#bro aimed for the wrong thing

[bibbysstuff]

Mission failed....successfully?

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (06)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content fluff, suggestive (sorry...) unresolved tension, a slight panic attack (nothing too serious!), confrontation, lil angst?!?!

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 05 ! 06 ¡ 07

rafecameron

WY@ - brent faiyaz 

liked by sarahcameron, ryanontop and 1,982 others

rafecameron Doing shit I really shouldn't do for real 🤷🏼‍♂️

view all comments 

yourusername nice post g ↳ rafecameron Thanks g ↳ yourusername you're welcome homie 💯 ↳ rafecameron I’m not your homie ↳ yourusername alr bro 😎 ↳ rafecameron 🤐 

yoursername rafe cameron is never beating the slut allegations ↳ rafecameron I'll take that as a compliment thank you! Learned from the best 😊 ↳ yourusername Are you slut shaming me right now ↳ rafecameron WHAT NO I’m just saying like you know ahah Ahaha fuck ↳ yourusername yeah right ↳ popeheyward This is gross by the way ↳ yourusername shut up

sarahcameron put that cigarette down little boy ↳ rafecameron Did bug give you the ‘little boy’ virus… ↳ yourusername it's not a Virus. Embrace it 💜 ↳ rafecameron Okay 💜

sarahcameron you forgot the #aimed ↳ rafecameron Shut up Sarah ↳ yourusername LMAO

yourusername watchu know about brent ⁉️ ↳ rafecameron I love Brent ↳ yourusername hmm 🤔 ↳ rafecameron Are you doubting my music taste right now? ↳ yourusername Yes

ryanontop Shii baby you look fine asl 😍 ↳ rafecameron Stawp! 🙊 ↳ jjmaybanks Awh fawk nah

popeheyward Yooo 🫡 liked by rafecameron

user1 Nah who got my dawg posting song lyrics ☠️

user2 Bro’s pussy whipped

user3 who hurt you bae ❤️

user4 may god bless me with your genes ↳ user3 ?? what ↳ user4 im saying iw ant to have his kids 😊

user5 bismallah my body had a reaction to the third slide ❤️

user6 this is fucking insane go fucking kill yourself you fucking manwhore stop fucking posting shit like this ↳ yourusername this is so real you go user6 ↳ user6 thank you 😇 someone needed to say it ↳ rafecameron Uhhh

user7 i told my parents about us

kelc3eee Fit is hard 🔥 ↳ rafecameron Thanks

It’s been three days since you last kissed Rafe, and yet, you still couldn’t get the thought out of your head, reminiscing over the memory each time you strived to distract your mind from it. 

Waking up the next morning was like a punch to your stomach, your hopes of it being a dream instantly destroyed with the harsh reality of kissing Rafe. You ended up practically locking yourself in your room, too afraid Rafe might say something, address the said kiss and stupid mistake of reaching for his face in the first place. 

To your surprise, Rafe did not bring it up, greeting you with a sheepish grin once you joined them downstairs. It puzzled your brain, as it filled with a million questions over why he didn’t make an effort to bring it up. It was slightly disappointing, even if it was a mistake, he had every right to sort out the situation, pull you to the side and remind you how wrong it was to kiss him, knowing well aware that he was forbidden to the touch. 

But he didn’t, and if he did hint it, you definitely chose to look past it, brushing it off everytime you found yourself alone with him, choosing to avoid the situation and feign ignorance to the way your heart would stupidly flutter.  

Now, three days have passed, and things are, well, they’re normal. Your friends were surfing, while you sunbathed on the shore, not in the mood to get yourself wet. Rafe, of course, never left Ryan’s side, messing around with your brother to get him riled up, knowing how mad he easily got. 

Their giggles echoed through the distance, tugging a faint smile on your lips as you admired from afar, squinting your eyes due to the bright sun beaming through your skin, blocking your vision even with the pair of sunglasses you had on. 

Your arms plopped up against the towel beneath you, supporting your body from giving out, even after maintaining the same position for over a while now. The smile on your lips faltered at the sight of Rafe exiting the water, straightening up when you noticed him strolling in your direction. 

Heat flushed your face as you caught sight of his bare chest, waterdrops running along the sunkissed flesh, leading down to his drenched shorts, as they hung low around his hips. Your throat ran dry when your gaze halted just beneath his bellybutton, the trail of hair leading to under the fabric of his bottoms leaving little to the imagination. It drove you crazy, eager to see where it guides, head wandering with sinful thoughts every time you caught sight of it. 

You cleared your throat, busying yourself with something else, fearing Rafe would catch you practically thirsting over him. The latter however, didn’t say much, dusting the sand off the towel beside yours, before he sprawled himself next to you, crossing his legs to mimic your position. 

“Why aren’t you joining the rest?” Rafe questioned, cutting through the comfortable silence. 

“Not in the mood.” You replied, keeping your answer short, afraid your voice would crack if you further spoke. 

“‘S that so?” He shot back, nudging your foot with his knee. “You’re boring.” 

“Boring?!” You muttered with defense, offended by the remark. “Take that back.” 

“Hmm…” he trailed off, squinting one of his eyes, blinded by the scorching sun. “No.” 

“You’re such an idiot.” You scoffed, stifling out a laugh. “Are you not going back in the water?”

“I am,” he exclaimed, now turned in your direction. “Can I borrow these real quick?”

“Borrow what?–” Your question was cut short, as Rafe’s hand came in view, not giving you a chance to process his action as he snatched the sunglasses off, causing you to yelp with surprise. “What the hell?!”

“Oh, these are nice.” He mumbled, adjusting them around the bridge of his nose. “A bit small, but ‘s fine.” 

“You’re stretching them out!” You gasped, reaching for them back, merely for the boy to dodge your hand, tilting his head down with a mischievous grin smeared all over. “C’mon, Rafe, don’t be like this.” 

“Like what?” He cocked his head to the side, observing you through his now tinted vision. 

“Rafe!!” You cried out, fully sitting up now. “I spent my hard earned money on these, I’ll kill you if they break.”

“Your hard earned money?” He repeated, further teasing you with his comments. 

“Okay, my dad got them for me, but–” you started, growing a bit embarrassed at the admission. 

“I’ll give them back,” he hummed, taking them off and folding them in place. “Only if you join me, though.” 

“I’m not going in the water.” You refused, dismissing his attempt with a nod of disbelief. 

“Why not?!” He cooed, “Come on, it'll be fun.” 

“Are you crazy?” You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “I’m not getting my hair wet.” 

“Please?” He further pleaded, jutting his lips into a pout. “Ryan left, who am I gonna be with, now that he’s gone?”

Your head shifted back to the water, merely to confirm his statement. And true to his words, Ryan was no longer in sight, having probably disappeared back into the house in the short while you and Rafe were arguing. 

“Hang out with the rest.” You shot back, addressing your friends, as they messed around with each other. “They’ll keep you company.” 

“Have you seen them?” Rafe’s face twisted with disgust, his lips forming into a frown. “They’re eating each other’s faces, God knows what they’re doing in that water.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” You replied, disregarding his statement, and looking past the last sentence he muttered. You saw your chance, and took it, contemplating before you snatched the pair of glasses from his hold, muffling your next words with haste. “I’ll kill you next time you steal my stuff.” 

“Is that a yes?” Rafe perked up with excitement, taking your silence as a yes before he shot up, instantly offering you a hand. “Let’s go.” 

“What?” You angled your head back, locking your gaze with his, slightly taken aback by the hand he offered. “I don’t recall agreeing to this…”

“Well, you’re obligated to join me now; don’t give me false hope then back down when I urge you to do it.” He started, his words somehow foreshadowing a deeper meaning to the teasing statement. Rafe bent down, just enough to take his hand in yours before he pulled you up, a screech of surprise rattling out of your throat. 

“Rafe!” You chanted with disbelief, stumbling over your own feet in the process of running, unable to catch up with Rafe, who hurried his way to the water. “Slow down!”

He replied with a chuckle, a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins as the water touched your feet, engulfing your legs with each step you took, halting when it was just above your knees. 

“Wait– fuck, it’s cold.” You started, hands grabbing Rafe’s forearm for support, a mere attempt to stop him. And it did, with the boy pausing to steal a glimpse in your direction. “Let me get used to the water temperature.” 

“You’ll get used to it in no time.” He rolled his eyes, though he slowed down his pace, walking leisurely for you to adjust to the cold. 

Rafe chuckled as a wave came crashing against your bare torso, stiffening in your spot as a shiver ran down your spine, causing goosebumps to break out across your arms. A deep sigh tumbled past your parted lips, finger nails practically digging into Rafe’s arms everytime a wave would hit. 

Your friends greeted you from afar, not questioning the fact that you were alone with Rafe, a big distance separating you from the rest. Deep down, you speculated the fact that they knew, choosing to avoid the topic every time Sarah would ask about Rafe, or whether there was any progress in whatever you had; which you’d dismiss, telling her it was nothing. 

“Can we stop here?” You questioned, when the water barely reached your chin, now standing on your tippy toes to keep yourself steady with the flowing water. 

“Here?” Rafe repeated, brows knitting with confusion. “Why, are you scared?” 

“Slightly, yeah.” You admitted, pursing your lips into a thin line to avoid water from entering your mouth. “This is the deepest I’ve been without a life jacket.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Rafe’s expression coiled with concern. 

You nodded, angling your head up, not risking how rocky the waves get. 

“Don’t worry,” Rafe suddenly spoke, earning your attention when his arm sneaked around your waist, ceasing some of the distance separating you from him. “I got you.” 

“Nope, that’s it, I’m getting out.” You muttered, turning in his arms, in an attempt to walk back out, merely for Rafe to tighten his hold around you, with your back now pressing firmly to his broad chest. 

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly very aware of his presence, and the mess you got yourself into. For some reason, this felt oddly intimate, despite the boy’s pure intentions, striving to convince you to continue on with him, in spite of you refusing to. 

“I’ll hold you.” His voice dropped barely above a whisper, turning you back around, all while keeping himself steady. “Don’t be scared.”

“But I am scared,” you replied, emphasizing the ‘am’ in the process. “Sure, I know how to swim, but what if you get a cramp, and I try to save you, then both of us drown?” 

“Come on, I’ll be your life jacket.” He grinned, deliberately dragging you deeper into the water. “Are you doubting my skills?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You uttered, eyes widening when your feet could no longer reach the ground. “My parents will kill you if something happens to me, I swear to god.” 

“Then I’d have to get rid of both of us.” He joked, halting when you were far enough from the shore, stilling you with the arm sturdy around your waist. “How is that? Wanna go deeper?” 

“No!” You quickly shot back, hands flying to his shoulders, holding onto them to keep yourself from sinking. “This is good.” 

“If you say so.” He chuckled, ignoring the way his pulse quickened when your hands made contact with the skin around his shoulders, your nails lightly dragging over the flesh. He rubbed soothing circles to your side, the gesture a mere attempt to ease you up. “Relax, nothing is gonna happen to you.” 

“I’m relaxed.” You lied through your teeth, avoiding Rafe’s gaze, and instead admiring the view surrounding the rocky path leading to the mountains. “It’s so pretty from here.”

“It is.” Rafe mumbled, attention fixed on you. “Super pretty.”

Your lips tugged into a smile at his words, head shifting back in his direction, where he was shamelessly staring at you, not even failing to hide it. You dusted your face with your fingers, flashing Rafe a confused look, as to question why his gaze burned through you. 

“Is there something on my face?” You asked, coming to a halt when he shook his head. “Then what is it?” 

“Nothing,” he stifled out a laugh, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re jus’ pretty.” 

“What?” You choked through a breath, growing flustered from the sudden compliment. “What was that for?” 

“What?” Rafe’s tongue darted out, coating his lips with a glossy layer of spit. “I said, you’re pretty. Is that not allowed?” 

“Shut up.” You shoved his shoulder, laughing off your embarrassment, though your ears burned with heat. 

“You know,” Rafe swallowed, admiring your surroundings. “I heard there were sharks in this area.” 

“What? Where?” You shouted, heartbeat quickening as panic settled in. “Don’t fuck with me, Rafe!”

“I thought you liked sharks.” His voice lowered with suspicion, eyebrows arching in a teasing manner. 

“Not as they’re about to fucking eat me.” You replied, fully ceasing the distance as you wrapped your arms around Rafe’s neck, pressing your chest close to his. “Get me out of here.” 

Rafe took your horror as a chance, the hand on your waist trailing up your back, until it settled just beneath your bikini top. “Relax, it was a joke.” 

Your head turned to face him, ready to scold him before you noticed how close he was, nose tulling to brush over yours. A shaky exhale stuttered out of your throat, shivers running down your spine when you caught Rafe’s gaze flickering to your lips, the action so subtle, you would’ve looked past it if he wasn’t mere inches away. 

