#oh yeah and that second panel with the bedroom...

[the-blind-geisha]

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That bottom panel is why I don’t draw in public anymore. I’m too guilty of making faces I’m trying to draw and end up looking like a freak in the process.

[sweetheartspence]

‧₊˚ whisked away - s.r. ‧₊˚

Spencer is infatuated with his new neighbor, who, he soon realizes, is a terrible baker.

pairing: spencer reid x neighbor!reader genre: fluff content: fem!reader, reader is a bit loud and out there, minor house fire, baking, glasses!spencer, mutual pining, eventual kissing wc: 3.3k a/n: been working on this between finals. reader is definitely a bit more reflective of me in this one but i'm actually pretty good at baking. my roommate was baking today and this was all i could think about requests/asks are open! my masterlist!!

Spencer's a busy guy, really. He doesn't spend too much time at home, at the one bedroom apartment that's covered wall to wall with bookshelves and papers. He likes his apartment well enough, and relishes in the afternoons that he's able to kick back and relax on his couch with a cup of coffee and some science theory book that's dog eared and creased on the corners. It doesn't happen too often, though; he's too busy running from city to city, from case to case, never slowing down.

Which is why he doesn't know what to do with himself, when he gets shot in the leg. He can get around his apartment just fine, but that's about it. Garcia and Morgan had kindly brought him some groceries, and he can cook himself a decent meal. He has plenty of books from the library, and a dozen academic journal articles in the works.

Even so, Spencer is... bored.

He's gotten used to the chase, to the hustle and bustle of the office, and he finds himself unable to focus on writing without the constant stream of profiler observations in the back of his mind.

It's somehow more exhausting than traveling for work. At least then he has something to distract himself, something to-

There's a knock on his door.

Spencer glances over to the front door, a sturdy, paneled piece of wood, with a little peephole. He's not expecting anyone, or else he would have maybe showered, or tried to make himself more presentable.

He picks up his cane, hobbling over to the door, opening it.

You're on the other side, scratching your arm absentmindedly, but you immediately brighten when he opens the door.

"Hi!" You grin, crossing one ankle over the other. "Um, sorry to bother you. I wasn't sure if you were home, you're usually not, but, um, your light was on. So I kind of figured..." You trail off for a second, staring into space.

Spencer takes this moment to study you. You're lovely, really, with bright eyes and a contagious smile, shifting your weight from foot to foot like you can't sit still. You've stopped scratching your arm, but you've switched to twisting a bracelet around your wrist, around, and around, and around. Your voice is soft and melodic, and granted, he hasn't seen very many people in the past few weeks. But he's immediately captivated.

"Oh, um, I live in 204." you tell him, your face scrunching up in a smile.

A neighbor, he muses. That makes a lot more sense. More sense than this beautiful girl just showing up at his apartment for no reason, anyway.

You look at him expectantly, like you're waiting for him to say something. "Oh," Spencer manages, offering a small smile. "Um, I live... here."

"That you do," you laugh, and Spencer's breath catches in his throat. He wants to bottle the sound, to play it as white noise, to turn it into liquid and drown in it. All he can do is stare.

"Oh!" You say, snapping your fingers. "I was wondering if you had a couple of eggs I could borrow." You pause, tilting your head. "Well, not borrow, I suppose. I won't be giving them back. To have. I'm making cookies, and I didn't realize that I'm short two, and now the dough is halfway made and I don't have the time to run to the store, and-"

Spencer wonders how you have the breath in your lungs to talk for this long. He's a little bit impressed, but also entirely bewildered.

"Yeah," he says softly, cutting you off. "I've got some you can have. Um, come in?"

He pushes the door open slightly wider, and you step into his apartment, looking around.

"Goddamn, you have a lot of books," you blurt, followed by a big smile. "Not that that's a bad thing, of course. I think it's cool."

Spencer gives you a hesitant smile. He's fascinated by you, sure, by your easy smiles and constant motion, but Spencer Reid is not one to let his guard down easily.

He pokes around in his fridge until he finds the eggs, and grabs two of them out of the carton. Spencer turns to find you studying the books lining his shelves, your hands clasped behind your back, uncharacteristically quiet for the few minutes that he's known you.

He comes up next to you, his cane clicking quietly on the hardwood floor. "I've got the eggs," he says softly, holding them out.

You smile at him again, but it's softer this time, shyer. "Thank you," you tell him, taking the eggs gently, and it's so earnest that his heart aches. "You've got good taste, by the way." You gesture to the books. "A bit eclectic, but... good."

Spencer doesn't know what to think. "Yeah," he says, intelligently. "I guess I have a lot of different tastes."

"Mm," you hum softly. "That can be a good thing."

You stare at the books for another couple of seconds, and then it's like an invisible finger has reached out and popped the bubble around the two of you. You shake your head, like you're getting rid of a thought, and offer him the same bright smile.

"Okay, I gotta get back to the dough. Thank you, though!" And with that, you've breezed out of his apartment, leaving him to wonder if you were ever really there.

It's about twenty minutes later that he realizes he didn't get your name.

