#I’ve also just had this idea for a while

[sunday-bug]

The Celibacy Challenge

Pairing: New Avenger!Bucky x New Avenger!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3k

18+ Minors DNI (NSFW)

Synopsis: You decide you want to try a celibacy challenge with your boyfriend, Bucky. Who caves first? The New Avengers place their bets.

A/N: Is this based off a challenge that I failed with my husband? Hehe. Also, shoutout to my girls for betting against me - @soelstress @buckybarnes82 @buckybarnesfic / yes, it was ME, you were right.

“Why though? I just don’t get it, honey,” Bucky sighs, shaking his head.

“It’s supposed to be a challenge, baby! It’ll be fun.” You’d just gotten through a poor explanation of a sex experiment you wanted to try with Bucky, and he was less than enthused.

You show him the article you have pulled up on your laptop - 30 Day Abstinence Challenge: A Battle of Wills - and smile. “It’s meant to be hard… no pun intended. And at the end when we can finally have at it, it’s apparently explosive.”

Bucky furrows his brow, clearly unimpressed with the idea, and lowers his voice, his expression growing more serious. “Is it not explosive enough for you?” He blushes, looking around the empty common room before he continues more quietly, “Because It is for me.” 

“Oh stop, it’s amazing, baby. You’re amazing. That’s not what I’m saying. Just try it with me? It’ll be good for us! And there’s this optional part that people add where they do yoga together at night. It’s supposed to help you relax and loosen your muscles.” You look up at him with a hopeful gaze, nearly begging.

He rolls his eyes. “I know how to help you relax and loosen you up already. We don’t need a sun salutation for that.” 

You cock your eyebrow at him. “Didn’t know you were a yoga man, Buck.” 

“I’ve dabbled… it was a long time ago - anyway, if you really want to try this, then I’ll do it with you.” 

“Yay!” You squeal. “Let’s start fresh tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? So are you saying… ?” Bucky winks at you.

“Yes, Sarge. Take me to bed.”

DAY ONE

Bucky walks into the kitchen the next morning to you and Yelena at the breakfast bar nursing two coffees. 

“So, yeah, it’s supposed to help you feel centered and then at the end, it’s apparently incredible.”

Bucky stops short and looks at you, “Really? You’re telling everyone about it?”

You shrug and smile, “I mean, yeah? Why not? It’s not like they don’t know we have sex, Buck. We’ve been dating for a while now.”

“Yeah, and we hear you sometimes. It will be nice to have silence for a month,” Yelena quips, sipping her coffee and eyeing Bucky.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair and preparing his own cup. “Fine.”

By the end of the day, everyone in the Watchtower knows about you and Bucky’s little challenge. John gave Bucky a nod and flexed his bicep as Bucky walked into the gym that afternoon - a silent show of support. Bucky sighed and popped his headphones in. As he’s doing squats, a large body appears behind him and waves in the mirror. Bucky grunts and hangs up the bar, taking out an earphone. 

“What do you want?” He asks gruffly.

“Winter Soldier… I hear it’s going to be dry month for you! No snow in forecast,” Alexei jokes, his face turning red from holding back laughter.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bucky groans, returning to his workout.

“You can do it. You are strong - resilient. You survive Hydra. You can survive no lovemaking for month, eh?” Alexei elbows Bucky in the ribs.

Bucky glares daggers at Alexei and he finally takes a hint, walking off.

Meanwhile, you are working out on the opposite end of the gym, chatting through your jog.

“You’ll do great,” Ava says, running on the treadmill next to you. “It’ll go by fast. Plus, if we get called to a mission, it’s not like you’ll have time anyway.”

“You’re right. Honestly, though, I just love the thought of making him squirm,” you tease.

“You would,” she laughs. “You guys are cute together.”

DAY TWO

After dinner you walk into the living room to find everyone crouched down around the coffee table. Bucky had gone out to get more snacks for your movie night. As soon as you walk into the room everyone stiffens and Bob swallows as his eyes dart back and forth between the coffee table and you.

“What’s going on, you guys?” You ask suspiciously, walking quickly to the table to find any evidence. John puts a small notebook with writing you can’t make out in his back pocket and Yelena scrapes some coins into her hand. “Oh, hi girl,” she says, an attempt at nonchalance. “What movie should we watch tonight?” 

You narrow your eyes at them all - your teammates, your friends - and cross your arms. “Bob, what’s going on?” 

“Uh,” he stammers, looking around at everyone. “We were, uh, just… uh, making a list of movies we haven’t seen yet.” 

“Really?” You ask, putting your hand out and looking at John. “Give me the notebook.” John stands up quickly and backs away. 

“No,” he scoffs, backing into a wall. “It’s just a list of movies. I swear.” 

You see Alexei’s body shaking with laughter out of the corner of your eye and turn toward him. “What’s so funny?” 

“I cannot say,” he chuckles, running a hand through his beard. 

“Alexei Shostakov, tell me now,” you demand, walking over to him. Bucky walks in at that moment, two grocery bags of snacks in hand and assesses the room. 

“Is everything ok?” He asks, putting the bags down on the kitchen island.

“No!” You whine. “They are up to something!” You gesture to the team. 

“You mean the bets?” Bucky asks casually as he starts to unpack the bags.

Your skin heats and you crane your neck to look at him. “What bets?”

“The bets on our challenge,” he explains, and Yelena and Ava groan. John throws the tiny notebook on the coffee table. “What the hell, Bucky? She wasn’t supposed to know!” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gonna lose.” 

Your heart skips a furious beat and you march over to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You demand. 

“Our challenge. You’re going to cave first,” he explains calmly, handing you an Oreo.

“We place bets,” Alexei says, walking over to grab a bag of Twizzlers. “We all agree that you cave first. You lose.”

“Are you kidding me?!” You shout, looking at everyone. “Glad to know you all think so highly of me. I’m going to win just to spite you all.” The team laughs, knowing you aren’t truly upset. 

You turn toward Bucky and stand on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Prepare for the worst 30 days of your life.” Bucky chuckles, but you notice the hair on his forearm stand on end.

“I look forward to winning,” he quips back, his lips brushing your ear.

DAY THREE

Tonight you and Bucky head to the gym to do your new nightly yoga routine. You changed into shorts and a sports bra - your red set that he loves - and set your mats up. He saunters in, gym shorts slung dangerously low on his hips and no shirt. 

“Ready to get all stretched out?” He asks, dimming the lights. 

You scoff at his suggestive comment and settle onto your mat. “Yep,” you answer quickly, still annoyed about the bets.

“Good, I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he mutters, sitting on the mat across from you. “Take it away, sweetheart.”

You lead, talking about each position and how to breathe through them. You glance over at Bucky during downward facing dog and see him checking out your ass in your yoga shorts. 

“Next up is called the happy baby pose,” you say, lying on your back. “You bring your legs up and grab your feet with your hands, like this.” You demonstrate, spreading your legs and grabbing your feet. Bucky’s throat bobs as he watches you model the pose and then he clears his throat.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re not slick,” he groans. “I’m not falling for your tricks.”

“You’re right. It’s not like you haven’t seen me in this position before. Many times,” you say with a wink. Bucky grabs his feet and follows your lead, stretching into the pose. His eyes find their way to you again.

“Enjoying the view?” You ask, looking over at him. 

“Fuck yeah I am,” he growls before shutting his eyes. “But I’m winning this damn thing.”

You groan and sit up. “Fine.”

Bucky chuckles and you finish your last few poses before rolling up your mats. There’s a light sheen of sweat covering his back and you lick your lips. Fuck - look away.

DAY FOUR

Bed sharing was not without its difficulties. Cuddling was second nature at this point in your relationship, and many times the spooning and soft snuggles led to more. But not this month. You were not going to break first. Bucky pulled you into his chest, still half asleep, and nuzzled into your neck as morning light filtered into your shared bedroom. His breath on your skin sent an immediate jolt of pleasure between your legs and you knew you were in the Danger Zone. 

“Time to get up!” You announce more loudly than normal, squirming out of his arms. You turn to look at him, and damn if he wasn’t a God among men. “Fuck,” you whisper, knowing this was going to be a lot harder than you thought. But it would all be worth it. Right?

You walk down to breakfast and see Yelena and John sitting at the table, while Bob is in the kitchen cutting up some fruit. 

“Morning,” they all three say in unison, and John stealthily removes his tiny notebook from his pocket. You see the movement from the corner of your eye and glare at him. “Really, John?” 

“Well?” Yelena asks, waiting for details. 

“Jesus, guys. Nothing happened,” you say, reaching into the pantry for a box of Cheerios. “Sorry to disappoint. We’re still holding strong.”

DAY FIVE

“You’re doing a hell of a job rearranging furniture,” Bucky quips from the office off of the living room. 

“I’m trying a new arrangement - the feng shui is off in here,” you mutter, pushing the couch a few inches to the left. “Everyone else will like it, too. Don’t worry,” you say. 

“Oh, I’m not worried, doll - I’m just watching,” he leans back in his desk chair and winks. “Maybe it’s not the feng shui that’s off. Maybe you’re just missing something.”

Just a wink - just that little smirk sends heat flooding to your core. Fucking Bucky. Well, you wish you were. But here you are, arranging furniture just to feel something. 

“Try moving the coffee table a little to the right,” he quips, fully watching you now, his legs spread in his chair, his arousal obvious. You want to pounce on him. 

“Stop teasing me, you prick,” you whine, turning your back to him. 

“Stop teasing me in those fucking leggings, then,” he says gruffly, walking out to you, eyes dark.

He looks feral. Like a wild animal - a hungry wild animal. A hungry, horny wild animal. Jesus. Your thighs clench together as he stands behind you, barely touching you. “You need some help with this?” 

“Yes,” you admit. “Thank you. And stop breathing so close to me.”

He smiles and walks to the other side of the coffee table, helping you lift it with ease. “Where to?” 

You groan under the weight of the table and nod your head to the right, “Just this way.” You let out a sigh as you both set down the table and Bucky’s lips twitch into a smirk. “I’ve been missing that sound.”

“What sound?” You ask, confused. Bucky walks to you and gets in your personal space without laying a hand on you. 

“All your little sighs, your groans and moans, your fucking whimpers, you saying my name… Hell, you not being able to say anything because your mouth is full. I need to hear it.” He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. His dark blue eyes are stormy and full of want.

“Are you breaking first, then?” You tease, leaning up to softly kiss his lips.

“Never,” he whispers into your mouth before breaking away. He chuckles and adjusts himself before walking back to the office, leaving you there aching and full of need. Asshole.

DAY SIX

You walk to the garage to find Bucky working on his bike - tight black t-shirt, rag slung over his shoulder, and the smell of sweat and grease in the air. Nope. Nope nope nope. You turn back around, knowing you won’t be able to take this view without jumping on him. 

“Where you off to, baby?” He asks before you get back to the door, wiping his hands on the rag. 

“I was just looking for… a paintbrush. It’s not here,” you say, hand on the doorknob, eager to escape this honey trap.

“Could you bring me some water please? It’s getting hot out here,” he asks sweetly, and you now notice the sweat dripping down his temples and neck, pooling into the hollow of his throat.

“Uh huh,” you squeak out, rushing back into the compound to get you both some water. Your throat felt so dry all of a sudden - so thirsty. You steel yourself before walking back into the garage, and when you open the door you find your precious, evil man standing over his motorcycle, wiping his sweaty face clean with his t-shirt. His abs and biceps glisten in the sun shining through the open garage door. 

“Thank you,” he says gruffly, reaching for the water bottle. He takes the cap off slowly, eyes never leaving yours, and takes a long drink, humming quietly as the cool water goes down his throat. 

“You’re welcome baby,” you say, sitting down on an overturned bucket, feeling your knees getting weaker with each passing second.

“Would you hand me that wrench?” He asks, gesturing to the workbench covered in tools. You move your hand to what you think he’s asking for and he shakes his head. “The one to the left. There ya go. Good girl.” You pick up the wrench and promptly drop it on the floor at his praise.

“You okay?” He asks with a smirk. This motherfucker.

“Honestly?” You ask, about to combust.

“Honestly,” he encourages you with a wink.

“I need you to bend me over and make me forget my name,” you admit confidently.

He laughs and bites his lip. “You caving?” 

“I’m caving,” you say with a shrug. “I need you.”

“Get your ass upstairs, then. I’ll be up in a second,” he growls.

“But I can’t lose! Everyone was betting that I’d cave first!” You whine, standing up and kicking the bucket like a child.

“Then we’ll tell them I caved first,” he says quietly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You’d do that?” You ask in amazement, ready to let him have you however he wanted.

“I just want to hear you sigh my name into my neck, baby. I could give a shit about some bets… Now, get upstairs. Take off that pretty dress. Lay on the bed. I’ll be there in five.”

You fly back inside and run upstairs to your bedroom, the ache building between your legs. You strip off your dress and get under the covers to wait for Bucky.

Bucky walks inside the compound calmly and washes the grease and grime from his hands. His dick is already hard, and frankly, he’s a bit pissed at the days that went to waste when he could have been buried inside you. He makes his way to your room and passes John.

“You look like a man on a mission,” John jokes, taking in Bucky’s focused saunter and dark eyes.

“I am,” he mutters, walking past John to your bedroom.

He walks through the door and closes it abruptly behind him.

“I’m sorry. This challenge was a dumb idea,” you admit, pulling the covers up to your chin. “I need you. I miss you.”

“It was a strange idea, love. I’ll agree, but the yoga has been nice. I love seeing you in all those positions,” he whispers, getting on the bed with you and pinning your wrists above your head.

“You’re not going to go easy on me, are you?” You ask, biting your lip and trembling. 

“Not even a little bit,” he growls.

–

After you both thoroughly and completely fail the challenge (twice to be exact), you head downstairs for dinner with the team. John already has his notebook on the dining table propped open with a pen. You try your best not to make eye contact with anyone. 

“You guys do anything fun this afternoon?” Yelena asks, raising a brow.

“Just watched a TV show together,” you answer almost too quickly. 

“What show?” Bob asks genuinely.

“Golden Girls,” Bucky says at the exact moment you say “The West Wing”. You clear your throat and correct yourself, “Golden Girls”, just as Bucky says “The West Wing”.

“We watched both,” you say with a nervous laugh, putting some green beans on your plate.

Yelena walks over to get a plate and looks at Bucky. “James, your shirt is on inside out.”

John snorts from the dining table and you look at him warily, then to Bucky. 

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Bucky looks down and shrugs, filling his plate and walking to the table. “What’s so funny, Walker?” 

“You guys obviously caved. We just need to know who,” Ava says quietly, rolling her eyes.

Bucky scoffs. “It was me. She’s just too cute. Couldn’t help myself,” he says as he plants a kiss on your head. “Everyone happy?” 

Bob’s eyes light up from the end of the table and he shouts excitedly, “I was right!” 

Your eyes flit up to meet him. “You believed in me, Bob? That’s so nice actually.”

“Of course I did. Barnes never shuts the hell up about you. I knew he’d cave first. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you to-”

“That’s enough,” Bucky interjects. “I caved first. Let’s move on and enjoy dinner.” He looks at you slyly and winks before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I’ll always take the blame for you, sweetheart. But you’re going to pay me back later with your mouth.”

Your thighs constrict and you gasp quietly. Poor Bob. Awful at placing bets, but he’d never have to know.

[jaeminvore]

Credit Card Baby | Z.CL

“Who do I gotta fuck for barricade tickets to Sabrina Carpenter around here?”

PAIRING: Chenle x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Four days, three broke girls, two possible outcomes, and one solution. What are you willing to sacrifice in exchange for a night seeing a long-awaited Juno pose five feet away from your eyeballs? Your dignity, probably because it just so happens that one (1) Chenle Zhong could be the solution to your current girl problem. Only, you don’t really do well with charity. Nothing in life was free and everything had a price, but Chenle likes to think differently—that he's simply helping a friend out. Like the many times he did before. There should be sugar-daddy-sugar-baby joke around here somewhere.

alternatively: ‘three dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactlyyyy’.’ — ‘A sugar-daddy (kinda) au with no age-gap, but with a financial gap that no one asked for’.

WORD COUNT: 15.5K

NOTE: first Chenle fic kinda nervous but also excited because I've been wanting to write for pookie for a loooong long while!! So I gathered all the remaining brain cells I have and came up with this hot garbage (affectionate). This is legitimately the most unserious piece of fiction I’ve written so far, so if you’re in the mood for some fun and entertainment centered around vibes n mild-horniness you’ve come to the right place! The title comes from a song with the same title which is funny to me because the song itself (Credit Card Baby by Wham!) is the complete opposite of the story I'm telling here LMAO

CONTENT TAGS & WARNINGS: mildly suggestive themes (as in, there's very little implication to sex and masturbation here if it bothers anybody. Just to put it out there so proceed with caution), crude jokes and language, crack treated seriously, comedy, college au, fluff, friends to a secret third thing, sugar daddy au (kinda), Chenle majors in business, MC majors in architecture, everyone yaps a lot... for some reason, Chenle’s also a micro-celebrity (streams and posts on TikTok), brief discussion of OnlyFans, but I am in no way encouraging it.

DISCLAIMER: none of this is meant to represent anyone in real life. This is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

According to an article you’d come across, an OnlyFans creator earned an average of one-hundred-eighty dollars a month. Multiply that four or five times, you’d have enough for one ticket.

“Alright,” you sighed, bringing your knees up as your eyes glued to what laid out in a neat pile right before you and the girls you lived with. “how much do we have all together?”

“Twenty-seven dollars and thirty cents. One banana flavored condom. Three sticks of gum—a chewed piece of gum, ew—a crumpled tissue and a… hairball.”

Jesus. This was getting ridiculous.

“Fantastic!” You clapped, looking at both girls with a wide smile and desperate eyes. “Anything else?”

“A maxed out credit card,” Minjeong sniffed as she threw the offending piece of useless plastic onto the pathetic pile. “That’s all we have to our names combined. We’re broke as shit.”

No, really. You had everything you needed for a flourishing career of flashing your nether regions to the world behind a paywall.

A laptop with a webcam. A pretty face. A small collection of toys. Very small. A pink two-in-one vibrating dildo the girls had gotten you as a gag gift for your birthday still in its packaging type of small. Vaguely resembling a swirly ice pop you’d get on a hot summer day, and you had lovingly named it ‘Pinky’ before it had gotten shoved into the depths of your drawer, never to be seen again.

Your imaginary audience probably wouldn't mind, right? So long as they’d get an eyeful of a pretty girl playing out starved men’s depraved fantasies.

Then again, the idea didn’t seem too hard in theory considering how far gooners were willing to throw a couple of dollars for a  five seconds long clip. They wouldn’t even notice the difference between an overexaggerated moan resembling a cat’s mating yowl and a genuine moan of pleasure, far too busy jerking it until their keyboards were dank from their own mess. You’d be earning enough to broaden your pathetic sex toy collection.

Simple-minded people were easy customers and you sure had no problems capitalizing off of that.

It was a good plan. A perfect long-term plan even, if it didn’t earn less than minimum wage and if you weren’t racing against time.

“This sucks,” Yizhuo whined, throwing her head back and staring forlornly at the ceiling. “Where the hell are we gonna get that kind of money in four days?”

Minjeong raised a groomed eyebrow. “Can’t you ask your parents? Say it’s an emergency or something.”

Yizhuo’s head lolled to the side, frowning at her. “They still have me cut off, remember?”

And the thought wasn’t just devastating to Yizhuo who, up until a few months ago, had been living the life of a spoiled princess with the world right in the palms of her dainty, never-worked-in-her-life hands. Naturally, being the closest to Yizhuo where you all were practically sisters, you and Minjeong were tangled up in the punishment as well. That meant leeching off of her and her unlimited access to her parents’ money was ineffective until she learned her lesson. 

After all, she was the reason why you and Minjeong had a roof above your head because apparently buying a house out-of-pocket was much more cost-efficient than renting, leaving you girls the responsibility of paying for groceries and sparing you just enough to spend for personal items. Yizhuo handled the rest as she had become somewhat of a sugar mommy.

“Apparently Daddy thought I was being very irresponsible with their money.” Yizhuo rolled her eyes. “Whatever that means—that I spend most of my time shopping rather than studying, which is so stupid when I already know the business like I know Daddy’s card details by heart! Why should I go to university when I’m set for life?”

She had gotten a job a week after spending what was left of her savings in a fit of panic. Lavishly, one could say, where the amount of clothes, bags, makeup and accessories had your eyes bugging out at the exorbitant prices printed on each receipt. Minjeong hadn’t been responsive all throughout. You didn’t think she was breathing either when she stared hard at a receipt from Prada.

Lucky for Yizhuo, Minjeong’s job at a thrift store had recently let go one of their former employees after her boss had caught them doing lines in the break room.

It was perfect for Yizhuo, low effort as she’d be manning the cashier and would occasionally keep the racks in stock. And best of all, she won’t be alone. She’d be with Minjeong which also came as a relief to you since it was a huge adjustment from not lifting a finger all her years on Earth thus far, to suddenly contributing enough to keep your mouths fed for at least twice a day.