Rafe’s lips slightly parted, tongue fidgeting with the roof of his mouth, fingers squeezing around your side, striving to hold himself back, and not kiss you right then in there. You were close, a little too close for comfort, he wanted nothing but to fuck the barrier Ryan created for you two, dive in and hope for the best. 

His thoughts were interrupted when you shoved his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing as your lips jut into a pout, one evidently displaying your distress. “That wasn’t funny! Why would you joke about that?!” 

“Chill, I’m messing with you.” Rafe snickered, eyes glued to your face, well aware he’d betray himself if he let his gaze wander past your neck. 

“By telling me I’ll get eaten to death by sharks?!” You huffed, pausing as you angled your head to the side. “Wait– how’d you know I like sharks?”

“I have my ways.” He cooed, pupils dilating with glint. 

“Mhm, yeah right.” You rolled your eyes, figuring it was either Sarah, or your brother. “Let’s head back.” 

“But we just got here!” Rafe protested. 

“I don’t trust you.” You defensively shot back, shuffling around in his hold. 

Rafe chuckled, abiding to your order. He swam back, with you clinging to him for dear life, not daring to risk it and let go. Though, of course, that wasn’t the end, as Rafe suddenly froze, groaning while his face twisted in pain. 

“What’s wrong?” You immediately asked, concern washing over your expression. 

“I think– fuck.” He groaned, arms loosening around your waist. “I think my leg is cramping.”

“Wait what?” You frowned at his statement, eyes widening with shock when his figure disappeared out of sight, suddenly struggling to level himself with you. “Are you serious, oh my god, should I call for help?!” 

You nearly submerged under water when your arms reached for the latter, struggling to drag him up as he sailed down, your hold the only thing keeping him from sinking further into the deep sea. 

Wasn’t it easy to drag weights in the water? So, why was it so difficult to get Rafe to the surface?

“Don’t fucking drown on me, Rafe, please.” You muttered with frustration, heart welling with fear, as your vision blurred, the corner of your eyes brimmed with tears. “Somebody help! Please! It’s an eme–”

Your words cut short when Rafe came in sight, water splashing everywhere with the force of him exiting the water. Your mouth gaped to speak, met with utter silence in return, observing as Rafe chuckled at your reaction, feigning ignorance to your panicked state. 

“Did that get you?” He erupted into a fit of giggles, wiping the water from his eyes. 

“Are you serious?” Your tone washed with disbelief, heartbeat so loud you could hear it thumping through your ears. “Why would you joke about that?”

“Take a joke, it’s not that serious.” He stated, the smile smeared on his lips fading when he noticed how upset you visibly looked. 

“A joke is supposed to be funny, dickhead.” You fluttered your eyes, unable to manage the tears rolling down your face. “What if something actually happened to you?” 

“Wait, are you crying?” His breath hitched as he let realization sink in, chest swelling with discomfort at the consequences of his actions. You weakly punched his torso, fleeing from the touch when Rafe attempted to inch closer to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His hands cupped your face, resting just above the curve of your jaw as his thumb wiped away your tears, now mixed with salt-water. He repeatedly rubbed his finger over your cheeks, striving to calm you down with the subtle gesture. 

“It won’t happen again,” he started, tilting your head with the hands engulfing your face. “I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.” 

“Whatever,” you dismissed his apology, though deep down it softened your heart. “It still wasn’t funny, I was scared you’d actually die.” 

Rafe’s lips twitched into a smile at your statement, unable to contain the laughter bubbling through his chest. You looked absolutely adorable, leaving him speechless as his action spoke for his affection. He moved forward, leveling your head down before he ceased the distance between you two, and capturing your lips in a soft peck that lasted a near of five seconds.  

Your body stiffened at the gesture, so taken aback you almost choked on your own spit in the process. The plush of his lips brushing over yours felt like feathers, as the warmness of his mouth engulfed your skin. It made you yearn for time to stop, enjoy this while it lasted, even if it was for a short moment. 

“There, it’s completely my fault.” He whispered once he pulled back, face mere inches away from yours, you could feel his breath fanning over your nose. “Does that make up for it?” 

Your gaze seeked his blue eyes through the small distance separating you, finger nails lightly grazing over his arms. Silence heaved the air, as the atmosphere filled with unresolved tension you’ve both been avoiding for the past few days, weeks, even. 

Rafe kissed you, and it’s not some stupid joke to get you riled up, or mess around for a reaction out of you. He did it because he wanted to, completely looking over the fact that you were his best friend’s sister, let alone someone he craved in the dimness of the night, somewhere hidden, where no one would judge him for it.  

Rafe has been dying to confront you about the kiss, turning into a giddy mess every time he would reminisce over the memory of your lips softly brushing over the corner of his mouth. And though it was small, barely a peck, it drove him insane. 

That night, Rafe chose to ignore the guilt rising through his chest as he got off to the thought of you; being able to touch you though he knew you were far out of his reach, not for his gaze to admire. His chest burned with forbidden desire, growing aroused every time he caught you in none but your sheer sleeping shorts, covering nothing and leaving little to the imagination. 

“You know,” Rafe muttered through a ragged breath, “About that ni–”

The palm of your hand instantly found Rafe’s mouth, covering it before he could further speak. You knew exactly what he was planning to say, but you weren’t ready. Not right now, still flustered by the kiss he so casually planted to your lips. 

Addressing the kiss from three nights ago in the middle of the water, mind you, in an area secluded from everyone else? Yeah, no. That wasn’t quite what you had in mind, Rafe left you no choice but to shut him out. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, trying to change the topic.

“What?” Rafe muffled, lips barely moving due to your hand covering his mouth.

“We should leave,” you fluttered your eyes at him, “The sun is setting.”

“Right,” he spoke, eyes shifting down to your digits yet engulfing his chin. “You can let go of me now.”

“Oh,” you swiftly retrieved your hand, clearing your throat as you turned around to avoid meeting his gaze. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Rafe scoffed, following in your steps as you struggled to swim back, breaking into a grin when your arms pushed through the water, slightly splashing the latter with the gesture. “Here, let me help you.” 

“I’m good!” You dismissed the suggestion, letting out a sigh of relief when your feet eventually reached the ground, ultimately approaching a safer zone. “I can handle myself.”

Rafe’s giggles seeped through the silence, watching with a glint of amusement as you aimed for the shore, running your way back to the house when you did so. You gave him no chance to confront you about the situation, though the suspense was killing you, it was just not the right time, nor a good place to do it. 

Freaking out felt like an understatement for your emotions, letting out a silent scream as soon as you approached your room. Fuck, this wasn’t the first time you’ve been kissed, so why did it feel like you were in middle school, sneaking around the playground to kiss your crush? 

It was humiliating, to say the least. Rafe kissed you, and it did nothing but make you grow more fond of him, increasing your affection for him. Butterflies seeped through your stomach, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips, letting yourself go now that you’re alone. 

Your shower filled with giddiness, as you sang along to the lyrics playing in the background, too caught up with the act to realize you’ve spent the majority of the evening in there. You continued getting ready, doing your skincare, and technically everything you would do on an everything-shower day. 

A loud ping caught your attention as your gaze trailed down to your phone, eyebrows knitting with puzzlement when it continued buzzing with notifications. You adjusted the pearl necklace around your neck, fastening your pace when curiosity got the best of you, as you instantly aimed for your phone, heart skipping a beat when you read the contact name of the sender. 

It was from Rafe, multiple messages, at that. 

rafe 👍: Hey

rafe 👍: Come eat

rafe 👍: We got takeout 🥡 

A laugh bubbled out of your throat at the emoji, the invitation silly, yet tempting. 

You: im not hungry! go ahead and eat without me :)

rafe 👍: No

You: boy… wdym no 

rafe 👍: Come down and eat

Your eyes quirked with suspicion, puzzled over why he was insisting despite you refusing. 

You: did you poison my food

You: why are you insisting…

rafe 👍: Damn… I can't even invite you to eat without you making me out to be a dick

You: i mean you are what you eat 😇

rafe 👍:😐 Quit it

You: mb boo

You: is this a date

Rafe’s bubble appeared and disappeared off the screen, the amount of time he took concerning you for a moment. 

rafe 👍: Could be one

rafe 👍: Only if you want it to be

Your fingers hesitantly hovered over the keyboard, staring at the message, as if doing that would make the keen in his statement disappear. You swallowed around your dry throat, setting your phone down, merely to process your emotions. 

A date. 

He can’t say shit like this and expect you not to like him. 

At this point, he was playing with your feelings, and that thought alone had your heart breaking to pieces. It’s only been a month, and yet, you were this infatuated with him. Bearing to cross the line for Rafe spoke to you like no other, breaking the unspoken boundaries you set for each other. 

You don’t know when it started, from lingering gazes turned into subtle touches, eventually oscillated to heated moments smeared with desire. Wanting each other, not being able to do anything about it because it was wrong. It all fuzzed up your brain. 

Rafe was testing you, with each time he threw a hint in your direction. Hell, he should know not to confuse you, as he already went down the rabbit hole of why he couldn't date you, with Ryan warning him every time he’d joke about being into you. 

Enjoying it wouldn't hurt, right? Choosing to push the guilt down and let your heart bloom with joy every time Rafe is around was okay, right? Because it’s human nature, how were you supposed to ignore him when his mere presence was so tempting, making you nothing but crave him more. 

Guilt was temporary, but regretting this? It was going to haunt you forever, tulling you with decisions you hesitated to commit, afraid they would hurt others, fully abandoning how you felt. Those were your emotions, though, your needs, you had every right to take the risk. 

With that, you typed a playful ‘shut up’ back, before heading downstairs, instantly letting puzzlement settle in when you spotted only JJ and Kiara, sitting along with Rafe, who perked up at the sound of your steps.

“Where’s the others?” You questioned, wrapping Kiara in a swift embrace, before you seated yourself next to her. 

“John B and Sarah went out for dinner, and I saw Ryan leave with your dad.” She explained, chewing down the mouthful of food. “I have no idea where Pope and Cleo are, though.” 

“Oh, they said they’re grabbing booze.” JJ stifled out a laugh, eyebrows quirking in a teasing meaning. 

“For what?!” You asked, offering Rafe a tight-lipped smile when he passed you your plate. 

“Shut up, JJ.” Kiara rolled her eyes, fixing her attention back on you. “He’s messing, don’t listen to him.” 

“I’m not lying–” his words cut short when Kiara kicked his knee, the gesture earning a breathy grunt out of the latter. “What was that for?” 

“To keep your mouth shut.” The girl replied, forcing a fake beam across her lips. 

Rafe snorted as they continued bickering throughout the whole time you joined them. He flashed you an apologetic smile, not aware of the chaos awaiting you two. Fortunately, JJ and Kiara excused themselves once they were done, informing you they’d be chilling by the shore for the night, leaving you all alone with Rafe.

The air heaved with tension, the atmosphere filling with unspoken confessions you both oughted to address. Rafe’s been full, using the food as an excuse to enjoy your presence for a little longer. 

“‘You ignorin’ me?” Rafe started, scraping his fork against the veggie pieces splayed on the plate. 

“What?” You shot back, frowning at the sudden assumption. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, it’s just that,” he tilted his head to the side, putting the utensil in his hold down. “You seem uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’m not.” You mimicked, playfully rolling your eyes. “Besides, we don’t even speak for me to ignore you.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded his head, gaze glued to his arm plopped on the table. “You’d rather kiss me instead.”

“What?” A choked cough barely exits your throat, eyes widening with shock over Rafe’s statement. That caught you off guard, even more when Rafe maintained a blank expression, offering you a glass of water to down the rest of your food. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, “Do you need more water?” 

“Why would you bring that up?” You brushed off his concern, his words echoing over and over in the back of your brain. 

“You kissed me,” he repeated himself, stating the obvious. “Did you not?” 

“I did, but–” you stammered, face flushing with heat. “I didn’t mean to?–”

“You grabbed my face, leaned forward, then proceeded to kiss me.” He muttered, reminiscing back to the memory. “What about that did you not mean?” 

“It was a mistake!” You hurried to respond, stumbling over your own words in the process. “I was drunk, out of my mind–”

“Oh, so it’s a mistake?” He snorted, straightening up in his seat. “You go around kissing people when you’re drunk?” 

“Okay, why are you being a dick?” Your nose scrunched with frustration, exploding in the latter’s face. “And if I do? Then what, you’re gonna do something about it?”

“I’m trying to make sense of the situation here,” he shot back, his arm moving in front of his chest. “I’m not fucking around, okay? I’ve been dying to speak to you, but you never gave me a chance to explain myself.” 

“What’s there to explain, Rafe?” Your voice lowered in tone, taken aback by how fast the conversation took a turn. “I’m like Sarah, huh? Then you go n’ fuckin’ kiss me?”

“Why are you switching the–”

“No, let’s discuss the incident from earlier, since we’re fucking talking.” You cut him off, jaw clenching to prevent yourself from breaking down. “You keep pulling these stunts on me– first in the grocery store, then in the car, and earlier in the water– what is it that you want? You know Ryan won’t be happy if he found out, so why do you keep– why do you keep fucking confusing me, Rafe?” 