---

Spencer is reading up on glucocorticoids for the dozenth time the next day, when the fire alarm goes off. He's snapped out of his academic haze, and he realizes he can smell something burning in the air. He winces, immediately reaching for a pair of headphones to cover his ears. He sticks a post it note into the book, setting it aside, and hurries to investigate.

There's smoke billowing out from under the door of apartment 204, and Spencer feels his heart drop. He bolts down the hallway, pausing outside the door to feel if there's heat seeping through. When the door is decidedly cool, he pounds on it, calling out. "Hey!"

You open the door, oven mitts over your hands and a crazed look in your eye. You have flour smudged across your face, and a similar streak on your shirt. "It's fine!" You assure him quickly. "It's fine. Nothing is on fire, the cookies are just..." You look helplessly towards the oven. "...burning."

"Well, get them out of the oven," Spencer retorts, hurrying into your apartment without being invited inside. He can hear sirens in the distance, the fire department rapidly approaching.

"Well, I would," you huff. "But I maybe accidentally dumped all of the cookies into the oven while I was trying to take the tray out, and now they're in the bottom of the oven, which is very hot, and they're burning."

"I noticed," Spencer mutters, waving his hand in front of his face. His glasses have clouded up from the smoke, and he takes them off and tucks them in the breast pocket of his button-up.

He leans closer to the oven to look, and is rewarded by a lungful of smoke. Spencer coughs, covering his mouth and nose with his elbow. "You haven't even turned the oven off," he tells you, his tone a little harsher than he intended.

"I was going to!" You protest. "But then you knocked on the door, and-"

You break off into a little fit of coughs, and Spencer gives you a little glare, mumbling something about fire safety and the hazards of smoke. He clicks the oven off, and takes you by the elbow, steering you out of the apartment. "We gotta go."

"But the cookies-" you start, and Spencer fixes you with a look.

"Are burnt," he finishes. "Unsalvageable. All you're doing by staying here is putting more smoke into your lungs, which leads to debris buildup in your airway and asphyxiation. Not to mention decreased blood flow, which can cause angina and stroke, plus all the carbon monoxide is sure to make you sick."

The hurt expression on your face has shifted, replaced with surprise. "You- how do you know all of that?"

"I know a lot of things," Spencer mutters, tugging insistently on your elbow. "We're getting out. Now."

There's no room in his tone for argument, and you sigh, letting him lead you out of your apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street. Sirens wail, and a fire engine comes into sight, lights blazing. It takes Spencer longer than it should for him to realize he's still holding onto your elbow, and he lets go as the firefighters come over to talk to the two of you. He lets you take the reigns, leaning back against the wall.

You recount the story loudly and animatedly, waving your arms wildly and making a few explosion sound effects that Spencer thinks were not necessary. They are, however, horribly endearing, and Spencer finds himself sporting the same amused expression as the firefighters.

By the time the whole debacle is over, Spencer has wasted an entire afternoon standing around with you on the edge of the curb next to his apartment building. Usually, he'd be annoyed.

This time, he can't quite find it in him to care.

---

There's a box of cookies delivered to his door that evening, with a little card. It says, "Thanks for the help. Here's some cookies- I didn't make these ones, don't worry."

And it's signed with your name.

Spencer turns your name over and over in his mind, tracing the letters with a fingertip into the fabric of his pants. He's not even quite aware that he's doing it, completely caught up in the book that he's reading. But it nags in his subconscious, ever present.

He hangs the little card on his fridge with a magnet.

---

The third interaction he has with you is in the coffee shop on the corner. You're sitting with your friends, giggling about god knows what, and the light is coming through the window just right to make your eyes shine. Spencer is sure he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

The two of you aren't friends, per se. Spencer wonders for a brief moment if he should say hello, greet you or something, but he doesn't think you're quite at that stage of your relationship. You're just neighbors, after all.

Spencer orders his coffee, making his way to the other end of the counter to wait for it. You're completely engrossed in your conversation with your friends, not even looking up from the discussion.

"No, he looked at me, and he was kind of mad that I was still in the apartment while the cookies were burning, and I swear I swooned," you're saying. Spencer doesn't really mean to eavesdrop, but your voice is quite loud, and- are you talking about him?

"What, and then he dragged you out of the apartment?" Your friend asks, sounding amused.

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically. "I had to deal with the firefighters. I was gonna thank him, but he was gone when I was done." You sound wistful, almost, your tone softer.

"Listen to her," another one of your friends snickers. "She's smitten."

"Am not!" You protest, your tone defensive. Spencer's heart sinks. "He was just... there. And he's pretty, sure, but that doesn't mean-"

"Oh, she thinks he's pretty," your friend crows, laughing. "C'mon, babe, I haven't seen you talk this much about someone in ages, and you've barely talked to the guy."

You huff, sitting back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't have a crush on him."

Your friends both raise their eyebrows, leaning forward. "Yeah? We never said you had a crush on him," they tease. "Even though you definitely do."

"Hey, that's not-" you start, but your friends cut you off.

"Yeah, she definitely likes him," one of them giggles.

"Absolutely," the other one chimes in. "Even if someone doesn't want to admit it to herself."