“Wow,” Minjeong drawled, “your life must be so hard.”

“Ugh,” Yizhou groused, crossing her arms as she leaned against the foot of the couch with a moue reminding you of a spoiled child being told ‘no’. “You don’t even know.”

Judging by the look on Minjeong’s face, she was not having Yizhou’s tone-deafness in the slightest, and while you silently shared the sentiment—that the youngest of the household could have refrained from flaunting her privileged life, you didn’t want any casualties that could potentially turn into a court case. Because as sweet as Yizhuo was, she could be just as evil and vindictive to anyone that wronged her in some way.

“At least your parents let us keep the house,” you joked, patting Yizhuo’s knee with a smile. She at least appeared genuinely apologetic by the situation. “Any ideas on how we could get at least fifteen hundred dollars for three barricade tickets in”—you glanced at your calendar app—“four days?”

“Girl, you are asking for a goddamn miracle,” Minjeong sighed, “even Jesus took three days to resurrect.”

You nodded sagely and added, “took him six days to create the world,” which got a confused noise from Yizhuo.

“I thought it took seven?”

Minjeong shook her head. “No. He rested on the seventh day. Didn’t you go to Sunday School?”

“Not really. I barely lasted half a day.”

Well, all of you were definitely losing the plot here, quoting holy scripture, or whatever, but Minjeong was right; none of you were divine beings capable of pulling miracles out of your proverbial asses in time when the goddamn concert was in four days.

One could argue that you were given a long enough timeframe to save up for pre-sale, but when you had a friend like nepo-baby heiress Yizhuo Ning who had connections everywhere, it was guaranteed that you'll get the best seats at a concert of a big-named artist with her influence regardless of the limited time frame. Perhaps backstage passes if Yizhuo liked them enough. And she liked this one. A lot. She could never resist Sabrina Carpenter’s big blue eyes and bouncy blonde curls.

So, no. None of you had the forethought of pulling out the ‘Saving Up For A Concert For Dummies’ manual. Not when you had Yizhuo and her endless pockets full of hard cash to fall back onto.

Then she lost access (temporarily) to the Ning family vault, with barely anything saved up from her job because her spending problem wouldn’t vanish with just a snap of her father’s fingers, apparently. Now here you were: sitting in a circle on the plush, mauve, floral embossed carpeting that must have costed a fortune with crumpled dollar bills and junk you found deep in your purses like you were all trying out a crude summoning ritual for fat wads of cash.

Nothing could get worse than this. You’ve been through worse than this.

“We could sell feet pics?”

“Hell no. Feet freak me the fuck out,” Minjeong shivered.

You plucked the condom from the pile and lifted it up at face-level. “Would a used condom sell a lot to some weirdo freak out there?”

“Maybe,” Yizhuo replied the same time Minjeong said, in absolute disbelief that one of you would ever think of something so unhygienic, “I wouldn’t know, I’m a lesbian.”

“Yeah, no.” You wrinkled your nose. “You would not catch me pulling out a condom with some guy’s jizz in it from the trash. Ew.”

“How about a sugar daddy?”

“Eh. I’m not really into older men.”

“You saying you wouldn’t let the guy who played M-C-U Bucky Barnes hit?”

“Oh sure,” you said, sarcasm dripping thickly with each word that followed, “let me just hit up my buddy, my pal, Sebastian Stan on Instagram. Maybe I should call his phone number too! Y’know, the number that I don’t have.”

“Okay, sheesh. You don’t need to be so mean about it,” Minjeong mumbled.

“Oh! OnlyFans!” Yizhuo suggested with reverence as if she figured out how to attain world peace, earnest as her eyes rounded with excitement. “I’ve heard plenty of success stories. It can’t be too hard for any of us.”

A beat of silence, and then—

“Not it!” Minjeong exclaimed, touching the pad of her index finger to the tip of her nose.

“Not it!” came Yizhuo’s shrill voice a close second, copying Minjeong.

“Not it—fuck!” you wailed, half from being the sacrificial lamb and half because you smacked yourself in the fucking face from momentary panic which the girls didn’t seem to catch, too busy shrieking and hugging each other in relief. “No fair.”

“Oh, I think it’s plenty fair,” Minjeong shrugged, pressing her cheek against Yizhuo’s. “You were just slow.”

“And if anything, this’ll be easy for you!” Yizhuo cheered.

“Easy? okay—this“—you motioned wildly to your own body—“isn’t for the masses.”

Minjeong snorted. “Oh, sure. Tell that to the three guys you keep on rotation.”

“They’re just three guys. God forbid a girl has a healthy sex-life,” you whined. It was either wither away when you weren’t agonizing over your Architectural Design course—any of your courses, really—or fuck around with the guys you’ve met through mutual friends as your mode of relief.  “and why does it have to be me? I’m sure either of you could pull off being an O-F model.”

“One,” Minjeong raised a finger, “don’t ever call me that. Even if it’s in a hypothetical sense. And two, the thought of men being the majority of my audience unnerves me. I don’t think you could make it so only women could see me, so fuck that.”

“Fine. I’ll allow it.” You turned to Yizhuo with an expectant look. “What about you?”

She returned it with an unimpressed one, bordering on disbelief the longer you stared at her, waiting to say her piece.

“You’re kidding, right?” No, you were not. Was there a joke hidden in those three words forming a question? Not that you knew of, so you gestured for Yizhuo to get on with the program. “I’m like, the last person you should send to the wolves.”

“Why not?” You pouted. “You’re like, the most charismatic of us three. Got a pretty face too, if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

“Uh-huh, yeah—calling me pretty won’t change my mind,” Yizhuo said, firm and that meant she won’t tolerate any more of your pushing, yet the pretty blush tinting her cheeks told you enough that you almost got through her. “I’m an heiress to one of the largest Chinese conglomerates back home. How’d you think that would look for me?”

Bad, I’m guessing, and you knew this first-hand. 

There was an approximate six-thousand mile distance from where Yizhuo was brought up to where all three of you resided, yet that didn’t stop the Chinese media from getting their updates on how Yizhuo Ning was faring as an international college student.

You had a few run-ins with the paparazzi just dying to get dirt on Harbin’s sweetheart, fought with some too which had caused quite a buzz on both Weibo and Xiaohongshu when pictures of Yizhuo stumbling down the stairs of a frat house, looking drop-dead gorgeous were shared. No one could tell she was barely clinging onto sobriety. Or that she had already emptied her stomach twice in one of Sigma Chi’s bathrooms and a plant that surely had seen better days being under the care of jaunty frat boys who barely knew the concept of photosynthesis.

There was also a handful of you elbowing one of the paparazzi in the face when they had gotten too close. Your face, thankfully, had been blurred out. Same with Minjeong’s who had been trying her absolute damndest to keep you from getting aggravated assault charges while being tipsy herself.

If they had somehow caught wind of Yizhuo being involved in something so obscene—and you knew they would eventually—her life would be over. And yours. And Minjeong’s, because God forbid her parents might as well treat you as their own children with how often their darling daughter talked about you during their weekly check-up calls.

“And my parents would literally kill me if they found out their only daughter isn’t as virginal as they thought!”

“But you haven’t been a virgin since sophomore year.”

Yizhuo rolled her eyes. “They don’t know that, obviously.”

“And so that leaves me to be the breadwinner of this fucking household,” you said, heaving a conceding sigh. “God I hate you rich people.”

“I know you do. You say ‘eat the rich’ at least three times a day like it’s ‘grace’.” Yizhuo didn’t even sound remotely annoyed by your diss, basking in the relief of not taking your place and sacrificing her dignity. “It’s just until we get the tickets. Then you can be boring and gate-keep yourself until we have to slut you out again.”

“My body is a temple,” you said, feigning offense as you crossed your arms, cupping your breasts in a protective hold while Minjeong cackled. “Besides, OnlyFans might be easy on paper, but executing it? Four days won’t be enough. There are many factors involved and engagement won’t be that easy from how oversaturated it is. I’d be a no name. It’d probably take me months to get the amount we need and Miss ‘have you ever tried this one?’ would be in Europe by then.”

“And you did the math for that?”

“Only since we took all the shit out of our purses.”

“Right, because you always do the math for everything.”

“It’s a reflex.” You shrugged. You could even say it had been ingrained in you, haunted by the fact you almost failed Calculus I. You struggled less with it now, spending all summer drilling numerous Youtube tutorials into your brain and electing one of your classmates as your tutor. “How do you think we’ve survived this long without your parents’ money?”

Yizhuo shrugged. “Fair enough. Nerd.”

She gets a pillow to the face for that.

“Well,” you said with a clap. “If that’s all, I gotta go in”—you glanced at your watch and then panicked as you scrambled to get up—“five minutes ago. Fuck, I’m gonna be late!” The pop in your knees made you wince when getting on your two feet, making a bee-line towards your bedroom and stumbling over Minjeong’s thighs in the process.

“For a dick appointment?” 

“If you count AutoCad fucking up my chances for a four-point-oh, then sure.”

So maybe you had lied about the dick appointment, but in your defense, you actually had shit to do.

It just so happened Renjun also majored in Architecture, and that you shared all of your classes with him because if you were walking into five years of hell, you sure as hell weren’t going to suffer alone. You were simply hitting two birds with one stone.

If only those two hypothetical birds you hypothetically murdered coughed up fat wads of cash enough for three tickets, then you’d be set.

You let out a defeated sigh. “I need fifteen hundred bucks.”

Renjun, who just got back from a shower, blinked at the bold request.

“Say that again? You need how much?”

“Fifteen hundred bucks,” you repeated.

Renjun's face twisted as he stuck his pinky into his ear and wiggled it around. “I’m definitely hearing things ‘cause there’s no way.”

You rolled your neck to blankly stare at him. “I can say it again in Mandarin, if you want.”

“Please don’t,” Renjun shook his head, not minding that you were trying really hard to set him on fire with your eyes. “That’s like, using what I taught you for evil.”

“Well that’s too damn bad,” and you repeated what you said in near flawless Mandarin.

The conversation should have ended there. He just had the most underwhelming orgasm to-date due to whatever weird headspace you were in throughout your—ahem—session that made it less passionate and more robotic, but getting blue-balled was considerably worse than having to act as your last-minute financial adviser.

He simply could ignore anything that had just left your mouth when your attention was set onto the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling, but the unfortunate thing was that Renjun was nothing but indulgent at the moment. 

Dregs of lust in his brain prevented any of his usual no-nonsense approach and it certainly didn’t help that he could never say no to a girl—a pretty girl, no less—no matter how insufferable they were. Specifically you with his sheets wrapped around your still naked body. Renjun was still a man, and his IQ could still lose a few points if a girl so much looked his way.

Since you were both things, a girl and pretty, he calmly graced your dilemma with an answer.

“I can only give you orgasms, I’m afraid.” He said with a pout you knew was meant to be patronizing, mocking almost, especially with a detached lilt to his voice.

This wasn’t new to you as it was one of his methods to get under your skin. He knew you hated it, and you could definitely tell he’d prefer to discuss something else. Or nothing at all, but he had already poked the bear which meant he had to listen to you whinge until you either 1.) get it out of your system yourself or 2.) or he did something about it, and Renjun knew exactly the choice he made, yet that obviously didn’t work.

“What’s the fifteen hundred for anyway?” he conceded, barely tampering down the reluctance of circling back on your current financial struggles while rubbing his hair dry.

“Barricade tickets to Sabrina Carpenter,” you said shifting onto your side so you could face him properly. “VIP too if possible. For me, Ningning and Minjeong.”

He closed his eyes, jaw clenching. Saying other girls’ names post-coitus should be considered an act of violation or something, but he digressed.

“I thought Yizhuo got you tickets already?” His eyes snapped open to regard you with a lost look. “Before the whole cutting her off from her parents’ money fiasco?”

“Well, no one was really expecting her to go broke. She didn’t think it was a priority when she could just get the tickets last minute.”

“And since they took away access…”

“No money for us until further notice.”

Both of his eyebrows rose at the sheer ridiculousness of Yizhuo, self-proclaimed number one Sabrina shooter who could not go one day without singing Feather as much as her lungs could take, not being able to cop tickets. “The concert is in four days.”

“Oh don’t I know it.” When it rang like a giant alarm in your head, it was hard to not think about it. “I’m thinking of taking out a loan from my bank.”

“Absolutely not,” he snapped and tossed his damp towel onto your face. You shrieked and clawed it away because, ew, gross. “No way in hell are you going into debt because of a concert. Are you fucking crazy?”

“It’s not like I can ask someone to buy them for me either!” 

Renjun just barely resisted the urge to groan at the fact your persistent yapping almost ruined your then stellar bed chem.

“Like, who would be dumb enough to buy me a ticket? Let alone three?”

It’s surprising how you were able to come up with coherent sentences aftergetting your brains fucked out, but Renjun had always thought you were a weird one. Stamina on good days, yet a common cold could have you acting like you were knocking on death’s door.

“I’m sure I can name at least one person,” he said, thoughtful.

“Does this person have two-toned hair, perchance?” you wheedled, rolling onto your stomach to cup both of your cheeks with your hands looking like a flower in bloom for him. “Is his name Renjun Huang? A-K-A my favorite guy in the whole wide world?”

“You’re cute,” Renjun snorted, sitting on the foot of his bed. “But no.”

Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “You’re no fun.”

“There’s Jaemin,” he offered.

You grimaced. “Too needy.”

“Haechan?”

“Too mean.”

“And you still go to that asshole?” Renjun asked, incredulous. 

“He’s a good lay?” you offered, sheepish almost under the glare of his disbelief and the full force of his eyebrows. “C’mon, at least one ticket for your best girl?” you cooed, laying it on thick with a flutter of your eyelashes. “The other two can probably work something out.” 

Minjeong and Yizhuo were your girls. No one could ever doubt the love you had for them, being housemates for two years and counting, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It’s every man (well, woman) for themselves and if there was an opportunity right in front of you, might as well take it.

“Yeah…” he trailed off with a wince and you already didn’t like what he was about to say when he glimpsed at you and then at some random spot behind. “about that—“

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” you ground out.

Renjun pretended like he hadn't heard you. “Someone from the student association gave me a ticket.”

“And you’re going?” You hoped he wasn’t.

As if he read your mind, Renjun’s mouth parted in offense. “It’s Sabrina Carpenter. It’s a great opportunity to clout chase.”

Oh he was definitely going to be insufferable on Instagram, talking about it for days on end. Just like you would be.

“Seriously?” you exclaimed, both hands covering your face, muffling your scream. This felt way worse than the time you almost didn’t meet the deadline of a plate submission that made up a large chunk of your grade. “Is everyone and their goddamn moms going except me?”

“Guess so.”

You peeled your hands away to Renjun scrolling through his phone in mild interest.

“Can you at least pretend to feel sorry for me?” 

Renjun let his phone drop in between his crossed legs. “My condolences that you won’t get to see Sabrina do her Juno pose five feet away from you.”

“You’re the worst,” you groaned, sitting up and holding the blanket tightly to preserve your modesty. “I’m literally out of options and you’re already kickstarting the FOMO.”

“And what were your”—he waved absently to the air—“options exactly?”

“There was the OnlyFans route—and before you say anything else,” you gave Renjun a look that was sharp enough to make him think twice about his needling. He said nothing, thankfully, but his pursed lips and scrunched eyebrows said a lot. “yes, I did the math and we all agreed—surprisingly—that it would be impossible to earn that amount of money before the concert. Then Minjeong suggested a sugar daddy, but I’m not really up for being a geraitric’s pretty play-thing. What if he dies mid-sex—”

You got cut off from Renjun doubling over with laughter. “Sugar daddy? Why don’t you just ask Chenle then?”

“Why should I ask Chenle?”

“Why shouldn’t you ask Chenle?”

“That’s why I’m asking you,” you quipped back.

Renjun laughed again. A rich, belly-deep equal parts loud and grating. “You cannot be this dense,” he said as he calmed down. “I just mean—you guys are close, right? Close enough that he bought you a replacement T-square.” He watched you, amused, as you considered the question. Renjun can almost see the gears turning in your head, chin resting in his palm and using his leg to balance his elbow.

“It was an emergency,” you stressed with an eye-roll, though you didn’t exactly fight the fond smile settling on your lips at the memory of Chenle getting rung up for a new sixty-four-inch long acrylic T-square while you perused the rows upon rose of cute stationery. You hadn’t meant for your old one to snap cleanly in half, but when there was a guy who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and, well, there was a reason why the running joke of a T-square doubling as a weapon was still relevant to this day.

“Doesn’t he pay for you guys when you hang out?”

Renjun snorted. “Sure. If you count him demanding us to Venmo him later.”

“Huh. He usually just pays for us both.”

Actually, now that you’ve thought about it, his housemates hadn’t ever gotten the privilege of Chenle covering for any of their expenses, much less a cheap meal from a well loved hole-in-the-wall restaurant. You didn’t think it was favoritism either. Was that a thing in friendships too? You had no idea, and you never had to ask when Chenle never thought twice to remind the waiter or waitress that he was paying for two. For me and her—he would nod his head towards you—only and leave the rest to settle their shared bill among themselves.

“Huh.” you repeated.

“Yeah-huh,” Renjun echoed with one corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk. “Seriously, if you’re that desperate to see Sabrina up close, I’m sure he can work something out for you. What’s fifteen hundred gonna do?”

You both knew the answer to that. Nothing, because although Chenle wasn’t as high profile as Yizhuo and her family was, you had a vague idea on how deep his pockets ran if he barely spared a glance at his receipt from Gucci for a track-suit set he’d been meaning to get. He might as well have slapped you in the face with a thick stack of one-hundreds.

It would have invoked the same feeling of being too poor to even breathe inside the store and it had been a relief you thought of dressing up that day too despite the fact you’ve pulled an all-nighter to complete a handful of plates for design class the night before. You were at least spared from any judgment from the sales reps.

Still.

Renjun clicked his tongue, sensing your mental turmoil. “Just ask him. If he says no, then there’s your answer.”

Just ask him. Easy for Renjun to suggest when he wasn’t the one stewing away in a puddle of anxiety. He already had a ticket! Of course he’d think nothing of it. 

Walking into Yizhuo’s obscenely large living room, you were once again reminded how excessive it was.

There was a grand piano in there, for fuck’s sake, in the far end after the actual living area with the plush seating, yet none of you could play any elaborate musical pieces except for Twinkle Twinkle Litter Star. Right next to it was a sunken conversation pit with a modern fireplace built into the large concrete column and there were a series of floor-to-ceiling windows and glass sliding doors encompassing the pit.

Other than overlooking the luscious, grassy backyard, the doors led straight to the deck where a round pool resided as its main attraction. There was a goddamn fountain just beside it, too. Who needs a fucking fountain in this economy anyway?

Actually, everything about the house was ridiculously extravagant for three college girls to live in. Your bedroom included. Yizhuo ended up giving you one of the bigger rooms and you were sure the drafting table you bought off of a grad student for cheap would do its job and cramp it up, but you knew the saying about gift horses and Mom raised you better than complaining about convenience being handed to you on a silver platter.

The round floor table of the conversation pit was vacant, though there were scattered papers, notebooks, textbooks and all sorts of pens on top of the reflective glass surface. That meant either one of the girls was home. Or both, as Minjeong’s and Yizhuo’s voices grew louder by each step towards the kitchen.

“Guess who might have found a solution to our ticketing problem!”

You slid onto the cushioned seats of the breakfast nook—a breakfast nook, Jesus—right across from Minjeong sipping her to-go cup of thai milk tea. She wordlessly slid on towards you. You took a generous drag of the stuff.

“Actually, it was more of Renjun’s idea—which I am effectively stealing.”

Yizhuo, who was in the middle of plating a hefty amount of pad see ew, looked like she swallowed something toe-curlingly sour. “Oh so you were with Renjun-ge.”

An easy smile curled on your lips as you lifted a shoulder to shrug, sweetly batting your eyelashes. “What can I say? The guy gives good head—” (“I did not need to know that.”) “—anyways, my idea.”

“Mine was probably better.”

“Oh yeah?” you drawled, egging Yizhuo on. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Breaking into the thrift store and stealing everything from the cash register.”

“What?”

“She claimed if her parents found out about her crimes, they’d have to bail her out from prison and then restore her money privileges,” Minjeong glared at the youngest who simply whistled to Espresso as she carried on with the food. “Then I had to remind her of her reputation.”

“Good thing you did ‘cause that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” you said and you made sure it showed on your face as Yizhuo wilted underneath your tangible disappointment that she would even risk an integral part of her privileged life when she had used it as a counter-argument to the whole OnlyFans thing. “So we’re going with my solution to our broke-ness—Chenle Zhong.”

Yizhuo did not look pleased whatsoever. “What does Caillou have to do with Sabrina Carpenter?”

