiet. "i asked for no work talk. you’re just my hot girlfriend right now. not a federal agent. just a girl with cold feet and unfair cheekbones."

you laugh softly, the kind of sound that only escapes around him, the one who sees past all the walls and tactical layers.

"you love my cheekbones."

"i love all of you actually" he says, without hesitation. he tilts your chin up gently, gaze genuine in a way that makes your throat feel warm. "even the scary profiler parts. especially those" he finishes by laughing

you don’t say anything right away. you just melt into him a little more, arms circling his waist, anchoring yourself to the one place in your life that’s never asked you to be anything but exactly who you are. eyes closed, you smile like a secret.

"don’t tell the others," you whisper, "but you’re my softest case." your boyfriend's thumb brushes your cheek, gentle and sure. "and you are my safest place." he says, voice barely audible.

taglist ! @mrvlf1 @heather03565 @i-need-to-be-put-down @agiscool @fctnllvrs

[witherby]

we NEED more mermaid and damian content 😔🙏

(i dont know if ur accepting requests but maybe we could get a glimpse of Jon? its fine if not!! just a silly thought!!🫶🫶)

ANYWAYS I LOVE UR WRITING (and im new to ur blogs 😿)

I haven't read any of the comics... Jon is the kind one and Kon/Con is the bad boy with the attitude, right? I sure hope so, but if he isn't, then it's an AU, take it with a grain of salt! Haha.

Here's your "glimpse" of Jon 😈

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader, part 6!

The Masterlist is here!

You're awoken from your sleep by a familiar disturbance in the water.

Swish, swish, swish. Swish, swish, swish.

You bump harshly into the sides of your castle spire as you practically claw your way out, long tail unfurling as you get free, and you propel yourself eagerly towards the top floor where the opening to your tank is located. You're a blur in the water, stirring up the aquatic fauna and creating ripples from how fast you're going. You barely pay it any mind, too overjoyed by the presence of a person you didn't think you'd get to see again.

Your sense of time is shaky, especially after breaking your own routines in the wake of your separation from Damian, but you'd know that summons from anywhere. You could feel its disturbance from a mile away.

Did he miss you as much as you missed him? You hope so. Oh, you can't wait to be reunited!

You break the surface with a happy trill, arms extended to embrace your favorite caretaker, and flop over the lip of the tank with him in a tangle of limbs. Your arms encircle his shoulders, webbed fingers skittering against the familiar texture of the wetsuit, and you nuzzle into a head of black hair with a coo.

He's here! He's here, he's back, he's finally with you again! You're so happy —

"Ah — whoa! It worked! I can't believe it!"

You stiffen, eyes snapping open as you process that voice.

That's not what Damian sounds like.

When you take in more details, you come to understand the mistake you made faster and faster. The shoulders you're hugging are too broad. The hair you're nuzzling is too long. The wetsuit you're touching is a different color. The caretaker you're holding is too tall.

You draw back, chittering, and stare at soft, blue eyes, instead of your favorite glittering green.

"Hi!" The boy greets cheerfully. "I'm Jon Kent, your new primary — wait, no, waitwaitwaitwait!!"

You push yourself away from him and turn to get back into the water, but a pair of arms around your waist halts your progress. You snap your teeth threateningly, and the land creature at least has the decency to look chagrined. He's lucky you're too hungry and tired to put up much of a fight at the moment.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," he insists. "Look, look — I brought you a bucket of food, and I grabbed you some new puzzles and toys, and I'm in a wetsuit! Bruce told me you know what that word means, because you used to swim with Damian."

You elbow Jon roughly in the stomach. He groans, but continues to hold you. There's not enough of your tail currently in the water to slip away, either. You hiss, annoyed.

"Please," the boy insists, "give me one chance! We don't have to be best friends, but you need care. You're underweight, you're overtired, and my dad says you need those patches on your tail looked at. My job is to help. I just want to help you."

Jon tugs you close, mindful to stay out of swiping range of your claws, and rests his chin on top of your head.

"One swim. I won't touch you anymore, either. Let me at least pop into your tank to clean up the discarded food and straighten up the place, okay? Just one swim together. Deal?"

You squirm and wriggle, snapping your teeth a few more times to try and slip out of his grasp. Unfortunately, Jon is stronger than he looks, and you really are overtired. The fight doesn't last much longer before you're slumped against him and panting slightly.

"Please," he murmurs again, using your name to get your attention. The fins on the sides of your head twitch, and you finally weigh your options.

A long amount of time has passed. When you see Damian walking people through the tunnels under your tank, he no longer looks at you. You are exhausted, and bored, and lonely. You miss him terribly.

You have caretakers. They are not Damian, but there are still people that come to see you and maintain your home. Jon wants to be one of those people.

You do not have to like Jon, but he has offered to play with you and look after you like Damian once did. You don't want a new playmate, but...

Maybe...maybe it will be okay. Your heart yearns for Damian, but you can nurse that particular wound yourself while letting others tend to the physical injuries. You can allow someone else to occupy your time, as long as you don't get too attached lest they, too, get dragged away from you.

Was that the problem? Was Damian taken away because you wanted him to be your life partner? Would you be able to maintain a bond with someone else as long as you remained unmated?

Jon gently calls your name again. His grip has gone slack around your waist.

"Can we be friends? Or at least cordial?" He asks you, very patiently. "Pretty please? With sprinkles on — you're a mer, you can't have sprinkles — uhhh, with fish flakes on top?"

Hmm. This new caretaker is a little bit stupid, but he's got the spirit.

Fine.

Your shoulders slump, and you hum and turn towards the bucket he set a few feet away. Jon perks up immediately.

"Really!? Thank you! Thank you so much, oh, you have no idea what a relief this is!"

He lets you go and you shimmy back into the water, leaving your head above the surface as he grabs the bucket and holds it out to you.

"Here you go. If you want more, I brought two. You can have as much as you want, I promise!"

Your eyes dart towards the doors, where you watched Bruce take your favorite person away, where there is no sign of his return, then they flicker back to Jon, and you take the bucket.

Everything will be fine. It won't be the same, but it will be fine.

--

Damian makes his way stealthily through the halls. The other staff members know he's not supposed to get near your tank, and if they caught him now, the jig would be up.

Luckily for him, the other staff are all idiots, so when he finally makes it to the door and swipes his father's pilfered key, the lock clicks apart and he waltzes inside your enclosure with a grin.

"Princ —" he starts to call, only for the rest of his sentence to get caught in his throat.

He watches Jon Kent, the new caretaker, adjust his wetsuit and put a rebreather on, then jump into the water where you're spinning around in cheerful circles to play with him. He watches Jon carefully spin with you, then get dragged further into the tank with your hand on his wrist. He watches a gentle smile paint your face before you swim too far down for him to see you anymore.

It took months of work for Damian to build that level of trust with you. Months. And this moronic, gap-toothed, clumsy little plebian had come in and done it in two measly weeks? Was he that skilled of a Mer caretaker?

Damian leans against the wall when his knees threaten to buckle, feeling sick.

No. Maybe he wasn't an expert handler. Maybe you just liked Jon more.

Damian was aware of his decidedly "prickly" personality, and for the most part it suited him just fine. You certainly didn't seem to mind, especially after warming up to him. Was there any warm up at all, with Jon? Or did his winning smile and people-pleasing attitude charm you instantly?

Would you eventually give him some of your scales, too?

It doesn't matter, he thinks, quickly stumbling back out of the room with a thundering pulse and burning eyes. He's seen the joy on your face. His misguided sense of importance, of thinking you needed Damian in order to be happy, of thinking he meant just as much to you as you did to him, was clearly wrong.

You'll be just fine.

[orfeoedeuryice]

lefkowitz’ widow

pairing: trevor lefkowitz x reader

plot: an unexpected visitor shows up at the Woodstone b&b and brings up memories from trevor’s past. in an effort to comfort her, things go so wrong that they end up right, in a way. aka trevor misses his pookie bear

warnings: death and like, 2 swears.

word count: 3.2k

pronouns: she/her

rating: pg

a/n: i’m rusty at writing, be nice 🙏 probably not 100% accurate, but blame it on plot convenience pls

also for the plot’s sake he hasn’t had any actual relations with hetty, he just acts like a freak but never actually follows through (aka im too lazy to write that out 🩷)

You didn’t consider yourself a very superstitious person, but you could feel the eerie energy radiating from Woodstone as soon as you stepped on the grounds, but you had begun to feel a bit dissuaded from– everything really, and you had been missing your husband for the past… well, two decades, and really wanted to reconnect with him.

Trevor, however, didn’t take the exact same relaxed feelings about the reunion. He watched your car pull in and watched you get out of your car, as humans did, you had aged, but by god in his eyes you aged like absolute wine. Clearly, he looked mortified, though.

Trevor stood frozen in the front hall as he watched you step out of your car. His usual confident smirk was nowhere to be found, replaced instead with a wide-eyed look of panic. He ran a hand through his eternally perfect hair, pacing in tight circles.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. It’s her,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“Her who?” Alberta asked, leaning on the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

“Her her! My wife! My widow! The woman I married, the woman I—ugh!” He groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch. “She’s here! What is she doing here? She’s supposed to be… I don’t know, happily remarried or writing a memoir about how awesome I was. Not staying here, with us!”

The other ghosts stared at him in a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Wait, you’re married?” Isaac asked, his brows furrowing. “I thought you were more of the, ah, bachelor for life type.”

“I was married for six years!” Trevor shot back, sitting up indignantly. “She’s my one true love. You don’t get over someone like that, okay?” He ran both hands through his hair this time, looking almost comically distraught. “And now she’s here, and she looks… amazing, but she’s aged, and I haven’t, and this is going to mess her up, right? Like, emotionally? This is bad, right?”

“Didn’t take you for the sentimental type,” Alberta teased, her tone softening slightly. “But this explains a lot about why you’re extra dramatic today.”

Sam, who had been observing quietly, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Trevor, she’s your wife? Why didn’t you ever mention her before?”

“Because it hurts, Sam!” Trevor threw up his hands. “She was the one. I miss her every single day, but what was I supposed to do? Drop it casually into conversation? ‘Oh, by the way, the love of my life is out there somewhere, and I’m stuck here in the No Pants Brigade for eternity.’ Real smooth.”

“Aw, Trev,” Pete said, his usual warmth shining through. “That’s actually… really sweet. Tragic, but sweet.”

“I know it’s tragic, Pete! That’s the whole point!” Trevor snapped, though his voice cracked slightly. “And now she’s here, and I can’t even tell her I’m here because… ghost rules! And you know me, I’m not good at being subtle. I’m gonna screw this up. I just know it.”

“You’ve already started screwing it up,” Hetty cut in, her tone sharp. “I can practically feel your anxiety polluting the air.”

“Thank you for the support, Hetty,” Trevor deadpanned before turning back to Samantha. “Sam, please, you’ve gotta help me. Tell her I’m here. Drop some hints. I don’t know, maybe do that whole ‘medium’ thing you’re always saying you’re not.”