"What's your Prince Charming look like, anyway?" The first one teases.

You sigh, but there's a smile pulling at your lips. "Tall," you say softly. "Kind of like, a tortured academic vibe. Seems like he knows a lot, but also clueless somehow."

Spencer's brow creases, feeling slightly offended.

"Big brown eyes and curly dark hair," you smile. "Like, a huge dork."

"Look how smiley she is," your friends giggle.

Before you can protest, the barista calls Spencer's name, and he startles to attention. He takes the coffee, thanking them, and turns around.

You're staring at him, mouth agape, cheeks slightly flushed. You give him a tiny wave.

Spencer can feel his own face start to heat up, and he gives you a nod of acknowledgement, a smile that comes out more like a grimace, and a little wave in return, before bolting out of the coffee shop.

There's two thoughts on his mind. First, that you like him. Second of all, what is he going to do about it?

---

Spencer has a plan. It's foolproof, really, and he internally congratulates himself for being so clever.

You're a terrible baker, as he's gathered. And he's... not the best, but certainly better than you, and besides, baking is just science, isn't it? He can hold his own in a kitchen.

He has ingredients for a solid batch of chocolate chip cookies, tucked away into the cupboards of his kitchen. Spencer pulls out a little sheet of paper, scribbling a note down to slip under your door in his chicken scratch handwriting.

Craving cookies. Could use an assistant. 8 pm, if you're interested. - 205.

Spencer is desperately hoping you're interested.

---

There's a knock on his door at 8:02. Spencer's pacing his kitchen, his hair rumpled from running his hands through it, and he quickly makes his way to the door, flinging it open.

"You came," he says, looking you up and down, his gaze flickering to your mouth for a moment.

"You invited me," you shoot back, raising your eyebrows in amusement.

"I did," Spencer agrees, leaning against the doorframe. "You still came, though."

"I did," you repeat, giving a little nod. You look pleased with yourself. "Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna stand in your doorway, or...?"

Spencer realizes he hasn't exactly invited you in, and hurries to rectify that. "Yeah, um, of course," he says, stepping out of the doorway and into his apartment. You follow him, your hands clasped in front of you, following him to the kitchen. You push your sleeves up, past your elbows, freeing your hands.

"Do you have a recipe, or are we winging this?" You grin, and Spencer realizes that it might have been a monumentally bad idea to invite you over to bake.

He blinks owlishly at you from behind his glasses. "Well, of course we're going to use a recipe," he says, affronted. You roll your eyes.

"Well, I usually don't, but okay," you mumble under your breath, setting about pulling bowls and ingredients out like you own the place. Spencer likes the look of you in his kitchen, moving about. It's domestic. Intimate in a way he wasn't expecting.

"Well, what happened last time you tried to bake without a recipe?" He teases, shooting you a slightly lopsided smile at you, before following your lead in rolling up his sleeves. You can't help but shoot a look at his exposed forearms that lasts maybe slightly too long.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, continuing to pull open drawers. "Where on earth do you keep your whisks?"

Spencer huffs out a soft laugh at your petulance, coming up behind you and placing a gentle hand on your waist. Your breath catches. He nudges you to the side, pulling open the drawer you were standing in front of, and pulling out the whisk.

"Yeah, yup, okay, thank you," you stutter out, your cheeks flushed from his hand placement. The corner of Spencer's mouth lifts.

The baking goes smoothly for about five minutes, in which you've managed to get eggs, sugar, brown sugar, and butter into a mixing bowl, and Spencer is whisking it together. You set a container of salt down next to the mixing bowl, peering over his shoulder.

"Damn, that looks a lot better than my dough," you mumble, your nose wrinkling. Spencer can't tell if you're impressed or embarrassed, or maybe annoyed at him for being better than you at baking.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you use a recipe," he retorts, shooting you a look that says I told you so.

You're still grumbling under your breath as you pull out the flour.

Spencer turns to look at you, and is greeted with a finger swiping across his cheek. He blinks, and then realizes you're holding the open bag of flour, a mischievous look on your face. He reaches up to touch his face, and surely enough, his fingertips come away stained with flour.

"You got flour on me," he deadpans.

"I did," you agree, letting out a giggle. "And I'm gonna do it again."

You flick more flour at him, getting it on his nose and his shirt, and he can't help but laugh, making a grab for the back of flour. Spencer grabs it from you, grabbing a handful to toss at you, and you shriek, giggling uncontrollably.

"Not fair," you laugh, trying to grab the bag back, and Spencer holds it high over your head. He's got a couple of inches on you.

"Is too fair," he shoots back, grinning. "You started it."

You jump, trying to grab onto the corner of the bag, but Spencer holds it just out of reach. You suddenly realize how close he is to you, his honey brown eyes sparkling with mirth.

You flush, backing away, your back to the counter. "Yeah, I suppose I did," you admit. "Sorry."

Spencer takes a step closer, boxing you in against the countertop, feeling especially brave. "You don't look very sorry," he murmurs.

You look up at him, your eyes wide. "You're... uh, very close to me," you whisper.