You ignored Minjeong shrieking with laughter. “Chenle’s got money,” you said as if you were talking to a toddler barely getting a grasp on words having their designated meanings. “And do you know what we need to get tickets? Money, and Chenle has a lot of it.”

“It took Renjun for you to realize that Chenle could be our solution?” Yizhuo exclaimed in disbelief, head in her hands. “Oh my God—it took Renjun telling you, then you telling us that he could be our solution? How could I’ve been so stupid?”

Her head jerked upwards, ponytail swishing along and gave you a look so sharp and abrupt that you jerked in surprise. You fixed your posture so fast that your grandmother would have been proud. For once. “You’re definitely asking Chenle.”

“Uh—first of all, why me? Don’t rich people have, like, some sort of kinship with one another? Like, hey, can I borrow ten-thousand dollars? I’ll pay you back with five-percent interest.” That definitely wasn’t how deals between rich people were made, but whatever. “Second, why not you, money bags?”

“He’ll never say yes to me,” she said brusquely, clicking her tongue. “I kicked his ass a bunch of times in PUBG and he’s still bitter about it. It’s not my fault he sucks absolute balls. There’s like, a compilation of him complaining on stream about how I was cheating”—Yizhuo made air quotations—“on TikTok. It’s so funny. Actually, I’ll send you the link—”

You turned your gaze towards Minjeong for help, eyes widened a fraction for an added pathetic flair as the younger one focused on scrolling through the damn app.

“Don’t look at me. Chenle’s just cheap with everyone—actually, maybe except for you,” Minjeong pointed a long, black almond tipped nail in your direction. “the favorite.”

“You say it like it’s an insult.” You slurped your milk tea at an obnoxious volume, shrinking in your seat. “Maybe he’s just nicer to me because I’m nice to him unlike you two.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Minjeong said, eyeing you curiously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She moved her gaze elsewhere. “Nothing.”

You squinted. “Uh-huh.”

“Anyways,” she said, pointedly keeping her gaze forward. “He started it. I asked him if I could borrow money for my Lyft and he laughed in my face.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from laughing too because, yeah, the image was a little funny. “You’re exaggerating,” you said evenly.

Yizhuo made a half-wince, half-smile sorta thing with her face. “Are we though?”

“Lele’s not that much of an asshole,” you defended. “He drives me home. You could have hitched a ride with us is all I’m saying. And if I can remember correctly, he still gave you more than enough for your Lyft.”

“He didn’t have to laugh at me, then.” Minjeong looked like she was heavily debating whether she should smack you upside the head, or not. “For someone smart, you’re real stupid.”

You frowned. “Hey.”

The argument still carried on deep in your weekly ‘everything shower’.

“Face it, babe. He’s like your personal A-T-M.”

“Chenle doesn’t always get me things.”

You were aching in places you never knew existed as you passed the foamy loofah over your skin, yet the girls had denounced what it meant to have boundaries, making themselves at home in your bathroom to prove their joint points.

Yizhuo scoffed from where she sat on top of the closed lid of the toilet. “The shampoo you used earlier? That was imported from Japan.”

“So? He noticed I ran out the last time he was here. It’s just shampoo.”

“From Japan,” Yizhuo countered.

You pulled a face. “Is that supposed to mean anything? It’s fucking shampoo.”

She just threw her hands up in the air, visibly annoyed.

“And the body wash you’re using? From Chenle.” Minjeong piped up from the separated bathtub, pointed at the towels hanging on the towel warmer and added, “The bath towel set? Chenle.”

“Alright, fine, maybe—”

“The year’s supply of assorted sheet masks in the fridge we use?” she offered.

“The gargantuan tin of tea leaves you’ve mentioned you liked.”

“Okay. I get it—”

“A new backpack because your old one ripped at the seams.”

“Your underwear—”

“Hah!” You pointed triumphantly in Minjeong’s direction. “No, he hasn’t bought me any.”

“Not yet,” girl-in-bathtub emphasized, resting her chin on top of her arm propped on the tub’s edge. “Shit, he probably bought everything you own.”

“Okay, now you’re definitely exaggerating.” You snorted, walking into the spray of the shower to rinse off the suds. “I’m not that broke.”

“Should I also mention that if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have met us? Or that you would have been homeless?” Well, yeah, and you would have figured something out eventually, but you weren’t expecting Yizhuo to bring that up to one-up you in an argument.

“I can’t believe you would use the ‘you would’ve been homeless if it weren’t for me’ card against me.”

“If it weren’t for Chenle, you mean,” she corrected, propping her cheek on top of her bent knee. You glared at the needless addition, though the usual effect wasn’t as strong with warm water sluicing down your face. To Yizhuo, you were definitely doing an almost perfect rendition of ‘wet cat’. “You can’t be this stupid. You’re literally his favorite. I doubt there’s another guy out there that would willingly—again, listen—willingly spend money on you.”

“Does Jaemin buying me a pack of gum the other day count?”

“Oh my fucking God, you’re hopeless.”

Minjeong shrugged. “Maybe he was lowkey telling you your breath stinks.” (“Ex-fucking-scuse you?”) “Didn’t Chenle buy you a ring that looked like a bent nail?”

“As a gift, yeah?” Your wince was immediate the moment Yizhuo gasped at your confirmation.

“That was Cartier!” She whipped out her phone from fuck knows where and showed you the website and its price. Did she have that tab open all this time just for a ‘gotcha!’ moment? Jeez, she scared you sometimes. “Look—Juste un Clou ring. Classic model. I would’ve given you rose gold, personally, but the white gold looks pretty too,” she mumbled, nodding approvingly. “He knows his stuff, at least.”

“Viola!” You turned to Minjeong making jazz hands with flourish. “If he can blow three grand on you without blinking, fifteen hundred would be nothing.”

You let out a heavy sigh, rinsing the loofah free from the suds. “How sure are we that there are any tickets left? Last I heard, three nights sold out.”

“It’s Chenle. He has connections everywhere. He’ll probably end up tracking scalpers too if he could help it.” She weighed her own words for a moment. “As long as you’re the one asking.”

“If you say so,” you trailed off, still not entirely convinced even by her radiating certainty.

“Uh-oh.” Yizhuo promptly sat up. “That’s not good. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just—I feel kinda weird. Asking him. Like, I’ve never really had to ask him for… stuff before.”

“What,” the girls said in a way so dry that you most likely would have broken out in sweat with how serious their faces were right now. Thunderous even.

“What do you mean by ‘not having to ask him’?” Minjeong asked, deathly calm.

“Just as I said. He just does it on his own. Without me telling him.”

In hindsight, Chenle might have been an option right from the very start if the thought of simply asking for help financially didn’t bother you in the slightest, but that’s the thing. The idea did bother you to your very core because, again, it wasn’t like you were broke. A victim to capitalism? Absolutely.

Once you broke the news to your parents and brother about your acceptance to one of the top universities in the state on a full-ride scholarship, they had insisted on a monthly allowance. They hadn’t minded extending a helping hand at all, and it was the least they could do to lighten the burden with the condition that you should be devoted to your academics.

Consequently, you were also good with multi-tasking, so you’ve managed a healthy work-play balance so far. What your parents and brother didn’t know wont hurt them and you hadn’t given them a reason to not trust you on your own, miles away from home, either. Not yet at least.

Deciding for a part-time job was after the realization that majoring in architecture was a bit heavy on the pockets from the consistent need for materials and printing out your designs brought to life by the handful of software provided by your department. The café pay was decent, you were tipped just as okay, and you wouldn’t say no to some cash on the side. Adding that to the remnants of your monthly allowance, it was enough to buy a thing or two at the end of the month as a treat.

And then came Chenle, guns ablazing, with no qualms swiping his card on your behalf.

You never really had to ask him.

Literally.

He would already have it taken care of before you could even pluck your wallet out and split the cost. You couldn’t remember if you had a time where you outright asked (begged) him for a few bills, and if you did, you always always promised to pay him back.

That being said, Chenle wouldn’t let you fight him on it either. When his mind was already made up, it was like talking to a brick wall, standing tall and impervious to almost everything. A losing battle when you’re up against someone headstrong yet so goddamn stubborn.

That’s where your hesitation had stemmed from, because it could either go two ways: he could say no and you could kiss your chances of brushing hands with Sabrina Carpenter goodbye, which would be the best case scenario, or he’d say yes, and once he said yes, there was no turning back. A yes from Chenle was law—signed and sealed that not even expressing the preconceived regret of asking a favor would shake him.

This was entirely different from Chenle just doing whatever the fuck he wanted with his own money without any of your persuasion. You never had to ask him for anything before and the fact of the matter was, you were damn terrified of asking if Chenle could be a bro one last time and drop what was equivalent to the price of a newly released iPhone for you.

Asking him would literally be so detrimental to your conscience that you would probably go insane with guilt and you couldn’t afford getting thrown into the nearest psych-ward when you had tons of deadlines to meet.

Minjeong leaned back to stare forlornly at the ceiling. “Lord, I see the luck you’ve bestowed upon this girl so stupid.”

“Hey!” You whined.

“Congratulations on getting a sugar daddy,” Yizhuo said, dry. “Can you ask him for tickets now?”

Oh God, you thought with abject horror. What if Chenle is my sugar daddy?

Technically speaking, though, you both fit the description. Minus the ‘sugar’ part so, quasi-sugar-daddy then?

Okay, no. That’s definitely not a can of worms you’re gonna open, like, ever. Chenle just happened to be there whenever you had to go out and buy shit. Just happened to be faster whipping out his wallet than you were. After all, he’s the spry athlete while you were five cans of Monster Energy away from keeling over.

What you’d like to get into now was how this conversation developed backwards where you had to be naked and wet to get some sort of pep-talk. Was this even considered pep-talk? This was somebody else’s form of nightmare for sure.

“This is really weird,” you said, neither confirming or denying Yizhuo’s so-called congratulations as you glanced between the two girls unabashedly staring at you in your birthday suit, expecting. “Can you guys leave?”

“Nothing we’ve seen before.” You met Minjeong’s eyes for a second before they strayed to your naked breasts and back up again. “Bet Chenle would love to see you right now.”

For whatever reason, Yizhuo mirrored Minjeong’s sentiments as she bobbed her head so fast you would think the idea was exciting for her. “Only right for you to give him some sugar, too.” 

“Or—get this—I don’t do that?”

“Why not?” Minjeong frowned. “You fuck anything that moves.”

“Correction: I do not. I’ve only been with, like, five guys my entire life,” you said, brandishing one hand so they would get the picture. “And Chenle’s my friend! We’re like this”—you crossed your fingers, shaking them for emphasis—“tight, y’know? Literally everything’ll change if I go… do that.”

“You and Renjun are also”—she copied your crossed fingers—“like this, but you’re still fucking.”

“Well… that’s—that’s obviously different! He doesn’t count!” you said with each word increasing in pitch.

“Oh pray tell why you wouldn’t sleep with Chenle Zhong,” Minjeong goaded. “I may not like guys, but looking at him through an objective lens, he’s one of the good ones.”

“There’s no risk with Renjun because it’s strictly casual and platonic, and I know I wouldn’t get attached and develop—” you quickly clamped your mouth shut. Shit. “Uh—um—you’re breaking up,” you blurted, closing your eyes as you stepped into the heavy downpour of the rainfall shower. “I can’t hear you,” you said, though that likely sounded like incoherent blubbering. You were sure you’ve got your point across with that piss-poor save anyway.

“We can literally see you.”

You turned your back to them. They could talk to your ass if they wanted. Out of sight, out of mind. “Not anymore, you don’t.”

You hoped that was the end of it, though it was made clear time and time again that the girls weren’t satisfied with your hedging. A growl was heard, followed by the quick plap plap plap of feet against the cold tiles. As the glass door squeaked, the brief water prison you’ve enclosed yourself in stopped soon after and you opened your eyes to a hand retracting from one of the knobs.

There was barely a second for you to complain before an undignified yelp was forced out from your throat when you were spun around to find Yizhuo’s dour face, her hands clamping down on your shoulders.

“You’re just admitting this to us now?” she said, incredulous, and a little surprised that you’ve managed to keep a crucial detail from them for this long. 

“It wasn’t like an immediate thing I needed to resolve!” you argued, “but the thought was always there, I guess. Just sitting in the back of my mind until you brought up sex with Chenle. And I’m busy, in case it wasn’t obvious enough to you non-architecture majors. Never had the chance to explore it, y’know?”

Busy was the biggest understatement of the year. Your life revolved around sketching, drafting, rendering—hell, even printing your designs on sheets of paper almost (more or less) half your height had never been this stressful. Adding a part-time job to that? It was a miracle you were still kicking.

With all that combined, you didn’t have the time to give a damn about relationships running deeper than casual, less emotionally charged flings. Those were easier to manage without the messiness of feelings involved. 

“Well, Dora the Explorer,” Yizhuo tendered as she handed you your heated towel. “you better start explorin’ because you’re gonna fuck him either way.”

You swiped the towel from her. “No I’m not.”

“No you’re not,” Yizhuo agreed, and maybe the shrewd glint in those beady eyes of hers was only your imagination, toweling yourself dry and wrapping it around you once you were less damp. “but at least keep it as your trump card if he gets difficult—which I’d doubt, really.”

“You guys’re that confident he’d say yes?” you mused, pushing past Yizhuo to grab the other towel for your head. “It’s gonna be so embarrassing if he says otherwise.”

“To the tickets? Or the sex?” Minjeong then heaved a dramatic gasp, eyes wide as her voice dropped to a staged whisper. “Or worse, your alleged feelings.”

You puffed out your cheeks, ignoring the rush of warmth blooming onto your face. “Now I’m hoping he says ‘no’.”

“Oh, girl, trust me when I say ‘no’ is the last thing he’ll say to you.” Yizhuo said, looking very sure of herself. “So. How soon can you get to him?”

“God I hate you rich people.”

Yizhuo beamed. “I know.”

Well, it wasn’t like you were a stranger to testing your luck.

You: wyd

Lele: ? Lele: I’m not one of your groupies Lele: need something?

You: wanna get groceries with me? :D

Lele: be there in 15 Lele: need to grab Daegal’s kibble too

You: ur the best ✨✨

Lele: i know i am

You: girl whatever.

Lele: ❤️

“You know, when you said groceries, I was expecting personal stuff—like skincare or some shit,” Chenle said loftily. “Pads? Tampons? God forbid a menstrual cup—“

“How do you even know what a cup is,” you muttered. “and my period ended a week ago.”

“I know.” You looked up from your work to Chenle squinting down at his phone. He caught your eye and beamed, pocketing the device. You were too afraid to ask what that was about. “We could have gone to Sephora after.”

Oh you definitely could have if you had been more specific with what groceries meant, but you simply said to take both your asses to the nearest H Mart. Cute as the thought was, you weren’t exactly in the mood to watch Chenle try and figure out which products were on your current rotation. It would have made good content for him though, a sure hit for his predominantly female fanbase, yet the looming three days left to secure tickets above your head kept you from suggesting that.

“Well, I can’t exactly cook you a five-star meal with hyaluronic acid now can I?” 

He blinked and answered with a bland, “I have no idea what that is.”

You squinted at him, taking in the way he’s got his head tilted at an angle where the lighting hit one side of his pale face just right. No texture whatsoever, like a smooth, almost blank canvas marked by a singular mole on the cheek.

“‘Course you don’t,” you grunted, envious of his near perfect skin.

Chenle’s gaze slid towards the pot on the stove, then to his wooden chopping board where a humble spread of your additional ingredients had been neatly organized in small piles with two open noodle packets. “Also, that’s just your classic Shin ramyeon and some crab balls.”

“Well damn, Chenle, I’m no Gordon fucking Ramsay,” you snapped, swatting at his arm. “So ungrateful.” An elaborate recipe was out of the question when you were too busy panicking about how the hell you were going to pull this off.

(“The one thing you’re gonna ‘pull off’ is your top,” Yizhuo instructed as she followed you out the gargantuan front door. “You know how guys are with boobs. They’re like catnip for them.”

“Please don’t compare my tits to catnip.”)

He cackled, tucking himself into your side with an arm thrown around your shoulders in a side-hug. “Thank you,” he cooed, and like a cat, rubbed his head against yours. “You didn’t have to do all this, but I’d never say no to food.” You couldn’t exactly see his face like this, but you could hear his appreciation. Your heart squeezed at the press of his cheek against your temple.

See, it’s little moments in time like this were what jump-started the on-going betrayal you would never expect from your own beating heart, and Chenle made it extremely hard for you to not entertain any straying thoughts formed by the casual intimacy between you. It really didn’t help that Chenle was physically affectionate, and it especially didn’t help that you spent most of your time with him despite majoring in vastly different programs.

Starting the day with Chenle waiting in his car to take you to school, ending it with him driving you home and everything in between was a sure gateway for neutral feelings to gradually do a one-eighty. Reaching that level of comfort where you felt safe with him was just as inevitable, too. Chenle was safe. Always has been.

But for both of your sakes, it had been a conscious choice of burying yourself into your work—letting yourself get fucked over by the workload you had to do. The minor breakdowns you’ve had every time your calculations went wrong, or when color or material swatches didn’t seem to go together than you’d originally thought saved you from overthinking every single interaction with him.

You wouldn’t risk it. You couldn’t risk it.

“What’s the occasion?” Chenle prodded. Still there. Still close. Still trying his hardest to weld himself to your side that he would soon figure out something was up the moment you went stiff in his hold, but you were just as quick coming up with some bullshit excuse to save your own ass. Though it begged the question whether it will hold up against Chenle’s incessant need to stick his nose into anyone’s business.

The longer he stayed quiet, the more your nerves fried. His house—house because Chenle was a loose cannon with money like Yizhuo—was always set to a cool temperature and you wore an outfit that wasn’t meant to cover up much at all, yet you could feel yourself break into sweat the moment he pulled himself away from your space. You still stood there frozen and the pot was taking too long to fucking boil.

“No occasion!” you exclaimed, spinning on your heel to face him with the sweetest and most disarming smile you could muster at the moment. A drop of sweat trickled from your temple down to your cheek when all Chenle did was wrinkle his nose as he took a step back. “‘was just in the mood to cook… something. For you—uh, for us. I was craving ramyeon.”

“You were craving Shin ramyeon,” Chenle echoed, not looking at all convinced. “Shin ramyeon that Yizhuo has stocked in her pantry.”

“That’s why I asked you to get groceries with me,” you replied in haste. “We were running out.” 

Which wasn’t a lie. Technically.

The three of you used to gorge on whatever there was in the kitchen, fridge or pantry, or DoorDash when any of you craved something specific. Key words were ‘used to’ because snack options had been limited to cheaper alternatives and what was cheaper and filling than a packet of noodles that took less than five minutes to cook? Really, it was like you were back in your freshman dorm, living off of instant noodles.

“Running out.” The more Chenle repeated whatever you said, the more you started to realize how deep of a grave you had dug for yourself. “You bought just enough for two people to eat.”

“Right.” You drawled, snapping your fingers and hitting him with the finger-guns. Might as well make yourself look even more like a jackass than you already are with the dogshit lying. “Right—so no plans later? I could use another H Mart run.”

Chenle cracked this time. “You’re a shitty liar,” your name tapered off into laughter. “You want something, don’t you? You’re never this nice to me.” He simpered with a certain type of fondness you’d usually see in people witnessing a puppy scaring itself with its own bark—he should really stop that. You were already kind of a mess from the way he’d freely insert himself in your bubble like he owned the space. You didn’t need the ooey-gooey, cavity-inducing stares to go with that too.

This was all clearly very amusing to him—you stumbling over your own words picked out from throwing darts at random in an attempt to gaslight him. He shouldn’t find any humor in this, really, but Chenle had always been chill like that. Marching to the beat of his own drum or however the saying went that the ease of falling into character, the jester to his court, wasn’t surprising.

If it made him that happy, then you’d continue shaking your fool’s cap for him. As a friend, of course.

“What? Me?” you said, guileless and with a hand flat on your sternum, eyes rounded with that faux gleam of innocence for the full effect. “I have never wanted anything in my life.”

“Anything?” he pressed and received a firm nod. “Not even barricade tickets to Sabrina Carpenter?”

You gaped at him, stuttering out words that weren’t even qualified to be in the English dictionary until you settled with a broken, “who told you that.”

Chenle smiled serenely in kind, not at all fazed by your brain blue-screening in real time. “Renjun.”

The mention of a name sobered you up in record speed.

“That snitching bitch,” you seethed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I only told him because I was hoping he'd help me think of options, or buy me a ticket himself. The girls could figure something out.” You paused, absorbing the situation as your hand fell back to your side. “Less work for me, though. I've been shitting my pants since, like, yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

You huffed a short laugh. “Oh yeah. There’s this theory going around—not that I believe it—that it’d be easy convincing you.”

“Easy,” he huffed, amused.

“Easy as in—I just have to ask you.”

Chenle tilted his head, considering you for a moment. “Alright. Ask away.”

You balked, grasping straws for a response.