“I–” Rafe’s words caught in his throat, hands clenching into fists. 

“Forget it.” You clicked your teeth, grabbing your phone as you stood to your feet, streaking your way past Rafe, with the intentions of reaching the stairs. 

Rafe called out your name, voice breaking with despair. “Where are you going?”

The way your name rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat, letting your eyes force shut as you feigned glancing back, afraid you’d give in if you caught sight of his expression. 

You entered one of the guest bathrooms, locking the door behind you before you immediately dialed Cleo’s number, impatiently clicking your fingers over the phone as you waited for the girl to pick up. 

A sigh of relief escaped your throat when she did, a bit of shuffling going on her end. 

“Hey Cleo,” you muttered through a breath, taking a deep inhale, as your thumb pressed to your bottom lip. “I– sorry, I know you’re out with Pope, I jus’ really needed to talk to someone and I–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Cleo spoke, interrupting your rambling. “Take a deep breath, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here.” 

“Okay,” you nodded, though she couldn’t see you, obliging to her orders. “Sorry, fuck–”

“Why are you apologizing, girl?” She shot back, attempting to soothe away your worries. “Now slowly, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“I kind of, uhm…” you trailed off, fidgeting with the ring hugging your finger. “I fucked up, Cleo. I got ahead of myself, and ruined everything.” 

“No you didn’t.” Cleo assured, “What happened? Don’t panic, okay? Everything will be alright.” 

“Alright, I didn’t mean to keep this from you, I thought it would be a fleeing moment, but I guess not?–” You hesitated, nervously biting your lip as you prepared yourself for the confession. “I kissed Rafe, and while it was somewhat, he tried to confront me about it, and I panicked!” 

“Okay, woah, woah.” Cleo uttered, disbelief visible through her tone. “When did that happen?” 

“Three days ago, after the party.” You huffed, angling your head back with a pout. “I’m such an idiot, why am I acting like something happened between us? I lashed out on him and stormed off, what if he regrets it?” 

“Well, you’re the one who kissed him.” Cleo clarified, “Why would he regret it?” 

“Actually– something sort of happened earlier…” you mumbled, clearing your throat. 

“Don’t tell me he fucking kissed you, Bug.” Cleo took a guess, making you freeze in your spot, not denying her suspicions. “He did? What the hell, and you didn’t say anything?” 

“Listen, I barely got time to process it, I was planning on telling you eventually.” A sigh stuttered out of your throat, crying out loud. “I’m so dumb, why did I get mad at him? It’s not even his fault!” 

“Calm down, baby, it will be alright.” Cleo secured, “I’m sure he understands, this is probably bothering him as well.” 

“What if he thinks I’m childish?” You questioned, “I felt so guilty, Cleo, I don’t want his friendship with Ryan to fall apart ‘cause of me.” 

“That won’t happen, trust me.” Cleo advised, her tone soft. “It’s obvious that you’re both attracted to each other, Ryan will have to accept it, he can’t interfere jus’ cause he doesn’t want you dating his friends.” 

“But he’s right,” your shoulders relaxed with disappointment, already imagining the scenery Ryan would put out. “And Rafe doesn’t like me, trust, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t.” 

“Ninety-nine?” Cleo cooed, earning a chuckle out of you. “Okay, come on, have you seen him? Pope told me about what happened on the way back, don’t tell me this man is not head over heels for you.” 

“Why’s Pope snitching?!” You scoffed, sniffling as you rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe he might like me, he keeps dropping hints, but I don’t know?” 

“What hints?” Cleo’s tone glinted with curiosity, waiting for you to further speak. 

“He texted me earlier, and I was messing around but instead of brushing it off he went with the flow?” You explained, your words coming off as a question. “Maybe I’m misreading the situation, but let’s say he did like me, then what? What do we do, will we keep things a secret because of Ryan?” 

“Why are you thinking about that?” Cleo giggled, ridiculed by how much you were overthinking this. “Enjoy it, okay? You like him, go for it, don’t hold back.” 

“And if he doesn’t like me?” You stifled out a laugh, leisurely fluttering your eyes shut. “I don’t know, it started off as a joke, but I’m starting to for real like him, Cleo. I’ve never felt this way about someone before.” 

“Okay, there you go, you got your answer.” Cleo chanted, making you shake your head. “Now, I don’t mean to be nosy, but it’s your fault for mentioning it.” 

“God, what is it?” You rolled your eyes, already expecting what she was about to say.

“What did he say in those messages?” She asked, earning a chuckle out of you, as you moved the phone from your ear, already pulling up Rafe’s contact. 

You screenshotted the conversation, Cleo’s voice muffling through the speakers of your phone, her words fully incoherent. “Hold on, I can’t hear you.

Cleo remained silent, waited while you cropped the screenshot, before bringing the phone back to your ear. “Alright, what did you say?” 

“I said hurry up!” She chimed back. 

“Okay, someone’s curious.” You teased, pressing on the photo icon, before you selected the image and sent it over, waiting for Cleo to receive it. “There.” 

“You sent it?” She asked, humming as she pulled up your messages. “I don’t see anything.” 

“What? But I sen– oh.” you halted as you let realization kick in, immediately reaching for your phone, hoping your suspicions might be wrong. “Fuck, Cleo, I sent it to Rafe.”

An audible gasp escaped Cleo’s lips at the statement, words going unnoticed as Rafe’s text bubble appeared on the screen, not giving you a chance to delete it before he saw it. 

rafe 👍: ???

“Oh my God, he saw it.” You whispered, “Wait, let me go back to my room.” 

You creaked the door open, instantly shutting it when Rafe came in sight, heart thumping loud with panic. Your eyes widened a bit, when footsteps echoed through your ears, knowing the owner behind the noises.  

“He’s heading upstairs,” you informed Cleo in a hushed tone, “What do I do?” 

“Where are you?” She asked.

“I’m in the upstairs bathroom, the one down the hallway.” 

“Okay, wait ‘till he leaves, then go back to your room.” 

You nodded, even if the girl couldn’t see you, too nauseous to comprehend normal words out. Hell, that probably weirded him out, what will he think now? 

However, despite how nervous you grew, Cleo stayed on call, assuring you that it would be alright, even though you knew deep down, it wasn’t. 

“Alright, I’ll go now, it’s quiet,” You sighed, breath shaky with anxiousness. “We’ll talk when you’re back, I’m sorry for taking up your time.” 

“Are you sure?” Cleo questioned with concern, “I can stay on call until we’re back, I don’t mind.” 

“No it’s okay,” you insisted, “Besides, I’m tired, I’ll see about this tomorrow, it’s too much to process right now.” 

“Alright,” Cleo exhaled, “Let me know if you need anything, we’ll be back in a bit.” 

You bid your goodbyes, putting your phone down as you aimed for the door, peaking your head out to check whether the coast was clear. Your shoulders relaxed when Rafe was nowhere in sight, tippy toeing your way back to your room, making sure to be as careful as physically possible. 

Barely escaping the situation, your heart sank to your stomach when you unlatched the doorknob, now greeted with Rafe seated on the edge of your bed, perking up when you made your presence known. 

“What are you doing here?” You mumbled, feeling your throat run dry. 

You wanted the ground to split and swallow you whole, unable to bear the embarrassment of facing Rafe, now a few feet away from you. 

“You know…” He trailed off, getting up with a groan. “I was plannin’ to give you space, talk things out when you’re ready, but…”

Your fingers clutched to the doorknob when Rafe walked in your direction, towering over you and cornering you against the door, as it leisurely closed within each step you took back. 

“God, you’re killing me.” He whispered, gulping as his gaze flickered to your parted lips, coated with a faint layer of spit.

His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, hesitating before pressing his hand to your hip, his hold burning holes through your flesh. Your eyes remained on his face, watching as his expression changed into something serious, stirring up your insides with a rush of adrenaline.

You stiffened under the touch, slightly taken aback by the bold move, even as your body leaned into it, chasing after the sensation of his fingers marking your skin. , 

“You know how much you’re affecting me, don’t you?” He hushed out, digits dragging up your side, and tumbling just beneath the material, his touch welcoming the warmness of your skin. “The amount of times I had to control myself, and respect the boundaries I set with Ryan.” 

“Rafe.” Your tone lowered to match his, an inaudible gasp exiting your parted lips when he pinned you to the door, fingers squeezing the plush of your flesh. “What are you doing?” 

Rafe stuck to answering with his actions, bringing his other hand to your face, and taking the curve of your jaw in between his fingers. His thumb pressed to your chin, using it to angle your head up, striving to study your face up close. 

“You’re breathtaking, you know that?” He whispered, smearing your glossed lips with his thumb, the gesture causing you to part your mouth in a sigh. “God, you know how difficult it was? Telling myself you’re off limits; when you’re all I think about, twenty-four, seven; always on mind.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” You exhaled through your mouth, vision going blurry as Rafe leaned his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning above the bridge of your nose. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Rafe.” 

“I was barely holding myself back,” He muttered, trailing light, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. “It’s your,” a kiss, “fault,” and another, “for tempting,” he paused, “me.”

That was the only sign you needed as you moved forward, letting your guilt wash with new found desire when you captured Rafe’s lips in an eager kiss you’ve both been dying for.

Rafe’s arms sneaked to your sides, locking you in place as he ceased the distance separating you two, though that felt impossible, as he licked and nipped at your lips, suddenly feeling drunk on your sweetness. 

You tasted amazing, way better than what Rafe had imagined, leaving him craving more as he angled your head to the side, with the intent of deepening the kiss. 

In that moment, you didn’t care whether this was a dream, or reality. In fact, you wanted to wake up the next morning with the same giddiness filling your insides, Rafe being the reason behind it. 

You wanted Rafe, the kiss merely proving the yearn tulling your insides, till you no longer were able to bear it. 

Fuck it, you chose to take the risk, let yourself enjoy this while it lasts, knowing that eventually, you’d need to put an end to it; hence Rafe is off limits.

a/n all support is v much appreciated! pulling my hair out i forgot how to write. SORRY ik i didnt do the kiss justice but i just wanted to get the kiss out of the way... dont get bored of me yet i promise theres so much more to squeeze in the next four chapters theyre just entering their situationship era 🙈 ALSO IK I SAID THERE WILL BE TEXTS BUT I LIED next one 100% though!!! anyways yeah i hope you enjoyed, lmk ur thoughts!!!

taglist is currently closed, however, in order to stay tagged, you must interct with the posts!

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au but instead of the men noticing reader post marriage, they already notice her pre marriage like maybe before they went to war and meet each other. She use to be so radiant especially on her debut to society. She dances John and Simon and they were entranced since then. Maybe she likes sneaking out bro mingle with the commons and met Johnny and Kyle that way. Then war happened and many other things by the time they were back they’re not exactly expecting their dream girl to be unmarried, she’s so beautiful why would she be unmarried, besides they have each other now.

Imagine their surprise when they found out not only is she unmarried but rather unpopular in society for one or two petty reasons too.

ANONNNNN I LOVE YOUR MIND

It wasn’t until after his return from the military- when he finally came home with Simon by his side, Kyle and Johnny already settled into their places in his household- that John actually heard the full extent of the rumors surrounding you.

You were barren, they said. Damaged. A woman past her prime who had rejected too many suitors out of pride and was now paying the price. Not docile enough to be a good wife, too much of a spitfire. Hysterical, the last time you had snapped at a man who had gotten a little too close to you. A stain on your family’s lineage, who were trying desperately to marry you off.

Kyle had been the first to bring it up, muttering about what he’d overheard at the bakery one morning while helping Johnny’s parents prepare for the day. Johnny, normally so cheerful, had been uncharacteristically quiet about the whole thing- quiet in that dangerous, simmering way that meant he was ready to fight anyone who so much as looked at you wrong.

And Simon?

Simon had just looked at John.

“Fix it.” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t simple.

Not when the love John felt for you had been complicated from the start. Not when Kyle and Johnny and Simon already occupied so much of his heart, and the idea of forcing you to share that space- even with men who adored you already- felt like asking too much.

So he waited, and waited.

He waited until he saw you again, looking so perfectly soft and sweet and untouched by the harshness of the world around you, even despite all the hate-filled rumors aimed your way, it nearly broke him. He waited until Kyle started dropping more and more excuses to see you, until Johnny began dragging you into their outings, until even Simon- gruff, stoic Simon- began pausing to ask how you were doing when he saw you in passing.

He waited until he couldn’t not ask.

And when he finally did- when he knelt before you and offered you everything he had, everything he was, everything they were because he would keep anything a secret from you- you didn’t answer right away.

“John…” You were at a loss for words, eyes shifting to a fro. You could hear your parents practically yelling at you to just accept, no matter what, within your mind.