"I am," Spencer agrees. There's flecks of flour in your eyelashes, splayed out onto your cheeks like freckles. "Would you like me to move?"

You shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off of his.

"I heard you talking in the coffee shop," he says softly. "You were talking about me, to your friends. You think I'm pretty."

You start to make a noise of protest, to explain it away, but he cuts you off with a gentle hand on your waist. His eyes bore into yours.

"Do you still think I'm pretty?" Spencer murmurs, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

That's all the invitation you need, and then your lips are on his, your arms coming up to wind around his neck. Your fingers slide into his hair, curling into the bits around the nape of his neck, and you've never been so happy to have been overheard in your life.

His tongue traces against your lower lip, making a soft, desperate, needy noise in the back of his throat. Spencer suddenly grips your hips, picking you up and setting you gently on the counter with surprising ease.

You make a surprised noise against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, sliding it just under your lip. One of his hands move to the small of your back, settling there, and the other to your thigh, holding you in place.

You lean back just a bit more, knocking into the salt, which spills all over the counter and into the cookie dough. Your lips disconnect from his with a wet pop, and Spencer stares down at the dough, his lips glistening with spit and slightly swollen.

You swear under your breath, shifting on the counter, moving to get off, but Spencer holds you in place.

"I'm sorry I ruined the dough," you whisper.

"S'okay," Spencer murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours. "I didn't really care about the cookies."

You laugh, leaning back in, your lips finding his again.

It's safe to say that there were no cookies baked that evening.

[madamadamiu]

This is lowkey gonna be a delerious worldbuilding post while I’m sick and writing and sketching issue 2. I’m experimenting with different styles of workflows. On issue one I just wrote and drew it page by pge, but this time I’m writing the whole thing out first with planned panels and scripts.

I’m trying to figure out a good year for the cat shelter AU to take place in, and so far I’ve settled on the timeline of 2005-2010 range. This is gonna sound crazy but I want it to make sense for Ravage to be emo(and crying over Black Parade) as well as the lack of cell phones besides flip phones or somethingS

As for the actual cat shelter, the entire facility is a converted two-bedroom house that got turned into the shelter. The driveway got turned into a parking lot and Whirl lives in the bush next to the entryway stairs. The shelter is almost at the edge of town where a forest and mountain range is, think Appalachian mountains-esque in nature. Winding roads, humid summers, snowy winters, unpredicable weather, that whole shebang.

Iacon city itself is a medium sized valley city with many stray cat colonies, and their animal control takes themselves very seriously, not just for the sake of the cats but to preserve the native biodiversity. However, the decepticats put up a large fight.

I’m trying to figure out what kind of car Rung would drive, since he would need one to get around town. I’m thinking a car like this👇 1967 Mini Cooper, but more orange and run down obv. A stupidly old car to have even in the 2000s, but for some reason it’s a very reliable car for Rung.

Orion Pax would probably be riding in a pickup truck of sorts, it doesn’t really make sense for a guy to be riding around town in a big rig. I’d say 2004 Chevy Silverado. I’m still in the process of figuring out what his actual job would be. Maybe a firefighter? Someone who works with Animal Control enough to know both Rung and Prowl.

In regards to Ravage I wanted to give them more accessories bc they’re emo, but if you’ve worked with animals then you know that any bracelets or necklaces can be a hazard. So for the sake of the kitties, Ravage dresses more casual. Also for those who keep commenting that he looks like an Uchiha from Naruto… yeah….

It’s hard to figure out who to make human characters vs who to make cats. I want Overlord to be a human character, but I’m still on the fence about the DJD and the Scavengers.

When it comes to how much the AU follows the original MTMTE comics, I’m at a point where it’s 50% following and 50% me making up my own plots. Overlord being human doesn’t make sense when Megatron is a cat, but here we are.

If Ambulon joins the au I want him to have a patchy coat, a little half bald goober.

I don’t want the au to be 100% realistic, otherwise that would be BORING. If the AU was 100% realistic then the plot would just follow Rung doing a stupid amount of paperwork and vet financing.

I think it’s really funny when people comment “I’LL ADOPT THEM!!!!” On my art bc it reminds me of how some animals who are perfectly nice sit in shelters for YEARS but when they go viral theyre adopted in 10 seconds flat. Fort Max is too big to be adopted in Iacon, gets adopted by random person from Arkansas.

I love angst as much as the next guy but trust there shall be hella comfort at the end of this h/c train.

I figured I’ll end this off with the very first drawing I made of the captain trio as cats, which promptly bloomed into the full LL Cat Shelter AU. Oh how far we have come.

[twst-aceofhearts]

Reckless Road Trips

𝖆/𝖓: since I did first years, why not write something with second and third years [coming soon] too? no romance once more btw

𝖙𝖜: none, usual nrc chaos

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: second years x reader

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 1144

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay @writingattemptsxx

The van swayed gently down the sun-soaked highway, packed with eight eccentric second-years and you crammed somewhere in the backseat between Jade and Floyd. It was meant to be a "relaxing getaway," something Azul had insisted would be good for your health and interpersonal development. You weren’t sure if being in a vehicle with this much raw chaos counted as relaxing.