“Ask away?” Nod. “Just like that.” Nod. “I’m not asking just for me, y’know? I’m also asking for Minjeong and Ningning. Since we’re broke and desperate girls who just happen to love the same singer.” Chenle only raised an eyebrow, slowly nodding in a way that said, ‘yeah. I know. What are you trying to say?’.

“Are you not worried how much it’s gonna cost you? Even just a little bit? I’m already feeling sick just thinking about it.” You grimaced.

“Not really, no.” He shrugged, slanting an easy smirk.

You pursed your lips. Right. Okay. So maybe you had severely underestimated how disposable money was to him, then. It didn’t seem like he minded at all, barely showing any negative emotion sans the boredom slowly coloring his features.

You, on the other hand, were already knee-deep in a bog of guilt and regret that you could honestly spit-up today’s lunch from how nerve-wracking this was; standing in front of him while carrying as much audacity a human being was allowed to and asking for something so expensive.

“You’re insane if you actually say yes. I don’t know about you, but if someone asked me for a thousand bucks and told me, ‘oh, bee-tee-dubs, I’m not gonna pay you back. Like ever.’, I’d consider suing the hell out of that person until they have to file for bankruptcy.”

“I mean, money’s never been an issue so I don’t see why my attorney should be involved.” The fact that he actually has an attorney (or a full-blown legal team. You never know) at the ready did not bring you comfort in the slightest. Chenle still tried though. You could at least appreciate that. “I wanna circle back on your so-called theory, though.”

“Don’t look at me.” Both of your hands raised in defense. “I’m not the one who came up with the ‘I’m Chenle’s favorite’ theory. The girls did.”

“Did they?” And for some ungodly reason, he looked delighted by the claim. “Well, can’t say they’re wrong.”

“Chenle,” you warned with a tone so biting you would think it’d have him think twice with this blasé approach.

Though maybe there was something on your face that betrayed the annoyance you’ve vocalized when all Chenle did was smile genially as the syllables making up your name passed through his lips in smooth succession.

“I’m not a charity case,” you muttered, flexing your fingers then curling them into fists. You weren’t too sure if you were pleased hearing it from the source. That you were Chenle’s favorite, confirmed by the man himself. Whatever that meant, or more annoyed that he really couldn’t care less about the money he’d wasted on you because you were his favorite. “You know I don’t take charity as well as normal people would.”

“Why do you think I never let you argue?” He said cheekily. “It’s easier and faster that way. And it’s no big deal! Seriously,” Chenle emphasized quickly at the sight of your deepening frown.

“But it is to me! If there’s one thing I know, it’s that nothing is ever just free. People these days are always expecting something in return. Maybe not right away and what if you’re just letting me rack up enough debt so you could ask me for my soul, or something.”

Chenle snickered. “So this is an exchange, then. Your noodles for concert tickets. You drive a hard bargain,” he wondered with an impish quality to his words, giving you a once over. Twice. It made you a little self conscious, shifting from foot to foot the longer sharp, cat-like eyes passed over your form. “Is that why you’re dressed like that? In case your cooking didn’t make a good bribe—oh, sorry—exchange?”

“Like what, exactly?” You asked, a little offended that he wouldn’t completely fold—or at least crease—at the first bite of a dish that earned its Michelin stars back in Yizhuo’s kitchen. Or that your chosen outfit wasn’t creaming any pants.

“Didn’t you wear this exact outfit when you skipped class to meet with Haechan that one time?”

“It was a different top, I think.” A top that was just as fast to remove too, so you understood the confusion. “How do you even remember that?”

“I remember lots of things,” he clarified, closing the distance until you could make out the top notes of his five-dollars-per-spray perfume with each inhale. “Like how you dress differently whenever you meet with one of your guys.”

“Gee what a coincidence. I wonder why I’m dressed like I am about to meet with one of my guys while in your kitchen.”

This time it’s Chenle who got the surprise of a lifetime, eyes almost bugging out of his skull as those lips you had once imagined yourself kissing just to see how they’d give under the soft pressure parted in a delicate ‘o’. He was quick to recover though, with a sly uptick of his mouth replacing the initial shock of finding out that, yes, you’d probably sleep with him if it came to that.

“Didn’t think you’d be that desperate for tickets.” He’s closer now, too close for comfort that you backed into the edge of the kitchen counter. “Is that how you’re gonna repay me?”

“It’s charity work,” you answered blithely, emboldened by Chenle’s interest because, fuck, might as well. “Fuck knows if you’ve been getting your dick wet or not. I’d literally be doing you a favor.”

Chenle didn’t seem to take offense to that as he threw his head back in raucous laughter.

“Charity for charity.” He grinned. “Seems fair.”

And the words had never sounded sweeter until they came from Chenle’s mouth. You could already hear yourself screaming with the crowd filling up the arena, with your girlfriends who you absolutely did not resent for essentially pimping you out to the one guy who could arguably make your dreams come true—

“I’ll think about it.”

Both Minjeong and Yizhuo were dead to you.

“Think about—” you paused, taking steady breaths until you were calm enough to start talking again. “Chenle. Lele,” and out came the big guns, being sweet to him and using the cutesy nickname the girls from the Chinese Students and Scholars Association would croon to get at least five seconds of his attention. Watching that play out from the sidelines always left a sour aftertaste, how they all would go as far as touching him when they decided holding eye-contact wasn’t enough to fuel their delusions. 

You’ve soon come to realize that it was jealousy that caused your eye to twitch when Chenle’s capitalistic smile turned honeyed towards his junior. Because there wasn’t a day where you were short of his attention.

Perhaps the thought was a little unhealthy, but what if you said it was what you were used to? Can anyone fault you for being a little catty after that interaction?

Calling him Lele worked, you thought. Or so you hoped. You weren’t sure rendering him silent was a good thing, actually. Silence never bode well with larger-than-life Chenle Zhong whose entire personality was being loud, especially with eyes as expressive as his. Dark as shots of espresso you’ve brewed countlessly at work laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“The concert is in two fucking days! There’s no time to think—you know what? This was a bad idea. I don’t know how Ningning talked me into—” you shook your head, pressing the back of your hand to your cheek with a heavy sigh. “We can just eat the goddamn noodles and forget all this. I’ll just tell the girls they were wrong, and you said no—”

“Oh, no no no,” you would never admit to making such an undignified sound when Chenle pulled you back by his steady grip on your wrist. “you can’t make that offer and leave just like that, c’mon.” And he had the audacity to whine on top of it.

“Well that’s before I—what are you doing.”

“Making sure I am getting something out of this,” he murmured, crowding in on you further where all you could see right in front of you was Chenle, and whatever you could see over the slope of one hoodie-covered shoulder.

Which by all means wasn’t a lot to begin with, him being taller and broader than you. And Chenle wasn’t even super tall. You knew plenty of people that exceeded the one-hundred-and-eighty centimeter mark, like that Jisung kid who hung out with you both on occasion. Wasn’t even built like a brick shithouse like Jaemin and his friend, your on-and-off tutor, Jeno.

Yet the way he had you cornered, hands planted firmly on the polished quartz countertop boxing you in, kind of screwed with your perception—made him appear bigger than he actually was. Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze, pinning you down with deep pools framed by gradually thinning rings of brown the longer this stare down went on.

Coupled with the heat radiating off of Chenle, from standing so much closer where it totally crossed the limits of what it meant to be platonic, something just as heated unfurled beneath your navel.

“What—whatever you want,” you stuttered, swallowing thickly when the soft material of his jacket brushed along the strip of skin left exposed by your cropped top.  

“Whatever I want?” Chenle’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he studied you. “Even outside of sex?”

It was really hard trying not to not stare at his mouth. “I think being your errand girl will get you your money’s worth than a regular pump n’ dump.”

“The mouth on you.” Chenle cracked a lipped smile, wide enough that a hint of teeth peeking between the soft rosebud pink of his lips. “‘My girl’ does have a nice ring to it.”

Warmth creeped up your neck. “You forgot the word ‘errand’.”

“I know what I said,” he murmured, coming in closer that the tip of his nose gently nudged yours. “Kiss me.”

Your breath hitched, eyes growing into saucers because kiss me could imply anything. Everything.

“What—“

“You said whatever I want,” Chenle pointed out. “and I want you to kiss me. Or I want to kiss you, actually. Real bad.”

Words, apparently, weren’t enough to prove how much Chenle could want something as simple as a kiss.

Slender fingers splayed themselves along your waist, just marveling that you’re allowing him to touch you like this—with reverence. Palms cooled by the counter and the calluses earned from years of basketball raised gooseflesh along your skin when dragging them along the expanse of your stomach. The dips of your waist again—like he couldn’t resist how softer you were there—your back, until one of Chenle’s hands settled beneath the curve of your spine, the other just shy under the side of your breast. 

Chenle was impossibly closer now and your body’s natural response was to arch into him and—oh, he’s hard. So hard—straining against the fly of his jeans pressed against your stomach, and you’ve barely done anything except letting him feel you up, leaving phantom brands of his touch along the way.

“Feel that?” Chenle said, voice low and gravely, delivered like it was a secret only you two should know. He pushed his hips further into yours causing him to groan quietly as you gasped, your hands laying flat on his chest to steady yourself. “You’re definitely getting your tickets if it’s the last thing I do.”

Somehow, out of everything Chenle said, that knocked the breath out of you. The utter conviction. How positive he was in his own right that he will get those tickets for you, one way or another.

Frankly, you couldn’t care less about them now, nor what you had to do in exchange for what was essentially overpriced pieces of paper. All you cared about was who you were getting them from: Chenle, his mouth just a couple of centimeters—all yours for the taking, how secure his hold was around you as if the mere thought of you drifting away any second unnerved him, and the fact that he wanted to kiss you.

Because maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t at all one-sided. Maybe what Minjeong and Yizhuo had been speculating held some substance that, yes, it wouldn’t be too hard if it was you appealing to Chenle’s sweeter side. Maybe the notion was that gratifying to your dwindling self-esteem because how could you deny his simple request? 

So with a breathy, almost breathless, “just—just shut the fuck up about the tickets for a second,” you cupped his face with both hands and yanked him down for a kiss.

Chenle’s kisses were syrupy-sweet, if not purposely drawn out as though he was savouring a once in a lifetime opportunity; uncertain if he’d ever get the chance again. The most surprising thing about kissing Chenle, other than the act itself, was the unhurried pace. So unlike the man you would see loping over with this restless energy ready to leave him bursting at the seams, harrying his friends (anyone, really) to play ball with him. 

It had been near impossible, forcing him to sit still when all Chenle knew was to keep on moving. Keeping close at his heels was a fixed workout you didn’t remember ever signing up for. It was only to your relief that he made sure to keep you right behind him. Beside him, rather. There wasn’t a time where Chenle would knowingly leave you behind and if that ever happened, he would always wait for you to catch up.

There was no rush, and maybe that was the point of it all. Chenle’s willingness to adjust for you with no terms and conditions applied, and you have yet to see him stop.

With each push and pull, worrying teeth on lips and a shallow press of a warm wet tongue, Chenle kissed you like he was a man starved, stumbling upon an oasis and letting himself drown after a drought lasting so long. He kept with the pace, not doing too much or too little, lips slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. Sweet and deliberate, each movement holding intention. Chenle really wasn’t fucking around when admitting he wanted to kiss you.

You shared that want too. More than you had initially allowed yourself, but that was to be expected when you’ve basically repressed every not-so-platonic thought regarding Chenle for a long while. And you know what they said about bottling it all up.

It came bursting in a flurry rush of movement. From their tender cradling, your fingers reached up to curl into Chenle’s freshly dyed jet-black hair just as he mirrored your own growing need, lithe arms coiling around your torso as your mouths grew greedier by the second. A show of teeth pulled an airy moan out of you turned muffled the second he licked into your mouth.

From there, kissing just became a mere afterthought. Devolving into a carnal dance of tongues, lapping it all up to get your fill.

Chenle tasted just as sweet as he kissed before, like the lemon ginger candy he had stocked around his house, his car and sometimes you would catch him plucking a piece or two out of his pockets. And it was quickly becoming a problem where you just knew there was no coming back from this.

That nothing will ever be the same once you walk out of that door when all of this is over. You couldn’t go back, not when you’ve gotten a taste of what it was like swapping spit with the guy, the same guy who you had thought wasn’t worth the risk.

Fuck it, might as well risk everything, then. You’ve already kissed him, already bulldozed past that boundary you swore you would never cross. So long as Chenle wouldn’t mind a kiss, or two, or three—until he has to pry you off of him and say enough is enough, you’d let yourself crave the sensation of having his mouth give under yours.

Just like how you chased after the plushness of his lips with a meek whine when he drew back, grinning at the state he reduced you to—a needy little thing this high strung over a kiss.

Please. As if he didn’t pop a boner at the thought of kissing you.

Just as you were about to voice out the retort, one of his hands raised to cup your cheek. You leaned into the touch, feeling small under his thoughtful gaze as his thumb swiped over your kiss-swollen lips. You chased after that feeling, too, each drag winding the coil of your self-control tighter and tighter ‘til it snapped like you did, catching his thumb in between the edges of your teeth.

Chenle’s gaze darkened then, no traces of the playful glint you were used to seeing as he surged forward and kissed a searing path from the corner of your mouth, all the way up to the swell of your cheek. Then lower, and lower until the scrape of teeth under the hinge of your jaw made your knees buckle from the sensation with a gasp.

You gripped his hair tighter, though you made no move to pull him off. “That—this is more than just a kiss,” you lightly chided, voice shaky. “Greedy.”

“So what if I am?” He mumbled, mouthing his way down your neck. Your fingers left his hair and curled around his nape. “Want me to stop?”

Pulling him in further by his neck told him enough. The vibration of his pleased humming against where your pulse was at its strongest made you shiver. You could feel him smirk. Like a knife to your neck.

“Thought so.”

Staying true to his words, he didn't stop. Chenle latched onto your mouth again and you’ve quickly grown familiar with his rhythm. Only this time, his hands joined in the fray, seemingly needing more than just having you secured in his arms.

Though perhaps you bit off more you could chew. 

Like, yeah, getting fucked by Chenle wasn’t the most horrible idea you’ve had so far in your early twenties, but thinking about it was vastly different from actually doing it.

So you were definitely in your right to squeal when one of your best friend's wandering hands went up your skirt.

Chenle stilled and pulled back with his eyebrows knitted together. Your face was on fire, both from his bold move and the embarrassing sound you made.

“You okay?” He asked, the same hand that was under your skirt—right below your ass cheek—rubbing soothing circles. It was anything but soothing. When you’ve got thighs as sensitive as yours, the only thing Chenle was helping with was making you hornier.

If he moved his hand a little further up and a little further in, he would have felt just how soaked your panties were.

“I—uh—I’m not ready.”

He blinked. “My hand is literally up your skirt that’s barely covering your cute little butt,” he pointed out as his hands trailed higher and squeezed the plump flesh. “and you’re not ready.” Now he’s looking at you like you’re crazy. Shit, maybe you were. And it’s his fault. He’s just as crazy for calling your ass cute to your face, too.

“I mean yeah, that’s nice and all—your hand is really warm, um—but I may or may not have been talking out of my ass about fucking you.”

Chenle snorted. “I dunno. Your outfit clearly screams ‘fuck me!’. Cute shirt, by the way.” A stray hand wedged itself under the tight fit of your tube-top, earning him a sharp intake of breath when his fingertips grazed the underside of your tit. His touch didn’t go further than that, hand simply splayed across your ribs. “If you can call it that.”

“You bought me this shirt, dumbass.”

“Even better,” he said, delighted by the thought. “Feeling cold?” Chenle wondered, almost in an innocent, offhanded manner you wouldn’t think much of if the twitching of his mouth slipped under your radar. You caught his leering stray south, too. Just what could he possibly be intrigued by when he was quite literally sharing your breathing space?

With eyebrows furrowed, you let your curiosity get the best of you, tracing his line of sight.

You should have stayed curious.

Better yet, you shouldn’t have acknowledged the change of his focal point because of course he’d take notice of your nipples poking against the soft material of your shirt; as if they were saying ‘hi’ to the man who had come so close to giving them some attention.

Chenle dissolved into a fit of cackles. You could only imagine how embarrassed you looked to him. Why were you even embarrassed? You chose to forgo a bra in hopes of distracting him with your boobs if all else failed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you acquiesced, keeping your chin up as you blindly reached for his hands. “Hands where I can see ‘em, pervert.”

Only, you don’t exactly take his hands off of you. This was like, casual touches here and there dialed up to an eleven, right? It wasn’t a foreign concept to you, being held by him. Being friends with him for this long and counting, hugs were a thing you were frequently subjected to, and Chenle loved those, so you did your due diligence of settling his hands on your hips as a pseudo form of it.

A peace offering, if you will, for cutting the closeness short and a little because you were starting to like the warmth emanating from a more intimate touch.

Seemingly pleased by your initiative, Chenle graced you with the sweetest of smiles, squeezing you. That got him a snort and a fond shake of your head, though the amusement dimmed into contemplation as you lingered on the silver padlock-shaped pendant hanging from the dainty chain of the same metal around Chenle’s neck, not knowing where to go from here.

Eventually, you found your voice. “That better be worth fifteen hundred bucks,” you joked because if there was one thing about you is that you had a knack for making light out of an emotionally charged situation.

“I’ve spent more on you before, and you're worth every single penny so far.”

That shouldn’t have flustered you. Really, it shouldn’t have you hot in the face when you weren’t sure if he meant the dig towards you unintentionally milking him of his fortune. But Chenle’s ease of letting weighted words spill from his mouth was the sure contender here, and to deliver the final blow was the charming grin that ensured you everything was going to be just fine. He’d make sure of it.

“That’s definitely something a sugar daddy would say,” you said with a wry curl of your mouth. “Are you my sugar daddy? Because I can’t remember the last time I had to pay for my shit when you’re around.”

There was one time you went out for a bagel on your own, though that didn’t seem like a big girl purchase compared to your ergonomic chair he had ordered from Amazon. The look he had given you when you told him you made do with the many dining chairs Yizhuo had around her huge glass dining table had been the funniest thing you had ever seen. Like stiff chairs having multiple uses was a foreign concept to him.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were mostly on your feet when you had to (by hand) draft floor plans and vignettes that took up almost the entire space of your choice of paper. And the chair was comfy. Good for your back too.

“It does look like that, huh?” Chenle laughed at that, shaking his head as he did so out of endearment because you just wouldn’t get it. “What if I just like taking care of you?”

Now wasn’t that an insane thing to say out loud? Granted that you could kind of see where he came from as he did save your sorry ass a bunch of times with either a tap or a swipe of his card, this was Chenle you were dealing with. The likelihood of him just pulling your leg under the guise of flattery was great and backing down that easy had never been your forte. No matter how sweet he was being about it.

You could count the serious conversations with him on both sets of your fingers and this regularly scheduled bout of psychological warfare won’t even count.

“You just want to get in my pants,” you accused with a defiant raise of your chin.

“You almost let me in your pants,” Chenle pointed out, his fingers gently grasping your chin so he could tilt your head back at its normal angle. “My hand was literally up your skirt and I heard no complaints until you got stage fright.”

“Fair,” you allowed with a shrug. “Still not gonna fuck you though. Not now at least.”

“Whatever you want,” he said softly as he bent down to catch your gaze. “and you know I won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

You hummed, thinking Chenle’s words over. “I’ll give it a few days until you’re on your hands and knees begging to stick just the tip in.”

Chenle’s smile wobbled then turned pained. “If I have to.”

It took three whole seconds for his admission to register in your brain before you sputtered a laugh, falling forward until his shoulder cushioned your forehead. No wonder you and Chenle worked so well. There was not a serious bone in any of your bodies and you wouldn't want to change it for the world.

“Down, boy,” you teased, still cackling as you nuzzled into his neck. “Who’s desperate now?”

He huffed. “Like you weren’t trying to eat my face moments ago.”

You pulled back with a pout. “I could say the same about you.” You poked him in the chest. “Were you actually trying to suck my soul out?”

“Regret anything yet?” Chenle’s question was posed as playful, but there was undertone of uncertainty to it too and over the years, you’ve gotten good at figuring out his tells. The uncharacteristic sudden stiffness in his frame, the way he chewed the inside of his cheek (subtly as he could) and the tightness around his eyes—he thought you did. Regret it, that is, but it was the farthest from what you were feeling right now.

“The only thing I regret is not seducing you sooner.” 

And that did it. Anything that fell in the same vein of uncertainty gave way to the radiance you were much more familiar with.

Chenle looked like an absolute winner—the cat that caught the canary and washed it down with cream in celebration of his win before diving in for his prize.

Until Daegal barked at the sound of jingling keys the moment your lips were a hair breadth away from touching, her excitement piercing through the bubble and granting you awareness from beyond it; namely the pot barely having any water being left on the burner for too long. 

There was a flash of white from your peripheral as you shared a panicked look with your qausi-sugar-daddy when the front door opened, followed by one of Chenle’s housemates, Beomgyu, announcing his arrival with a loud, “I’m home!”