Your cheeks turned warmer than a furnace, and you lowered your head, gritting your teeth. “Surely you all know that- that I’m not… exactly the best candidate for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, and he wanted to kiss that expression off your face. Replace it with something happier, brighter.

“It doesn’t matter.” John repeated, voice soft and so painfully fond. “They can say all they want. It’s you who I care about- we care about. Nobody else matters. Nothing else matters, except for your happiness and what you want. So I ask again… will you be my Duchess?”

You bit your lips, ignoring the tiny little voice of your nanny scolding you for your terrible nervous habit. You wanted to accept. You ached to accept.

“Promise me, John,” you breathed out. And he listened, more than anyone else ever has. “Promise me. I won’t ever be a simple accessory on your arm, or a forgotten relic in your home. I won’t be brushed aside, while everyone around me is loved. Please, John. If you can promise me that, then I accept.”

And for John?

It didn’t even take him a second before agreed; already, he could imagine the relief that the others would have, as well.

He could also imagine you, blooming in their home.

[tinyproprodigy]

𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 🧷

"C r u s h , c r u s h , c r u s h ."

Bakugou Katsuki x reader - (NB)

• Bakugo's crush on you started innocently enough - he begrudgingly admired your work ethic and quirk control during training sessions. But then he noticed the way your (e/c) eyes squinted slightly when you concentrated, and the adorable crinkle of your nose when you were deep in thought, and suddenly his heart was exploding like one of his nicely aimed AP shots.

• Whenever you're in the vicinity, Bakugo can't help but sneak glances your way, only to whip his head around with a fierce scowl when someone (usually Kaminari) catches him staring. "I wasn't looking at that loser, you idiot!" he'll growl, tiny explosions sparking at his fingertips.

• Mina and Sero live for teasing Bakugo about his crush, much to his chagrin. They'll make over-exaggerated googly eyes at him whenever you walk by, or loudly proclaim things like, "There goes the love of Bakugo's life!" This inevitably results in Bakugo chasing them around, threatening bodily harm if they don't shut their "damn traps."

• There's a running bet among the class on when (or if) Bakugo will finally admit his feelings. Kaminari has money on "Never, he's too proud." Mina is convinced he'll blurt it out in a fit of rage someday. Kirishima just wants his bro to be happy.

• In the rare moments when Bakugo musters the courage to talk to you, he instantly reverts to a flustered, stuttering mess. His ears burn bright red as he tries (and fails) to act casual, inevitably resorting to angry yelling to cover up his embarrassment. "Quit staring at me like that, (L/N)! Don't you have better things to do than bother me?"

• Despite his gruff exterior, Bakugo is incredibly protective of you. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, they'll find themselves on the receiving end of his explosive fury. He insists it's just because you're a fellow hero-in-training and he refuses to let his talents be outshone, but the class knows the truth.

• There's a notebook buried deep in Bakugo's room where he's meticulously analyzed all your quirk's capabilities, strong points, and areas for improvement. In the margins, doodles of your face and little explosions shaped like hearts decorate the pages. If anyone ever found it, he'd simply combust from mortification.

• During particularly intense battles or training exercises, Bakugo finds himself pushing harder than ever before, determined to impress you with his skills. Afterwards, he'll try to play it cool, like your presence had no effect on him whatsoever. But the glow of pride on his face when you compliment his power is unmistakable.

• You, precious reader, remain delightfully oblivious to Bakugo's inner turmoil. You see him as a passionate classmate and respected rival, making his crush on you all the more endearing (and frustrating) for the explosive boy. The rest of Class 1-A watches on in amusement, waiting for the inevitable explosion when Bakugo's feelings finally reach critical mass.

• No matter how much he growls and glares, at the end of the day Bakugo is an awkward teenage boy stumbling through his first real crush. And while his methods are unorthodox (and often involve yelling), his feelings for you are as bright and dazzling as one of his explosive blasts, lighting up the sky for all to see.

[zerocoded]

summary: it's comeback season and your boyfriend somehow always ends up on your doorstep.

author's note: i need the whole world to be obsessed with choi yeonjun like i am. bro is so idol coded i had to write him like this!! i stand on business bc i can imagine real life yj being exactly like this ok. also, enjoy me having the urge to take care of pathetic men.

banner creds: katyakopter on pinterest. queen <3

warnings and tags: sfw content • dry humping mention but that's it • yeonjun is a cutie patootie here • reader used to be a trainee too • idol!yeonjun • chat, they are in love • quick taehyun mention • yj is half naked for a while but nothing graphic.

word count: 2k.

my kpop masterlist: here

it’s late when he gets to your place. too late for him to be this loud with the door, but you don’t say anything. just glance up from the floor where you’re folding laundry like someone with a life, and not someone who’s been refreshing txt’s comeback tags for three hours.

“why do you look like that?” you ask, because his hoodie’s half-on, his hair’s still gelled and flattened from the music show, and there’s a suspicious streak of eyeliner under one eye.

he looks down at himself, then back at you. “like what?” he grins. big. fake.

“like a washed-up magician.”

he barks a laugh and kicks his shoes off without aiming. one lands by the wall, the other ends up under your dining chair. whatever. he can fix it in the morning.

you stay on the floor, folding his hoodie now. one he left last week when he said he’d “just crash for a nap” and ended up sleeping for six hours.

dorms have been hell lately. comeback season always turns them into a mix between a hospital ward and a college apartment — someone’s always passed out in the wrong bed, there’s always takeout somewhere nobody remembers ordering, and if one more of the younger staff calls him “oppa” in a tone that sounds like please stop breathing wrong on camera, he’s going to retire and become a mailman.

“you didn’t tell me you were coming,” you say, not unkindly. you scoot over on the floor so he can sit beside you, and he does — collapses, really — with a dramatic sigh that lands his head half on your shoulder, half on the pile of laundry you were definitely trying to keep clean.

“practice ran over,” he mumbles. “then we had last-minute choreo tweaks, so we filmed tiktoks again. then makeup wanted photos for the stylist’s lookbook. then the manager forgot we had a zoom interview for that singapore thing. then—”

“yeonjun.”

“what.”

“stop talking.”

you turn to look at him. he’s still in his performance fit — or what’s left of it. mesh shirt under his hoodie, stage pants unzipped halfway because he’s human and he’s tired and you’re not gonna judge him for breathing.

his face is still kind of beautiful, though. even like this. sweaty and a little grumpy. his lashes stick together in places. he rubs at his nose with a weird sniffle and grins like he’s trying to make it seem like everything’s fine.

you know better.

“did you eat?”

he hums. not yes. not no.

“that’s not a real answer.”

“be honest. if i say no, are you gonna yell at me or feed me?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

“how bad was today.”

he finally looks at you — fully. and for a second, something in his expression shifts. not dramatically. but enough.

“i almost cried on set,” he says.

you blink.

“like, real tears,” he adds. “not fake cute ones. real full breakdown incoming. taehyun gave me half a protein bar and told me to get it together.”

you try not to laugh. “what happened?”

“nothing. everything. i don’t know.” he drops his head onto your lap. “i’m just tired. i’m so fucking tired, it’s like—” he pauses, flops his arms out dramatically. “my brain’s not in my head anymore. it’s in the group chat. it’s in the notes app. it’s on some fan’s fancam feed. it’s—ugh.”

you run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging the roots where the gel hardened. “you’re not making sense.”

“i’m not supposed to. i’m a public figure.”

“you’re an idiot.”

he grins. eyes still closed. “your idiot.”

“yeah, yeah.”

you don’t push him. not tonight. you’ve known him long enough to tell the difference between the tired he can joke about and the tired that makes his hands tremble when he thinks you’re not looking. this is the latter.

he’s not gonna say it, but the past week’s been brutal — the kind of schedule where the only time they sit down is in the van, and even then, half the time they’re changing shoes or reviewing choreo videos. he’s been surviving on cold coffee and adrenaline. he texted you at 3:14am two nights ago with “i miss u” and then didn’t respond until 5pm the next day.

so you don’t tease him tonight. you let him rest on your lap while you keep folding shirts. he shifts once or twice to get more comfortable, presses his face into your hoodie like it smells better than the van or the studio or the greenroom, and you just… let him.

“hey,” he mumbles after a while. voice slurred with sleep. “don’t let me fall asleep in my makeup again.”

“i’m not your manager.”

“you’re scarier than them.”

you roll your eyes, but your fingers don’t stop combing his hair.

a few minutes pass. you think he’s asleep for real when he says, barely audible:

“thanks.”

you pause. “for what?”

“for letting me be like this. here.”

you don’t say anything right away. just press a kiss into his hair, gentle, like it’s routine. because it is.

“you don’t have to say thank you,” you whisper. “just do the dishes tomorrow.”

“hm?”

“nothing. go to sleep.”

——

he’s snoring.

softly. kind of wheezy. one of those half-snore, half-sigh sounds that means he’s knocked out just enough to drool on your thigh but not enough to roll off you. and you haven’t moved an inch.

you’re still folding the same pile of laundry. or at least pretending to. your hands stopped moving five shirts ago. now you’re just sitting there, back against the couch, laundry on one side, boyfriend passed out like a tragic protagonist on the other.

you glance down at him.

he looks… younger like this. no stage lights, no camera angles. just hair flattened from sweat and studio time, hoodie riding up his back, long legs bent awkwardly so his feet don’t knock into the coffee table. there’s a smear of mascara near his temple — you’re not even gonna ask how it got there — and a loose bracelet hanging halfway off his wrist. probably from some outfit change no one took off properly.

you reach out, slide it back gently.

he shifts a little but doesn’t wake up. just sighs and buries his face further into your thigh. you smile, small and fond, and finally let the last shirt drop onto the pile.

you could move. he’d adjust.

but you’ve done this before.

back when he was still a rookie and you were still technically training, both of you barely scraping through late-night vocal lessons and early call times.

sneaking bites of expired ramen, splitting cab fare, learning how to hold hands in the dark where no one would see.

you still remember the first time he cried in front of you — right after crown won on music bank, in a tiny bathroom at the back of the kbs building, trying so hard to act cool while his whole body shook.

and now here he is. still trying to act cool. still shaking sometimes.

but now you get to hold him through it.

he wakes up slowly. not with a jolt — just the kind of sluggish awareness that starts in his fingers, where they’re curled under your knee, and ends in a soft, dry-mouthed, “mmmph. what time is it.”

“late,” you say, carding your fingers through his hair again. “you’ve been out for like twenty minutes.”

“damn.” he yawns. stretches one arm up blindly until it smacks you in the chest. “sorry. i was dreaming that i was performing barefoot in the rain and no one told me i was crying.”

“i think that actually happened to you.”

“wait. shit. it did.”

you laugh as he sits up, rubbing at his face like it’ll erase the entire day. you watch him blink down at himself — hoodie wrinkled, shirt untucked, stage pants still half-zipped — and he sighs.

“i need a shower.”

“you really do.”

“you’re so supportive.” he leans over and kisses your cheek, then stands up with a stretch and a very undignified groan. “don’t fall asleep while i’m in there.”

“i won’t,” you lie.

he disappears into the bathroom.

you move the laundry basket aside, pick up the little cotton bag you’d stuffed in your closet earlier — the one labeled “his stuff 🧼” because he’s basically a resident at this point — and pull out his comfiest pajamas: faded black tee, softest plaid pants in existence, and fuzzy socks you bought during last winter’s daiso haul.

you set them on the bed, fold them all neat, and add his favorite lavender lotion on top just for the hell of it.

the shower starts running.

you grab micellar water and cotton pads from your drawer, then head to the bathroom. not to peek — you’ve seen it all, obviously — but to knock once and ask, “you want help with your skincare?”

there’s a pause. a thunk. something that sounds suspiciously like his shampoo bottle falling.

then: “yes, please,” in the softest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

you wait for him outside, arms full of products and your hair tied up. and when the door opens ten minutes later, steam billowing out like a drama set and yeonjun standing there in just a towel, hair dripping, face pink from the heat—

you blink.

he blinks.

“…hi,” he says.

you squint. “is that my towel?”

“i forgot mine.”

you roll your eyes and tug him by the wrist toward the bed. “sit.”

he does. obedient. legs wide, hands on his knees, looking up at you like you’re the sun and he’s trying not to go blind.

you dab a cotton pad across his cheeks first — he winces dramatically. “ow.”

“don’t be a baby.”

“you’re abusing me.”

“i’m moisturizing you.”

you work in silence after that. just you, your hands, and the gentle press of care into every inch of his tired skin. you know where his jaw gets dry. where his temples hold tension. where the camera lights burn into his pores. he watches you the whole time, heavy-lidded, eyes tracking every move like it’s his first time seeing you like this — barefaced, focused, not saying much. just here.

when you go to rub the essence into his cheeks, he leans forward a little too far. your noses bump.

“yeonjun.”

“hmm?”

“sit still.”

“can’t help it.” his voice is raspy again. “you’re hot.”

you shoot him a look. “you smell like conditioner and desperation.”