Samantha gave him a sympathetic look. “Trevor, I don’t think telling her outright is the best idea. She’s here for a reason. Maybe she’s looking for closure. You should think about what she needs right now, not just what you want.”

Trevor groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. “You’re right. You’re totally right. I just…” He looked out the window again, watching as you hesitated near your car, seemingly mustering up the courage to come inside. “I miss her, Sam. Like, really miss her.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Even Hetty seemed to soften, though she wouldn’t admit it.

Samantha finally broke the silence, her voice gentle. “Then maybe this is your chance to give her what she’s been missing too. Just… try not to scare her, okay?”

Trevor nodded, though his lips curled into a sheepish grin. “I’ll do my best. No promises, though.”

“That’s what we’re worried about,” Alberta muttered, shaking her head as she followed the others to watch the unfolding chaos.

“Hello! Uh– you work here, right?” You spoke from the hallway, bags in hands. “Yup! Here for vacation?” Sam asked, getting behind the desk. There was a pause between the two of you before a hum of hesitancy came from you, not wanting to dump all of your dead-husband-trauma within a minute of meeting her, you just nodded. “Basically.”

—

You had got set up in your room, trying to relax despite the energy coming from the property, sitting up on the bed and texting, unaware of the specter of your deceased husband laying next to you. Trevor lay sprawled next to you on the bed, his usual cocky grin tempered with nervous excitement. “God, you’re even cuter than I remembered,” he murmured to himself, though you, of course, couldn’t hear him. “Okay, Trev, this is your moment. Don’t blow it. Start small. Subtle. Like… ghost Casanova.”

Meanwhile, you sat cross-legged on the bed, your phone in hand, scrolling through messages and photos. A faint frown tugged at your lips, and Trevor’s expression softened.

“Hey, don’t look sad. I’m right here!” he said, leaning closer. “Okay, time for step one: the classic ‘move a thing to get their attention’ move. Easy peasy.”

He eyed the pen sitting on the nightstand and focused all his energy on it. The pen wobbled slightly, then fell off the edge with a faint clatter.

You glanced up from your phone, startled. Your eyes darted to the nightstand, lingering for a moment, before you sighed and bent to pick up the pen.

“Must’ve knocked it off,” you mumbled to yourself, setting it back in place.

Trevor smacked his forehead. “Okay, maybe too subtle. Fine. Let’s turn it up a notch.”

He stood, pacing at the foot of the bed like a coach psyching himself up for the big game. “All right, Trev, think… what’s romantic but not terrifying? Candles? Too cliché. Write her a message? No penmanship when you’re a ghost.” He snapped his fingers. “Music! Music’s perfect. Nostalgic, romantic… plus, I know what song we danced to at our wedding. Boom. Easy win.”

He floated toward the room’s Bluetooth speaker, fiddling with the controls. It took a few tries, but soon the opening chords of “Your Song” by Elton John filled the room.

You froze mid-text, looking around with wide eyes.

“What the…” you whispered, putting your phone down. The music grew louder, and your brows furrowed.

Trevor grinned triumphantly, throwing his arms in the air. “Yes! She knows it’s me! Come on, babe, connect the dots. Ghost plus love song equals your amazing husband!”

But instead of looking touched or nostalgic, you grabbed the speaker, inspected it, and muttered, “That’s… weird. Haven’t heard that one in a while.” You turned the speaker off and set it down on the nightstand, shaking your head.

Trevor deflated, throwing himself backward onto the bed in frustration. “Come on! That was our song! How does that not scream ‘It’s Trevor!’?”

The faint smile you gave the speaker didn’t escape his notice, though. “Okay,” you murmured to yourself, “I dunno if I’m just imagining things. Or maybe it’s just… this place.” You paused, looking toward the window with a wistful expression, flashes of moments of your relationship running through your mind at the nostalgic song. “If only he was here…”

Trevor sat bolt upright at your words, his frustration melting into something softer. “I am here,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Trevor stayed where he was, staring at you with a mixture of love and longing, his resolve strengthening.

“All right, babe,” he murmured. “You might not believe it yet, but I’m gonna show you. You’ll know it’s me. I promise.”

He watched as you leaned back on the bed, phone forgotten, and closed your eyes. He stayed beside you, close enough that he imagined you could feel the warmth of his love, even if he couldn’t physically reach you.

“Tomorrow,” he said softly, “I’ll do better. You’ll see.”

–

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting soft, dappled light across the Woodstone grounds. You walked slowly, arms crossed against the crisp air. It wasn’t the most energetic stroll—you’d never been one for intense hikes, nor exactly cut out for them—but it was peaceful. Quiet. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

The weight of memories pressed against you as you stopped by an old oak tree, brushing your fingers against its bark. “He would’ve loved this,” you murmured. The thought brought a bittersweet smile to your lips, though the ache in your chest never quite disappeared.

Inside the house, Trevor was a whirlwind of nervous energy, pacing in the living room. “Okay, okay. Yesterday didn’t go so great,” he admitted, running his hands through his hair. “But today’s a new day. I just need… a plan. A really good plan. So, ideas. Let’s hear ’em!”

Alberta rolled her eyes from her perch on the armrest of the couch. “Trevor, you can’t just throw random ghost tricks at her and expect her to piece it together. What’s your actual endgame here?”

“The endgame is for her to know it’s me, Albie!” Trevor gestured wildly, “I want her to feel like I’m still here for her. Like… in a good, romantic way. Not in a haunted way.”

“Well, you’re failing at both,” Hetty said flatly.

Isaac cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should try something more personal. Something that speaks to your connection with her.”

Trevor groaned. “I tried that! I played our wedding song, and she didn’t even get it! What else am I supposed to do?”

“Then maybe you should think about what she loved about you specifically,” Alberta said, leaning forward. “What was your thing? Your move? The thing that made her fall for you in the first place?”

Trevor paused, a rare moment of introspection crossing his face. “She used to say I had this way of… making her laugh, even when she didn’t want to. Like, no matter how bad her day was, I could always cheer her up. That’s what she loved about me.” He smiled faintly, the memory softening his usual bravado. “Man, she used to laugh so hard she’d snort, and she’d get all embarrassed, but I thought it was the cutest thing ever.”

“Well, there you go,” Alberta said. “You’ve got your answer.”

“Yeah, but how am I supposed to make her laugh if she can’t hear me?” Trevor threw up his hands. “I can’t exactly tell her my A+ jokes from ghost-land.”

Sam, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. “Maybe you don’t need to say anything. Maybe you just need to remind her of something funny you did together. Like, recreate one of your inside jokes or a memory that’ll make her laugh.”

Trevor snapped his fingers. “Sam, you’re a genius! I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“It’s my property,” she deadpanned.

“Details.” Trevor waved her off, already pacing again as he brainstormed. “Okay, funny memory. Funny memory. Oh! Remember that time we went to that fancy restaurant, and I accidentally set the napkin on fire, and we had to sneak out before the maître d’ kicked us out? She loved that story!”

“Sure,” Hetty muttered, “because nothing says love like mild arson.”

Ignoring her, Trevor clapped his hands together. “That’s it. I’ll find a way to remind her of that. Maybe I’ll knock over a candle or something—just enough to jog her memory. Not, like, burn-the-place-down levels. I can do this!”

“Let’s hope you don’t accidentally commit ghost arson,” Isaac muttered as Trevor bolted toward the door, ready to execute his next brilliant plan.

Outside, you had wandered toward the gazebo, sitting down on the wooden bench with a sigh. The quiet was nice, though there was something about this place that made you feel… watched. Not in a bad way, but as if there was some invisible presence hovering nearby, waiting for the right moment.

From the shadows of the house, Trevor watched you with a determined glint in his eye. “All right, babe. Let’s make you laugh.”

–

You sat in the gazebo, absentmindedly watching a pair of squirrels chase each other around the base of a tree. The morning air was crisp, and for a moment, you let yourself relax.

From the shadows of the house, Trevor leaned against the doorway, cracking his knuckles. “Okay, Trev. Channel the glory days. Be suave. Be funny. Don’t… burn anything down for real this time.”

He floated closer, eyeing the picnic table in the gazebo. A small decorative lantern sat on the edge of it, its candle flickering gently in the breeze. Trevor grinned. “Perfect. Just a little nudge…”

He focused his energy on the lantern, tipping it ever so slightly until it teetered on the edge. With a faint clatter, it toppled over, landing on the table.

Startled, you turned to the sound, your brows furrowing. “Huh. That’s weird.”

Trevor winced. “Okay, not enough. Gotta amp it up.”

He scanned the area and spotted a small coffee table tablecloth, reminiscent of a napkin, resting next to the lantern. “This’ll do. Time to bring back the classics.” With a concentrated effort, he managed to slide the cloth toward the lantern’s flame, careful not to let it fully ignite.

The edge of the fabric began to smolder, a thin wisp of smoke curling into the air.

You gasped, leaping to your feet. “What the—?”

Trevor grinned, floating back as he waited for recognition to dawn. “Come on, babe. You have to remember this. Napkin fire? Fancy restaurant? Hilarious escape? It’s me!”

You quickly grabbed the mini tablecloth, smothering the tiny ember with your hands. With the danger gone, you sat back down, shaking your head with a bemused smile. “This place is seriously fucking with me.”

But then you paused, your fingers brushing over the singed edge of the cloth. Your smile softened, turning wistful.

“I’m really losing it now,” you muttered, though there was a glimmer of warmth in your eyes. “That’s exactly the kind of thing he’d do…”

Trevor froze, his grin fading as his expression softened. “She remembers,” he whispered.

You leaned back against the bench, holding the fabric in your hands like it was a precious relic. A quiet laugh escaped you, tinged with both joy and sadness. “Trevor, if this is you… God, I miss you.”

Trevor floated closer, his heart aching at the sound of your voice saying his name. He knelt beside you, though he knew you couldn’t see him. “I miss you too, babe. More than anything.”

For a moment, the world felt still. Though you couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t physically touch you, Trevor sat beside you, basking in the quiet connection of the moment.

“I’ll make sure you know it’s me,” he whispered. “No matter what it takes.”

—

The evening had grown dark, the soft hum of crickets filling the air as you stepped out of the car and onto the gravel driveway of Woodstone. The long, flowing dress you’d chosen for dinner swayed gently as you walked toward the front entrance, your heels clicking softly on the steps.

Trevor had been lounging on the staircase banister, idly waiting for you to return. When the door creaked open, he glanced up, his usual grin fading into wide-eyed awe.

“Whoa,” he whispered, standing straighter as he took in the sight of you. “You look… incredible. Like, seriously incredible. Red carpet-level stunning. Damn.”

You closed the door behind you, taking a moment to adjust your coat and shake off the evening chill. The glow from the chandelier overhead illuminated your features, and Trevor floated closer, unable to stop staring.

“Babe, you always looked amazing, but this? This is next-level. If I had a heartbeat, it’d be racing right now.”

Completely oblivious to his presence, you made your way into the sitting room, setting your clutch down on the nearest table. You looked around, pausing as you took in the cozy ambiance of the room. Something about it felt oddly welcoming tonight, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.