“Shit,” you whispered and the two of you set into motion. Harried, if anything, yet still efficient with the swiftness Chenle displayed in fixing your clothes just as you smoothed stray strands of his hair back in place.

For a quick moment, he took a good look at you, a crease in the middle of his eyebrows before he was shucking off his hoodie and urging you to wear it.

“Didn’t take you for the protective type,” you teased, yet took it without question as Chenle rolled his eyes with a gentle shake of his head, watching you pull on the sleeves; a smile equal parts warm and mischievous playing on his lips.

With the zipper in place, you glanced at him then down to his very obvious problem beneath those denim jeans. “You gonna do something about”—Chenle’s eyes blew wide in alarm and stuck his hand in his pants—“yeah, okay,” you mumbled.

His smile widened into something annoying and you quickly pushed him towards the kitchen sink, a silent command to wash his hands once Beomgyu walked right into the kitchen, surprised that you were here. Daegal trotted closely behind, her tail wagging happily as you bent down to pick her up.

“We’re going to get groceries after some noodles,” Chenle answered the silent question for you while pouring water into the pot. “Want some?”

“I’m starving,” Beomgyu groaned. “I’ll eat anything.”

“Hope you’re excited for Shin ramyeon and crab balls, then.”

Over Beomgyu’s shoulder, Chenle winked at you and you nuzzled into Daegal’s fur, hiding your smile.

In the end, after letting Beomgyu devour most of your noodles, Chenle did take you out for another H Mart run.

“Are the two carts necessary?”

You didn’t think so. One full cart was pushing it, but two? For a second, you feared he might just buy out the whole store if you dared him. Then again, Chenle wasn’t familiar with the concept of limiting oneself and it seemed like it applied to you too. Well, in a way where he showed you it was okay to want things. That it was okay to ask him for things.

Because it’s Chenle who did most of the shopping. Fresh produce, different kinds of meat that didn’t need to be cooked in complicated ways for it to come out edible—namely the humble samgyeopsal. Quick, easy and absolutely delicious—he glossed over most of the condiments seeing you still had them at home, then he absolutely went insane when it came to the snacks, ice cream and, of course, packets of instant noodles.

Chenle had another pack of a different variant in his hands, tossed it into the snack-filled cart he was pushing around.

“You’re really playing into the sugar daddy thing,” you said as you mentally calculated the amount of debt you were in now with the addition of groceries that could last you and the girls the whole month.

“Better than you starving,” he said cheerfully, grabbing a dozen of Buldak Carbonara noodles and dumping them into the cart like a dad finding out their kid’s favorite snack. “Wouldn’t want you living off of shin ramyeon and crab balls.”

You scowled. “It wasn’t that funny.”

Chenle laughed and laughed and laughed anyway because your failed seduction plan was that hilarious if he was still making jokes about two-person groceries.

The drive home was quiet. Peaceful. Less awkward than you had initially expected when the soulful drone of music filled in the spaces with you sat in the passenger’s seat, reaching over to feed Chenle the Pepero you elected on sharing. When it all ran out, you relaxed in your seat and just… watched.

Watched your best friend in his element with his hand on the wheel while the other patted his thigh along the beat of the current song. He looked good. Unfairly so. With the lights glinting off the watch that likely made up your yearly university tuition and the high points of his face, the ruffled look of his hair and the way his jaw flexed every time he sang along the melody.

All this filled you with the urge to kiss him. Reach over and plant one on him and the thought still lingered even as you drove past the house’s gates opened with an app on your phone.

As Chenle helped put away the groceries while you pretended not to notice the leering from the peanut gallery.

As he helped himself to a Melona while keeping up with the verbal spat between him and Yizhuo munching on something yoghurt and blueberry flavoured.

It was all you could think about as you saw him out the door, and if you couldn’t help yourself and acted on it—a quick peck to the corner of Chenle’s plush mouth as thanks—leaving a sheen of your lipgloss, then that was between you, God and the security camera angled to where you stood.

Yizhuo wouldn’t notice if you deleted a few seconds of footage anyway.

Late into the night and you could still feel it. Feel him—the ghost of his kiss, his touch as everything that had transpired in the afternoon played on loop in your head.

You couldn’t sleep. Not when your mind was chanting Chenle Chenle Chenle like a mantra set to summon him. Like an itch you couldn’t get rid off no matter how hard you scratched.

If only…

That night, you decided to get well acquainted with Pinky, fishing her out deep within your drawer.

Mornings like this were rare, where all of you were awake at the same time. Even rarer that you were all up before ten, quiet. Relaxed.

No sense of urgency found on anyone’s person. No school, no jobs to clock into, no not-so-secret meetings—none of you girls had anything of priority today.

There was breakfast, arguably the most important meal of the day, though it seemed Minjeong and Yizhuo weren’t exactly in a rush demanding their eggs be cooked just the way they liked. Just fine with nursing a steaming cup of whatever energized them for the day ahead as they sat at the island counter.

Your phone chimed in the middle of cooking Yizhuo’s scrambled eggs. A text from Chenle—a sent photo to be specific and—

You screamed, nearly dropping the spatula.

fine shyt: [IMG_6969]

You: WWHAT THEBFUCJ

fine shyt: got your tickets 🤓

You: YEA I SEE THAT???????????

When you screen faded into Chenle’s caller ID, a photo of him holding up Daegal, Minjeong immediately took over the cooking as you rushed towards the living area.

“You got the tickets,” you said as you accepted the request to FaceTime, half in wonder and in disbelief that he was able to nab tickets in less than twenty-four hours and a day before the concert. You really should stop doubting Chenle and his ability (see: privilege) to get whatever, whenever. “Not that I doubted you, but the first night usually sells out quick—so how the hell.”

“You underestimate how far money can get you,” Chenle laughed. He looked sleep-ruffled, like he had just woken up. This was his cutest state yet and you really wished you were with him right now. “Think you’re ready to find out?”

“As I’ll ever be.” As long as he held your hand through it, sure. What the hell. You could survive future heart attacks caused by six figures by sheer will alone, you thought. “I asked for three tickets though. Who's the fourth one for?”

“Me,” he answered, beaming. “Someone has to drive you girls.”

“What? I mean—thanks.” That was one less thing to worry about then. “But since when do you listen to Sabrina?”

“Since last night. Still at it, by the way.” he clarified, a little too happy and if you listened closely, you could make out Sabrina’s crooning of Read your Mind on his end. “An enlightening experience, I might say.”

“Good luck on memorizing twenty-one songs then.”

“Oh, Princess. I released an album when I was eight. Memorizing the setlist is light work. Bet I could sing louder than you.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll grill you on the album thing next time because what the fuck.” The ‘Princess’ thing you elected to ignore, too early and dire to suffer an aneurysm when a concert was waiting for you.

“I’ve lived quite the life,” he mused (“oh I’m sure.”) combing his fingers through his hair. “So what do we say?”

You scoffed, fond and grateful for his generosity whether you were deserving or not. “Thank you.”

“Thank you what, baby?”

Your face twisted in horror, quickly clocking what he was trying to get you to do. “Bye Chenle.”

He was cackling when you hung up, your face on fire, yet you didn’t put in any effort to tamper the giddy grin threatening to split your face.

The tickets were yours. Chenle got the tickets and they were yours. Gosh, this was probably the best morning in your life so far and nothing could dampen your mood from doing your girls proud.

“Now do you believe us when we say you’re Chenle’s favorite?” Yizhuo asked with a mouthful of scrambled egg.

You laughed, cheeks aching from how hard you cheesed at a simple fact. “I’m starting to.”

And selfish as it sounded, you hoped that it would remain that way for a long time because you couldn’t remember a life so dull when Chenle walked in with colors so bright that it sung, and because he was your favorite, too.

a/n: waow you've reached the end! Here, have a cookie 🍪 as always, thank you soo so much for reading until the end! I'd like to thank the girls: Aria, Moon and Aeriel for letting me talk my shit about this fic and help with ideas! and yes, brainstorming with them is an almost daily occurrence and it's great mental exercise imo lol! I hope you had fun reading the chaos that was this fic. I know I had fun laughing to myself writing all this 😆 and please please please let me know your thoughts! Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @spacejip @ykvdani @drunkhee @neozon3nha @dinosaurtoothbrushwithninjasauce @sunghoonsgfreal @champagne1221 @yuyita-rosier @grimlinshere @jvngw0n @nanaxwi @kissesfromdarling @peterm4rker @haechology @evergreeneyesx @bbina @nctseventeensworld (special thanks to those who asked to be part of the taglist!)

[batsandbirdbrains]

You have me so invested in this “Dick is actually younger than what he said” AU that it’s crazy omg. The angst possibilities are endless, but for now I'll focus on fluff/family feels. Bruce definitely somehow becomes even more overprotective once he finds out.

If it's when Dick is still small Robin (actual age 6, portrayed age 9/10) he tries to give Dick safer missions or have him go on less patrols. Of course this backfires as Dick is a feral child he won't stop being Robin and taking on dangerous cases. He just sneaks out more and Bruce finally caves in and treats him like he used to lol

If Bruce finds out when Dick is supposed to be a teenager (actual age like 12, portrayed age 14/15) then Bruce becomes overbearing about Dick's friendships. Dick is still young enough that he only has crushes (if YJ maybe Zatanna, if TT maybe Kori) while Bruce is adamant that Dick is not allowed to date until he's like 30. Alfred vetoes this once Dick is actually 14/15 and someone asks him out who is close to his actual age. Bruce also disapproves of Dick's friendship with Roy because he feels that Roy is a bad influence/too old to be friends with Dick (Dick is of course offended and becomes closer friends with Roy partially to spite Bruce)

If Bruce finds out once Dick is actually over 18 and is Nightwing (meaning no longer living at Wayne Manor), he has a crisis that involves a lot of looking at old photos and videos of young Bruce and Dick. Mostly Bruce is upset because he probably negatively impacted Dick's growth very early on (I'm a pediatric nurse so the difference between a 5 year old and an 8 year is significant! Raising a 5 year old to the standard of an 8 year old would be very stressful for a 5 year old and lead to a lot of issues once they are older). He's also upset that he treated Dick like an adult once he was an older teen when Dick was emotionally still pretty young. But a little part of Bruce is a little happy that he got to be a part of his oldest son's life from a younger age and got to see him from preschool age.

Sorry for the long ask/HCs! I'd go into angst but I have even more ideas about that lol

Oh send all the ideas in send them in!! I love to read them!!

Bruce would absolutely feel guilty as hell no matter what age he finds out the truth. Because he’s convinced he ruined Dick’s childhood by being too oblivious to realize how obvious it was that his small child he adopted was actually an even smaller child. He knows what actual eight year olds look like. How did he let a five year old convince him he was that much older? He feels like such a failure of a father.

He just stares at pictures from the first few years he took in Dick and he can’t look away. He rewatches home videos and cries because Dick was really so teeny tiny itty bitty. God, he lost his two front baby teeth when he was with Bruce, those are like the first teeth kids start losing! How was Bruce so stupid?

But he’d been so cute with the little gap in his smile, his little lisp until his grown up teeth grew in, and it just went right over Bruce’s head.

Dick had slept in Bruce’s bed on and off for years, into his early teens even. Bruce thought maybe it was due to his patrolling, his being Robin, that maybe it made Dick more anxious than a normal kid or something. But really he’d been 10 or 11 when he stopped, when he started sleeping in his own room consistently, and Bruce finds out that that isn’t entirely abnormal.

He’s a late bloomer was an excuse Bruce always used. But he wasn’t. Dick was right on time for all his growth spurts and milestones.

It’s just such a fun trope and I don’t think I’ve actually seen it expanded on all that much tbh.

[glasskey]

What Season 6 did to Nick AND June

Yeah, I’m never going to get over this. Now in the past when I’ve not been entirely happy with series finales I’ve been somewhat soothed by time to ponder and follow up press from Show runners and cast that had something constructive and generous to offer. Here, we received the opposite and as a result I’ve been left to stew in the delicious juices of my hatred and resentment.

After all of the push back, it’s pretty evident that Blaine was unjustly dealt with in season 6, particularly in comparison to the rest of the Gilead Four. Not only that, but there’s a resounding consensus that Nick and June’s relationship was callously spat on and set on fire with an almost gleeful hatred. Last but not least, June now seems to look unsympathetic and opportunistic….and THAT is not her fucking fault. Please, let me elaborate.

The writers had several options to chose from to cast as the villain but they found Blaine the most convenient to go with for a multitude of reasons. They also wanted to make a political statement, so there you go. They weren’t really concerned with all the rest of the “sense of justice”, “out of character” element because they could always fall back on deniability and off screen character history. Unfortunately the audience WAS concerned with these things and have considered the show runners dismissal of their opinion as let’s say, quite rude. They’ve unfortunately chosen to paint Serena in a positive light and, cast the core message of the show about motherhood instead of female autonomy, which undermines basically all of it’s feminist values. Essentially it simply re enforced Fred Waterford’s philosophy about women’s greatest purpose being as a walking womb. Yet they somehow managed to undermine their OWN themes of mother hood by having June running around Gilead constantly bleating about Hannah, while treating Holly like an inconvenient after thought.

They missed their chance to utilise that love triangle as a demonstration of a woman having the power to choose in her personal relationships, by determining Nicks actions be the deciding factor. Honestly, I’ve seen more autonomy demonstrated in the infamous Joey / Pacey / Dawson love triangle in Dawson’s Creek. I mean FFS….DAWSON’S CREEK! Because American writers are so stifled by traditionalist theological values, the idea of a woman actually leaving her husband because she dared to fall in love with someone else, remained absolutely inconceivable. The writers themselves commented “I don’t think the audience would like it if she just abandoned her husband”, yes that’s right ”abandoned”, like leaving him was tantamount to orphaning a helpless child. Like men are utterly incapable of looking after themselves, and women should feel guilty over wanting to end their marriage. It’s made no less offensive by the fact that Luke walked out on his wife and it was written off as “people change”. Once again, OK for a man, but not for a woman. Got it. I felt SO failed as a woman, by the moralistic, traditionalist messaging that occurred, I find it difficult to articulate. In order for the writers to disassemble the idea of Nick and June as the manifestation of an autonomous choice of collective rebellion, and jam these traditionalist ideals back into place, they had to flip both Nick and Luke’s character. They had to violate a text, destroy narrative symbolism and change the very core nature of characters. I’m wholly unimpressed that these writers idea of true love is that some man “waited for her”, like she OWES him something. It’s utterly archaic. Seems almost stalkerish considering the fact that the protagonist actually asked him not to, and yet here we are being told that it’s some sort of demonstration of undying love. Must be the same person who thinks that June and Serena’s relationship is a “love story”.

I personally RESENT being told by both these writers, and by default the fans that latched onto this ridiculous bullshit, that I have “romanticized” a “Nazi”, when the writers themselves built the character to play the dark romantic hero for 5 seasons, and then suddenly changed their minds. It’s insulting and worse still, it makes fans a target. No matter how many times these writers try to whack Blaine with this inflammatory label, historical fact dictates that it still doesn’t make it fucking so. They previously ran promos for him being a part of Mayday, made continual distinctions between Blaine and the rest of Gilead’s foul regime and then suddenly decided to run around screeching that he was an unholy, irredeemable war criminal. They can fuck right off with that 180 self righteous, holier than thou, bullshit.

Everyone was all on board for 4 09 and 4 10. By the way, don’t think that I don’t remember those very same little Nick haters that posted comments relenting past hatreds during season 4, who are now proudly crowing about how “they always knew he was a war criminal and a fascist”, because I see you. Those writers aren’t fooling anyone; if it looks like a take back, and it smells like a take back….then it fucking is. There’s a REASON that the majority of the audience FEELS betrayed and no whining or mealy mouthed justifications by the writers, to their little press besties is going to fix it and magically make it go away. I also refuse to sit back and have their finger wagged at me for wanting the candy they dangled in front of me for 5 seasons, or at the very least adherence to the original source material. They can fuck right off with that shit too. These writers are the ones that violated a text and if they’re getting a mouthful about it, they should just fucking own it instead of acting like self righteous little brats.

Daisy’s / Holly’s story line has essentially been removed from The Testaments TV series and the timeline shortened. It honestly feels like the audience is constantly having to point out to the writers, that they are not fucking idiots, that they don’t have amnesia, that they read the books and that they KNOW when writers are violating a text. This whole branch of the family feels like it’s been treated as if it was simply so inconvenient to these writers that it needed to be erased. As season 6 concluded, Holly was hand balled to her names sake, while June skipped off to rescue the family favourite.

The way that both Blaine and his relationship with Osborn were disposed of in The Handmaids Tale felt nothing short of personal. The writers weren’t satisfied with splitting the pair apart permanently, they wanted to do it brutally, they wanted to devalue their previous connection, they wanted to strip Blaine of his parentage and last but not least, have the love of his life kill him. Even his final words made it sound as though he’d had a gazillion chances to be with her and his daughter, and had greedily chosen power instead. It was like watching the writers beat Blaine to death and then gleefully kick his corpse.

It wasn’t just Blaine that Season 6’s schizophrenic manoeuvrings touched, it was many others including June. I’ve been hearing a lot of rumblings about June lately, and coincidently they started this season. They’ve not been flattering, frankly some of them have been a bit disturbing. I’d argue that if Blaine’s character wasn’t consistent this season, then neither was hers, particularly when it comes to the context of their relationship. June knows what it’s like to survive in Gilead, previous seasons have depicted her doing awful shit to either stay alive or for her cause. I don’t believe this character would suddenly develop some sense of self righteousness that would make her deaf to any of Blaine’s reasoning; including the fact that he told his demented father in law the girls at Jezebels had nothing to do with it, and that he had no idea he would kill them. Let’s just consider what happened with Eden and what went down at the Jezebels in season 4. June KNOWS what the deal is in Gilead. Audience’s should have no doubt that the writers changed the tone of their interactions, the nature of their relationship and as such they changed the character of both Nick AND June within it’s context. While it was not their aim to make her look unsympathetic, because of their rampant tampering in their relationship, it was an inevitable result. I’m actually surprised at audience members who DID readily gobble this up as sounding legit for their characters. Some of these people were actual critics who should have recognized a snack bucket of deep fried garbage when they saw it, but instead they chowed down on it, and then swore up and down they’d just eaten a gourmet 3 courser.

They’d attempted to paint Blaine as a villain but because of the sum of his past actions, most didn’t buy it and it simply made him look abandoned and June opportunistic. The fact is you can’t say that Blaine is not a liar and still say that June is heartless. If you want to say the story line is false for one, then by default it’s false for both. Changing Nicks character changes the genuine nature of Nick and June’s interactions and therefore changes her personality entirely in the context of their relationship. Essentially, if Nicks character construct is false, then in the context of their relationship, so is hers.….you don’t get to have just half of the pie. These writers wanted half and it was waaaaay too late, he was intrinsically tied to her as they’d painted them as soul mates from the very beginning. They’d spent seasons and seasons building their bond, demonstrating the constant tether that held them together despite the regime. Then they just simply wanted to get away with cutting it off brutally. These writers created an aura of timelessness between them, so despite their best attempts to sever them later, they remained tied together and the inevitable consequence was that when they attempted to drag him down, she went with him.

This eternal connection is something the season 6 writers never understood, and it’s why they thought they could simply decimate Blaine’s character, dispose of him and walk away with their protagonist intact. I want to be crystal clear to those who think that June is now some horrible ungrateful wench….these writers did these two dirty. Not just Blaine, but June too. These writers back peddled on their relationship and did just about everything to devalue it; they didn’t anticipate that it would make her look opportunistic and heartless, but it was bound to happen once they tried to make their connection look superficial. The end result was that these writers made BOTH these characters look morally bankrupt, they made their relationship look valueless, they destroyed their mutual bond as parents and they ruined an epic love story. On top of it all, they not only mocked their audience for caring for these characters and their bond, but appeared to despise them for it. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like it. These writers lured viewers into a cruel trap, wounded them and then got pissed off when the audience actually told them they’d been a bunch of arseholes for doing it. I don’t know about anyone else but I don’t really have any qualms about telling them that I fucking hate them for it. It was cruel, surprisingly vindictive and I for one won’t forget it.

Minghella commented that you definitely couldn’t accuse the writers of pandering. I’ve no doubt this statement is actually a politely pointed jab at the writers brutality. It’s atypical coming from a Brit, a razor sharp insult disguised as a cleverly worded complement, that you only get wise to about 3 days after the fact.

The rating difference on this season, between critics and audiences is suspiciously large. They’ve submitted to the Emmy’s, but you just KNOW that Severance and Adolescence are going to take virtually everything so good luck with that. Awards aside, it won’t make one iota of a difference in terms of viewership. The truth is no one really gives a fuck. This is GOT all over again. Current audiences will tell ALL their friends that they loved the show but the last season was shit and it totally ruined everything before it. Then people won’t watch any of it because well, who wants to waste their time watching a show that effectively self destructs in the last season? Yep, fucking no one. Who wants to watch a spin off of that? See previous answer.