Floyd’s legs were draped across both yours and Jade’s laps, a foot tapping idly to a playlist Kalim had made—an energetic mix of party music, pop, and oddly enough, frog sounds. Riddle had already protested twice. "We are not listening to amphibian mating calls!"

“Are we theeeeere yet~?” Floyd groaned dramatically.

“That’s the fifth time,” you muttered.

“Sixth,” Jade corrected pleasantly.

“Stop keeping track!” Azul called from the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to sanity. “If anyone else asks that question, I’m cancelling the shaved ice.”

A beat.

“Are we there yet?” Kalim asked cheerfully.

Azul visibly died inside.

When you finally reached the beach, it was like a switch flipped. Everyone exploded out of the van, hauling towels and umbrellas like it was a timed race. Ruggie took off toward the water, yelling, “Last one in buys lunch!” before leaping straight into the waves.

You hung back a moment, stretching out sore limbs before grabbing a beach ball from the trunk.

“Hey Floyd,” you called, tossing it toward him. “Game?”

“Ooh~ Shrimpy wants to play?” Floyd’s grin spread wide. “Let’s see how long you last!”

The game started off easy. Light volleys, lots of laughter. You had just gotten into a nice rhythm when Floyd’s competitive instincts took over. His next spike sent the ball screaming across the sand.

“NO—!” you shouted.

Too late.

It slammed right into the back of Riddle’s head.

His ice cream went flying.

There was a moment of dead silence.

Floyd whistled innocently. “Oops~”

Riddle turned around, the picture of quiet rage. “FLOYD LEECH.”

Even the seagulls went quiet.

You doubled over laughing. Ruggie cackled from the shore. Kalim gasped, “Oh no! Riddle, I’ll buy you another!” while Jade said calmly, “You had to know that was going to happen.”

Later, you knelt near the tide line, carefully constructing a sandcastle with Kalim’s help. Jade occasionally offered eerie suggestions—“Add a trench for dramatic flair. Perhaps some bones?”—while you shaped towers with seashell windows. It was kind of nice, getting lost in the simple rhythm of sculpting.

But you had built it too close to the shore.

You realized it the second the wave came barreling in.

“No no no no—!”

Your castle crumbled in one powerful surge of water, reduced to a slurry of wet sand and disappointment.

“Nature is a harsh mistress,” Jamil said from a beach chair, sipping coconut water.

You glared. “I worked hard on that!”

He raised an eyebrow. “So does the tide.”

Azul walked over, shielding his eyes. “Everyone ready to head to the cabin?”

“Already?” you asked.

He gestured to a very grumpy Riddle, now coated in sand and scowling. “I think we’ve reached the ‘cut our losses’ part of the day.”

You expected a log cabin. Maybe something rustic with questionable plumbing.

What you got instead was luxury.

The glamping site Azul had booked looked like a forest resort—glass windows, warm wood paneling, a fire pit outside, and a kitchen that looked straight out of a magazine.

“...You rented this?” Riddle asked skeptically.

Azul adjusted his glasses. “I negotiated. Extensively.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruggie said, flopping onto one of the beanbags. “Bet it still cost more than all my groceries for a month.”

There was one small hiccup.

Only six bedrooms.

Which meant one room had to be shared.

“We’ll take it,” Jade offered calmly. “We already share a dorm room. The bunk bed arrangement won’t be awkward.”

Floyd threw an arm around his brother. “Jade snores like a kelpie! It’s like sleeping next to a drowning walrus.”

Jade smiled serenely. “At least I don’t talk in my sleep. ‘Mmm shrimp, don’t leave~’.”

You ended up paired with Kalim, who had somehow brought his own disco ball. He plugged it into the ceiling lamp, turned on music, and invited everyone to an impromptu dance party.

Jamil’s soul visibly left his body.

By the time the sun dipped below the trees, you were roasting marshmallows at the fire pit, wrapped in a borrowed hoodie, and nursing a cup of hot chocolate. Silver was already asleep beside you, Floyd was trying to toss popcorn into Riddle’s mouth (he missed, a lot), and Azul was casually checking stock charts on his tablet.

“This was... nice,” you said softly.

Azul didn’t look up. “I plan thoroughly.”

Ruggie raised a skewer. “To glamping!”

“To glamping!” the group echoed.

You thought that would be the end of it. But the next morning, Azul announced one final detour.

“There’s a secluded hot springs inn nearby. I already booked us a night.”

You blinked at him. “When did you do that?”

“Before the beach. I anticipated fatigue.”

“You mean this was the cooldown for the cooldown?” Riddle muttered.

Still, no one objected. The moment you arrived, any hesitation melted into the mountain mist. The inn was traditional and beautiful—wooden beams, soft lanterns, and the scent of mineral water drifting through the cool air.

“Only one spring?” Kalim asked.

“It’s mixed,” said the innkeeper with a smile. “It’s fully private tonight, so you have it all to yourselves.”

You shuffled toward the changing rooms with a towel clutched to your chest, cheeks already warm.