Trevor, meanwhile, hovered behind you, practically buzzing with excitement. “Okay, Trev, play it cool. She’s in a good mood. Maybe I can nudge something over—like a little love note or a flower. Yeah, that’s romantic. Not weird at all.”

He turned toward a nearby shelf, spotting a vase filled with dried flowers. “Perfect,” he said, focusing his energy on it. “Just a gentle tap…”

But Trevor’s enthusiasm got the better of him. Instead of the vase, he accidentally tipped the entire bookshelf.

“Wait, no! Nononono!” he yelled, trying to stop the shelf mid-fall.

With a thunderous crash, the bookshelf toppled over, sending books and decorative items scattering across the room.

You spun around, eyes wide, your heart pounding in your chest. “What the—”

The shock of the sound, combined with the sudden adrenaline surge, overwhelmed you. A sharp pain gripped your chest, and you staggered backward, clutching at your heart.

Trevor’s excitement immediately turned to panic. “Oh no. No, no, no. Babe, what’s happening? Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”

You gasped, trying to steady yourself against the edge of the couch, but your legs gave out. The last thing you saw was the chandelier’s light dimming as you collapsed to the floor.

“No!” Trevor shouted, kneeling beside you. His hands hovered over you, futile in their ghostly form. “Please, don’t… not like this. Don’t leave me again!”

Moments later, the room seemed to shift. A strange warmth filled the air, and Trevor froze, staring at your body. Suddenly, your spirit appeared, standing next to him.

You blinked, disoriented, looking down at your hands and then at your body on the floor. “What… what just happened?”

Trevor’s jaw dropped. “Babe?”

You turned toward the familiar voice, your eyes widening as you saw him standing there, looking exactly as he had the day you’d lost him, just— minus some pants. “Trevor?”

He nodded, his voice trembling. “Yeah, it’s me. I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear, I was just trying to—”

But before he could finish, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, tears streaming down your face. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

For the first time in years, Trevor felt solid, real. He held you tightly, his own tears falling freely. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Trevor smiled, a mix of relief and guilt in his expression. “Well, about that… Turns out I’m still pretty good at screwing things up.” He didn’t let go of you for a second, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And for the record? You don’t look a day over 35, hon’.”

“You’re a dork. But at least you’re my dork.” You softly chuckled. “Hey, can you blame me? You’re gonna look like an absolute bombshell for the rest of eternity.”

[irl-w0lverine]

.ೃ࿐rubber can be used for alot more.ೃ࿐

pairing : Tate Langdon x reader

Warnings : SMUT!!!, the rubber suit, poor writing, smut with no plot basically, probably out of character

A/n : im so sorry for pushing this fic off until now i genuinely keep falling asleep and got ill with a cold + food poisoning 😭🙏

This is for the anon that requested it <3

IF YOUR UNDER 18 ITS YOUR FAULT FOR READING BEYOND THIS POINT

"Oh shit tate! Fucking slow down!" you yelp, the sound of the black, glossy rubber suit he's wearing drowning out your pleas.

Tates hips move at a fast rhythm, pounding into your tight hole. Your hands grip the arm of the couch, your nails creating scrapes on the blood red velvet. Why didnt tate just fuck you on the couch instead of bending you over it? That question may never be answered.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" is all tate can huff out, a mix of 'good girl' and other praises mixed in under his breath. "keep that pretty little ass up like that. Your doing so well" his hands kneading each of your cheeks like bread dough.

His lips leave a trail of peppered kisses down your shoulder and spine, kissing all the way back up to the nape of you neck when he physically cant get any lower.

"Tate please! Im so fuckin' close!" you squeal as he hits the plushy spot inside of you, your walls throbbing around him.

"Go on. I wanna see it dripping all over my cock." his face burried in your hair, his nails leaving crecent like marks dug into your hips.

With one more thrust, your seeing white. Your vision going blury as you squeeze your eyes (and thighs) shut, a loud whimper escaping your slightly parted lips as your walls tighen around him, making his movents stiff and shaky before shooting thick ropes of him cum into you, painting your insides white.

"ill clean this up" he says quietly, plopping you down onto the couch and pressing a gentle kiss into your forehead

He comes back a few minutes later with a towel and some water, snuggling up besides you on the couch as you wrap and arm around his shoulder.

"i wasnt too rough.. Right?"

A/n : sorry for poor writing, i know this fic will flop anyways but its best to post it and hope for the best!

Thank you for reading! <3

[majoryeager104]

Hi ! Another request. Your writing is so good I just keep coming back to this blog 😭

Okay so can you write about Dabi or Hawks (or both if you can) with a Reader who is like the most desperate flirt, has no shame whatsoever in her words no matter how nasty it is but as soon as he tries or does something like hug her from behind (which is so innocent compared to what reader says) reader is a blushing mess and yells about personal space

Thank you in advance and have an amazing day !!

omg this is just like me fr also im so glad u enjoy my writing 🙏🙏🙏

I kept the nasty level to a minimum tho lmao it’s mostly just cringe 😅

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚

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“Kiss me if I’m wrong but, the earth is for sure flat.”

“shut the fuck up”

“You’re magnetic! My zipper is falling for you-”

“Shut. Up.”

“you like it”

“It makes me want to vomit.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes with a playful smile before making another attempt. “Just give me five minutes-” “you’re disgusting” “so is my love for you-” This back and forth went on for almost an hour as you two walked back through the city after a job. It had been months since you’d started dating, and yet Dabi felt like he’d never get used to the seemingly never ending list of pick-up lines that you probably scrounged the internet for. In fact, he found it astoundingly annoying and markedly mercurial.

Still, he couldn’t help the chuckle that would escape his mouth on the sparse occasion that your flirtations actually amused him. He also couldn’t help the blush that would tinge his cheeks and ears when you’d actually manage strike an odd nerve. But what really was odd about this ‘mercurial’ behavior, was your perpetually flustered reactions when he tried his own little romantic stunts. In fact, despite your constant changing attitude, it seemed like you’d freeze up the moment he got too close.

now that was really charming.

On this occasion, once you two had gotten back to the league hideout, he’d followed you to your room as usual, flopping down on your bed and beginning to scroll on his phone after kicking off his boots while you went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He glanced over at the open door of the bathroom to see you busying yourself with brushing your hair. You looked pretty. He scoffed to himself. When didn’t you? Well, when you were running your mouth maybe..

he got up from the bed, slinking over to the doorway to stand behind you. He stared for another moment before taking two more steps, too quiet to be noticeable without those damn clanky boots. So you can imagine your surprise when you felt his warm arms snake around your waist, that pretty face of his nuzzled against the crook of your neck.

You froze, blushing wildly as you felt your whole body go warm, and you pulled away. He groaned in protest, grabbing your hand as you turned around to face him. “Heeey… get back here” he mumbled, stepping closer as he pressed you ever so gently against the bathroom sink, his warm hands on your hips as he went to lean down to your neck once more.

But thankfully (to you at least) you stopped him before he could, tugging him back carefully by his chin. “What the heck happened to personal space huh? I was busy” you said, your rosy blushed cheeks giving away your real feelings despite your rather precarious attempt at an undisturbed tone. But really, your voice just came out squeaky.

He chuckled a little, leaning in anyways. “You’re wrong by the way” he said quietly, a smirk growing on his face. You stared blankly for a moment. “Huh-” “you know, earlier? you said ‘Kiss me if I’m wrong but, the earth is for sure flat‘. You’re wrong.” He continued, his smirk only growing.

“I-” “surely you don’t intend to go back on your own terms” he interrupted before you could stutter out your response, chuckling once more.

“Not so much of a tease now huh?”

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𝐊𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐨

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“Your body is 60% water, and I’m thirsty as hell”

“I’m disappointed in you. I’ve heard that one like three times this week. You gotta get more creative”

“Do you work at Academy? Because you’re sporting the goods”

“Ehhh six out of ten”

“oh come on that’s a solid 7 and a half!”

“Five out of ten for desperation”

You groaned in mock frustration, flopping over on the couch. The two of you had been sitting quietly together when you’d begun this charade, and as usual Keigo played along with a grin. How couldn’t he when you were being so cute?

Maybe cute isn’t the word that anyone else would use though, but for him it was rather fitting. Because ‘anyone else’ would have no idea just how easy it was to make that charade fall apart like he did. It was so easy. So easy that he found himself wanting to fluster you to no end every chance he got.

“I’ll never have you will I?” You sighed, a teasing grin on your face as you looked back over at him. He narrowed his eyes a little, his smile remaining. Funny how the eyes can change, or maybe reveal, the energy behind a smile. “Oh you can have me” he chuckled, leaning over and putting a hand on your leg, just above your knee, like he was testing the waters.

At that you immediately blushed, that tease of a smile vanishing as your face went pink. Why wouldn’t it when the number two hero was right there touching you like that?

It was so simple yet so flustering, when his thumb began to trace a simple circle on the side of your knee. A mindless, simple movement that managed to grab your entire attention, bringing your focus to him. “Keigo…” you mumbled, blushing as you looked away, hoping he got the picture from your tone.

He did, immediately. But instead of stopping he just grabbed your chin and pulled you to look at him. “Yes?” He said in a teasing voice, unable to contain his smile to that same energy anymore as he fought the urge to laugh at just how flustered you were. He leaned a bit closer, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“somethin you wanted to say?”

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(My fave Sabrina song lmao)

[emotsper]

Hi!!!!!!!!

You’re like the szai person on tumblr, and even tho I’ve been playing proseka for like two years, I still don’t read a lot of the stories………

So as the certified szai tumblr person, since you kinda own the tag, would you like to explain to me why szai is such a popular ship? I really didn’t read much of anything…

Have fun!!

let me be brief (1/350) (no bc its actually gonna be a long ramble. apolocheese.) (also sorry if formatting is awful im a mobile user and I literally just type whatever)

FOR REAL THOUGH. PLEASE JUST DO ME A FAVOR AND READ MMJ MAINSTORY...... not only its a good source of szai cocaina you get to experience the entire mmj mainstory. i was normal before mmj mainstory and i was less normaler after mmj mainstory.

it simply went even more downhill when i read tenshi no clover. genuinely the one event story that first made me cry (second one was ice drop event but thats a bit biased)

okay now lets get to the main meat of it. szai.

admittedly i was kind of normaler early on but one of my tipping point was Chasing the radiance event especially chapter 7. please read/watch it. please. this specific chapter sent me into my trip of insanity when it comes to szai. it also opened my eye to specific scenes in their side stories/mmj mainsto that i skimmed early on especially bc im a jp only player so fan tls may not be super accurate back then 💔

to start off, airi was a girl that was often made fun of for being tomboyish, and seeing idols for the first time made her feel a glimmer of hope that maybe she can also bring hope to other people. she finally manages to reach her goal and became an idol after several of failed auditions (very deserved especially after her hard work) while shizuku became an idol purely out of luck from the idol grand prix context her friends convinced her to join 😭😭 From the start their relationship feels a little bit doomed with how jealousy is kind of unavoidable from airis side. but against all odds, you get to see airi go to shizuku and cheering her up by giving shizuku her towel and telling her to wipe those tears especially with such a pretty face like hers (MACHINE CLANG CLANG RACK SFX) they are so crazy for this. especially when you realize that shizuku kept the towel until now. (the towel is her area upgrade item)

from this point, airi thought nothing much of shizuku yet other than her being her new rival (and that shes rly pretty) but shizuku sees airi as her main reason to keep going in this idol stuff at that time, and that was enough.