[bogwaterparasite]

Character Building!! (Saja boys edition)

Characters: Saja Boys (except Jinu)

A/N: Am I milking the fact that my HC’s seemed to be doing well? Yes. I’m also taking advantage of the fact that these characters don’t really have a storyline or anything of their own to sorta create their own personalities to use when I write fanfiction! Sue me, I love them.

Just fyi. I’m currently working on requests! So don’t fret, I haven’t forgotten about you

Previous post!! - SAJA HC’s

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Baby saja (Eun-young)

✮⋆˙ I’ve decided the name based off of the meaning that can be given to it. Eun-young can translate to both graceful flower or silver petal. I think it’s kinda fitting considering his soft boy sort of aesthetic, yet it serves as a good contrast to the personality given to him.

✮⋆˙ I believe that he got recruited by Jinu due to his musical talent. He’s a rapper, and a very good one at that, but unlike jinu? It isn’t something he’s been practicing ever since he was a human

✮⋆˙ Matter of fact, I don’t believe he was ever human. Despite Jinu saying that Gwi-Ma controlled the demons by the guilt they possessed, there is a possibility for some demons to just be summoned or created with the sole purpose of getting souls/defeating the demon hunters.

✮⋆˙ Eun-young’s talent developed from curiosity. He had always had a fascination for technology and the way things worked in the human world given that Gwa-Mi’s realm seems to be nothing but a void, and all of their entertainment is given by none other than Gwa-Mi himself. During the beginnings of the creation of cellphones, he most definitely stole one in order to take it back. While this action is suspicious on itself, he can always use the pretext of wanting to be connected in order to deceive the humans and collect souls with more efficiency.

✮⋆˙ While indulging in human media, he found himself drawn towards music, but not ALL music, rap specifically. He’d do most of his practicing down in earth, using it as a way to get closer with certain humans (and singers which I assume have more powerful souls) and developing his skills while still accomplishing the task given to him by Gwa-Mi.

✮⋆˙ Despite his gravelly voice, he was never truly into the stereotypical rapper appearance. The soft boy look seemed to be what called to him more than anything else, comfortable and colorful outfits that contrast the traditional dark appearance he holds in his demon form. It creates a sort of trustworthy character for humans, specially women, which he takes advantage of to the fullest.

✮⋆˙ Given that he is a made demon, he is rather devoid of emotion. Hes not a hateful person, but just holds little interest for things that he hasn’t developed an interest for, which is why he’s so willing to do pretty much anything. Even then, he will always go back to what he’s used to, which is doing nothing while scrolling through media.

✮⋆˙ He lacks taste buds, so his preferences of food come from the texture and feeling that they create. Colder things tend to have a thicker consistency than he finds rather enjoyable, which eventually developed into a liking of squishy and chewy foods rather than crunchy.

✮⋆˙ Even though he’s rather devoid of emotion, his vast interactions with humans and the human world caused him to develop more of a consciousness than other demons. This is what allows for Gwa-Mi to filter the voices into his mind, which although rare, still bother him just as much as the rest of the demons.

Abs Saja (Ho-Seok)

✮⋆˙ I’m not quite sure what the full name stands for, however, the translation for Seok is put as stone or rock. I think this kinda makes sense since I see abs as being sort of a reliable person? Idk how that makes sense considering he’s a demon, but yk.

✮⋆˙ I’m not too sure if All demons have formed pacts with Gwa-Mi or just Jinu? I’m running with the idea that not all of them were human, or have had to make a pact with him in order to become demons, but in this case? Abs did.

✮⋆˙ Born during the Joeson dynasty, about 80% of the families participated in agricultural farming(including his own), making it an incredibly competitive market. Due to increasing tariffs and environmental struggles, his family wasn’t the most wealthy. Unable to hire more workers, they used their 4 children to help around the farm, their pay being the fact that they got to survive another day. Ho-Seok was the oldest and strongest, which meant that majority of the tasks were handed to him in order for the farm to stay afloat. Although this was somewhat unfair, he did get a portion of the profits (although not much) which kept him quiet for the most part.

✮⋆˙ As he grew up, he became unsatisfied by the life he was living. Due to old age, his father wasn’t able to work anymore, which now meant that all the responsibilities (whether it was about the farm or the family) fell on him. This caused him to grow resentful of his family, the inability to provide for him and their children, while also having to deal with 3 children all at once began to take a toll on him.

✮⋆˙ There was one thing that he looked forward to however, a girl he had been crushing on for quite sometime. She frequented the farm for supplies, and she always served as a balm for his worries (even though she wasn’t aware of it).

✮⋆˙ In the end, all of these problems and responsibilities were what led him to create a pact with Gwa-Mi, becoming a demon in order to finally be able to live comfortably. He left his family to fend for themselves, slowly elevating his status by working with other members and eventually ending up as a chef in the palace. Despite him not thinking that he had any guilt about what he’d done, the marks were slowly consuming him.

✮⋆˙ What drove him to be at Gwa-Mi’s control for eternity was a simple mistake, at least he says it was a mistake. With his newfound status, he was going to confess his love to his beloved.. however, he was soon to find out she was betrothed to another.

✮⋆˙ This enraged him, as for now, even if he had gained more than what he wished to accomplish, he had lost everything that once made him who he was. In an attempt to salvage whatever there was left, he tried to consume the soul of her beloved, only to end up consuming hers by accident.

✮⋆˙ This served as a catalyst for his full transformation to becoming a demon, all his guilt consuming him whole and casting him into the life of eternal suffering.

✮⋆˙ He was scouted out by Jinu due to him being one of the strongest demons, he had no musical experience beforehand, so training him was sorta… difficult, but in the end it worked.

Romance Saja (Min-Joon)

✮⋆˙ Much like the other names, Minjoon can have a LOT of interpretations. Min can mean; quick, clever or sharp, and sometimes it can also be gentle or affable depending on the hanja characters used. While Joon means talented, handsome, or outstanding, which in my opinion? Is very fitting to him.

✮⋆˙ Unlike Eunyoung or Hoseok, Minjoon was a human up until recently, but he didn’t make a pact with Gwa-Mi, but rather made a deal with Jinu in exchange for his soul.

✮⋆˙ When Minjoon was young, his father left him and his mother to peruse a “better life” with his affair partner, leaving them to fend for themselves. His mother tried to make this transition as easy as possible for Minjoon, taking more hours in order to keep their income coming and still provide extra cash for whatever he might want, yet, this left little to no time to spend with her son.

✮⋆˙ He didn’t really resent his mother for this, quite the opposite really. Seeing her so driven to provide comfort to their lives despite their losses made him want to do better, to someday be able to provide for her the same way she was providing for him. In his search for ways to get rich, he came across the idol world. It wasn’t just the money that attracted him to it, but rather the musical aspect of it. They all seemed to have so much fun, doing something they enjoyed while inspiring others to do the same, didn’t that sound like the dream?

✮⋆˙ What drew him in more than anything were the choreographies, there was something about the way they moved along with every beat, every move perfectly aligned with the lyrics, it just felt right, something he wanted to do.

✮⋆˙ It was during highschool that he started to act upon this, creating a social media account and beginning to train himself to dance and create his own style. Despite what influencers might make you think, gaining a following was quite hard, not getting many interactions often left him disillusioned, but it didn’t stop him. The more he practiced, the better he got, and slowly his confidence and following grew.

✮⋆˙ He usually kept his interest quiet from everyone at school, but once, while practicing in an empty classroom, he managed to find someone who shared a similar dream to him.

✮⋆˙ The two of them grew closer, and they slowly began working to get their dreams come true. Eunseong was a composer, and combining this with the dances Minjoon was able to create along those lyrics, they seemed like the perfect match. However, both of them lacked in the aspect of singing, something that set them back by a long shot in the world of idols and k-pop groups.

✮⋆˙ Even as they grew, and they were able to get a following from their creations, the dream of becoming big was still far from them. In an attempt to better their voices, they went to Dr. Ramune for his “amazing” tonics, but as we all know, it didn’t work. And that’s where Jinu came into play.

✮⋆˙ One unfortunate night, both met Jinu outside of a shop. He offered them what they desired the most, a group to succeed, the voices they so desired, all of their dreams granted, just for the price of their soul. Who would be able to pass up on that offer?

✮⋆˙ And that’s how things came to be. Now with a group, a fame so vast they got everything they wanted, what else was there for him to want? Well, it seemed that he had forgotten a tiny detail.. the mother which he had worked so hard for, who never heard from him again.

Mystery Saja (Eun-Seong)

✮⋆˙ once again with the names and the meanings, hopefully you aren’t getting too tired of them lmfao. Eunseong can be roughly translated to many great;abundant, flourishing. Eun meaning kindness, mercy, or silver. It can also refer to grace, favor, or gratitude. And Seong meaning success, accomplishment, or flourishing. It can also be interpreted as sincere, honest, or true. All of these names are just things I believe are fitting to their character.

✮⋆˙ Alike Minjoon, Eunseong was also a human up until recently, matter of fact, he knew Minjoon personally, as he was his only friend throughout school.

✮⋆˙ He was born into a wealthy family, a very detached one at that. Family dinners were usually spent silent, or talking about the successes/faults of their family or company. This type of family style caused him to grow rather quiet, he hated big crowds, as they were nothing other than means to gain status, so he didn’t really socialize much with others in school. Most of his thoughts and feelings were written down on notebooks, and those words slowly developed into poems, poems that eventually turned into lyrics.

✮⋆˙ As his love for music grew, so did his feeling of isolation. He knew he couldn’t talk about this with his family, as a career as an idol was seen as taboo. He had so many ways to earn a living and get rich, and he decided to do that? His father would never allow it. Not only that, but the kids at his school who said they wanted to follow such dreams were just.. idiots. None of them cared for anything other than singing already made songs, doing the same as every other group out there did, they wanted fame and money without working hard for it.

✮⋆˙ That was up until he met Minjoon. It was by accident really, he just heard a song coming out from one of the classrooms and he decided to snoop, only to find him dancing in there. From then on, their relationship grew.

✮⋆˙ Minjoon was unlike anyone he had met before, he didn’t mind his quiet nature, matter of fact, he sort of loved it. While Eunseong stayed quiet and wrote, he would yap his ear off, even offering some advice about the lyrics while beginning to create his own choreography to it. He was.. odd, but he didn’t mind, after all, when was the last time he had this much fun with someone else?

✮⋆˙ Eventually, as they grew up, he opened up about his wishes to become an idol to his family, and just as expected, they didn’t react well to the news. Considering they were well out of high school, his father kicked him out of their home, putting the ultimatum to not come back unless he rethinks his life choices.

✮⋆˙ This wasn’t much of a problem, as he had saved up enough of his allowance to get an apartment, and after telling Minjoon after the whole ordeal, they both worked together to rent a place of their own, beginning to work hard to accomplish their goals.

✮⋆˙ Despite all the effort they put into their videos, it seemed to not be amounting to anything. They had a few debuts, and a small following of fans, but no matter what they did, they weren’t accomplishing what they truly wanted. This made him slowly start to loose hope, seriously reconsidering his fathers offer, however, Minjoo wasn’t giving up so easily.

✮⋆˙ Tonics, some sort of witchcraft, doing crazy dares, whatever crazy idea his partner came up with, he would follow. Did he truly think they would work? No, but seeing him so determined to not let their dream die out made him share the sentiment. That was up until they found this.. guy?.

✮⋆˙ Jinu, a self proclaimed demon who told them he would make their dreams come true all in exchange of his soul. It seemed shady as hell, and he was highly against the idea of handing whoever the hell he was anything valuable of theirs, he was going to decline, tell this man to fuck off, yet, seeing the desperation in Minjoon’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to. In the end, they both agreed.

✮⋆˙ And that’s how things came to be. They succeeded in their dreams, gaining the title of idols, their hard work finally paying off, yet, in the process, they seemingly lost themselves.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I had a lot of fun with these, AND ONCE AGAIN, these are all up for interpretation! The Saja boys have no canon names or personalities really, so I’m just making it up on vibes and whimsy. Besides, I will be using these if/when I write about them, so feel free to do so as well!! And if you do, please @ me or lmk because I would love to see what you guys create with them :>

Reblogs are appreciated!

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Yes And Apples (Bucky x Reader)

word count: 2.0k+

masterlist

a/n - ugh this is the most comfy bucky fic i’ve ever written, like can this man please just show up in my life and cuddle me i need that shit

You’re Sam Wilson’s childhood best friend. You’re like a random companion that is somehow in his life always, neither of you are sure how. But now that Bucky’s friends with Sam and his roommate, he’s around you a lot. Problem is? He’s catching feelings.

You have a small studio apartment not too far away from the apartment Sam and Bucky share. You also run a local business where you sell books, movies, vinyl, coffee and beer. Unfortunately, your studio apartment is directly above the business building, so from a security standpoint, it’s really not all that safe. Hence, you kind of end up in Sam and Bucky’s apartment a lot, especially if you’re nervous. 

Thankfully, they’ve got a nice apartment, so you don’t feel too bad about sleeping on their pullout couch a few nights a week. Sam prefers it that way (he has to worry about you less) and only the Lord knows Bucky does too. They both worry about you. If Bucky can’t sleep (which is frequent, because insomnia), he’ll go outside and watch an episode of a show with you, enjoying the quiet comfort of your presence. He fell asleep there once, and Sam saw you two, distanced enough that he could tell you weren’t snuggling, but close enough to tell that you had been intentionally spending time together. He teased Bucky about it for a week.  

The unfortunate aspect is that if Bucky so much as lays a finger on you, Sam will find out and possibly kill him. But he still tucks you in on the couch, does the dishes after you make dinner, and stops by your store on his lunch breaks occasionally to “drop off” something, which usually just leads to him asking if you’re staying at him and Sam’s apartment tonight and if he should get you anything while you’re at the store (the answer is always “yes” and “apples”).

Eventually, Sam brought up to Bucky gently about moving into a bigger apartment so that they could get a guest bedroom for you in case you wanted to stay there, to which Bucky replied, “well, why don’t we just buy one of those cute little southern suburban houses and ask her to move in?” Sam was shocked that Bucky was so okay with it, but he wasn’t complaining. Bucky knew from you talking that you loved any house that looked like it could have been in Steel Magnolias. 

So, Bucky went house-shopping with you and Sam after you agreed to move in, and y’all bought the house together and took separate rooms. The house was cheap because of the area it was in, but it was only ten minutes from your business and close enough to the Avengers Tower that Sam and Bucky could get to work easily. Sam likes the house a lot, but he’s also got his own room at the tower, so he often stays there, too. Bucky has a room at the tower, just like Sam, but he never leaves you alone in the house at night. He could never. You’re amazing and he never wants to miss out on a second with you, and he doesn’t like the idea of you sleeping in an otherwise empty house.

You come back home at 10:12 pm. You always leave the store at 10. Bucky is sitting on the couch when you get back. “Hey, Buck, how’s it going?” you ask casually, walking over to the couch and kissing the top of his head. 

Bucky’s heart beats a little faster at the action, but he plays it off, acting nonchalant. “Not bad. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Nope,” you inform, putting your tote bag on the barstool chair. 

Bucky gives you a look. “Honey.”

“I was busy, I wasn’t gonna eat,” you shrug. 

Bucky sighs. “Figured as much. You’re eating. C’mon.” He walks over to the kitchen and pulls out a container of eggs. You sigh and join him. Bucky knows what your favorite bagel sandwich is. In fact, there are sliced up bagels in the freezer precisely for that reason. He’s gonna eat too—super soldier appetite, and also, he knows you’d rather not eat by yourself—so he microwaves two bagels, two sausage patties, and mixes some cinnamon and granulated sugar together. You make the scrambled eggs—two eggs each, a little milk, salt, pepper, and maple syrup. Yes, maple syrup in the eggs. Trust me. 

Bucky butters the bagels and puts the cinnamon sugar on it. He puts sausage patties on both sandwiches, and you put on the eggs. He carries the plates to the table, where he’s already got napkins waiting. The two of you sit down together, and you take a bite out of your sandwich. “Damn, I was hungry,” you mutter. 

Bucky shakes his head. “You gotta take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

There is no dramatic moment. Bucky’s never told you that he likes you, and you’ve never told him whether or not you like him. But, you do live together, more than Sam lives with you, too. And late one night, past one am, you tiptoe into his bedroom. Bucky is still somewhat awake, lying silently in bed. “Is something wrong?” He mumbles the question, voice groggy.

“I can’t sleep,” you reply softly.

Bucky nods and raises his arm to lift up his blanket, silently inviting you in. You climb into his bed beside him and fall asleep with his arm draped around you.

In the morning, Bucky pretends to stay asleep until you wake up, not wanting you to wake up in an empty bed. It makes him a little late for work, and Tony teases him about his unusual tardiness, but Bucky will withstand any amount of teasing if it’s for you. Sam doesn’t know why Bucky’s late, and Bucky doesn’t tell him.

About a week later, it happens again. You tiptoe quietly into Bucky’s bedroom, he asks you if you’re alright, and you end up sleeping in his bed again. The next night, you don’t bother asking, and just climb right on in. Bucky likes having you so close, and the action becomes normalized to him for a while, that you come in late at night and sleep in his room. 

Until, that is, when Bucky sees you charging your Apple watch on his nightstand, leaving your pillow on your side of his bed, and leaving your sweatshirt on the chair. You’re basically moving into his room. To be honest, neither of you really knows how it happened, you just understand that this is now where you go to bed. And Bucky is realizing that you have moved yourself in. And that he likes that you did. 

Bucky goes to your store the next day. After you finish up with a customer, he walks up to the desk and says, “Hey, I was wondering if you wanna watch a movie tonight. Oh, and if you need anything when I’m at the grocery store.”

“Yes to movie, and apples,” you smile. “Is Sam staying at the Tower tonight, do we know?”

Bucky shrugs. “Why?”

“Just seeing if we have to factor in his movie preferences. You can just grab a DVD from here,” you gesture toward the rack of DVDs in your store. 

“You got anything you feel like?” Bucky asks. 

“Whatever you pick sounds good.” 

Bucky lingers in front of the movie rack longer than he probably needs to. He reads the backs of three different rom-coms before settling on one that Sam would 100% roll his eyes at, but that he knows you secretly love. He tucks it under his arm, grabs a couple of your favorite chocolate bars from the little snack stand by the register, and gives you a look like he's getting away with something.

“You’re gonna make me cry-watch You’ve Got Mail again, aren’t you?” you say, leaning on the counter.

Bucky shrugs. “If you do, I’ll pretend not to notice.”

You grin at him, warm and unguarded, and Bucky has to take a second to process it before he answers. “You’ve Got Mail it is.”

Later, back at the house, you sit curled up on your usual corner of the couch with your legs tucked under you, munching on apple slices while Bucky fiddles with the remote. Sam’s already texted the group chat to say he’s crashing at the Tower tonight. (“Don’t wait up. Also, don’t steal my Oreos again.”) You and Bucky both ignore the last part.

About halfway through the movie, you shift closer. Bucky doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, until your head finds its way to his shoulder and your hand settles gently on his knee.

“I like this,” you murmur, voice a little drowsy.

“The movie?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No. This.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. Me too.”

He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t have to. Your presence is comfort enough. Later, when you both climb into his bed without a word, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, Bucky knows one thing for sure:

You’ve moved in. Not just into his room.

But into him.

You crawl into bed with Bucky again that night. It’s the same as always now, and you fall asleep pretty easily. 

Sam unexpectedly comes back home—after a very late night at the Tower, he decided that he would rather sleep in his room back here with you two. He pops his head into Bucky’s room to let him know he’s home. “Hey, Buck, I— what.” 

Sam stops and stares. You’re tucked into Bucky’s side with your head half on your pillow and half on his chest. Sam looks around the room and sees your Apple watch charger, your phone charger, your sweatshirt, sunglasses, even your lemonade sitting on a coaster on the nightstand. Bucky is still awake and wide eyed now, unsure how he’s going to explain this to Sam. 

“Are y’all dating?” Sam asks accusingly, keeping his voice down enough so as not to wake you. 

“I don’t think so…?” Bucky replies. 

Sam rolls his eyes. “This looks like she lives in here.”

“Yeah, well… she kinda does.” 

Sam snorts. “You should tell her, Buck.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It’s raining the next morning, and the world feels quieter than usual—slowed down and softened by the overcast sky. You’re sitting at the kitchen table in one of Bucky’s T-shirts, legs curled up under you, sipping coffee and reading a worn paperback. Bucky’s at the stove, flipping pancakes, because you’d sleepily mumbled something about them before crawling out of bed, and he takes your cravings very seriously.

He watches you from the corner of his eye. You're home here—completely, comfortably home. And maybe Sam's right. Maybe you do deserve to know that this isn’t just about pancakes and movie nights and Apple watch chargers. Maybe you deserve more than "almost."

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, setting a plate down in front of you.