“you’re so mean to me,” he whines, leaning back but keeping his eyes locked on your mouth. “and yet here i am. helpless. half-naked. in love.”

you shake your head, trying not to smile as you pat in the last of the cream. “you’re damp.”

“i’m yearning.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

he grins. all teeth. then tugs you down by the wrist until you’re straddling his towel-clad lap, makeup wipes still in one hand. “just one kiss,” he mumbles, breath warm against your jaw. “then i’ll let you finish.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you said that last time and tried to dry hump me into the mattress.”

“okay. two kisses.”

“jun.”

he groans and drops his head to your shoulder. “fine. you’re no fun.”

you kiss the top of his head. “you’re lucky i love you.”

he hums. “i know.”

he lets you finish. lets you wipe away the smudge of mascara near his temple and dab lip balm across his mouth. lets you rub lotion into his neck and brush out his damp hair. he even helps a little, holding the bottle steady when your hands get slippery.

and when it’s all done — skincare, pajamas, socks and everything — he flops back onto the bed and pulls you down with him, arms winding around your waist like a second nature.

“you still tired?” you ask.

he nods into your neck.

“then sleep.”

he doesn’t answer right away. just shifts a little closer and says, barely above a whisper:

“don’t go.”

you wrap your arms around him. “wasn’t planning to.”

he falls asleep in less than five minutes.

you fall asleep with your cheek pressed to his collarbone, warm and clean and whole.

check out more works like this on our net @onedreamnet !

author's note: i could write 1000 of these, i'm not even joking. this drabble was totally inspired by this ttk edit right here, i NEED to baby him and also twenty one pilots + yeonjun??? DEATH. send me a request • my masterpost

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[raqqtsx0]

Hiii, i love the way you write!! i was wondering if you could do something with Shoto, like teaching him to play a video game? just some fluff (*＞∇＜)ﾉ tyyy!!

Tactical love. Shoto Todoroki

AN:(Heh first request kinda nervous 🥹😛.) Brooo idk what color to do for todoroki im sorry if it looks weird💔. i’m sorry if this isn’t what you requested or if you don’t like it.

word count 1.6k

……

You never thought the words “Shoto Todoroki” and “Victory Royale” would exist in the same sentence. Yet here you were, several hours into what started as an regular “let’s chill after training” hangout in your dorm, and he was currently squinting at the screen.

“What does this button do again?”

“Jump.”

“And this?”

“Crouch.”

“Why would I want to crouch?”

“So people don’t shoot you in the face.”

He stared down at the controller with a level of caution like it was going to explode. “This seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“You fight villains every day and this is what breaks you?”

“Villains don’t build staircases mid-battle.”

You started a match. He immediately landed off the map.

“Am I supposed to do that?”

“No, Shoto, no you are NOT supposed to skydive into the ocean.”

By the third round, he got killed by a bush camper. By the fourth, he accidentally grenaded himself. By the fifth, he didn’t know how to pick up a gun.

“Why won’t it let me take the weapon?”. “Because you’re trying to mine it with your pickaxe like a psychopath.” You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

He, on the other hand, was silent laser focused, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, and you knew that look.

He hated losing.

“Do you want to stop?” you asked, once he got knocked again.

“No,” he said calmly. “I’m going to win. Eventually.”

“It’s just Fortnite.”

“It’s not. It’s… principle now.”

You weren’t sure what was funnier the fact that Shoto Todoroki had declared war on a video game, or the fact that he still can’t aim. You ended the night with him managing to survive to top 10 while hiding in a bush the entire time. He was weirdly proud.

“That was strategy,” he said.

“That was cowardice.”

“Tactical cowardice,” he corrected.

You thought that was the end of it. You thought oh okay no more fortnite. You were wrong.

That same night barely an hour after he left your dorm your phone buzzed.

[Shoto Todoroki, 11:18 PM]

Are you online?

I want to try again.

[You, 11:19 PM]

Shoto it’s almost midnight.

You died to fall damage three times.

Go to sleep.

[Shoto Todoroki, 11:20 PM]

I watched some tutorials.

I think I understand now.

I won a solo match.

Come play duos with me.

You blinked.

“You WHAT?”

You joined his party just to see if he was lying.

He was not.

Bro had gone from complete disaster to cranking 90s, editing walls, and sniping people mid-air like he’d been playing since birth. “Did you sell your soul?” you asked, as he casually wiped out a whole squad.

“No,” he said. “I just… focused.”

“You died to fall damage.”

“That was before I learned how to sprint.”

“I’m scared of you.”

“I’ll protect you.”

You didn’t even have time to react to that because he boxed you in, dropped you a purple shotgun, and then took out two more enemies.

He was so calm while playing now. Too calm.

“They’re moving left,” he muttered into the mic, voice smooth. “I can push them. you can bait.”

“You are terrifying.”

“You said you wanted to teach me. This is your fault.”

Your friends started noticing, too. Kirishima joined one night and immediately went,

“Wait…. Bro, why is Todoroki lowkey cracked..?”

Todoroki just quietly replied,

“I’m learning fast.”

He wasn’t just good. He was pocket protector, god-tier, I’m only here to make sure you win good. He started dropping heals before you even asked. hes literally your fortnite boyfriend. He even knew your favorite loadouts and carried you when you lagged.

“I think he’s in love,” Kaminari whispered

“With Fortnite?” you asked

“With you, bro.”

You weren’t ready to unpack that, so you built a ramp and ran from it.

It became a thing. Every night. Eventually he stopped asking if you were free. Now he just sent one word messages:

“Lobby?”

“Drop?”

“You on?”

Until one night, after your fourth win in a row, you said, “You’re kinda pro at this…” And he smiled that soft, lopsided, only for you smile.

“I’m good because you taught me.”

“And because I like being on your team.”

Your controller nearly slipped out of your hands. You tried to play it off. “Guess we’re a good duo.”

“The best,” he said.

“In Fortnite?”

He looked at you.

“In everything.”

[riririnnnn]

To know that Sae doesn't think he is having any kind of fight with Rin and he, in fact, watches BLTV too makes me think that this post of mine wasn't that far from the tracks.

Yes, of course, he might not be watching BLTV solely for Rin and the reasons might also be Isagi, Shidou, Kaiser, and maybe even Lorenzo, Charles, Loki, and Noa. However, I just like to believe that he never stopped looking out for his little brother, Rin. And in a very strange way, I think he was looking out for Rin in that Snowy Night too.

First thing first, something was wrong with Sae in that flashback.

As the saying goes, "Eyes are the window to one's soul," he looks so worn out—miserable, in fact. And I highly think that around the time of this flashback, it hadn't been that long since he lost his dream—or maybe got his dreams crushed. And I got two reasons to think this way:

To repeat my words, he looks miserable, which is a given when you lose a dream, compared to his later appearance like in the U-20 match. And judging by the timeline, the flashback and U-20 match have 1 year-ish gap which is an ample amount of time to cope up and get a hold of yourself.

Rin kept close tabs on Sae through news and all. The younger Itoshi would definitely be the one, if not the first, to know that Sae was now aiming to be the best midfielder instead of the best striker. But..

...Rin didn't know shit.

Now, you might be wondering why in the world I'm focusing so much on the timeline, right? Like, Sae got his dreams crushed, then he return to Japan and confronted Rin—what's the big deal about it even if these events happened in a short amount of time?

...

And that's where you'd be wrong if you think this way.

We all keep forgetting that to be the world's greatest striker was Sae's dream first before he decided to share it with Rin. Sae has been playing this sport since he was one year old. Soccer, probably, came into his life before Rin did. Rin gave his teen years to this game, but Sae has nearly given his whole life to this dream.

Now imagine yourself in Sae's position. Imagine devoting your whole childhood and teen years to something only to not be able to achieve it in the end. Won't you be devastated? Won't you be a mess? Won't you need some time to collect yourself together? Now do you understand why the timeline matters so much? And why the timeline is such a big deal? Hm?

Secondly, Sae has never been a visibly sweet person, even to Rin.

Yes, Sae took care of Rin, but did we ever see him go, "Aww! My lil baby bro Rinnie! Cutie patootie! My baby bro <333333" Did we? He had always been rather.. emotion-less and blunt. After the above panel, too, his words were, "You can be the most amazing, after me."

He just has been like that.

Always.

That's why I have always believed that he never changed as a person, even after Spain. He has been like this from the start, which is also why I think that his harsh words in that Snowy Night was just another way of him looking out for Rin because guess who has known soccer longer? Who has gone out of Japan and seen the outside world's soccer with his own eyes?

Yeah.

In a way, Sae's dream had more weight than Rin's. The older Itoshi had soccer in front of his vision, meanwhile the younger one had his Nii-chan in front of his eyes. Despite being so focused in this sport, Sae just couldn't be it, so what makes you think Rin could've made it when his sole focus was his Nii-chan instead? Wouldn't have Rin struggled so much in the outside world with this kind of mentality?

And this is something, I think, Sae knew too—on that Snowy Night, he actually realised what Rin's real mindset was like and immediately knew that it just wasn't going to fly in the world stage. Sae was just saving Rin from the hardships he himself must've went through during his time in Spain—Sae was just looking out for Rin.

"What about those mean things he said to Rin?" you may ask, and that's exactly where the timeline comes into play—Sae was just a mess, and Rin's words were the breaking point for him.

"What words?" you may ask now, and these are the words:

Repeating myself, eyes are the window to one's soul:

Sae never broke his promise—Sae never stopped looking out for Rin.

[ryuto12-gaming]

Love Carver’s Templar path because is it bad for him? Yes, Grey Warden would be much better for the boy looking for a purpose of his own.

But the vibes? The story implications? When Meredith finds Hawke end of act 2 she’s all too happy to say that the young Hawke hadn’t mentioned his sibling was an apostate.

Immediate reaction to that is to think, ‘oh no, Carver’s in trouble now’. But he’s not. Meredith understands. If you’ve never done a Templar siding run you won’t know it, but Meredith had a older sister, an apostate her family harbored and did their everything to keep her safe. It doesn’t end well though, her sister becomes an abomination and kills their family and another 70 people.

Carver should, at the very least, be realistically thrown from the order because of his harboring of an apostate. But he isn’t. I don’t even think he has lines about any disciplinary action. Meredith understands very well that the love you hold for a sibling can pass the duty you must uphold to the Chantry.

Meredith is one of the few templars in the series who has an actually well written reason for why she does what she does. Most the Templar characters are written with blind hatred of mages, Meredith is written with a deep and genuine fear of magic that throughout the three acts is only given more and more reasons to exist as more blood mages appear in Kirkwall and even an apostate can become the cities hero. The hero, who keeps an abomination and blood mage for companions as well.

Meredith is afraid of magic and does what she does out of pity and sympathy for mages. Her sister should not have to die, but she was cursed with a power that cannot be controlled. Mages, no matter how kind or soft or caring and gentle, all can be swayed by a demon and become abominations. All are capable of blood magic. It takes a warrior to wield a sword that can kill, it takes a rogue to know a bow, all it takes for a mage is a thought. You must unsheathe a blade, you must steady the aim of a bow, magic is a thought and wave of the hand.

And untrained mages are the most likely to fall victim to this. Her sister had no training at all, she had only her own gifts and the minimal practice she could engage in. Meredith believes the Circle is best for everyone. It helps mages control their abilities, it keeps everyone else safe.

Knight commander Meredith has a very interesting way of thinking compared to many other Templars in the series, as she does not hate mages at all. She is a woman terrified of a world in which mages are able to run free. She is terrified of more families dying, or more innocent people being killed. But most of all she fears for the people who become the sibling that survives. Watching your sibling, someone you play with and argue with and love and hate turn into a monster is a terrifying thing. And it was terrifying for her sister, a kind woman who had down nothing wrong.

Meredith becomes a Templar to keep mages safe, in a way. Magic is a curse to her, and if she can keep mages in the circle where they can properly learn and grow they can be safe. Her sister would have been safe.

​She’s so competent as a Templar because she doesn’t hate mages she’s so good at it because her purpose is born out of a balance of love for her sister and the fear of what she became.

Knight commander Meredith bro

[princessbrunette]

you’d always been a nerd, there was no doubt about that — it’s only now you were older, you were known as a nerd who was filling out her bikini top, and jiggling in her bikini bottoms. now, unlike yourself — you sit on a little boat out on the water with the infamous pogues.

it was jj who invited you here. it was always jj — he’d been enthralled to see the sexy little thing you’d grown into adulthood as. he’d spotted you whilst working at the library, frowning over a file book of library card entries with cute pouty lips and reading glasses that he wanted to cover in cum. hed always thought you were cute at school, but now he just had to have you. he’d used his charms on you, and now you were nervously tucked into his side, ‘making friends’ with his friends as he’d described it. “gotta get ya out there, there’s a whoooole life to be lived outside these books, you know that?”

he was burrowing through his backpack, leaning over on the boat beside you to find the weed he’d packed, clearly set on corrupting you for fun.