(okay purely for this next part im forgetting a bit so do remember it may not be fully accurate 🙏)

after training minori for awhile, szai went thru a mini divorce arc where airi was telling minori that being an idol isnt all fun and games and that minori should consider quitting, continuing on with how she flopped in the industry bc she was more popular as a reality show figure. but shizuku disagreed and kept saying how airi was an idol through and through and that she shouldn't have quit, but that just tipped airi off and she shouted at shizuku, unloading all her pent up jealousy that she had for awhile now. iconic as hell scene in the most angsty way possible.

u can easily tell this wasn't received well by shizuku. at all. airi you done fucked up. shizuku left her idol group the next day.

(addendum i forgot to add. shizuku truly believed that airi was the first and if not, the only person who sees shizuku as shizuku hinomori herself, without all the idol filter that people plastered on her. so when airi admitted that she was jealous w shizuku getting everything good in the industry, that basically broke shizuku. (color of myself is a nice one to read when it comes to this 🙏 also the i am we are event is a crazy good conclusion to shizukus current arc))

at this point airi realizes just how much shizuku was influenced by her past actions without her fully knowing about it. girl you done fucked up.

this scene is still one of the biggest and strongest kryptonite for szai fans. especially with what happens after.

after confronting shizuku about her choice knowing full well its airis fault, airi, angry at herself, goes immediately to cheerful*days training place (she knows the place since theyve kinda shared the spot iirc) while the rest of mmj follows. she started threatening arisa and almost threw punches but she held back and told the rest of cheerful*days that shizuku is more of an idol than everyone in the room (i may be hallucinating this one. do lmk)

they finally leave the place, and both apologies to each other. at the same time, they both admitted that they were each others idol

and then shizuku goes to tackle hug airi. what the queer

that only concludes the mainstory section btw. upon realizing it may be too much of a recap instead of actual explanation ill be brief w the rest of it (keep in mind i dont read EVERY szai story, just ones i was made aware of bc im playing on jp and story content is a bit harder to see/consume)

Main szai crazies for szai fans

1. chasing the radiance ch7. airi yet talks again about how shizukus hands are slender and elegant while hers are short and chubby (she compared her hands to a manju) and shizuku was mad at her about this and went on a long tangent about how airis gentle hands were the ones who pushes minori and shizuku forward when they think they couldn't.

this is probably the fifth time ive read this story and it still gets me. i hate these fruitsssss. please read the full chapter ive linked it near the start this chapter is so special to me.

2. my ideal idol (airi 5, jp only event for now)

Bro i Dont Even Know What Else To Say. Just Look At This Card

but if we're being serious . lets talk about this one specific card and the story shall we.

this card was a blast to the past; pre-mmj szai again.

we start off with present mmj getting ready for their turn in the joint performance with a new junior idol group that they were paired with. airi was a bit nervous and shizuku noticed it. so she offered to do something that would hopefully lessen the nervousness for both of them. shizuku softly puts her head on airis back and whispered several word of encouragements. shizuku reminisces to the past.

pre-mmj szai. shizuku was very nervous as she was waiting for her first performance ever as an idol. airi was also there, and it was going to be her first too. airi shows up to say hi to shizuku but she noticed that shizuku was really nervous and at the verge of crying. airi knew she had to do something and told shizuku to turn around, shizuku did. shizuku lets out a little surprised yelp as she feels airis hands and head pressing against her back. she could hear airi muttering some encouragement but we never get to hear what the words were, only that shizuku thought about how warm airis hands were. (i need to be euthanized)

back to the present, shizuku says that she hopes that this gesture can somehow "repay" for what airi did to her back then. i think im losing it. sorry

OKAY IM DONE IM DONE ITS ALMOST 1 AM MY BRAIN IS NOT GOING TO WORK ANYMORE IF I KEEP TYPING..... my brain can handle so little. anyways i hope this wall of text ramble can convince u to read mmj mainsto and consume more mmj stories........ i admit its not perfect or whatsoever bc i haven't read the mmj mainstory for awhile and i have a wee memory issue thats paired with my deafness so. yeah. enjoy. haha.

[dark-vader28]

Aoao, your post about Roderick Heffley is so deeply imprinted in my heart. Can I make a request for Rodrik/reader(girl)?

The reader is the younger sister of one of Rodrick's friends from the rock band. (just a year younger than our emo boy😉)How about, Roderick himself doesn't realize that he has fallen in love with a friend's YOUNGER sister, the reader's brother with "What the hell dude!? She's my sister!" and Rodrik's graduation ball, to which he confusedly invites the reader...

Sorry for the English, I hope everything was clear 🙏

pls i love this idea so much im climbing the walls

———

Löded Diper, your brother’s band, was practicing tonight. Normally, you took no interest in it and it had little to no importance to you, but tonight was a different set of circumstances. Your parents were off to dinner and they demanded that you and your brother hang out, no matter where it was that you went. Not to your surprise, your brother was quick to call up the rest of his band and suggest they rehearse. Which meant you were forced to go along.

His car rolled to a stop on the Heffley’s driveway, the garage open with the other band mates standing around the drum set with the name Löded Diper painted on it. You groaned as you exited the car, realizing you were to spend the rest of your night listening to them play.

Your brother greeted the rest of the band, already exchanging jokes and banter. You had been relieved that they hadn’t noticed you and you snuck past them, hoping to find some spot in the corner where you wouldn’t receive any attention.

As you searched for a neat spot to sit (without spiders), the laughter seemed to stop and the room was quiet except for the shuffle of your feet against the floor. You froze before turning around to face the band.

“Who’s that?” the one sitting at the drums asked, pointing at you with his drumstick. You narrowed your eyes slightly, glaring at the boy for his lack of manners.

“Is that your girlfriend?” another asked and a chorus of “ooh”s and laughter filled the air. Your brother was quick to dismiss it, hushing the band.

“Gross, man, she’s my sister!” he shouted over them. Your arms crossed over your chest as they all simmered down. “She has to stay here. She won’t talk or do anything,” then he turned to you, “right?”

“Yes sir,” you mocked sarcastically, flopping yourself down into an old lawn chair you found.

It wasn’t long before the floor was practically vibrating with the volume of their music and the sounds filled your ears. You sat and picked at your nails, imagining what the family inside the home must’ve thought of the blaring music coming from the garage. Surely if it were you, you would’ve been exhausted of hearing your son play all the time.

They played for hours but it hadn’t felt as long as you thought it would’ve felt. You had spaced out most of the time, daydreaming of anything your mind dreamt up which occupied your time. Occasionally, you found yourself unconsciously tapping the armrest to the rhythm of whatever tune they were playing but you would stop anytime you caught yourself doing it.

It was pushing 10 o’clock when two of them started to pack up. Unfortunately, your brother was not one of them. Even after the departure of two band mates, your brother and the drummer played on for a few painfully long songs.

You were on the edge of the seat, elbows resting on your thighs as you anxiously fidgeted with the rings on your fingers. The final song wrapped up and you clapped absentmindedly and your brother gave you a puzzled look, assuming you had been paying no attention.

Your brother started to pack up his guitar and you rose out of your seat, eager to leave. You were already exiting the garage when your brother stopped you.

“Slow down. I’m going to the bathroom first, then we’ll leave,” your brother explained before rushing off to the bathroom. You lightly sighed and turned back to the garage. The drummer was pacing around, avoiding looking even in the vicinity of you, as he spun the drumstick around in his hand.

Your brother seemed to be M.I.A., leaving you and his drummer alone in the garage for an extended period of time. Trying to soothe the awkwardness and silence in the room, you attempted to spark up a conversation.

“I never got your name,” you spoke quietly, turning to face him. His pacing came to a halt and he glanced at you.

“Why do you wanna know my name?” he asked curiously, sounding mildly irritated. You rolled your eyes and sighed lightly.

“I was just trying to make small talk, alright?” you explained, frustrated. It was a simple question, you didn’t understand why he was trying to make a big deal out of it.

After a moment of silence, he finally answered. “It’s Rodrick,” he mumbled. He stole another glance at you. “You?”

“Y/n,” you replied, letting a small smile stretch across your lips. A grin began to form on Rodrick’s face, lighting up from your smile. He faced away from you, trying to cover it up.

The room went still again and you caught Rodrick stealing glances at you as his pacing resumed. You walked to the driveway and sat down, looking up at the stars, waiting to leave. You could hear Rodrick stop, and you turned back to catch him staring at you, brows furrowed. You shifted your gaze back to the stars, admiring the way they lit up the darkness of the sky. Footsteps shuffled closer to you and Rodrick was sat beside you, leaving a wide space between the two of you. Both of his drumsticks tapped against his leg as he looked around anxiously.

“How do you do that drumstick spin?” you asked curiously, turning your attention to him. “I saw you do it when you guys were playing.” He shrugged a little, seemingly acting shy or embarrassed. “Could you teach me?” you asked quietly and a faint smile started to stretch across his lips.

It was a little while before your brother had returned, mouth full of food. You and Rodrick had been talking as he tried to teach you. You both turned around, pausing your movement with the drumsticks, as your brother stumbled out the door.

“Man, you’ve got some great food in there,” he started, muffled and laughing. His face dropped when he noticed you were beside Rodrick, closer than you had started. He pointed between the two of you and started to swallow the rest of the food in his mouth so his next string of words would be clear. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” you replied, standing up. Rodrick quickly scrambled to his feet after you, nearly falling over again. “I just asked Rodrick to teach me something.” You were being vague and you could tell it was setting your brother off.

“Y/n, get in the car. I need to talk to Rodrick,” your brother demanded. You frowned a little.

Handing Rodrick’s drumstick back to him, you walked to the car and tossed yourself in the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. You pouted slightly, crossing your arms over your chest. Despite your initial thought of Rodrick, you had a better time talking to him than most guys your age. Granted, Rodrick was only a year older, but it was different. Maybe it was the added aspect of him being your brother’s bandmate that made it more exciting. But you were unbothered by that fact, you had just wished you had gotten to talk to him more.

Rodrick and your brother talked for a while and when your brother got in the car, he seemed pissed. He stayed silent through the car ride and the tension was practically suffocating you. It’s not like you and Rodrick had done anything.

Your parents were already home by the time you pulled into the driveway. They were sat on the couch, watching some movie together. It was nearly 10:30 but your parents had long since given up on a curfew for the two of you.

You greeted your parents and wished them goodnight before running off to your room. You hoped your brother wouldn’t hold a grudge against you and the whole Rodrick thing would just blow over in the morning. Unfortunately, that wasn’t Rodrick’s intention.