You glance up and smile. “Hi.”

He doesn’t sit right away. Just stands beside your chair for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I say something kinda stupid?”

You raise a brow. “Always.”

He takes a deep breath. “I think… I think I’ve been accidentally dating you. For a while. Without ever telling you.”

You blink. “Accidentally?”

Bucky shrugs, sheepish. “I mean. You live in my room. You fall asleep next to me every night. You make your eggs weird and I still like ’em. I think that counts for something.”

You set your book down slowly, eyes soft. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he starts, then stops, trying again with a quiet laugh, “I wanna stop pretending I don’t love every second of being yours. And if you want that too… I’d really like to officially call this something.”

You smile at him then, a little shy, but your heart is already wide open.

You reach for your fork, poke a bite of pancake, and say, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky echoes.

You nod. “Yes.”

He looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of this one, quiet, perfect moment. Then, he grins. “Okay. Yes.”

You chew your bite of pancake, then pause, tilting your head at him with a mock-serious expression.

“But I do have one condition.”

Bucky leans on the table, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

You point at your plate. “Keep making me breakfast. And when you ask if I need anything…”

His smile deepens, eyes crinkling. “Lemme guess. Apples?”

You grin. “Yes. And apples.”

taglist @spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13 @wpdarlingpan @puer-aurea

[boostinglashi]

Chingaderita needs money for partner to get a ride to job interview! Due today 2025-June-27

Pay•pal Ko-Fi

last post

Help a nonbinary Mexican and their spouse, childen, in-laws, and pet cats rebuild their home and deal with chronic illness!

(also they are considering making Deltarune pins for sale, consider messaging them if you are interested)

kofi work examples below

vouched for by transgendz

transgendz is vetted by scam-buster kyra 45

I can vouch for Calli @chingaderita! Ive known the family for several years now and they've consistently shown proof, was vetted by Kyra on my request when they first messaged, I'm quite sure, the search function on blogs is just awful and I'm having a hard time finding such an old post. But I talk to Calli often, we've had conversations in English and Spanish, and everything they say tracks with the proof provided. I just thought I'd say something bc I know you've been helping them too. Thank you for all you do.

have been helping boost many other donation campaigns* (see below cut),

Now its our turn to help them!

Vetting screenshots Summary of problems and some of past boosted campaigns below

I know it's hard for everyone but please, keep sharing, anything ANYTHING helps. We've been getting a bit of food and paying little by little what we owe at the corner store but the upcoming card payment is $190 and my meds are $130 and then let's not forget my healthcare renewal. I also bring bad news, we're starting with water shortages just like last year, we've gone from having 4 days of water a week to 1-2 if we're lucky. Our only toilet is busted and there are 9 people here who use it. My kid still needs attention for a UTI he's had for a couple of months now. And my partner has 3 ingrown nails and 2 big cuts on his feet he's kept unattended for weeks. I'd hate to up the goal but we need every help we can get!!

more documentation from 2023. and

Went back on my blog to find proof of the fire where my in-laws lost everything, this other one with pictures and proof that I’ve been sick and struggling to get my medication since August 2023. Just felt like having things organized and maybe make another blog to keep all proof I can save since we lost a lot of information and pictures/videos when we sold our phones and lost the computer. Not to mention my blog is way older but I have no idea how to enter my archive :3

*They have been helping boost many campaigns, gaza and otherwise (and have asked me to boost these three while their internet is unreliable): 

(1) AHMED’S [campaign] IS VERY FORGOTTEN, PLEASE, KEEP SHARING!!! – @/chingaderita on Tumblr 2)Donate to Trapped Family in Gazat (18) Donate to Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive, organized by Abdallah Alanqar – (3) €5,688/€25,000 – @/chingaderita on Tumblr

VETTING

[emeraldserenade]

I know I’ve been giving a lot of requests- but recently, your the only writer who seem to answer my requests so thank you (also I love your writing so much, it’s not even funny). But I really hope if you could do husband!joaquin with swimmer!reader? You can free write it but here’s some ideas just in case:

Swimmer!Reader winning a gold medal at some competitions

OR/AND

Joaquin cheering very loudly while watching from the plane after a mission and Sam being very confused and Joaquin hogging the screen

thank you in advance, hugs and kisses, Adria

Cheering From The Sky ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Even when Joaquín wasn't there, he always supported you

tw: fem!reader, swimmer!reader, husband!Joaquín,

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Adria, this is for the second idea you had for this. I hope you like it!!

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín always wanted to be with you for your meets, he knew it made you feel safer. But he was called into a last minute mission that lasted longer than he thought it would, so he was stuck watching your meet on his plane ride home. Sam was just trying to calm down after the mission, but Joaquín kept cheering.

"Joaquín, man, what is going on?" Sam had to ask, rubbing a hand down his face.

"I'm watching my girl's swim competition," Joaquín said, sitting on the edge of his seat while watching you swim your last lap. "That's my girl!" Joaquín shouted as you finished first, you smiled at the camera when you got out of the pool. You gave a small wave, the same one you sent to the camera every time Joaquín couldn't make it to your competition. Joaquín cheered extra loud when you got the gold again, mentally planning on how he's going to show you just how proud of you he is when he gets home.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[artist-owl]

Top 10 Funniest Deaths of the Silmarillion

Because sometimes you have to laugh through the tears when you’re reading this book. Did reading about (most) of these deaths emotionally devastate me? Oh yeah. Doesn’t mean we can’t have a laugh about it.

10 - Maglor: didn’t fucking die, the coward! Like, given that Elves can die of depression, there’s realistically no way he lived past the Second Age, but we never get confirmation. Schrodinger’s Elf, if you will.

9 - Turgon: specifically in a fandom context it’s funny bc fanon Turgon is the boring as cardboard member of his entire generation and then he goes out refusing to leave his falling city and stands atop his tower as dragons bring it down in crumbling flames whilst yelling “great is the victory of the Noldor!” Cannot stress enough that he did not need to do this. He could have left and said no. Dumb as hell but I respect it.

8 - Argon: pour one out for my boy his death and whole existence didn’t even make it to the published Silm. Not to mention he survives the entire crossing of the Helcaraxë while his sister in law literally got friged, then dies like .5 seconds after setting foot in Beleriand. Tfw you’re so impetuous that you hew your way through the orcs without stopping to think that this means they can close ranks and surround you. Not his fault, he’d never fought before. Probably.

7 - Nienor: learns that she did a sibling incest and immediately yeets herself off a cliff. Like I can’t blame her but there’s a morbid humour in how fast she made that decision.

6 - Túrin: same as his sister, but his cursed sword suddenly reveals itself to be capable of speech, calls him out for killing his boyfriend, and then calls him a lil bitch before he kills himself with it. Also with the way his life was going this wasn’t even surprising.

5 - Sauron (death no. 3): you know he lived and died the same way: not knowing what the fuck a Hobbit is or why he should worry about them. Also this bitch dies three goddamn times because he can’t learn his damn lesson.

4 - Fëanor: Fingolfin got the death that Fëanor was destined for bc Morgoth didn’t have time to plan ahead for that fight and granted Fingolfin a badass last stand; with Fëanor he went “I’m not fighting that guy” like a lil bitch and straight up sent out a fuckton of Balrogs to fight him instead, and Fëanor survived this for long enough to curse him out again, make his sons re-swear the oath that would ruin their lives and countless others’, and then spontaneously combust out of sheer Big Mad. Other Elves have faded away from depression because the weariness and sorrow of their souls overcame their bodies; Fëanor literally invented a new way to die. Post cancelled I’ve circled back around to being impressed.

3 - Thingol: Stiffs the Dwarves on their payment and starts hurling insults and slurs at them while holding a necklace that was recently liberated from a dead dragon’s hoard that had been inset with a twice-stolen gem that lowkey curses everyone who covets it after his magic goddess wife told him that coveting it was a bad idea. Like, my guy, wtf did you think would happen.

2 - Sauron (death no. 1): the biggest L of his career. Just sitting in his temple in Atlantis Númenor, laughing maniacally, assured of his own victory, and not looking out the window behind him to see the massive wave that is approaching at mach fuck. Dies and jrrt specifically mentions that he’s never again able to have a body that men (specifically) find hot. This is more pathetic than the #1 spot but I want him to stay losing 😌

1 - Finrod: do I even need to say it? You’ve got this classy, friendly, noble Elven lord who, in short order: agrees to help a Man complete a suicide quest because he Swore An Oath, dressed up as an orc, said his name was Dungalef and his friend here was Nereb, lost a rap battle to a god bc the god brought up his ptsd triggers, got stripped naked, slipped his chains and fought a werewolf, naked, with his teeth, and won before dying of blood loss, but not before he gave a little lore drop to Beren about how Elven deaths work as his last words. The absolute legend.

Put your favorites and/or other nominations in the tags, I want to see if there's anyone I missed.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Seb thoughts…

1. I think they just need to mention him and get it out of the way so it stops being weird. Just have him brought up and have Robert say he needs to get himself sorted out first before he tries to get him back because Seb deserves better than how he is right now etc. Just to acknowledge him and then immediately put a pin in it while everything else is happening. I feel like if he and Ross share scenes next week, that’s a perfect time to do it.

2. When they inevitably bring him back, they have to cast a decent child actor that is better than most of the current ones they have. Like he needs to at least be at Isaac levels, maybe better. And he needs to have good chemistry with Ryan. Ideally I’d like Amelia Flanagan levels of ability to deliver lines and comedic timing. Or young Eden because baby Belle was great.

3. I have historically always been a bigger fan of Aaron and Seb’s relationship than Robert and Seb. All the last six years I’ve advocated for Seb coming back for Aaron including when they just killed off Rebecca in this story. I thought it would have done really nice things for his character if they weren’t going to bring Robert back. But with Robert and Seb, I really am very neutral. I don’t feel a whole lot either way. The scenes I most enjoyed with Robert and Seb were ones that also had Aaron in them or were about Aaron like when he asked him to look after Aaron during his exit story. But I’m open to the idea of Robert and Seb if they do it better than before. We all liked Robert and Liv better than Aaron and Liv (well some of us) and that was largely because they had to work at it. I think they have an opportunity to do that with Seb now because of the situation and it might go along way toward making people like the idea. Because let’s face it, this kid has an uphill battle in this fandom. They need to make their relationship feel earned and they need to make them a likable little duo for it to work.

4. My ideal timing is still to bring him back post John and pre reunion because the last thing I want is for them to get back together and then get an eight year old dropped off on their door step the next day like what happened with Liv. I think let’s deal with the worst of Robert’s trauma, let’s deal with John and then let’s have Aaron need time because of all the John stuff and during that space of time, bring Seb in. Use it as a reason to keep them apart longer but also Aaron can be brought into it because he loves that kid too. And Ross. Haha. And then by reunion time, he’s in the kiddie cupboard only to be brought out four or five times a year but at least he has a solid foundation with Robert this time.

5. I definitely never want them to get bogged down with kid stories the way Dawn always has been. And I mean I don’t think that would happen considering there’s a lot more to them anyway. But I just want them to be more like Coira in that respect. The kids are there. They get mentioned but they also get to do all of the big stories too. And then just smaller things with the kids. You know until Seb accidentally kills someone or ruins an entire family and they have to focus on that. Haha

[rumpelree]

CW: Implied/referenced child death/corpse, disturbing themes + possible eyestrain (unsure but, just in case, since the rgb is slightly difficult to look at for me personally- idk if I like it, it’s very blurry and terribly hard to read)

💕It’s been so long since I’ve posted to Tumblr, I make so much art but only ever post it to my YT community tab aaaa- but came back here to post this since I’m particularly stoked with it

I’ve had this idea for a short little doodle comic for awhile heheheheh- before he stops visiting her and it becomes way too much for him to handle in every sense, he instead copes in not the best way and visits his child’s dead body/dead body holder like things are completely normal- but no, he’s losing his marbles. There is hardly a marble to be found. He brings her stuff, brushes her hair, talks to her, etc.

Since this idea has been in my brain so long and making me very squeamish/uncomfortable, I thought it would be perfect to illustrate. XD Not sponsored by Hostess btw, I just picked a random snack food that was around in the 80s to have William try and feed a robot while his daughter’s rotting body is just like…there right below that- he doesn’t expect Circus Baby to eat it, and she doesn’t, she’s shut off and also isn’t built to eat. He’s just playing house, so to speak.

I also wanted this to show in the dialogue, Liz was 12 when she died in my AU, obviously not a small child- but here he’s speaking as if he’s speaking to a much smaller child than a 12 year old, because while she was his baby and would be at any age, here it’s supposed to be like. He’s IMAGINING her younger, as a way to cope. It’s not something he can keep up forever though, what with all the rotting and such. Grief amirite guyssss

[ohburgee]

Helloo, my stars! It’s been a while, I’ve been gone for four days, hahaha. But this isn’t an announcement about coming back. As much as I don’t want to make any of you feel sad, I’ve decided to quit and stop making Block Tales fanfics. I’ve made up my mind after talking with my best friend, and I know it’s sudden, but this is my choice.

I’m going to focus fully on that dream now, I’m slowly making progress on it, and it makes me smile :D I hope you all understand my decision. I’ll miss you all, I’ll miss the memories I’ve made while writing for this beloved game and fandom. To all of you who supported me, I’ll cherish it in my heart, and to those Anons and anyone who sent requests, your ideas were always beautiful and majestic. Please keep sharing your ideas with other writers.

I’m not going to delete this blog or any of the fics I’ve made. I’ll just let this blog stay. I’m going to abandon it. Maybe someday I’ll come back and use this blog for something new.

Please promise me this, my stars, I don’t care if we’re strangers, you’re like stars to me, lighting up my path, and I’m so grateful for every one of you.

@brain4stew, thank you for your non-stop support and for reblogging my posts; you make my day every time. You're the reason why I'm here in the first place. You’ve truly inspired me, thank you. <3

@lynnie-s3all, you too, also thank you for your beloved cute arts you made for me, I very appreciate it, I won't forget you Lyn <3 (even you're not active here but when you comeback and see this :>)

@sourle, thank you so much for supporting me. I deeply appreciate it.

@amoracreations, you’re one of the sweetest followers I’ve ever had. I hope you write your own fanfics too.

And to those lovely Anons and followers here who made me smile with your messages, support, and love, thank you; you made every moment brighter.

One last promise, everyone, please take care of yourselves. Be kind, be hopeful, stay hydrated, eat well, and rest. Your health is my priority. To all the writers out there, don’t force yourself to write. Take your time, focus on yourself, and remember, it’s not your fault if followers get mad when you don’t post. It’s your choice, your time, and your voice.

That’s all I want to say. Lastly, thank you, everyone, my stars. Maybe one day we’ll cross paths here again.

Thank you.

(Sorry for tagging you :>)

[salmoninnit]

Wish You Stayed

ex!satoru gojo x reader x crush?!choso kamo pt. 1 - pt. 2

The sound of your phone buzzing awoke you from your sleep, with a groan you reach for it and open your eyes slightly. 

Satoru: Morning, you fell asleep in the car and wouldn’t wake up. I brought you upstairs and made sure to lock up before leaving. I left some alka-seltzer pills that are on your bedside table. Feel better

Same old Satoru as he was before, caring and considerate towards you even after not speaking for years. A part of you wanted to see this as a good thing but another part felt like you can’t just go back. People change in 3 years, you’ve changed in 3 years.

Nothing ever can be the same, it can only get better or worse. 

A part of you from last night wanted to see how things played out with Choso while another part of you wanted to run back to Satoru. 

You: morning, thank you for bringing me up and for the tablets. my head is pounding

He instantly replied to your message.

Satoru: Yea of course, need anything else to feel better?

You bit your lip, you wanted to ask for something just to see him. But you knew better to do that to yourself. Him being here, taking care of you? It was asking to become putty in his hands and with how shitty you feel, it’d work and rewire everything. 

You: no ill be fine! thank you for offering :) Satoru: Okay, just let me know if you do

You thumbs up the message and toss your phone on the bed. It was 10 am and thankfully you didn’t have plans. You reluctantly got up and grabbed the tablets he left for you. Letting them sizzle in the water as you go to the bathroom. 

Splashing water in your face after you freshened up felt like falling into a cold pool. You shivered as you patted your face dry. Heading back to your room you drank the water. Feeling a little less groggy as you climbed back into bed. Playing some random youtube video and laying down. 

You don’t know how long it took but you were again awoken by a buzzing from your phone. Sighing you flip it over and see it’s 2 pm and the buzzing was now a text from a random number. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx: hey it’s Choso. did you make it home safe last night? 

A flutter appeared in your stomach as you smiled. Adding his contact and replying back. 

You: hey! yea i did, a friend dropped me off. i drank so much, im suffering the consequences of my own actions Choso: i’m glad to hear you made it safe. how much did you end up drinking for you to feel that bad?  You: i lost count after my fourth round of shots and 3 drinks deep tbh Choso: one hell of a reunion for you and your friends huh?

You giggled as you tried to recount how many drinks you actually had. Kento’s beer, a mojito, two drinks with Choso, 2 shots, another mojito, another shot, another mojito, and maybe 3 other shots? No way you drank that much, your bank account shall suffer and you shall not check it. 

You: yea it was. i’ve seen most of them except one throughout these past three years and so this was the first time we were all together since highschool Choso: that’s nice, im glad you had fun. I had fun with you last night 

You feel your cheeks warm as you giggle. It really was nice talking to him, it was easy and he was kind but also intimidating. He was tall and built, probably not as tall as Suguru or Satoru. But his build definitely matched similar to theirs. 

You: i did too, would definitely take you up on that date you mentioned :P Choso: are you available tomorrow? 5 pm?  You: yea! what is the setting? how should i dress? Choso: anything you want, you’ll be pretty and fit in anywhere i have planned :) You: okay then, i’ll see you then :)

He hearts your message and you send your address to him. 

Either that alka-seltzer put in the work or the idea of a date with Choso made you feel so much better. 

You sigh as you look up at the ceiling, this was just the start of whatever will be your next few months of whatever the fuck is happening with Satoru and Choso. After 3 years of nothing romantic, all of a sudden two men appear. Even though Satoru hasn’t explicitly said he wants you (you saw him once, maybe you are a bit delusional), there was a feeling in your gut that said he does. The stares, the way he talks a bit quieter when he speaks to you, and the way he just is the old him when you were together. Less brash and nowhere near as affectionate (for obvious reasons), he still looked at you the same way he did before. 

You don’t know if he ever stopped looking at you that way, even when breaking up. Yea it was on mutual terms but the look in his eyes as you agreed to it, held every emotion he still carried for you. 

And he still carried that look in his eyes 3 years later. 

A part of you yearned for it, wish you spoke to him sooner. But you didn’t dare to reach out and neither did he. So what was the point? Still being in love with your high school sweetheart, mutual affection both ways but at the same time, you both loved old versions of each other. 

What if we changed so drastically and once found out, it wasn’t there? Would there be a point in bringing up old emotions from a previous time? From previous versions of you?

You didn’t know and didn’t want to think about it much longer.

So you let the day move on, eating and resting. The alcohol killed you but at least you hadn’t thrown up. Pretty sure the alka-seltzer really did work overtime for you. 

Lounging on your couch at 8 pm, playing a tv show and laying on your side. A knock on your door echoed through the apartment as you lowered the volume of the tv. You made your way to the door and looked through the peephole. On the other side stood Satoru, wearing a hoodie with digimon character and jeans. Your heart did a small flip as you opened the door. 

“Hey”, you said with a smile. 

“Hey, sorry for showing up like this. Wasn’t sure if you had eaten and was in the area. So I got you your favorite - or old favorite pho”, Satoru said as he held up a bag from your favorite spot. 

“It’s okay, thank you. Come in”, you say as you move aside for him to walk in. He takes off his shoes and makes his way to the table. He starts taking out the pho containers and setting them up, then he sits casually in the chair just like he used to before, like it was second nature for him.  

You shut the door and make your way to the fridge, grabbing two sodas, one coke and one dr pepper. Proceeding to the table as you sat across from him, placing the coke in front of him and grabbing your portion of the food. 

“I got you the same as before, hope you didn’t switch that”, he laughed as he opened his container. Popping the top part out and dumping it onto the noodles. Then filling the container with broth. You followed suit and let the noodles soften. 

“You know you didn’t have to do this right?”, you say as you look at him. He’s adorning a smile and now you take notice he isn’t wearing his glasses. His eyes are set on you and speaking a million words. 

“I know but it felt like a nice thing to do, plus I haven’t seen you in ages. Thought it’d be nice to just hang out”, he says as he looks down at his soup. Satoru had debated this for hours since the morning. He was hoping you’d tell him you need something, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat to see you again. Even though he doesn’t feel like he has that right anymore, he was willing to do anything to make it be his right again. 

“This is nice, I honestly was craving this after my shitty excuse for food earlier. Made a burnt grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup from a can”, you laugh as you stir your noodles around, breaking them from their mold of a circle. 