“its the best of the best— like, perfect for a beginner—” he rambles, dumping things out his backpack struggling to find the small baggie of prerolls he’d prepared.

“jesus, jj do not corrupt the poor girl.” john b bites back the entertained smile, lifting his head from where he lounged in the sun to look at you. “you sure you’re okay with this sweetheart? can totally… you know, stick to what you know.” he shrugs, sympathetically and you shake your head, wide eyes finding the blondes.

“its okay, told jj i’ve always wanted to try. he said he’d hook me up.” you smile politely, still a little shy around the group.

“yeah but he’s being weird about it.” kiara glares at her friend with her nose turned up, nudging him with her foot nearly knocking his balance off. “dont be a creep.”

“look i’m not being a creep, alright! ‘said she wanted to try, and i’m being a good citizen and simply helping this sweet young lady out dabbling in just a lil bit of herb okay so i don’t wanna—” he dives headfirst into another one of his rants, but is quieted by your gasp when a couple of items fall out his backpack, including a gun.

“nice work.” pope shakes his head and your eyes widen, looking around wondering why no one else is concerned.

“why do you have a gun, jj?” you scandalise and he picks it up casually, flipping it in his hands making you shuffle away, jaw agape.

“gotta protect my people, what’s wrong wi’that? look i’m a pro at usin’ this thing— set up a little target practice in john b’s backyard and lemme tell you, i have quite the aim.” he waves it around making you stiffen up, touching his bicep to stop him from being so reckless.

“god, you must be careful with that thing. they’re dangerous jj! i read that these pistols just go off at random all the time, you could seriously hurt someone and i don’t wanna be the person who gets shot by accident! do you even—” you freak, and he turns his body to you shuffling closer and silencing you.

“shh, shh, shh, shh — hey. it’s all good. i would never accidentally shoot a pretty girl. trust me, i’m so careful.” he smirks, bringing the tip of the barrel to your lips making you freeze with wide eyes. to keep you there as he speaks, an arm slings over your shoulder, his clammy hand gently grasping the back of your neck. you know you should be scared, the boy seems reckless and unhinged — and worst of all, his friends seemed used to it which tells you he does this shit all the time — but something about it made your cunt throb, dampening your bikini bottoms and subtly pressing your thighs together as you felt your skin heat up.

maybe it was all the books you read, but you’d always loved a bad boy.

“seriously bro? you’re scaring her.” kiara complains, leaning across and yanking the pistol out his hand and shoving it back into his backpack.

fast forward a few hours, and you’re back at the chateau, the only ones inside in john b’s bedroom. you’re looser, high and relaxed from the joint jj had talked you through smoking — and now you were laying your head on his bicep, his free hand down your panties rubbing your copious juices into your swollen clit.

“cant believe you’ve never been touched like this, mama. been missing out on heaven, right?” he grins, leaning down to kiss at your cheek when your eyes flutter closed, so out of it and blissful.

“mm… wanted this since…” you trail off, lips parting and brows furrowing when he curls his finger inside you.

“nah, go on. since when… tell me how long this pretty pussy’s been horny for papa j.” he dirty talks so well you clench hard around him, working up the courage. it didn’t take much, the intoxication and lust making you brave.

“since you put the gun to my lips.” you admit quietly and his jaw drops gleefully, speeding up his fingers.

“seriously? damn i knew you were gonna be a freak. it’s always the quiet ones, always dude.” he celebrates to himself before staring down at you adoringly. “man, i’m gonna have so much fun with you, pretty girl.”

[glowstickgoo]

Another Prospero post (#1)

I was bored so I decided to read chapter 71 again since it's one of my favourites and It breaks me just how shaken Prospero is even after Annabel tries to comfort him.

His flinch here BRO. The way he shields himself with his shoulder. The tear. The little "nn!" since he could hardly formulate coherent sentences. I wish we could've had his POV here SO BAD. I wonder wether or not it was a conscious effort for him to speak english at that moment (or if his accent slipped out) - I wonder if he ever did the thing that Duke does in his speech, where he mixes english with french in moments of stress or happiness or whatever. I would love to see Prospero reverting back to Sicilian and then getting his reaction at his own slip-up. I imagine it wouldn't go too well.

He is so out of it man. His face as he looks back at the blood imprint and the little sounds of distress. Anna's hand brushing his tear away even though she said she'd only fix his hair genuinely made me emotional the first time I read this chapter. Its such a small thing but it felt so intimate (in a platonic way of course). She knows so well what he's going through. What those tears could do to him if the wrong person sees them.

And her hand grabbing his chin and forcing him to look away. It's so bittersweet cuz it's clear that looking at the blood is causing him distress but I bet her hand on his face also made him remember the hallucination. His face here holds so much genuine, unfiltered fear. And his shoulders tensing again.

It illustrates the genuine care and the pragmatism behind Annas motives so well. Yes she is comforting him, but its also damaging him because that's how she's been taught to handle her own anxiety too. To suffer through it and suck it up.

His face in this particular panel here is killing me. Not only does he look exhausted and scared. He looks ashamed too. He is surrounded by people who saw him at his lowest. Whimpering and shaking against a wall. His mask almost entirely off. When you think about it, hes just as much of a "fraud" as Ada and Annabel are. He's pretending to be something that he's not. He needs to constantly be in control of himself and how others perceive him. (Might make a separate post about this particular point).

And then here!! His sharp jolt from Adas voice. The way he moves away and hides behind Annabel. Anna trying to calm him down again, hand out and shielding him away, while Prospero looks at her. She's like "hey, focus on me. She can't get you.". I truly think that Prospero was holding onto Anna's presence here for dear life even if he wasn't sure if it was genuine or not. He just needed something/someone to keep him from succumbing to the fear.

I wonder if the face he makes when he hears Ada's spectre scream here is not just fear and concern for what might be happening TO her, but also just genuine fear OF her. Maybe he remembers that one time when that scream was aimed at him.

[hiramaris]

Imma fight a man (but Imma find a woman)

Note: Saw this on TikTok and can't help but make a crack fic 😂 Btw, next chapter for Kiss It Off Me is WIP, and after that, I'll start with the request in my inbox.

Here's the link of the Tiktok if you want to check it out: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS6VajaMP/ (Though I'm not sure when's the Tiktok ban for the US so I'll just explain that it's a fanart of farmer and Haley doing the breaking dishes trend lmao)

The late afternoon sun painted everything in warm, golden hues as Haley and Alex stood outside the Mullners' house. Haley’s phone sat on a tripod, its lens aimed squarely at them.

Haley let out an exasperated huff, smoothing her sundress as she glared at Alex. "Come on, Alex! It can’t be that hard!" she snapped, hands planted on her hips.

Alex was hunched over, hands on his knees, panting like he’d just run a marathon. His red tank top was clinging to him, damp from sweat. He held up a hand, trying to buy himself some time. "Gimme a sec to catch my breath, Hay," he said, his voice strained.

"You’re acting like I weigh a freaking ton!" Haley fired back, the annoyance in her voice cutting through the quiet street.

"Yoba, Hay," Alex grumbled, straightening up with a wince as he rolled his shoulder. "You don’t weigh a ton, but we’ve been doing this stupid TikTok trend over and over! I swear, my shoulder’s about to pop out. Ow..."

"That’s because you’re doing it all wrong!" Haley shot back, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You look like you’re struggling to lift me! Me! I can’t have people thinking I weigh as much as a cow or something!"

Alex looked at her like she’d lost it, shaking his head. "How can I not struggle? You’re supposed to be jumping at the same time I lift you! That’s how this works—it’s all about momento or whatever."

Haley’s face twisted into an unimpressed glare, but her lips twitched like she was holding back a laugh.

"Momentum, you dungus!" she corrected, smacking his arm lightly. "Not ‘momento.’ Good Yoba, Alex, do you even know what you’re talking about?"

Alex blinked at her, then cracked a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck.

"Whatever," he muttered. "You know what I mean."

Haley let out an exasperated laugh, crouching down to pick up another plate they’d set aside. "I’m starting to wonder why I even asked you to help me with this."

Alex leaned back against the side of the house, smirking now. "Cookies. You said you’d bake me cookies if I helped."

Haley paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "And you’re not getting any if you keep acting like this is the hardest thing in the world."

Alex groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "Fine, one more time," he grumbled, stepping back into position. "But if this doesn’t work, I’m done."

Haley brightened instantly, clapping her hands together. "Perfect! Now remember, you have to time it with me. Don’t make me look like a sack of potatoes this time!"

The phone’s recording light started blinking as they got into position. Alex muttered under his breath, "I can’t believe this is my life right now..." but crouched anyway, ready to give it one last go.

Just as he was about to lift Haley by the waist, a familiar voice rang out from the path leading to the Mullners’ yard.

"Sup, fellas," you called, adjusting the straps of your russet backpack that were digging into your tank top. "Heard you two bickering all the way from Pierre’s. What’s the fuss this time?"

Alex straightened up with a groan, rolling his shoulder as though he’d just finished a wrestling match. "Ask this crazy woman right here," he said, jerking his thumb toward Haley. "Also, I really need Harvey to check this shoulder…"

Haley gasped, scandalized. "Who are you calling crazy?!"

"Anyway," Alex continued, ignoring her and gesturing vaguely toward the tripod, "Hay wanted to do that ‘breaking dishes’ trend on TikTok, but she keeps messing it up. And now I’m the one with a busted shoulder because of it."

"The hell you mean I keep messing it up—!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Breaking dishes trend? What’s that? I don’t see any of y’all breaking actual dishes.”

Alex barked out a laugh, wiping a hand over his face. “Are you serious? Don’t tell me you don’t have TikTok on your phone.”

“Nah,” you replied with a shrug, setting your rucksack down on the porch. “Signal’s pretty crap on the farm, and honestly, I don’t use my phone much. Too busy keeping the cows from eating the chicken feed, you know?”

Haley groaned, throwing her hands up in disbelief. “Of course you don’t know what TikTok is,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “What kind of hermit are you?”

“Hey!”You said, feigning offense, crossing your arms with an exaggerated pout. “Just because I don’t spend my time doing this whole ‘breaking dishes’ thing doesn’t mean I’m out of the loop.”

“You are so out of the loop,” Alex said, smirking as he leaned against the porch railing, clearly enjoying himself. “Anyway, the trend is basically flexing your strength. The guy’s supposed to lift the girl on their shoulder like she weighs nothing. You know, it makes you look all badass while Rihanna’s ‘Breaking Dishes’ plays in the background.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, nodding slowly as the gears turned in your head. “So... does it require the person doing the lifting to be a guy?”

“Wait, what?” Haley asked, her voice rising an octave as she stepped back, sensing where this might be going.

“That’s not a bad idea, old Mac!” Alex cut in, grinning as he grabbed the phone on the tripod and adjusted the angle. “Camera’s rolling. Do your worst, Y/n/n!”

Before Haley could protest, you stepped forward and grinned at her mischievously. “Alright, Hay. Brace yourself.”

“Wha—wait, hold on!" Haley barely had time to react as your hands found her waist. With surprising ease, you hoisted her off the ground, smoothly maneuvering her onto your shoulder. She let out an uncharacteristic squeak of surprise, her hands instinctively grabbing at your shoulders for balance.

“Yoba, Haley,” you teased, steadying her as if this was something you did every day. “You’re lighter than you look. Guess Alex really is just weak.”

“Hey!” Alex protested from behind the camera, but the grin on his face betrayed his amusement.

“Put me down!” Haley squirmed, though her voice lacked any real heat. Her cheeks flushed pink as she realized the situation. “This is not how this is supposed to go!”

“Oh, come on. Isn’t this what you wanted?” you quipped, turning to face the camera as you easily adjusted Haley’s position on your shoulder. “Breaking dishes trend, right? I’d say I nailed it.”

“Y/n, I swear if this goes viral, I’m never letting you live it down.”

Alex barked out a laugh as he stopped the recording. “Too late. That was gold! You have to post it, Hay! Can she, Old Mac? Can she?”

You chuckled, glancing at Haley, who was still recovering from the whirlwind of events. “Sure. I’m fine if she’s fine with it,” you replied with a grin. Gently, you lowered her back onto the ground, her feet touching down as lightly as a feather. “Though… I think I broke her, Alex.”

“Yep, sure did,” Alex teased, folding his arms as he leaned back against the porch with a smug grin.

You laughed as you gathered your things. “Anyway, I’m gonna get going. Need to ask Clint about an update on my tools.”

Alex gave you a fist bump. “Catch you later, Old Mac.”

You turned to Haley, who was still standing there, looking like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or give you another piece of her mind.

“Oh, and Haley?” you called out, smirking as you adjusted the strap of your rucksack. “If you need to do any more trends, my farm’s just down the road. See ya!”

With that, you strolled off toward the path leading back to Clint's shop, leaving Alex cackling on the porch and Haley staring after you, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.