The bell rang, signaling the school day’s end. Kids poured out of classrooms, their laughter and shouts filling the hall. You rushed to your locker and fumbled for the lock.

You and your brother had worked things out. He had told you just to stay away from Rodrick and he said he had told Rodrick the same thing. Seems like Rodrick missed that part.

A hand slammed your locker shut, startling you. A tall figure with dark messy hair and some sort of graphic t-shirt tucked only in the front behind a pair of jeans stood there. Rodrick smirked, leaning up against the locker next to yours. You were stunned, a half full backpack in your hands with your jaw hanging slack.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, pushing him away as you started to unlock your locker once more.

“I go to school here,” he retorted. You rolled your eyes and quickly shoved the rest of your things in your bag.

“No shit?” you questioned sarcastically, closing your locker. His brow furrowed. “I meant what are you doing talking to me?” He smiled, looking away from you.

“Well, I decided I don’t care what your brother tells me to do,” he replied simply, a smirk still plastered on his lips. God, you wished you could smack it off.

“So, what, you wanna talk to me now?” you pestered, zipping up your backpack and slinging it on one shoulder.

“Who said I didn’t want to talk to you before?” he blurted out. He froze, shutting his eyes in embarrassment. You could feel a slight blush creep on your face but you dismissed it, shaking your head. You started to walk away but Rodrick followed, still trying to keep your attention.

“Do you need something from my brother or are you really just here to bother me?” you asked as you pushed open the front doors, exiting the school. Rodrick grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side, away from the crowd of students eager to get home.

“This isn’t about your brother. You could come over and I could finish teaching you-” he rambled but you stopped him.

“You must be crazy, Rodrick. If my brother sees me standing here with you right now, I’m as good as dead, and so are you,” you urged, trying to walk away from him but he pulled you back.

“Then come over tonight. Just you. He won’t see then,” Rod suggested. Your jaw seemed to drop a little and you nearly gave in. You shook your head.

“No, no, no, he’ll ask where I was or where i’m going and he won’t stop until he figures it out,” you tried to explain, attempting to flee one last time but he pulled you back.

“Then just lie. If he asks me, I’ll do the same.” You paused, and swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Why are you so determined to talk to me?” you questioned, looking at him puzzled. He looked down, biting the inside of his cheek. He shrugged and his eyes looked everywhere but you.

You hated to admit it but you were disappointed. You were hoping to get an answer out of Rodrick but as the moments passed and there was nothing but shared silence between you two, you left. And that night, you almost considered going over to his house but you thought better of it and stayed home.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that. And for a little while after that. He incessantly pestered you day after day. Some days, he only spoke to you briefly, asking if you knew whether or not your brother was coming over for a band rehearsal. Other days, it seemed like he didn’t know your brother existed and he only asked about you. It was getting easier to tell him no, even if you wanted to say yes. He was expecting rejection.

By the second week of asking, he was losing interest and would take no as answer right away instead of asking repeatedly after that. And on Friday, he didn’t ask at all. You saw him walking to his van, headphones in with his head down. You frowned, watching him tentatively, hoping he was fetching something from the car and he would turn back and ask you.

As the weekend came along, you tapped your desk with your pen. There was a pile of crumbled up papers beside you and your notebook was nearly halfway ripped out. You frustratedly drew a bunch of scribbles on the page when no words would come out. You torn the piece of paper out and crumbled it, tossing it with the rest of the papers. You gave up, tossing your pen on your desk and turning to your bed. You flopped down and stared at your ceiling blankly. You hadn’t managed to stop thinking about Rodrick since you had seen him walking away. You shut your eyes, trying to clear your head.

Rodrick was doing the same in his room. He blasted music in his ears, trying to occupy his time. Calling him head over heels was an understatement, but it was a statement he couldn’t wrap his head around. You were annoyed because you couldn’t stop thinking about him for a day. He’d been hung up on you for weeks. At first, he thought nothing of it. He thought you were cool, cooler than your brother, and he just wanted to talk to you again. But the more he saw you and the more he talked you (even though every time you spoke, you were turning him down), he was becoming crazy over you. He’d do anything to impress you, making a fool of himself in the process. He wished you would notice him. Every band rehearsal he had, he prayed that your brother would bring you along again. He was always disappointed. But he would never say he had feelings cause he didn’t believe he had any for you.

It was Saturday night and your guilt was eating you alive. You paced your room for a while, trying to clear your thoughts but nothing worked. You ended up surrendering into temptation. You booked it downstairs and swiped the car keys off the counter. Unfortunately, your brother was downstairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked, stopping you at the door.

“My friend’s house, why?” you replied innocently, hiding your intentions.

“Then why are you in a hurry?” he questioned. You racked your brain for a response and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Girl problems,” you answered, knowing he wouldn’t ask anymore questions after that. He made a face of disgust and walked back to the couch. You let out a light sigh of relief before scurrying out the door.

It wasn’t long before you pulled to a stop in the Heffley’s driveway. You nervously walked up the front steps and hesitated before ringing the doorbell. You thought you had the wrong house when a boy, who looked to be only 12, answered the door.

“Is Rodrick here?” you asked cautiously, anxiously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. The boy’s jaw dropped and he glanced back inside the house.

“You’re here for Rodrick?” he marveled. “Rodrick?” he asked again in shock. You smiled a little, some of the nervousness easing. He remained stunned as he invited you in.

“Who was it?” a woman’s voice called from the kitchen. You started to realize how much of mistake this was. The boy looked at you again.

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly.

“Y/n,” you mumbled.

“It’s one of Rodrick’s friends, Y/n,” the boy answered. You could hear footsteps coming closer now and you panicked, wishing you could turn back and flee.

“But y/n sounds like a girl’s name,” the woman spoke quietly and she seemed pleasantly surprised when her eyes found you. You didn’t look like most of Rodrick’s friends. Sure, this wasn’t the best you looked but you were more put together than the rest of his friends.

“Oh! Hi!” she exclaimed. Oh god, you thought to yourself, I’m meeting his parents. “I’m Susan, Rodrick’s mom. It’s so good to meet you,” she went on, extending her hand out to you. You felt bad considering your hands were a bit clammy from all the anxiety you felt, but you shook her hand anyway out of politeness. “Greg, will you go get Rodrick?” she asked the boy and he nodded and reluctantly ran up the stairs.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt or show up at a bad time or anything,” you stuttered but she smiled and shook her head.

“Nonsense! Would you like to stay for dinner?” she offered. Your eyes widened a little.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you,” you quickly replied. Footsteps came running down the stairs and your attention diverted. The boy, alongside Rodrick, came running down the stairs. Your heart seemed to be pounding out of your chest, thumping obnoxiously in your ears. Your eyes frantically looked between the three of them. You could only assume your face was turning red.

“Why have you never told me about her, Rodrick?” Susan asked, a smile still on her face. “She seems lovely.” You forced a polite smile but it faltered when you caught Rodrick’s eye.

“Guess I forgot,” he lied.

“Uh, Rodrick?” you asked, your voice breaking. You cleared your throat. “Can i talk to you?” A small smirk started to form on his lips.

“Yeah, come on, we can talk in my room,” he suggested. You swallowed a lump in your throat and followed him carefully up the stairs. Your eyes were glassy and you could feel your lip start to bleed as you continuously chewed on it.

His room was in the attic which only distanced you further away from your escape route. He flopped down onto his bed, resting his back against the headboard and crossing his legs over one another. He put his hands behind his head, the smirk still on his lips.

“So, you changed your mind, huh?” Rodrick chuckled. You could feel the pink rush to your cheeks, wishing he hadn’t looked as good as he did. But, god, you wished you could slap him and take the smirk away from his face.

“If my brother finds out,” you pause, stepping closer to him. “If you tell him, Rodrick, I will-”

“You’ll what, sweetheart?” Rodrick teased, leaning forward so he was closer to you. He chuckled when your jaw went slack, flustered and speechless.

You managed to regain your confidence and you pushed him away from you so he was leaning against the headboard again.

“I’m leaving. This was a mistake,” you explained, ready to dash for the exit. Rodrick was already on his feet and blocking the staircase within the blink of an eye.

“How is this a mistake?” he asked, keeping you from leaving. You sighed and tried to push him aside but he fought back.

“Rodrick,” you warned but he didn’t budge.

“If this is a mistake, why’d you come here in the first place?” Rodrick asked, searching your eyes for an answer. You paused, looking away. Your shoulders shrugged and you could hear him faintly sigh.

“How come you keep trying to talk to me at school? I met you once at a band rehearsal, it was nothing!” Your voice was starting to raise, unaware of your emotions.

“I know that was nothing! I just don’t know what it is! I don’t know why, okay?” Rodrick shouted back. He was sure his parents would be able to hear if they walked by, but that was one of the last things on his mind.

“What, do you like me or something?” Your voice came out harsh and impolite and you wished you had shut up a long time ago. You shut your eyes, and looked down. “I-I’m sorry,” you began to ramble but Rodrick wasn’t listening, too enveloped by his own thoughts.

He couldn’t like you. He could never. He liked Heather Hills. He’s spent forever chasing after her and doing everything to impress her. That’s who he liked. You were just his friend’s annoying little sister. Just because you talked to him first or that you had an interest in his band didn’t mean he liked you. It didn’t mean you liked him either. Just because he spent weeks chasing after you doesn’t mean it was romantically inclined, right.

“Y/n,” Rodrick spoke over your stutters of an apology. You went quiet, eyes glassy. He hesitated, swallowing a lump in his throat. “You wanna go to the dance with me?” Your eyes went wide and your brow furrowed.

“What? What does that have to do with anything?” you questioned, confused and dazed.

“I was going to ask you. I don’t know why,” he added. “There’s a dance in about a month. I was going to ask you after we had hung out but I think you’d like to leave now and I just had to ask-”

“Are you crazy?” you asked, bewildered. He fell silent. He knew it had been the wrong time to ask but he couldn’t hold the words from rolling off tongue his any longer.

“Is that a yes or no?” he asked. You shook your head and pushed him aside.

“No, Rodrick. And don’t ask for a reason. There’s too many of them.”

The dismissing bell rang, marking the end of the day. You hurried to your locker and quickly piled everything inside. Part of you hoped that Rodrick would come running up and slam your locker shut, scaring you the way it always did. You stood foolishly, glancing around for any sight of him. When there was nothing, you closed it and made your way towards the exit.

You trudged to your brother’s car, who you shared a ride with, and heard him arguing with someone else. You tried to hide behind the side of the car and peek your head up to watch and listen to what he was saying. That’s when you noticed the white van parked beside you with Löded Diper painted on it. It was Rodrick.

“You asked her to the dance?! What the hell, dude?! She’s my sister!” your brother shouted. You felt your face flush and your heart stopped.

“Look, man, I’m sorry! She didn’t say yes so what does it matter anyway?” Rodrick fought back. You glanced around nervously before you decided to make your presence known before the argument got any worse.