“You could’ve asked, I told you just to let me know”, he says softly as he mimics your actions with the soup. He cracks open his drink and takes a sip from it. “Still remember my likes, like I remember yours”.

“Well hard to forget when we ate and drank much of the same things back then”, you laugh and start eating your pho. 

“Fair enough, it’s like it’s embedded into my brain”, Satoru says as he starts eating. 

You fell into a silence of eating and the only thing being heard was the tv and you two eating. It felt domestic, it felt like it did before. The time changed and yet you’re still here, sitting across each other in the same way, eating the same foods you two would get, and being comfortable with each other. 

As you were finishing your pho, your phone rang on the table. You glanced at it and saw Choso’s name at the top. You inhaled and grabbed it quickly. 

“Sorry I’ll be right back”, you say as you get up and make your way to your room. 

“Hey!”, you exclaim as you make your way into your room. 

Satoru’s ears perked up at how happy you sounded. He had seen the name on your phone and by your reaction, it had to be the guy from last night. With a small groan he threw his head back. Competition wasn’t new for him, he’s always been competitive and good - no great - at everything he did. But he had never dealt with competition when it came to you. 

Having met on your first days of highschool, you two were both nerds. Relating on interests and hobbies, staying up waiting on drop dates for games or going out and buying ridiculous anime items. It was natural for you two to end up liking each other, even your friends saw it before you two did. They bet on how long it’d take for someone to make a move, it wasn’t until before the ending of freshman year that anything was said to one another. 

He confessed first like a lovesick puppy, he had seen you get hit on by some guy in another class. It was the first time he saw you blush at anyone other than him. He felt a sickening feeling in his stomach, at the thought of losing you, at the thought of you being with someone else.

And that’s when he realized he had liked you. He had rushed over to you and told you some lie to pull you away from the guy. He had dragged you outside to where you two would hangout after school with your friends but usually after they left, you two would linger there. 

“I need to tell you something”, he said nervously as he balled his hands into fists. 

“Okay what is it ‘Toru?”, you spoke lightly with a tilt of your head. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared up at him. 

“I-I like you. I don’t know how long I’ve liked you for and maybe it was the first time you smiled at me. O-Or when you gave me my keychain for my phone, or when you laughed at my joke the first week of class. Maybe I’ve liked you from the moment I got to know you. But I just know I like you. More than anyone else, more than my favorite digimon character”, he utters as he averts your gaze. 

You had stood there in awe, shock, and pure bliss. 

“Toru…I like you too. I didn’t think you’d like me back but looking back I might be a bit stupid from not realizing it”, you laugh as he shot his head back to look at you. You were looking down as he stared wide eyed. He didn’t think you’d reject him but at the same time he didn’t think you really did like him.

“Oh..I-I honestly don’t know why I didn’t think you’d like me too. Maybe we're both a little stupid here”, he laughs as he reaches for your hands, embracing them with both of his. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You gaze up at him with a saccharine smile, eyes crinkling from how genuine it is. “Really?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Yes really stupid. I think if you don’t answer I’ll bury myself 6 feet under”.

“Okay, I’ll be your girlfriend Satoru”, you giggle as you pull your hands away from his and hug him. He reflexively wrapped his arms around you and picked you up with a spin. You laugh out and so does he. 

Shoko won the bet, she had said you’d two be together before the end of the school year. Kento and Yu had bet you’d get together by the beginning of the next semester. While Suguru thought it’s take another year for you two to even realize it by how stupid you both were to each others yearning. 

Satoru sighs as he replays the memory, he thinks about it far too often. Having replayed every detail from that day, the days before and after. His biggest regret was breaking up with you before college. You hadn’t grown apart, it was all the same but you both wanted to focus on college. He proposed the idea after seeing all the time he’d have with school and the family business, he didn’t find it fair to you to be unavailable constantly. It hurt him to even bring it up, to even think about it. 

But you understood, you wanted the both of you to be successful in your own ways. It crossed your mind but you never voiced it. When he brought it up, you wanted to say it’d be fine and you’d understand his time away. But you knew, it would ruin you two. The lack of seeing each other and affection you both couldn’t 100% show. Would make you two grow to resent it and resent each other for not trying harder. 

So you agreed. The no contact was to not be distracted, neither of you saw each other as distractions, but you both knew it’d turn into it. So there was no fighting, no lashing out; just acceptance. It killed you both and even 3 years later, after graduating and working, you both felt the same way for one another as you did then. 

Satoru tried to move on, tried to meet new people, tried to forget about you but everyone he met wasn't you. Everyone was shallow with no true personality, you were the only one he’d met that fit him like a puzzle. So he stopped trying, he’d get hit on but turn them down. 

Now watching you get excited over someone else was killing him. He wishes he’d come around sooner, yea you met this Choso guy last night but the way you had looked at him when you had talked to him in the bar, Satoru had only seen you look at him that way. 

He knew from Suguru that you hadn’t been with anyone else since him. He reveled in the fact that you hadn’t moved on from him.

As if you’d ever truly be able to move on from one another.

But this factor of running into someone who clicked with you like he once had, had him nervous. Had him on the brink of begging you to be with him. But he couldn’t.

It wouldn’t work, maybe before, back then it would’ve. But he can tell you changed, you’re not as you were before. Not lovesick for him like he was for you. 

He might be too late but that won’t stop him from trying. 

<<previous : next>>

so guess this is my first series on here, not sure if it'll be long or short but lets see how ill do

[cositanuestra]

𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓂ℯ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 ໒꒱༝༚༝༚

��� 𝗓 𐰁 SYNOPSIS. stuart twombley, the uptight, sarcastic, nerd who never looked up from his phone, that stuart twombley, had a crush on you?

THIS INCLUDES! mostly fluff, slightly ooc? reader goes by she/her, tiny sexual innuedos if you blink.., stuart being sarcastic and also down bad this is NOT proofread do not crucify me pls

𝜗𝜚𝜗𝜚

You didn’t think that Stuart, the hot nerd that worked at your internship, would’ve ever even looked your way. It shocked you completely when you had even gotten the idea mentioned that he was into to you. Sitting at your desk near Neha, giggling at dumb Facebook memes while on your break. Stuart walked in, phone gripped in his hand with a bunch of drinks, presumably from a local Starbucks. You gasped at the sight, “Stuart and Starbucks?” You giggled excitedly. The tall boy came around with everyone order, a litter of thank you’s. “Oh Stewie, you shouldn’t have.” You giggled, taking the tiny strawberry milkshake he left on your desk. “It’s no big deal,” he mumbled, scratching his neck. He soon turned around quickly, returning back to his seat where he buried his head into his phone.

“Hm,” Neha mumbled. “Did i do something wrong?” You turned around, eyebrows knitted together at her. “Nah, that’s just Stuart. Don’t over think it [y/n].” The brunette girl said, a hand on your shoulder before she returned to her laptop. You frowned a bit to yourself, feeling as though you pushed the brown eyed boy the wrong way.

that wasn’t the first time something like that happened either, it was another time the following week, you were all at the white board, the team bursting out ideas. Stuart, the smart guy he is, said something incredibly Stuart-y, a parade of ‘oh I’ve never seen it that way’ ‘wow, that’s smart.’ Which wasn’t unusual. “That was really cool of you, Stu. You always take things at a new angle, it’s admiring.” You rambled, starting a conversation. Stuart looked down at you, a shocked zing in his eyes that you would’ve missed if you blinked. Stuart played with his beanie and pushed up his black rimmed glasses. “Uh, thanks.” He stated, walking away.

It was a game of cat and mouse with him, he literally never, never spoke to you unless prompted to. I mean, it’s not like you had a crush on stuart or anything, but you were chill and on a close level with the rest of the gang, so why did he have to make it so difficult? And even when attempted to have somewhat of a conversation with him, he would take off or barely even look at you. You couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a bit hurtful. You walked into the office returning from your break, having stopped when you peeped the sight of the rest of the group conversating, having heard your name. “yeah, [y/n] gave me some insight on this new thing I’ve been developing,” you watched Stuart peek up from his phone, his hand covering his face. Neha looked over at him suspiciously, she had become somewhat aware at how much it bothered you that stuart didn’t seem to enjoy being around you. “Yeah, she’s a smart girl, maybe even smarter than you, Stuart.” Neha spat, searching for a reaction out of the brunette boy. Stuart shifted in his seat. Lyle leaned over, “Yeah Stuart, how come you like, never talk to her. Did she find out or something?” He said casually. Stuart gave an aggravated look to Lyle, a ‘shut the fuck up’ kind of face, it was a mistake to ever go out drinking with that idiot. His train of thought interrupted by Neha bursting “[y/n] found out about what, exactly stuart?” Neha glared. “Nothing, what the hell are you talking about?” Stuart flustered, growing more embarrassed by the minute. You let out a shocked squeak, covering your hand before you ducked behind the nearest wall.

“You don’t know Neha? Stuart’s been like, having a hard on for her for months.” Lyle added, taking a sip of his drink. “Oh my god.” Stuart groaned, slumping into his chair, Neha let out a gasp. She hit his shoulder, letting out a ‘hey!’ From Stuart. “Dude, you’re joking.” Neha laughed. “You like her?”

Lyle laughed, “like? More like obsessed. [y/n] doesnt like mocha frappes she likes caramel!” He mocked. “Will you shut the fuck up please? It’s not a big deal that I want to get her the right drink.” Neha’s shoulders fell. “Dude, she like literally thinks you hate her, you’re such a douchebag.” Stuart’s eyes widened, pointing a finger at his chest. “Me? She thinks I-I don’t like her?” “Yes man!” “I mean, you do kinda blow her off, it’s a little ironic considering every time she looks at you, you look like you’re about to nut in your pants.” Neha cringed, stuart pinched his temple, groaning. Stuart really fumbled. “It’s been bothering her a lot more than she likes to admit.” You really thought he hated you? I mean sure, he wasn’t the most confident of the bunch, any string of conversation coming out of his mouth being a something laced with sarcasm or something smart assed. It’s not like it’s his fault that he physically felt his body hurt at the sight of you walking in, flowy mini dress hugging all the right parts and that pink lipgloss he’d oh so love to devour. It was supposed to be something small, ‘oh no big deal, just my pretty coworker.’ But day after day he could feel his attraction seeping out of his skin, so much to the point he couldn’t even stand talking to you. How could he? Walking past you and he could smell the strawberry vanilla shampoo that you used, the literal scent of your perfume enough to have him weak. It wasnt his fault he couldn’t be near you without desperately needing to sit down, his body betraying him. As much as he wanted to be your friend, he knew he couldn’t do that, he’d just get selfish and would want to keep you all to himself. So every time you mentioned some cute tech guy you talked to in the hallway, or some hot guy tried to make a pass at you, he just let it happen. And god forbid he try to make a move, Stuart and flirting? Never going to happen. Watching from afar was easier then going through the emotional turmoil of figuring out whether you liked him or not, and he didn’t want to risk messing things up. So, he gave up long before he even thought of trying. Plus, why him when you could pull so many other gorgeous guys? It’s not like he thought he was ugly, but he truly believed you’re far out of his league. All he could do was pull on his beanie and pray to any divine being out there that some miracle would happen where you’d find him attractive.

Hearing all of that makes you sink to the floor, hand clasped on your mouth and cheeks burning. That’s why Stuart didn’t want to be around you? Because he had a thing a for you? You weren’t one to lie and say that he wasn’t someone that would pop up in your mind when you were in bed at night and alone. I mean, he wasn’t incredibly hot and could solve a math question like it’s nothing. And the way he explained things and nerded out was like, absolute paradise for you. And those black rimmed glasses? Let’s not get started on those because that would take to much time to even describe what those things do to you. Wait, so what did this mean now? He liked you, but avoided you. Is he not interested? Is he into you but doesn’t want it to go any further? Now it would be a little bit more difficult to contain yourself around him, now knowing the reason why the brunette seemed like he couldn’t stand to be next to you. So with that established, what would that mean for the both of you now?

[linkons-most-wanted]

My dear, I’ve been stuck in the time lock event + death and rebirth. Strap in for my rambles and get some tinfoil. Also I’m sure some of my little ideas have plot holes or inconsistencies but this is all fun speculation

I think the implications from in game and the way it’s been presented is our general “timeline” is beyond cloudfall, hunger games world, current story setting. If that’s the case, it kinda confirms Sylus did die and later reincarnated (still doesn’t disqualify him being a dragon tho 😩) then they got separated in the deepspace tunnel where things progress into the main story as we know it. In this, Sylus would regain his memories at some point. Perhaps similar to how for our current mc she’s getting it in bits and pieces. (This isn’t even touching on the conceptual eldritch horror? potential of her and what she is and him with energy because WOW my Bloodborne/Elden Ring days see cosmic beings and go “that’s scary shit right there”)

Here’s where I put on my tinfoil hat.

Sylus remembering things while mc doesn’t could very well be attributed to the very notion of energy itself. Regardless of if Sylus has multiple reincarnations or not, he always ends up remembering because energy cannot be created nor destroyed. (Thinking about where he says something akin to “to all your future crimes you’ll commit”, implying he remembers/knows lives beyond this one)

The inherent manipulation of energy makes it impossible for him to not remember as the energy itself holds echoes of the past and the forms it once existed as. While in the new story chapters we see mc witness countless deaths and rebirths ;D she’s the cycle of life and death itself it seems like. Being born, you know nothing. From the moment you exist you are learning. I think about how if you answer the ambition question “it’s like me, always searching for knowledge/truth” (paraphrase).

He remembers and protects her ambition because it’s just something so important to her… periods are hardly the first of her cycles he dealt with LOL “you think periods bother me when you consistently die and get reborn?”

Here’s MORE tinfoil for a hat to put on the hat.

Beyond cloudfall was the start of it all. Two souls defying fate so strongly they become one with the stars and space. In every lifetime, in the universe itself, they will find their way to each other.

Mc had to have a start somewhere and why not at the end of her life as an immensely powerful sorceress (dragon) knowing she was soulbound to her love that she herself cursed into perpetual existence.

So if Sylus always remembers and patiently awaits and follows wherever his soulmate goes, it’s no wonder he’s so secure with the relationship. (Not to mention his near “perfect” status skill wise ;p for his sake we’ll say that he doesn’t remember EVERYTHING, just the important-for-the-story bits.)

He says for him there are no worlds without you in it and he meant it. His patience is infinite because witnessing your brilliant soul persistently want and desire regardless of what life you take is something he craves and loves. It’s why he despises Ever so thoroughly, putting mc into a situation that forces the cycle. They took you and hurt you and ripped away the greatest parts that come with living and growing. The small details he gets to learn about while falling in love all over again are stolen several times over and that’s a debt EVER will never be able to pay in full.

If you’re a comet, shooting across the night sky, he’s the fiery trail you leave in your wake. There is no love purer than his. 🤧😩

Sorry it took me so long to reply, but I wanted to be sure my brain was online!! Because I LOVE THIS 🤩 I am STRAPPED IN

I actually have a different idea about the timeline tho! It's probably just my bias and my meta story brain, but I'd actually put the nebula gladiatorial combat first.

Because then what you get is:

Two astral children, born of universe stuff, created with the express purpose of fighting their peers so only one survives > they defy this fate somehow (we don't know how but maybe it's a teaser for Sylus's new myth this year since his team loves to foreshadow???) > they reincarnate on Philos as dragon/sorceress > this is why they're destined arch-nemeses, because the very nature of their initial existence pits them against each other in an "only one can survive" way > they defy their fate again > sorceress MC dies > adult dragon sylus reassembles and retains his continuity of memory, explaining why these are top-of-mind when he meets her in the N109 Zone

The nebula arena read as really primordial to me (eldtrich cosmic like you said!)--highly connected to MC's true nature as a force that can be reborn and absorb the planetary core of all possible branching timelines. (Which itself actually explicitly represents the power of love in its infinite incarnations and OMG I NEED to write a whole essay on this!!) It's that primordial-ness that makes me put it as the "first" of the lives.

My theory here requires the assumption that Sylus is also a similarly primordial being capable of reincarnation, and though we haven't been told that specifically, it's true of Zayne and Raf and Caleb (Xavier TBD) so I don't think it's a stretch.

Emotionally, the reason I'm drawn to this explanation is that it explains why MC always has an instinct to kill Sylus and steal his power, even/especially at the start of Beyond Cloudfall. Yeah, it can be "Just because", but the idea that the basic nature of their existence is that one of them is meant to kill the other and come out on top just adds a delicious layer to Beyond Cloudfall.

While I think the authors leave themselves options on purpose, the sequence of events from Beyond Cloudfall > space pirate > N109 Zone is so tight that I'll probably assume they're contiguous until proven otherwise (and at that point I'll cling to it in head canon).

All that said, the writers also lean into the cyclical and branching layer of things so I think that any sort of themes or feelings that arise from putting things into different orders are all intended on some level and definitely very valid!

I love the idea that Sylus is more able to access his memories due to his Evol/powers because, you know what they all that in-universe??? Consciousness energy. So I think you're really onto something!!

I totally agree with the idea that him talking about "and all the crimes you'll commit" is a reference to him knowing about the reincarnation, and I think with the teasers we've gotten of the nebula arena, we know for sure they're still going to use the reincarnation angle with Sylus's myths (as opposed to working them all into the same immortal continuity). So I'm really curious to see where they go with that! As much as I want space pirate Sylus, I think we'd have gotten hints that MC was around in those years if a version of her was, but all we know is he was searching for her all that time, so I don't think we'll get space pirate adventures with the two of them. (Thematically it's probably too similar to Beyond Cloudfall anyway, so I am DYING to see what they do with the upcoming myth. I kinda wonder if we'll get young Sylus x young MC, but the Companion would be adult Sylus so the whole myth can't be while they're young. But I'd bet money it's gonna be the gladiator thing still.)

He remembers and protects her ambition because it’s just something so important to her… periods are hardly the first of her cycles he dealt with LOL “you think periods bother me when you consistently die and get reborn?”

This had me CACKLING and yes I totally agree! Regardless of the continuity of his lifetimes (which will probably remain vague) I'm fully bought in that either his Evol and/or his journey through the Deepspace Tunnel has given him more understanding of & access to the multi-life memories than any other character.

The small details he gets to learn about while falling in love all over again are stolen several times over and that’s a debt EVER will never be able to pay in full. If you’re a comet, shooting across the night sky, he’s the fiery trail you leave in your wake. There is no love purer than his. 🤧😩

THROW A BRICK AT ME WHY DON'T YOU (ilu) 💫🥹

The meta part of my brain wants to sit down with the writing teams soooo soooo badly and, like, pick their brains. 🤣 Like, who's in charge of the main story continuity? Why is Sylus's story so much tighter across all the different types of media than the other LIs? Do the other writing teams have that option and they just don't take advantage of it? How do I learn Chinese so I can become best friends with the Sylus writing team because I just KNOW we would get along omg.

Anyway. Bring me ALL the tinfoil hat theories!! I feel like we're gonna have so much to work with after this livestream on Friday!!!!!

[emeraldserenade]

I know I’ve been giving a lot of requests- but recently, your the only writer who seem to answer my requests so thank you (also I love your writing so much, it’s not even funny). But I really hope if you could do husband!joaquin with swimmer!reader? You can free write it but here’s some ideas just in case:

Swimmer!Reader winning a gold medal at some competitions

OR/AND

Joaquin cheering very loudly while watching from the plane after a mission and Sam being very confused and Joaquin hogging the screen?

thank you in advance, hugs and kisses, Adria

Gold Kisses ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: A celebratory kiss is shared after you win gold

tw: fem!reader, swimmer!reader, husband!Joaquín, none?, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Adria never apologize for sending in requests, I love knowing what people want to read!! I'm glad you love my writing!! Also, this request was sent in 7 times somehow, so I'll be doing both of those ideas but in different posts. Also, my first Joaquín thing where there is no dialogue??? Crazy to think about.

➽──────────────❥

You always wanted to be a swimmer, you loved the freeing feeling of being in the water. The way you moved under the water was such a freeing feeling. So when you had the chance to swim for a career, when USA Swimming offered you a job, you took it. It was through the swim company you already swam for, just this time you were getting paid a lot more and you were a lot more competitions.

Joaquín was at every meet he could be, always in the stands in the front. He supported you always, even before you were married. You loved it and him for it, especially since competitions always took a bit of a mental toll on you even if you won.

Joaquín drove you to the meet, he was off and said he was going to be there. You were next and you looked over to where Joaquín was, you had gained a small following of fans from your meets and you knew they were always looking for the moments where you looked at Joaquín. This was one of those times, you always looked for him before swimming when he was there. Something about knowing he was there was comforting, it let you swim better.

And you did, you swam like your life depended on it and you won. The second you got realized you were able to leave the space, you did. You ran to the sidelines and jumped, knowing Joaquín would catch you. And he did, he caught you and kissed you breathless. You stayed up there for as long as you could before having to drop back to the floor and you smiled, knowing you would see videos of you jumping into Joaquín's arms all over the internet the next day.

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