The outdoor bath was surreal. Steam rose into the night sky, stars twinkling above as warm water lapped gently at the stone edges. You slipped in with a sigh, letting your body melt.

“This is heaven,” you mumbled.

Until Floyd cannonballed in.

Water exploded over the edges.

Riddle screamed. Azul’s glasses fogged up. You got a face full of wave.

“FLOYD!”

“Hot soup time~!” Floyd sang, splashing around. “Mmm, shrimp stew!”

“Stop calling it that,” Jade muttered.

You sank lower in the water, shoulders shaking with laughter. Silver drifted in, practically asleep, and Kalim floated on his back, humming happily.

Ruggie was balancing rocks on your head.

Jamil was too tired to fight it.

You and Azul ended up side by side, staring up at the stars. He exhaled slowly, tension fading from his shoulders.

“You really went all out,” you said.

“I wanted something we’d remember.”

You bumped your knee lightly against his. “Mission accomplished.”

That night, after a second soak and way too many snacks, you curled up on a futon between Silver’s gentle snores and Kalim’s soft singing. Floyd had fallen asleep halfway through a horror story, and Riddle was still arguing with Jade about the proper way to wear a yukata.

You smiled.

Yeah. You could definitely get used to this.

credit to @enchanthings-a for divider

[angels-fantasy]

Hello!!! 😃 I really love your work sooooo, may I request something that just came in my mind?

Sooo, what if Husband Kats finds his little one year old, (f or m) holding a photo album (Katsuki memories) that Mitsuki lent reader to look over and see how their beautiful husband looked when he was younger, and the little toddler is a giggling mess crawling while pushing the photo album to Katsuki. Reader is following little toddler giggling as well. I think it’ll be really cute. Anyways, thank you for your time! <3

Katsuki Memories (Request)

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Details/Warnings: Cw:Children, dad bakugou :)

Word Count: 364

thank you so so so much for your kind comment and your request!! i love family stuff its so cute 🥹 also this idea is so cute too omg. AND THE KATSUKI MEMORY!! i immediately thought of the panel of mitsuki looking at the memory book, so i included it. oh i also included bakugo and readers son, Hiroki, from my other oneshot called Second Chances :) i hope that's okay with you.

After a long day at work, Katsuki took a shower as soon as he got home to wash away the sweat and grime he gained over the day.

It felt good to wash away everything and finally feel clean again. Being clean also meant he could actually hug you and your 1-year old son. You didn't like him touching you guys when he was so dirty, which he respected.

He hated being dirty too.

After his shower he dried up as quickly as he could and got dressed in a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

While he was drying his hair, he heard loud giggles from your son's bedroom. Wondering what you two could possibly find so funny, he hung up his towel and walked out into the hallway only to be met with your son crawling down the hallway while pushing a book.

"Hiroki! Get over here." You said with a laugh while following the little boy, making him laugh and squeal.

Once Hiroki was close enough, Katsuki bent down and picked him up, lightly swinging him while he did so.

"Hey kid, what do you have there huh?" He asked and grabbed the book out of the baby's hands, making him fuss for it.

Looking at the book, he realized it wasn't actually a book but it was his old hag's memory book of him, labeled 'Katsuki Memories'.

"Where the hell did you get this?" He asked you.

You took the baby from his arms, "Your mom lent it to me yesterday when I dropped Keiko off for the sleepover. I know I've seen you as a kid before, but I wanted to see everything! You were so cute Katsuki, with your chubby cheeks and everything."

"Fuckin' Hag..."

"Hey, don't cuss around the baby!" You said and put a hand on Hiroki's head.

Katsuki crossed his arms and walked towards your shared bedroom with the memory book in hand, "My bad. Let's go look at this thing together, yeah?"

You smiled and followed him, bring along the baby as well. "Okay, but we have to do it again when Keiko comes back tomorrow. You know she hates being left out."

authors note

i really hope you liked it :)) i'm sorry it was so short though

tags for bakugou fics: @doumadono

[somuchforahobby]

interrupted (pt. 6)

Summary:  YOU & OBI-WAN PARENTING ANI WHAT Warnings: mentions of sex and some cursing i guess ? nothing graphic :) Word count: 1.4 k Read on AO3 Writers note: WOOAAAH this has been a great journey so far! and I could not think of a better way to start a hiatus in this series than with this beautiful beautiful chapter. The thing is I have way too many stories swimming in my head that I can not bring justice to this one whilst the others are still hovering. So I will get them out (and posted ofcourse) so I can continue with this darling.

Aayla, your roommate, was popular with the guys, so you didn't even stir when you heard the knocks on the door of your bedroom. She struts to open with a grin already on her face, next she is calling your name with widened eyes. 

“eh?” You asked confused.

She kneeled in front of you, her cheeks blushed. By the looks of it, she had either seen a ghost or witnessed a crime. “Master Kenobi is here to see you.” She yell-whispers, leaning towards you with an accusative smirk, “what the kriff?”

You smile, “shut up.” You say, standing in one movement. “Hey” You are blushing by the time you reach the door.