“What are you guys talking about?” you asked, acting oblivious. They glanced at each other then looked back at you.

“Nothing, get in the car,” your brother said, sliding into the driver’s seat. Rodrick looked annoyed and hurt and he avoided looking at you, hiding the way the tears started to pool in his eyes. He shook his head and got in the front seat of his van. You swung open the car door and flopped yourself down into the seat, wishing you could’ve said something to Rodrick.

Later that night, your brother was passed out asleep on the couch, some television show blasting on the tv. You swiftly snuck your way into his room, searching around for the piece of paper where your brother kept phone numbers. Your brother was terrible when it came to remembering numbers, which became an advantage for you.

You found the slip of paper in his desk drawer and you quickly scanned the list until you found Rodrick’s number. You pulled out your phone and hurriedly dialed it before scurrying out the room in case your brother had woken up.

The phone rung for a while as you paced your room until a tired voice on the other end of the line picked up.

“Hello?” the voice asked, raspy and ridden with sleep. You let out a light sigh of relief, glad he had picked up.

“Hey, Rodrick, can we talk?” you asked, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth.

“Who is this?” he groaned, followed by the rustle of what sounded like bedsheets.

“I’m afraid if I told you, you’d hang up,” you mumbled. Finally waking up, your words seem to catch his attention and he managed to put 2 and 2 together.

“Y/n?” he guessed, knowing the sound of your voice all too well now. Your eyes shifted down and you hesitated before answering with a quiet “yes”.

“Look, Rod, I’m sorry about Saturday. I was a total ass and I was just confused and tired, and I know those are just a bunch of excuses but-” He interrupted.

“It’s fine. You were right.” He sounded run down and miserable.

Silence filled the room and you only felt more guilty as the seconds passed. You racked your brain for something to say, feeling the tears start to pool in your eyes.

“Are you still going to that dance?” you asked, your voice breaking from the tears coming on. Rodrick was quiet for a moment and you thought maybe he hung up or fell asleep again.

“Yeah, why?” he questioned, sitting up in his bed curiously. You shut your eyes in embarrassment before you spoke again.

“If you don’t already have another date, I wanna go. With you.” His end of the line went dead silent. You pulled the phone away from your ear and checked to make sure he hadn’t hung up this time. You shut your eyes tightly, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all. You should’ve never called him, you should’ve never gone over to his house, you shouldn’t have talked to him at the rehearsal-

The line clicked and he was gone, leaving without a response. Your heart sank and a hot tear rolled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away and threw your phone across the room, not caring if it broke. You could feel more tears coming on and you buried your face in your hands.

You were left sobbing for a while before you heard the doorbell ring, followed by a long string of impatient knocks. You quickly wiped your tears away and checked your reflection on your way out of your room to make sure you didn’t look like a shit-show.

The loud rapping on the door didn’t stop until you reached the door. You swung the door open, prepared to shout at whoever had been knocking at the door annoyingly for so long. You froze when you saw the figure outside the door, your mouth going slightly agape. Before you could even fully process it, lips were pressed against yours and you felt your heart skip a beat. Your head went fuzzy, unable to think straight. You could only feel his lips and the rush of blood going to your face and how you could feel every goosebump rising on your skin. It felt nearly euphoric, making every bad thought slip away as if they’d never happened.

His lips separated from yours and your eyes fluttered open. Your eyes were met with glassy brown doe eyes with a few strands of shaggy deep brown hair falling in front of them. His tall figure stood over you, leaning down close to you. His eyes flicked down to your lips then back to your eyes. He started to move in for another kiss but you pulled back, putting a hand on his chest to push him away. You shook your head.

“Not here. My brother could see,” you whispered. Thankfully your brother hadn’t woken up from his deep sleep on the couch even after the persistent knocking and the doorbell. But you weren’t gonna risk it.

“I don’t care,” Rodrick mumbled and he brought his lips to yours again. You kept him close to you but pushed him away from the door and closed it behind you. Your back pressed against the door and you pulled him closer to you by his collar.

When your lips broke apart again, a smile spread across your face as you pressed your forehead to his. “So, about the dance,” you began slowly. His lips brushed against yours again and his hand cupped your face.

“That later,” he mumbled. “How about you come over tonight?”

———

a/n: okay so i may have gotten a bit carried away with this one, but i hope this matched your request!

[hyuniemyunie]

Can I get a reaction of Reigen arataka to finding out his s/o Can pole dance, his reaction etc. i have a feeling he’d want to try it after hearing someone he know does it lmao

Slippin’ and Slidin’ (and Dying of Embarrassment)

reigen arataka x gn reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): fluff, established relationship, HES TRYING HIS BEST.

(im emptying my inbox🙏)

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

ᯓ★ The moment you casually drop the fact that you can pole dance, Reigen does a double take so hard you think he might get whiplash. "You can what now?"

ᯓ★ He blinks a few times, opens his mouth, then closes it. You can see his brain short-circuiting. He wasn’t expecting this information, and now his entire perception of you is shifting.

ᯓ★ "Oh, yeah, no, totally. Of course, you can. Makes sense. Pole dancing takes a lot of, uh—strength! And coordination! And, uh… did I mention strength?" He’s absolutely stalling because his brain is still catching up.

ᯓ★ Once he gets past the initial shock, he starts getting really into asking you about it. "Wait, hold on, how long have you been doing this? How did you even start? Can you do those crazy spins???"

ᯓ★ After hearing about how difficult it is and how much skill it takes, he immediately decides he also wants to try it. "I mean, how hard can it be, right?" (Famous last words.)

---

You had never seen someone go through all five stages of grief as quickly as Reigen did after grabbing onto the pole for the first time.

"Okay, okay, just—just give me a second," he muttered, gripping the pole with a confidence he absolutely did not have. He bounced on the balls of his feet, psyching himself up like he was about to do something heroic.

You stood a safe distance away, arms crossed, watching the disaster unfold. "You sure about this?"

"Of course!" he scoffed. "Listen, I might not be professionally trained, but I’ve got a solid core! I used to do martial arts, you know!"

That was the moment you knew he was doomed.

With a determined huff, Reigen jumped—and instantly regretted everything.

The squeak of his hands slipping against the pole was loud. His legs flailed wildly as he tried to swing himself around, but instead of looking like the graceful performer he imagined, he resembled a fish out of water desperately trying to escape a hook.

"Oh—oh god—why is this so—hngh—hard?!" he wheezed, his arms already trembling from the sheer effort of holding himself up.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. "You good?"

"DO I LOOK GOOD?!"

No. No, he did not.

Despite his valiant effort, gravity won the battle in mere seconds. With a final unceremonious slip, Reigen slid down the pole in slow-motion defeat, his feet finally hitting the ground with an awkward thud. He clung to the pole for a moment, panting, forehead resting against the metal like it had personally betrayed him.

You stepped closer, grinning. "So, still think it’s easy?"

Reigen groaned dramatically, peeling himself off the pole. "Okay, fine, maybe it's a little harder than it looks."

"A little?"

"A lot," he admitted, rubbing his sore arms. Then, with a theatrical sigh, he flopped onto the floor. "Y'know what? I think I’m gonna leave the pole-dancing expertise to you. I’ll just… admire from afar. Safely. With both feet on the ground."

You laughed, kneeling beside him. "Proud of you for trying, though."

"Please tell me you didn’t record that."

You just smiled.

"...You did, didn't you?"

"Yup."

"God damn it."

---

You weren’t expecting to walk into this.

When you came home, you thought—at worst—maybe Reigen had left the kitchen a mess, or at best, he was passed out on the couch after a long day of scamming—I mean, freelancing. What you didn’t expect was to hear grunts and muffled curses coming from the other room, followed by an alarming series of thuds and a very loud, "Oh, you son of a—!"

Immediately, you rushed toward the noise, half-expecting to find him fighting off a ghost (or more realistically, wrestling with a piece of furniture). But when you threw open the door—

Oh.

Oh my god.

Reigen. On a pole.

Well, more accurately—Reigen attempting to be on a pole.

Your brain took a second to fully register the sight in front of you. He was gripping the pole for dear life, his legs wrapped around it in the worst possible way, as if he had attempted some kind of spin but then completely lost control halfway through. His body was twisted at an awkward angle, like a cat that had fallen mid-jump and was trying to play it off. His dress shirt was half-untucked, sleeves rolled up, hair everywhere, and the sheer concentration on his face was both impressive and deeply, deeply concerning.

Neither of you spoke.

You simply stood there, staring.

He simply clung, breathing hard, looking like a man who had been caught in the middle of a crime.

"...What," you finally said, voice flat, "the hell am I looking at?"

Reigen froze. His pupils shrank. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple. You could see the calculations running through his head at lightning speed, his mouth opening and closing as he desperately tried to think of an excuse.

"...Would you believe me if I said I was possessed?"

You squinted. "No."

"Right, okay. Uh. Well." He coughed, awkwardly shifting his grip, which only made things worse. His foot slipped, and he let out a very undignified yelp before frantically clutching the pole like his life depended on it.

You watched this unfold with an unreadable expression. "You do realize you’re just making it worse, right?"

"I’m aware, thank you," he grumbled, attempting to right himself. It didn’t work. If anything, it only succeeded in making him slide further down in slow-motion defeat, ending in him sprawled on the floor in a heap of exhaustion.

There was another long pause.

Then you clapped.

Reigen groaned, covering his face. "Please stop."

"No, no, don’t mind me," you said, smirking. "Go on, Superstar, show me your moves."

Reigen groaned again, louder this time, dragging a hand down his face. "God, I was really hoping you wouldn't walk in on this."

"Yeah, well, life’s full of disappointments." You crossed your arms. "So. Wanna explain why exactly you were trying to seduce an invisible audience in our living room?"

"I WASN’T TRYING TO SEDUCE ANYONE—" He stopped mid-rant, sighing dramatically before sitting up and dusting himself off. "Look, I just… I heard you talking about it the other day, and, you know…" He gestured vaguely. "I figured, how hard could it be?"

"Ah," you said knowingly. "So you were trying to impress me."

Reigen sputtered. "Wha—No—I was just—for science—!"

"For science," you echoed, unimpressed.

"Yes!" He pointed at you. "Because I’m a supportive partner who believes in understanding his significant other’s interests! And, uh—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Turns out it’s a lot harder than it looks."

You snorted. "Yeah, no shit."

Reigen scowled. "Alright, alright, laugh it up, why don’t you—"

"Oh, don’t worry, I am."

"—But for real, how the hell do you make it look so easy?" He groaned, stretching out his sore limbs. "I feel like I just got jumped by a metal pipe."

You shrugged. "Skill. Strength. Years of experience. Also, y'know—not flailing like a dying fish."

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue. Instead, he sighed, leaning back on his hands. "So, uh… how bad did I look?"

You considered this. "On a scale from one to train wreck?"

Reigen gave you a deadpan look. "Don’t answer that."

"Okay, okay, in all seriousness," you said, grinning. "It wasn’t that bad for a first try. You at least managed to get on the pole. Kinda."

"Thanks. I think."