****

Alex was practically doubled over, his phone in hand as he scrolled through the comment section of Haley’s latest TikTok. His laughter echoed through the room, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Raw, next question!” he managed to wheeze out, slapping his knee for emphasis.

Haley, sprawled across the couch, groaned and threw a decorative pillow in his direction. “Ugh, stop it already! It’s not that funny.”

“It’s absolutely that funny!” Alex shot back, ducking the pillow effortlessly. “Do you even read these? These women are feral, Hay. And I’m not even talking about the ones thirsting over you. Y/n/n’s got her own fanbase now.”

Haley sat up, her cheeks heating as she snatched her phone to check the comments. Sure enough, there were a few decently wholesome remarks buried among the absolute chaos. But the majority? Feral didn’t even begin to describe it.

AND THE CROWD IS... taking off their clothes?

Born to ride, forced to scroll.

Ho is u single?

I have nothing appropriate to say

I can take both of them. Not in a fight 😏

Does the farmer girl do weddings? As like a bride?

Does anyone know if the farmer girl has tiktok?

Scrolling feels like a divorce

All ten fingers!

I told my parents about us btw

Weird way of proposing but yes.

Wuh luh wuh?

BOOM SHAKALAKAAAA

“Oh, and this one’s gold.” Alex scrolled further, nearly choking on his laughter. “‘I swear my pants were just on.’ Yoba, help us all.”

Haley groaned louder, flopping back against the couch. “I regret everything. I should’ve never let Y/n lift me for that trend.”

Alex grinned, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression. “Oh no, Hay. This is the best content you’ve ever posted. You better pray to Yoba that Y/n doesn’t open a TikTok account, or it’s game over for you. You’re cooked.”

Haley grabbed another pillow, this time fully intending to launch it at Alex’s face.