Obi-wan is leaning against the frame, arms crossed on his chest. He is still wearing his brown robe, a tell that he hasn’t even been to his rooms. His hair is a bit longer, and he has started to grow a beard making his eyes seem brighter.

“How was your mission?”  

“Terribly long. How did your tutoring go?”

You beamed. He had requested your help to tutor Anakin while he was away. No matter how hard the kid had begged, the Council did not allow him to go with Obi-wan. So he had stayed behind in the Temple under your care. “He fully reads and writes”

“Thanks for stepping in” He bit his lower lip before adding. “Any plans tonight?” He asks like it’s the most normal thing to say after being almost a month away.

You move your head sideways, earning a smirk from him.

“See you at the hangar in half an hour.” He pushes off the threshold and starts to walk away.

“Where are we going?”

He is already three doors away when he answers, “To the stars” 

“EXCUSE YOU?” Your roommate is already questioning you the second the door closes. “Obi-fuck Kenobi??”

“Shut up” you giggled, “we are just friends. I tutored his padawan while he was away, that’s all”

She slaps your arm, “yeah because a friend comes to your bedroom the minute he arrives from a month-long mission, come on!”

“I am sure he went to Anakin first” you say as you pull clean clothes out of your closet.

“Still, master Daddy-Wan Kenobi came crawling to your door with his dick out—“

You laughed “THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED”

“I need the details, please” she grabbed your arm, her voice a plea, “is he shredded? I bet he is”

“I don’t know?”

“He doesn’t take the robes off? Oh that nasty ass motherfucker. Do you call him master? Better yet, does he recite the code as he cums or does he make you recite it?” 

“Shut up!” You squirmed, slightly horrified by her questions but also giggling. “We are not fucking”

“Yet” she smiled. “Come, let me do your hair.” She guided you to the vanity’s chair.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” You looked in the mirror.

“You are wearing it like Qui-Gon. Oh, well, yeah maybe he’ll like that”

When you look back at the mirror your face is crimson from all the laughter.

When you get to the hangar Obi-wan is already leaning against a two-seater ship. 

“Take me to the stars, Kenobi.” 

He smirks, his hand moving in his pocket. He throws something at you.

You grabbed it with furrowed brows. 

“You are driving. Come on.” 

It was a set of keys.

You left Coruscant behind a while ago, navigating the dark space, following Obi-wan’s instructions to the alleged best spot he knows. You finally halt in a set of coordinates where there aren’t any planets in sight.

“Press that button” He points at the panel.

You do as he says, “what does it do?” 

“It makes sure the ship doesn’t go too far while we chill”

“we chill?” You turned to see him with your eyebrows raised. 

He stood from his seat and walked to the back, pushing another button to make the ceiling fold on itself and reveal a glass. Dropping his coat over the floor, he extends a hand to you.

You lay next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Suddenly the silence under the dark galactic sight feels too much. You are lying next to your all-life-best-friend, the friend who in the latest weeks had become something else entirely but all at once, is still the very same. “Thank you” you mutter in complete awe, eyes don’t move from the dark sky.

“Anytime, darling.”

“Do you ever wonder if this is all there is for us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Taken from our families, forced to become jedis, forbidden to have attachments. All we can have is some stolen moments to keep us going. Little escapades here and there to try to disguise our emptiness.” Your gaze focuses on him, “don’t you ever wonder what your parents are like? If you would’ve become a farmer or a mechanic? What would our lives be if we had been given a choice?”

Obi-wan is silent for a few minutes, contemplating you. “I like being a jedi” he finally states.

For a moment you think he will begin speaking about duty and loyalty, but instead.

“Because I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”

The words have completely disappeared from your mind, in its place there are only butterflies.

“I can’t believe you did all this for me” it’s barely above a whisper. 

He scoffs, “I must say it was motivated by a deeply selfish impulse”

“how so?” 

His gaze is focused on your lips, sheepish, as he answers, “I could not stand the idea of you doing this with someone else” 

“Oh, Obi” you turn to face the sky to hide your blush, “Any sucker can fly me to space but this… I wouldn’t do with anyone else”

He doesn’t answer, instead, he wraps his hand in yours.

Your clothes lay scattered around his rooms, his warm breath against your shoulders and your bare back to his chest. His arm lays lazily on your waist as you have both drifted to sleep.

Until a disturbance on the Force wakes you up.

“What was that?” your eyes are still half closed, the rest of your senses heightened.

“That was Anakin’s nightmare” He mutters against your skin. “He is on his way here”

Obi-wan gets dressed in a second, then he throws you a set of silk pajamas which you hold with both your eyebrows up. “Shouldn’t I leave?” 

“Do you want to?” He is folding the scattered garments and hiding them inside the closet.

“Not really but, I mean, a child shouldn’t be crying or falling asleep with a stranger”

“You are hardly a stranger. But if you are more comfortable” a knock on the door, “ask him yourself” 

You get into the fresh set and walk to stand by the bedroom entrance as Obi-wan walks to the main door.

The image is heartbreaking. Anakin is crying, his eyes are red and swollen. His little shoulders go up and down in anxious breathing. None of them say a word as he walks in. You can feel the Force’s battle inside of him, his signature darkened by fear and anger.