You offered him a hand. He took it, letting you pull him up.

"Tell you what," you said. "If you really wanna learn, I can actually teach you."

Reigen hesitated, rubbing his sore shoulder. "That’s, uh… tempting, but I don’t know if my dignity can take another hit."

"Oh, come on," you teased. "What happened to being a supportive partner who understands his significant other’s interests?"

His eye twitched. "I walked right into that one."

"Yep."

He groaned, but after a moment, he sighed. "Fine, fine. But if I end up in the hospital, you're explaining it to the doctor."

"Deal."

Reigen stretched again, wincing. "First things first, though… I need some damn water."

"And I need to delete the security footage before you realize I saved it."

"Wait, what—"

You patted his shoulder. "Nothing. Love you!"

Reigen stared at you, squinting in suspicion. "...I don't trust you."

"Good instincts."

[wooahoe]

fresh off the boat — rocket line + uji + aerie oneshot

fob/fresh off the boat adj · sometimes-derogatory phrase or term used to describe immigrants who have arrived from a foreign nation and have yet to assimilate into the host nation's culture, language, and behavior, but still continue with their ethnic ideas and practices (paraphrased from wikipedia) <- very common in asian american circles — “you know eunyoung, right? she’s such a fob!” twinkie noun, slang · an ethnically korean (or east asian) person who is whitewashed; refers to being “yellow” on the outside but “white” on the inside; typically used in a joking manner but is generally a derogatory term; banana is also used in the same manner — “she tries to hide it, but we all know she’s such a twinkie! have you heard her accent? she doesn’t sound korean at all!” aerieverse mlist — 🎧 saranghey❕dory’s playlist

cw: author is lowkey a twinkie ㅠㅠ, swearing in general, konglish (both romanized and not), angst(?), discussion of race and culture, alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos and insinuations, very very self indulgent !! aerie is sometimes referred to as “shroomie” + variations of mushroom-related nicknames (i thought it was cute cuz aerie = fairie = mushroom circles? bro idk), 1.4k-ish words

a/n: IM WORKING ON THE SERIES I SWEAR❕here’s the aerieverse 미국 line in the meantime

this fic is very much based on my own personal experience (at least aerie’s part, not vernon’s cuz i’m not whasian) and i felt like josh and vernon would be the perfect people to rant to about this sort of thing (uji’s my bias there’s no justification for him). I AM NOT TRYING TO BE A 검머외 PLS UNDERSTAND 🙏 also based off of my rant from this post

— ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

aerie lee was having a relatively shitty day.

the party that chan had convinced her to go to had turned out to be far too loud for her liking, and after one too many ‘sorry, i’m here with my soulmate’s, she was left alone in a house full of asians, alcohol, and her thoughts. which, unfortunately for aerie, tended to spiral easily, especially when she was already uncomfortable and not allowed to drink.

after about five hours of pure torture, she managed to get a very intoxicated seungcheol, jun, mingyu, soonyoung, and chan back to a very disgruntled minghao and seungkwan with the help of an only slightly tipsy hansol, before driving back to her own shared apartment, where she, joshua, jihoon, and hansol lived.

once she stepped through the front door, she immediately kicked off her boots, tossed her purse onto the counter, grabbed two drinks from the fridge, and flopped onto the couch dramatically.

hansol laughed at her position, taking a seat next to her and raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“was the party really that bad?”

she sighed, and took a long drink from the bottle in her hand before sending a muffled groan into the couch cushion.

“what’s wrong?”

“have you ever felt like you’re not actually korean enough?”

at this, joshua and jihoon emerged from one of the bedrooms, both thoroughly disheveled, one looking slightly confused and the other worried. joshua shot a questioning glance at hansol, who shrugged, raising an eyebrow back at the elder’s appearance, getting up from his seat and making his way to the kitchen.

“have you been drinking?” joshua asked.

“what happened to hi, hello, how was the party?” hansol questioned.

“그런니까. and what the fuck were you and hoonie doing while we were gone?” she added, doing a once-over of both of them, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

jihoon crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, pink beginning to spread from his ears to his cheeks. “hi, hello, how was the party, we were studying. answer the question, rin, because what kind of question was that?”

she snorted, taking another sip of her drink. “studying my ass, it’s three in the fucking morning, why are either of you up?”

joshua shook his head endearingly, and scolded her lightly.

“it was nothing like that, hoon was helping me go over something and we got sidetracked. but seriously, aerie, what do you mean by that? and why are you sitting like that? are you sure you’re not drunk?”

hansol’s laugh and his ‘sidetracked’ is crazy! could be heard from the kitchen.

aerie laughed before replying, “no, josh. i’m sober, i swear.”

he looked over at her, furrowing his brows. she was laying upside down on the couch, with her legs hooked over the top and her head hanging down near the bottom.

sober, indeed.

hansol, coming back from the kitchen with a pair of beers, a coke zero, and a package of girl scout cookies, let out a snort. “we were literally at a frat party with the hyungs and channie, like, twenty minutes ago. sober, my ass.” joshua pressed a kiss to his temple in greeting before accepting a beer.

“yeah, sol, and i was the dd. so no, i’m not drunk. not even tipsy.”

“you literally have two sojus next to your head,” jihoon retorted, taking a seat next to her upside-down head.

she swiveled her head to the side opposite jihoon, and sure enough, there was a pair of peach sojus sitting at the base of the couch, right next to her ear. one of them was empty; she’d somehow managed to finish the whole bottle before the older two had sat down in the living room.

“oh.” she let out a huff, and then waved her hand around flippantly. “just answer the damn question.”

joshua, who had taken a seat on the floor opposite hansol, let out a quiet sigh, and took a large swig of the drink that the younger had handed him before meeting her gaze.

“what happened at the party, shroomie?” he asked, tone gentle.

she raised an eyebrow before maneuvering her body so that she was sitting upright, and slid off the couch to lean against jihoon.

“왜? what makes you think something happened?” she scoffed, bringing the drink to her lips.

jihoon set his cola down and flicked her forehead lightly.

“yah, why else would we think something happened? it’s not like this came out of nowhere.”

she frowned, pouting a little (most likely from the alcohol, or perhaps spending a bit too much time with seungcheol), but stayed quiet, sipping her drink.

hansol, who had stayed silent for most of the conversation, spoke up.

“yeah, when i was younger, i kinda did. not as much when i was living in new york, but after moving to hongdae…it was kinda hard, y’know?” he bit into a samoa before continuing. “i mean, my mom’s genes definitely came on stronger than my dad’s, and surprising people with your ability to speak korean wears off after the first few times. but i guess i never really felt…not korean? like, english isn’t hard for me, but korean has always been a little easier for me, and i’m more used to the culture in korea than i do here.

“but i don’t feel, y’know, not american either. i guess after a while i stopped caring about what people thought.”

joshua nodded, then tilted his head to the side, as if considering his words.

“i think i felt that after coming to korea, too, for the first showcase that we did. it’s not like i couldn’t speak korean, but it’s a little daunting. almost nobody called me jisoo at home, and so for everyone to start calling me that once we got to seoul…it felt a little awkward. like i was pretending to be someone that i wasn’t.”

jihoon hummed in agreement.

“it’s weird when you’re used to being called a certain name and then all of a sudden you’re being called something else.”

the three of them shot him a confused look.

“ji, your name is korean,” joshua said, tilting his head in confusion.

“yeah, but going from jee-hoon to 지훈 was kinda 이상해. having everyone pronounce my name properly was 이상해.”

aerie snorted.

“when we came back home, though, i went back to being joshua. and that probably would’ve been weirder if you and hansol hadn’t called me josh during the trip,” joshua finished.

aerie hummed, staring at her drink again, as if processing everything her boys had told her.

“are you okay?” jihoon asked, placing a hand on her knee.

during the conversation, joshua had moved to lay on his back in front of the two, with hansol shifting to lay his head against aerie’s thigh and his legs on top of joshua’s, the drinks and cookies long forgotten.

she merely hummed again, and ran her hand through hansol’s hair before responding.

“it’s just…i don’t know. nobody ever uses my korean name except for, like, jeonghan; everyone just calls me 애리. which isn’t, y’know, a bad thing, but…” she sighed, reaching over jihoon’s lap to grab her soju, “몰라요. and my korean is pretty…well, it’s not ass, necessarily, but my accent is so terribly american that junnie can barely understand it. i’m literally a twinkie at this point.”

hansol frowned. “who told you that?”

“nobody.” she took a sip of her soju before pursing her lips and opting for a cookie instead.

“shroomie.” she looked up and saw the three of them staring at her.

“what?”

“who the hell called you that?” jihoon asked, frowning.

“nobody, hoon.”

“then why—”

“it’s just frustrating.”

joshua nodded, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

“it’s like i’m…stuck. not entirely american, evidently, because i’m too asian, but not fobby enough to be fully korean. stuck in this weird limbo, y’know? i’m 외국인 wherever i end up.”

then the four of them fell silent, the only noise being joshua’s hum of agreement.

“is this because the showcase is coming up?” hansol asked.

“응, 맞아.”

“괜찮을 거에요. 안게 될 거야.”

“그렇게 바라요, 우지야, 그렇게 바라요.”

— ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

a/n: bro i love samoas so much…

[archangeldyke-all]

im dying for a little (Consensual!!) somno with sevika 🙏🙏

honk shoo.... honk shoo... oh i'm sleeping so soundly rn i hope a big sexy lesbian doesn't take advantage of me... honk shoo...

men and minors dni

you guys had fallen asleep spooning while watching cartoons on your laptop.

sevika blinks awake about three hours later. the cartoons are still blasting so she reaches out and slams the laptop shut before wrapping her arm back around your waist.

she nuzzles into your neck. you smell so good-- like soap and sleep and skin. sevika hums against you, closing her eyes to go back to sleep.

you're so warm in her arms, soft little sighs escaping your lips as you snooze beside sevika. she sighs in satisfaction, her breath tickling your neck causing you to grunt and shift in your sleep, your ass pressing against sevika's crotch.

she sucks a breath in between her teeth, her eyes snapping back open. fuck.

fuck.

now she wants you. she was perfectly content going back to sleep two seconds ago, but now with your ass pressing deliciously against her, she's wide awake and raring to go.

she gently rolls you onto your stomach as she rolls her eyes at herself, at how fucking needy she is for you. your body is pliant under her, moving easily as she pushes your shoulder.

she straddles your thighs and shoves your pajama pants down, grinning when your ass is revealed to her. you huff in your sleep, and she freezes-- waiting for two minutes for your soft snores to return before she starts fondling your ass with her hands.

she takes a few minutes to simply admire you. she spreads your ass cheeks, gets a good look at your cunt and hole, then lets go, giggling at the way your ass jiggles. she watches in fascination as your cunt slowly starts glistening-- your body reacting to her touch while your mind is still off in dream land.

fuck, she loves you. she loves you so much. she leans down to press a gentle kiss to your mouth, smiling at the happy little twitch of your lips as your subconscious reacts to the familiar sensation. then, she leans back down your body, spreading your legs and kneeling between them.

she takes a moment to simply admire her view-- your clit poking out between your wet folds, your ass in her hands-- then she leans forward and licks a long stripe up your cunt.

your breath comes out as a shudder, but your body doesn't move. sevika grins, then she dives face first into your cunt and ass, eating you out like a woman starved.

she's not worried about waking you up anymore, her hands clawing into your ass and her tongue slurping at the arousal that leaks from your cunt. all she's worried about is tasting you, and the sweet way your little hole clenches around nothing.

she chuckles against you as you start to twitch, slurping your clit into her mouth when you moan out a half asleep "mmmsev?"