“Shut up!” she yelled, her cheeks flushed a shade of crimson that she couldn’t blame on the sunlight streaming through the window.

~~~~

A/N: Now that I think about it, this one-shot can be considered part of the Kiss It Off Me universe. The timeline's probably during summer.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

@tekanparadiae

@slug-on-bike

@prlan

@mit-suri

@marvelwomen-simp

[izzyhandsdeservedbetter]

Dopplegänger

This is based of the prompt by the lovely: @biscof

Thank you for letting me use your prompt! <3

Summary: neil and andrew are both pro players and one day Aaron goes out to dinner and an exy fan recognizes him as Andrew minyard, this is how they later find out about eachother.

Please enjoy! <3

-----------------------------------------------------------

Aaron Minyard—no, not Minyard anymore, just Aaron—had never been more exhausted in his life. Sixteen hours in the OR, two emergency surgeries, and a resident who couldn’t tell a scalpel from a butter knife. All he wanted was a goddamn burger, some peace, and maybe eight hours of unconsciousness before he had to do it all again tomorrow.  

He slumped into a booth at a 24-hour diner near the hospital, barely registering the waitress who slid a menu toward him. He ordered the first thing he saw—a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a black coffee strong enough to wake the dead.  

He was halfway through his meal, zoning out at the grease-stained table, when a high-pitched voice shattered the silence.  

“Oh my God, you’re Andrew Josten! I’m such a huge fan!”  

Aaron blinked. Slowly.  

A teenager—maybe sixteen, with bright pink hair and an Exy jersey—was standing next to his table, bouncing on her toes, phone already out and aimed at him.  

Aaron swallowed his bite of burger. “What?”  

The girl giggled. “Oh my God, you’re even cooler in person. Can I get a selfie? My friends are gonna die.”  

Aaron stared.  

“…No?”  

The girl faltered, her smile slipping. “Oh. Uh. Sorry, I just—I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just, like, you’re Andrew Josten.”  

Aaron set his burger down. “I’m not.”  

The girl blinked. “What?”  

“I’m not Andrew Josten.”  

She squinted at him. Then burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious. You’re, like, totally him. Same face, same voice—wait, are you doing a bit? Is this for, like, a prank video?”  

Aaron was too tired for this. “I’m a neurosurgeon. I don’t know who Andrew Josten is.”  

The girl’s smile dropped. She looked at him—really looked at him—and then her eyes widened.  

“…Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re not him.”  

Aaron sighed. “No.”  

“But you look exactly like him.”  

Aaron had no response to that.  

The girl, now vibrating with excitement, whipped out her phone. “Can I—can I take a picture? Just one? Please? This is insane.”  

Aaron was too exhausted to argue. He shrugged.  

She snapped the photo, gushed a thank you, and scurried off, already typing furiously on her phone.  

Aaron went back to his burger.  

He had no idea what had just happened.  

And he definitely didn’t know that in approximately three hours, his life was about to implode.  

---

The post went viral in under an hour.  

@ExyFan99: GUYS. GUYS. I JUST MET ANDREW JOSTEN’S SECRET TWIN??????  

The photo showed Aaron, mid-bite, looking like a man who had not slept in a decade, his expression caught somewhere between confused and please leave me alone.  

The caption:  

So I was at this diner and I saw Andrew Josten just sitting there and I freaked out obvi but then he said he WASN’T Andrew??? And like. Look at him. That’s Andrew. But he says he’s a doctor????? WHAT IS HAPPENING.  

The replies were chaos.  

@FoxFanatic: BRO WHAT.  

@JostenLover: That’s 100% Andrew what the hell.  

@NickyH: …Andrew doesn’t have a twin???  

@KevinDay: What the fuck.  

And then, the reply that sent everything into overdrive:  

@AndrewJosten: Where is this.  

The internet lost its goddamn mind.  

---

Andrew Josten (formerly Doe, but Neil had insisted on the name change after the wedding) was pissed.  

He stared at the photo on his phone.  

The man in it looked exactly like him.  

Same sharp jaw. Same blond hair. Same dead-eyed stare.  

But Andrew had never seen this man before in his life.  

Neil, sprawled on the couch next to him, glanced over. “What’s wrong?”  

Andrew shoved the phone in his face.  

Neil blinked. “…Did you get cloned?”  

Andrew didn’t answer. He was already typing.  

Within minutes, he had the diner’s location.  

Within an hour, he had a name: Dr. Aaron [REDACTED], Neurosurgeon, Specializes in Sports Medicine & Athlete Injuries.  

Andrew’s fingers tightened around his phone.  

“We’re going,” he said.  

Neil, wisely, didn’t argue.  

---

Aaron was so close to passing out.  

He had just gotten home, showered, and was halfway through kneading dough for tomorrow’s bread (stress-baking was his only coping mechanism) when someone pounded on his door.  

He considered ignoring it.  

Then the knocking came again, louder.  

Grumbling, Aaron wiped his flour-covered hands on his sweatpants and yanked the door open.  

Two men stood there.  

One was a redhead with scars and a dangerous glint in his eye.  

The other—  

Aaron froze.  

The other man was him.  

Blond. Cold-eyed. Furious.  

Andrew Josten stared at him.  

Aaron stared back.  

“…Huh,” Aaron said.  

Andrew’s voice was flat. “You’re my twin.”  

Aaron blinked. “Apparently.”  

Neil, beside Andrew, looked fascinated. “This is wild.”  

Aaron exhaled. He was too tired for this.  

“…I’m making bread,” he said. “You can come in. Just—don’t expect me to stay awake long.”  

Andrew stepped inside, eyes never leaving Aaron’s face.  

Aaron wondered, distantly, if this was how sleep deprivation hallucinations started.  

Then he shrugged and went back to kneading dough.  

---

Andrew didn’t sit. He stood in the middle of Aaron’s kitchen, arms crossed, watching as Aaron worked the dough with practiced ease.  

“You didn’t know,” Andrew said.  

It wasn’t a question.  

Aaron snorted. “No. Did you?”  

Andrew’s silence was answer enough.  

Neil, leaning against the counter, tilted his head. “So. You’re a neurosurgeon.”  

“Yep.”  

“And you don’t play Exy.”  

“Nope.”  

“And you’ve never heard of Andrew.”  

Aaron paused. “…Should I have?”  

Neil grinned. Andrew looked like he wanted to stab something.  

Aaron didn’t care. He was too busy yawning.  

“…I’m gonna crash soon,” he warned. “So if you’re planning on, like, a dramatic twin reunion speech, do it fast.”  

Andrew’s glare could have melted steel.  

Neil laughed.  

Aaron went back to his bread.  

This was not how he expected his night to go.  

---

Andrew Josten had spent his entire life believing he had no family.  

And then, at 2 AM, he found himself standing in the kitchen of a man who looked exactly like him, watching as his supposed twin kneaded bread dough with the same mechanical precision Andrew used to sharpen knives.  

Aaron didn’t look up. His movements were slow, deliberate—not from focus, but from exhaustion. His shoulders slumped, his eyes half-lidded, flour dusted across his cheek like he hadn’t even noticed it there.  

Andrew had seen corpses with more energy.  

Neil, ever the chaos magnet, leaned against the counter, grinning. “So,” he said, “you’re telling me you never played Exy?”  

Aaron shrugged. “Never had the interest.”  

Neil gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Blasphemy.”  

Andrew ignored him. His eyes traced the dark circles under Aaron’s eyes, the way his fingers trembled slightly as he folded the dough.  

“When was the last time you slept?” Andrew asked.  

Aaron blinked, as if the question confused him. “…Yesterday?”  

“Bullshit.”  

Aaron sighed. “Fine. Two days ago. But I had a double shift, and then—”  

“You’re going to pass out.”  

Aaron shrugged again. “Probably.”  

Andrew’s fingers twitched. He didn’t like this.  

He didn’t like any of this.  

---

By morning, the entire Exy world knew.  

Kevin Day had texted Andrew no less than eleven times.  

Kevin: WHAT THE FUCK.  

Kevin: IS THIS REAL.  

Kevin: ANDREW.  

Kevin: ANSWER ME.  

Nicky had called, sobbing.  

“I HAVE ANOTHER COUSIN?!”  

Renee had simply sent a single, knowing message:  

Renee: I’m happy for you.  

Andrew wanted to set his phone on fire.  

Instead, he watched as Aaron—who had, in fact, passed out mid-conversation last night—stumbled out of his bedroom at noon, looking even worse than before.  

Neil, who had taken it upon himself to make coffee (poorly), perked up. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”  

Aaron groaned. “I regret everything.”  

Andrew wordlessly shoved a mug of black coffee into his hands.  

Aaron stared at it. Then at Andrew.  

“…Thanks.”  

Andrew grunted.  

---

Andrew didn’t do caretaking.  

Except, apparently, when it came to his idiot twin who didn’t know how to take care of himself.  

Aaron’s fridge was empty except for expired yogurt and a single sad lime. His cabinets held nothing but protein bars and instant ramen. His idea of “meal prep” was apparently “starve until I collapse.”  

Andrew hated it.  

So he did what he always did when he hated something��he fixed it.  

Neil watched in amusement as Andrew dragged Aaron to the grocery store, shoved vegetables into the cart, and then, when Aaron tried to protest, growled at him.  

Aaron shut up.  

Neil cackled.  

---

The Foxes, being the nosy bastards they were, demanded a video call.  

Aaron, still half-asleep, was unceremoniously shoved in front of Neil’s laptop.  

Kevin’s face filled the screen. He stared.  

Aaron stared back.  

“…Holy shit,” Kevin breathed.  

Nicky screamed. “TWINNIE!”  

Matt Boyd squinted. “Wait, but—how?!”  

Dan whistled. “Damn, Andrew. You’ve been holding out on us.”  

Aaron rubbed his temples. “I’m going back to bed.”  

Andrew, for the first time in his life, felt something dangerously close to protectiveness toward another human being.  

He shut the laptop.  

---

It took a week for Andrew to admit it.  

Aaron was a part of his group.  

His twin. His family. His problem.  

And Andrew hated seeing him like this—exhausted, underfed, running himself into the ground.  

So he did what he did best—he took control.  

He showed up at Aaron’s apartment every other day with groceries. He made sure Aaron ate. He forced him to sleep.  

Aaron, for his part, was baffled but too tired to fight it.  

Neil watched it all with a smug grin.  

“You like him,” Neil teased.  

Andrew flipped him off.  

But he didn’t deny it.  

---

Months later, Aaron sat on Andrew’s couch, eating actual home-cooked food (courtesy of Andrew, because someone had to make sure Aaron didn’t die of malnutrition).  

Neil was sprawled across the floor, arguing with Kevin over Exy stats.  

Aaron glanced at Andrew.  

“…Thanks,” he said quietly.  

Andrew didn’t answer.  

But he didn’t have to.  

For the first time in their lives, they both had something they’d never had before.  

Family.  

---

THE END. 

[candyredmusings]

Creepcast Sentence Starters

Random assortment of things said on the Creepcast Podcast Feel free to change pronouns/gendered words as fit

CW: NSFT/Angst/Humor

"Mayonnaise is the sauce of the aristocrats."

"I just wanted to give him something to think about."

"Your wife looks mad funny in that box, bro."

“WHAT? YOU CAN’T HANDLE A COUPLE OF DEAD KIDS? YOU’LL NEVER MAKE IT AT NICKELODEON.”

"So...monster hunter, huh?"

"He's right behind me, isn't he?"

"I pray he just breaks the kids legs”

“I shouldn’t have sold a snow cone to that ghost…”

"DON'T TELL MY MOM I LIKE GIRLS!"

“Pool floats are the balloons of the water”

“Can you imagine a 7 foot tall women named [NAME] for me?”

"How am I going to kill this monster you’re asking? Well, that’s simple - I’m going to douse myself in chemicals and gasoline, light myself on fire, and tackle it!"

"[NAME] your mom died three days ago GET OVER IT."

“Maybe your mom was a bitch.”

“Quick someone check his twitter dms”

"I'm the one they call when shit gets spooky."

"OH YEAH, we are soooo back! WE ARE SO BACK."

"Who am I? I'm a motherfucking angel."

“That’s not how cops work!”

"Peanut butter is in the Bible"

"Do you wanna know where vampires come from [NAME]?"

"...Now how did you know that...?"

“Yeah give it to me slender man."

"As an affront to both god and man what choice did I have?"

"What's wrong? Did someone else die?"

[Hitting own forehead] "STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!"

"I'm in my own hell."

"I just wanna say fucking ACAB, dude. Fuck the cops."

"COME ON, GET IT TOGETHER, [NAME]."

“I’m doing a little podcast with a guy high on fentanyl right now.”

"Oh we put his ass in a home" 

"I thought I had something, but I was just yapping."

"If you're gonna aim for the stars, might as well aim for every single goddamn one of them."

"Do I look like Dionysus, baby? 'Cause I can be." 

"Sometimes the cucumber tastes better pickled."

“I hope you burn in hell, you tired old goat”

"Erm... you're gonna wanna see this..."

“WHAT’D I TELL YOU, HE LOVES IT DOWN THERE!"

"Who is 'help?' Stop asking for him that's not my name."

"I don't go for even, I go for winning."

“Man, I thought I had it bad with [NAME]'s shoe addiction." // “Man, I thought I had it bad with [NAME]'s shoe addiction, but. fuck me. Your spouse is in here collecting eyeballs.”

"I only got on because I was able to take out all of his bodyguards in a sort of hand to hand combat trial." // "I only got on because I was able to take out all of his bodyguards in a sort of hand to hand combat trial. Guess all those trips through the police academy finally paid off."

"You fake the paintings?"

"We were adventurers, we were explorers, We were friends."

"I miss you, [NAME]. I'm sorry that you chose me, but I'll always cherish my memories of you." 

"we keep trying to read the names of these gargoyle s out loud but we keep going blind as we read them"

“Is something funny, [NAME]?"

"You think I don't see that? Dad's upset!"

“That’s always been your issue [NAME], you lack imagination.”

"You’re just a fucking disappointment, aren’t you?"

“Remember this moment the next time you want to have a bonfire. Do I make myself crystal clear?”

“YOU GET IT? MY COCK!"

"What level of pain would you allow your family to go through if the alternative is they die?"

“A frothy ejaculate of ants would not feel good.”

"His lips ... they are far too fat."

"I don't negotiate with terrorists."

"You are never going to escape [NAME]."

"He shot that damn dog!"

"I'm sorry, [NAME], is something funny?"

"I shared an apartment my sophomore year of college with a 53 year old mexican custodian who did not speak any English."

"We have been battling Ben Shapiro for far too long."

"I don't care about him. You can do whatever you want to him."

"Would you just, I don't know, hypothetically say that maybe that potentially had some effect on your development that led you to where you are now, perhaps, perchance?"

"Holy shit. He took his kidneys. He took his fucking kidneys."

"You somehow lost your left kidney last night. We don't know how, though. Sorry, [NAME]."

"You could take my left kidney, that's fine. But now you've really started to go too far."

"While you played your sports, I studied literature."

"I hope you burn in hell, you tired old goat, is what I would say to my mom."

"Yeah, looks like one of the goddamn teenage mutant ninja turtles. Just like, he's like, cowabunga, asshole."

"I thought you said you were done collecting funko pops"

"I would be thrilled if he dropped an anvil on one of the kids."

"Are you doing the nice fentanyl flop right now?"

"Hi. I got punched in the face. It was fun, I guess."

"I'm a bit of a clown. I'm a bit of a jokester. I'm a honey roasted ham."

"You know that. That's a good piece of cringe. I appreciate that. Thank you so much."

"I'm literally doing a podcast with guy high on fentanyl right now."

[sugudollz]

corrupting virgin suguru 🧎🏽‍♀️

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Corrupting virgin Suguru? Hm… yeah.

MDNI!! Virginity loss (Suguru obv). Big dick Suguru lmao. He refers to you only as “baby” (even though I was ITCHING to make him call you “mamas” I had to restrain myself. It just didn’t feel right.) AFAB reader. Experienced! Reader. Virgin Suguru has been on my mind since foreverrr 😩. Not proofread lol. I have a discussion due later today but erm. Um anon sorry if this is disappointing ummm THIS IS SO RUSHED SOMETHING CAME UP BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO MAKE YOU WAIT 😭. This was supposed to be so different bro…

“BABY, WAIT—” Suguru pants, watching as your hands reach down for the zipper of his jeans. His big hand shoots down for your wrists, holding them in a firm grip as he tries to recollect himself.

You bat your lashes up at him, feigning innocence and obliviousness. Giving him the prettiest look you can muster, you ask him in a sweet voice, “what? What’s wrong, Sugu?”

And of course it’s that look you pull every time you want something from Suguru. He loves it, your pretty eyes, gorgeous lips, except he hates it at the same time because he can never say no to that sweet look.

“Just… wait a sec…” Suguru mutters, cocking his head to the side as he takes in deep breaths. You pout but listen to him anyways. However, your eyes stayed glued to the obvious outline of his hard cock, how strained it looks and how tight it must feel.

Tonight, like every other night, was supposed to end in a few kisses after a nice, relaxing shower and comforting cuddles. Then go straight to bed. Like always, as if routine. The only thing different? You were feeling a little… impatient.

While your lips were pressed against Suguru’s, you slid your tongue right past his, then proceeded to scoot up on his lap. Your hands wandered from his chest to the back of his neck, securing your balance to push yourself closer against Suguru’s body. In the process, your clothed pussy rubs against his half hard dick, making you giggle and him gasp.

“Lemme do this, Sugu,” you mumble in the crook of his neck, your lips right against his flesh and your lashes tickling it. “Please?”

The way you speak so gently is so enticing; what is Suguru meant to do? Say no? Sighing, he lets go of your wrists and leans back, looking down at you as he notices an eager smile embrace your features.

Of course, Suguru has been thinking about this day ever since he met you. The feeling of your little hands wrapped around his length, or the feeling of your warm cunt enveloping his dick and clamping down on it. It’s what he’s fisted himself to every night before bed. Why wouldn’t he?

“Mm… mkay…” he mumbles, nodding his head and relaxing his body against the headboard of the bed. You jump from his lap to stand on your knees, legs on either side of him and hovering over him. Your hands make quick work of reaching for his zipper and undoing it, mouth practically salivating from the thought of fucking him.

After undoing his zipper, Suguru lifts up his hips to allow you to shimmy down his jeans. He watches in anticipation as you do your thing, sweat building at his forehead and in between his knitted brows as he sinks his teeth so harsh into his lower lip it almost draws blood.

Slowly, you rid Suguru of his boxers, your eyes aimed at him the whole time. Then, your eyes dart down to his freed cock when you hear his breath hitch.

“F-fuck…” he mumbles, throwing his head back as his hand flies to the sheets of the bed, clenching them tightly. Your eyes shine with lust, biting down on your tongue to suppress any unnecessary noises. You can feel your panties getting damp just from touching him, squeezing your thighs together for some friction.

After more and more gradually aggressive strokes, you come to an end and remove your hands. Suguru watches you attentively, eyeing the way you slide your skirt off of your waist, followed by teasingly removing your panties.

With your wet pussy almost fully exposed to Suguru, he gulps, eyes following as you take his cock and line it up with your pussy. After taking in a deep breath, you gently lower yourself on his length, gasping when you feel his tip enter you.

“Shit…!” Suguru pants, doing his best to keep watching the way you lower yourself onto his dick. You’re watching it as well, the way your wet cunt sucks him in, sweat forming between your knitted eyebrows.

“Mmph—Suguru, you’re so deep—” you whine, sucking your stomach in as if that’d make it any easier to take him fully. “So big…” you mumble.

That’s when Suguru is as deep in as you can take, already on the verge of whining.

“You feel so…” he trails off, already lost in the feeling of your tight walls hugging his cock in every right way. That was new, obviously, your juices dripping down on his length.

“M gonna start moving now, ‘Kay, pretty boy?” You whisper sweetly, but your eyes are telling a different story. Suguru takes a few seconds to collect himself before he nods and breathes out a quiet, “okay,”

You start moving your hips up and down, Suguru’s hands flying for whatever stability he can find to keep him grounded to earth. As much as he tries to keep his attention on your pretty face, he just can’t because the way your pussy grips him like a vice is too overwhelming he just has to squeeze his eyes shut.

His cock stretches you out so well, and he didn’t even know it. Murmurs of “fuck,” slip past Suguru’s lips repeatedly, his shirt riding up his torso and exposing his skin.

Suguru never thought this is where his day would end, but he’s glad it did. After months of getting himself off to unrealistic and repetitive porn videos, he’s finally feeling the godsent gift that is your warm pussy sucking his cock in, and it seems like you’re enjoying it too.

Suguru has never touched a woman sexually. He doesn’t know how to move his hips to give you pleasure. But of course he wants to help you, so he bucks his hips up into you, groaning when your walks clamp down on him. You whimper at the stimulation, throwing your hands on Suguru’s sweaty chest, digging your nails into the flesh.

“F-fuck, Sugu—don’t do that—” you whine and your head drops as you pant, putting a halt to your hips. Suguru nods and slowly opens his eyes to meet your sweaty body.

“Alright, shit, my bad.” And you start bouncing again, fucking your pussy onto his cock steadily, your tits jiggling from the effort. You can feel the tip of his dick hitting that sweet spot inside of you, making you moan with every push. “Feels so good…” he says that quietly, almost inaudibly, and he can feel his dick twitching inside of you, as can you.

Suguru then realizes that this is way better than fucking his own cock at night—the way your walls easily get stretched out from the sheer size of his girth, the warmth of your cunt, just the feel of it, it had his eyes rolling back. Being a sorcerer all of his Highschool years and even after, his never had the chance to get laid or any of the sort, so this is a thrilling new feeling. He can already feel his lower abdomen tightening, legs twitching and breaths shaky.

Of course, you can feel the change in his body language and demeanor. Smiling smugly, you lean down to his ear, attempting to keep the steady rhythm of your hips as you breathe into his ear.

“Gonna cum?” The words roll of your tongue with a hint of playfulness laced in your tone. Suguru huffs and grunts, nodding his head as if he was tired.

“Yeah,” his voice is breathy when he utters this. You giggle and raise your hips just before aggressively slamming back down to his pelvic bone, the cock hitting all the right spots. Suguru’s hands immediately fly for your waist, digging his fingers into the flesh but he tries to keep his hold gentle.

Continuing with your sly movements, you can feel a knot in your tummy tying. Suguru, as with every other thing about you, notices the way your pussy grips tightly onto his girth and the way your hips get sloppy and exhausted.

“Cum, Suguru,” you whisper sensually, and in response, Suguru’s head snaps your way, confusion painted on his face.

“I-in you…?” It’s obvious he’s a bit nervous, since of course he doesn’t want to put a baby in you the first time he’s entered your pussy.

“Mhm,” you hum and to that Suguru just exhales deeply. In just seconds, Suguru is emptying his load inside of you, groaning and moaning the whole way. His head is thrown back in the process, his teeth sunken into his lower lip. He repeats your name under his breath like a prayer, along with murmurs of “fuck” and “so good”.

It’s a great feeling, the sensation of orgasming. His eyes roll to the back of his head and you’re fucking him the whole way through, which is what brings you to your climax. You’re gushing all over his cock, whines and whimpers falling from your parted lips. Burying your head in his neck, your sweat drips down onto his skin.

Your juices coat his dick, and Suguru opens his eyes just to watch it—but they soon wander to your pretty face like it was second nature, and it’s there he sees how gorgeous you look as you come down from your high.

“I love you so much,” Suguru pants and from the sudden confession you’re caught off guard, but smile lovingly anyways and kiss his neck.

“I love you, too,”

You carefully bend your upper body over Suguru’s, your face in the slope of his neck and Suguru doesn’t even think to mention the fact that his cock is still buried in your sweet pussy.

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