"cum in my mouth." she whispers against you. you don't hear it, you're still dreaming.

sevika nips at your thigh and you snap awake. "sevika!?" you gasp. she chuckles between your legs and continues to lick you up. "fuck!" you exclaim as you cum, shaking against sevika's quick tongue and plush lips. she hums happily against you, licking up your cum as you sleepily grind your hips against her face.

when you stop twitching, she pulls away from your cunt with a gasp, smacking your ass lovingly as she rises to hover over you as you flop onto your back, then pressing her lips against yours.

you hum into her mouth, licking sevika's lips clean of your cum. "g'morning." you say with a sleepy grin. she smiles at you.

"still the middle of the night." you raise an eyebrow at her and she giggles, shrugging.

"i couldn't help it! had to have you." she says sweetly, gently tracing your cheek with her thumb. you lean forward to press a kiss to her lips, your hands coming up to hook over her shoulders, your legs wrapping around her thighs.

"you know... since you woke me up it's your responsibility to put me back to sleep." you say as you bat your eyes up at sevika, slowly pulling her closer and closer to your body. she grins. "got any ideas on how you could wear me out?" you ask.

she answers your question with a kiss as one of her hands rips open the nightstand drawers in search of the lube.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity

[106alibi]

together (dates with bf!renjun). fluff.

requested

cuddles. perhaps the most common activity for your dates. it's arguably the easiest when you and renjun lack the energy for anything else, when the most important part is being together anyway. he'd go over to your house and flop into your arms, mumbling something about recharging as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around you warmly in a hug that makes you both sway back and forth in a calming rhythm. he'd pull away, only to drag you to your room where he makes himself at home under your plush duvet, and make a space in his lap just for you, where you both doomscroll in each others' embrace, frequently giggling at posts you send each other, before your eyelids eventually start to droop and you fall into slumber, with your head nested snugly on renjun's chest, and him placing gentle kisses on the crown of your head.

picnics are also a favourite of yours. it just seems like such a waste when the weather is sunny and you have the cutest boyfriend to take pictures of. renjun loves the cliches of red-white gingham picnic mats and rattan baskets, stacked and fully prepped with homemade sandwiches and fruit, and he'd excitedly offer to braid your hair before the two of you leave the house. if you love taking pictures of renjun on your dates, renjun loves painting you. he'd pack a small canvas and a brush set, so that while you munch away on your homemade sandwiches, leaning over to feed him a bite from time to time, he'd be busy fussing over how to best capture your beauty in his paint strokes.

"I messed up the painting, y/n." he'd say with a pout.

and you'd chuckle as you stroke the back of his soft hair, "it's okay baby, the most important part is being together anyway."

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SUCH A LONG TIME ⭐ ANON PLEASE FORGIVE ME 🙏🙏🙏🙏

[ammarettu]

please pleaseeeeee please please please give us a part 3 to true hate's kiss i NEED a resolution im obsessed 🙏

Your wish is my command.

Parts 1 and 2

Part 3 under the break

He dithers at the edge of the stage for just a moment, hesitates, until Valdo forcefully shoves him back into the crowd.

He doesn't want to think about what will happen now, his hands have a tremble to them that make him almost wonder if he could claim to be ill again just to keep him. He wonders if Geralt will notice if he just... follows him out of the party and into his camp and just... stays there.

He groans, of course Geralt would notice. He's already annoyed the poor man enough. Fuck. What does he even say now? Should he say anything? Should he just leave and save Geralt the trouble?

He nabs a cup of wine from an unsuspecting bystander who huffs at him in disapproval. He tosses it back in one fluid motion, then glances over to where Geralt was only to find the Witcher absent from the space.

Jaskier's heart somehow plummets and rises into his throat all at once, his pulse throbs in his fingers. Of course Geralt would leave the moment the curse was broken. Why the fuck would he stick around? Jaskier's already been enough of a burden on him, even before this whole fiasco, he couldn't have honestly expected, or even hoped, for Geralt to stick around.

He asks someone if they saw where the Witcher went, alright he asks several people, but none saw him leave. He slipped out silently, or whatever. Likely to avoid Jaskier trying to trail after him like he always used to.

Jaskier takes a breath, closes his eyes in an attempt to calm himself and force the tears back - it doesn't work. He gets drunk instead.

-

Geralt flees, you know, like a coward.

He can't describe the rush of feeling that floods through him when he hears Jaskier's voice again for the first time in... too long. He'd gotten so used to having that voice at his side, encouraging him, complimenting him, and just generally being a light that was far too bright for this world. For Geralt's world, dark and dripping with blood and hatred.

And hearing him speak again wrenches at something in his chest that he doesn't want to dwell on. Something raw and painful. He thought when he heard that voice again he could have atoned for all the cruel shit he'd spewed, merciless and without truth.

He can't bear to stick around and hear that voice turn on him the same way he'd done to Jaskier. Can't bear to hear the words of hatred he's so used to hearing from every other human pour like vitriol from such sweet lips-

Can't bear the rejection.

It's pathetic, after all he's put the bard through, all he's said, how he's certain his own words felt to Jaskier, who feels everything so deeply. But he is pathetic, and a coward, so he runs.

He finds himself down one of the estate's many long halls, golden filigree doors lining the walls. He'd intended to go outside, kind of. He hadn't really been paying attention, more concerned with simply moving away, but he'd hoped he might just end up outdoors.

Still, it's better than nothing. He pushes open a door, finding a large bedroom on the other side, and closes it behind him.

He sighs and flops onto a red velvet armchair, burying his head in his hands.

It's been a long day. A long week. It's been strange, as nice as it was having Jaskier back at his side the lack of noise usually associated with the bard still being absent was off-putting and wrong.

He takes a minute to recenter himself. To get used to being alone again. He curls into himself, resting his head on his forearms, on his knees, and firmly does not cry. He doesn't.

He also doesn't lose track of time, nor is he startled when there is a noise in the hall, giggling and shuffling footsteps - a thump, someone is pushed against the door to the room in which Geralt has taken residence. He stumbles to his feet, hears a moan past the door and moves to the window to calmbor out (the sun has set now, several hours have passed since he entered) - his medallion shudders in it's place against his chest. A warning. He pauses, he hasn't a choice, whatever is waiting outside the doors is a monster of some kind about to feast. A bruxa, knowing their affinity for alcohol infused blood.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here tonight," a female voice mutters, "Imagine my delight and surprise."

"Mm, I'm about to delight you even more."

Geralt almost fucking trips over his own feet as he glides across the room towards the door. The second voice is Jaskier's. As badly as he wants to turn on his heel and leave, his cowardice returning with a burning vengeance, he can't. Not if-

"And what of your Witcher? Will he not be joining us?"

Jaskier huffs a little laugh, "Geralt isn't my anything," Geralt winces at the coldness in his tone, "Anyways, he left."

"He'd just leave you here alone?" He hears Jaskier take a shuddering breath, hears the unbuttoning of his doublet.

"Course he would," Jaskier mutters, "He hates me."

Geralt blinks. That- Jaskier can't possibly think- but then again Geralt has always been rather cruel. It makes sense, he supposes, that he'd think Geralt hates him, especially after the mountain. But he was certain that the hatred was more than a little directed back at him.

"And yet you love him still?" The woman taunts, "How admirable."

Geralt wants to laugh at the absurdity. Jaskier doesn't love him, he hates him. He made that clear when he came to him to break a curse that could only be broken by kissing someone he hated. He waits for the refusal, but it never comes. Instead, Jaskier mutters, "Aren't you supposed to be distracting me? Making me forget?"

He can hear the grin when the woman, the Bruxa, replies, "Oh, darling, soon you won't remember a thing."

"What the fuck-" Jaskier gasps as the door handle moves, he's shoved inside, the Bruxa stepping in after him all feral eyes, fanged teeth and clawed hands. The door opens inwards, blocking line of sight between the newest occupants and the Witcher pressing himself to the wall as the vampire lurches towards Jaskier. The door slams shut, and in less than a second Geralt has his silver drawn and cleanly through the Bruxa's neck. One motion. One swipe. She never even saw him. Neither did Jaskier, until the head is already rolling, and he's taking a breath in to scream.

Geralt is there in a flash, leather-gloved hand pressed firmly over the bard's lips, "It's me, Jaskier."

He's trembling, breath coming in short little puffs that make Geralt kind of worried he might pass out, but he moves carefully back away and says, "Geralt. You're still here."

His eyes are misty with tears and drink and Geralt finds himself sighing, fond.

"I'm here. We should go."

"You- we?"

"You want to stay in the room with a bloody corpse?"

"Well... no, but we should at least take her jewelry, don't you think? Those sapphires, Geralt! A travesty to leave them on the floor."

He rolls his eyes but allows it, if Jaskier wants some jewelry he's earned it. Plus it's kind of nice to see a little glimpse of the same hedonistic bard he's missed.

The sneak out of the manor, and into the stables to gather Roach. It's just easier. Sure the woman was a Bruxa, but she was still high society, and all the red tape and questions... Geralt shudders just thinking about it.

They end up in the forest under the stars just like they used to sleep, with Jaskier chattering away and a canopy of leaves swaying with the breeze.

Geralt will ask Jaskier tomorrow what the Bruxa meant about him loving him.

-

He doesn't ask. He can't make the words force themselves from his throat. Instead, he wakes early and makes them both breakfast like he used to, wakes Jaskier with gentle shakes and a cup of warm willow bark tea sweetened with just a bit of honey.

"Where are you off to now?" Jaskier asks him as they pack up, soft as a whisper.

Geralt pauses, glances to Jaskier, and takes a chance, "Always drowners along the coast," he says. Hears Jaskier swallow in response.

"Yeah?"

"Mm... Hear Kerack is pretty this time of year." A sharp intake of breath, Jaskier's heart beats so hard Geralt is pretty sure he could hear it even without his Witcher senses.

"Is that so?"

Geralt resumes what he was doing, tacking up Roach, pretends to be nonchalant, "The taverns there could probably use a bard," he says.

"Are you sure?" Jaskier's voice is shaking and Geralt hates how uncertain he sounds. How hopeful.

"Jaskier."

"Yes?"

Geralt turns, tilts his head to the side a bit, "Come to the coast with me."

A sheen forms on those gorgeous blue eyes, brought to life even more by the glittering sapphires he now wears on his ears and around his neck.

"Yes," he breathes, and Geralt smiles his response, holds out his hand, and hoists his bard up onto his horse.