The kid finally looks up and his eyes lighten when he sees you, screaming your name and running to your arms. 

“Hey, Ani” You kneel to embrace him, murmuring against his blonde hair. “What happened?” 

“I was back in Tatooine as a slave” He mumbles against your chest. “But my owner was the Sith Lord Maul.”

Your eyes raise to Obi-wan, whose mouth is pulled to the side.

“It was just a nightmare, little one.” Your fingers are soft on his scalp, “You are safe now.” 

Taking deep breaths, you project calm and safety into him; your force signature nuzzling his.

“Master,” Anakin sniffs, raising his head and looking over Obi-wan, “I'd rather sleep next to her.” 

Obi-wan scoffed, “yeah that makes two of us buddy” 

When the three of you climb on bed, Anakin is gripping your right arm while Obi-wan’s hand lays on your waist from your left.

In the morning you squeeze yourself out of bed, hurrying to dress up before dawn. The fresh air hugs your body as you walk back to your rooms. 

The noise of the door wakes up Aayla, her eyes are half closed when you stand on the foot of her bed. 

“He is shredded”

She is already squirming by the time you tumble next to her to tell her everything.

PART 7

[cocobeanncteez]

The CEO Collision - Part Five

Pairing: CEO!Seonghwa x CEO!reader (f)

Warnings / content for Part Five: alcohol consumption, profanities, lotss of angst, seonghwa gets insecure / has an argument with reader, smut warning: quickie in the backseat of a car / piv, protected sex (pill). Please note that other than Ateez, all other character names used are fictional.

Word Count: 9.6k

Masterlist for The CEO Collision

The day was crisp and clear as you and Seonghwa stepped into the lobby of a towering luxury apartment complex. The marble floors gleamed under soft, golden lighting, and a uniformed concierge greeted you both with a polite bow before directing you to the private elevator.

“Excited?” Seonghwa asked, glancing at you with a small smile as the elevator ascended.

You gave a nonchalant shrug but couldn’t hide the glimmer of curiosity in your eyes. “I mean, it’s not every day you go shopping for a luxury apartment with a view like this. Are you sure we need a place this extravagant?”

“It’s not just about the view,” he said smoothly, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “It’s about having a space that feels like us. Besides, I don’t do halfway, Y/N. You should know that by now.”

The elevator dinged, and you stepped into the first apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a panoramic view of Seoul’s skyline, the Han River winding its way through the city like a ribbon of silver.

“Oh, wow…” you murmured, taking a step closer to the window.

Seonghwa joined you, his hands sliding into his pockets as he observed your reaction. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”

The real estate agent, a well-dressed woman with an air of professionalism, gestured around the open-concept living room. “This apartment features four bedrooms, a state-of-the-art kitchen, and, of course, unparalleled views from every room. Shall we take a look around?”

As you moved from room to room, Seonghwa subtly paid more attention to your reactions than to the apartment itself. He watched the way your eyes lit up at the spacious walk-in closet and how your fingers brushed over the sleek kitchen counters.

When you stepped onto the wraparound balcony, the cold breeze hit you, but it was worth it for the view. Seonghwa followed, standing close enough that the warmth of his presence countered the chill.

“This one’s impressive,” you admitted, leaning against the railing. “But it feels too… formal.”

He chuckled. “Formal?”

“Yeah, like it’s more suited for hosting corporate dinners than relaxing at home.”

“I see what you mean,” he said thoughtfully. “You want somewhere cozier. More us.”

You looked up at him, surprised at how naturally he said “us.”

The agent approached, handing Seonghwa a tablet. “We have another unit in the apartment complex right across this building that’s slightly more contemporary. It has a private rooftop garden and pool. Perhaps you’d like to see that next?”

Seonghwa glanced at you. “What do you think? Want to keep hunting?”

You smiled, your playful side surfacing. “As long as you don’t start picking places based on how well they fit your suit collection.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded. “Deal. But if we find a place with a walk-in closet bigger than this one, don’t blame me for taking it.”

The two of you headed back to the elevator, the agent trailing behind. As the doors slid shut, Seonghwa leaned slightly closer. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever enjoyed apartment hunting.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Because I’m doing it with you,” he said simply, his tone sincere.

Your cheeks warmed as you looked away, pretending to study the floor numbers lighting up on the panel. “Smooth talker.”

“And you love it,” he teased, his smirk making your heart skip a beat. You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, he wasn’t wrong.

The second apartment was nothing short of breathtaking. It offered the kind of luxury that seemed pulled straight from a dream. The building itself was a fortress, equipped with state-of-the-art security systems. It was no wonder the property was home to A-list actors, chaebols, and the nation’s ultra-elite.

Inside, the apartment was a masterpiece of modern design. The living room opened up to a balcony that stretched the length of the unit. Beyond the glass doors was a private jacuzzi, surrounded by sleek glass panels that offered an unobstructed view of Seoul’s glittering skyline.

You stepped out onto the balcony, drawn to the view and the subtle bubbling sound of the jacuzzi. The cool night breeze brushed against your skin, and the sight of the city lights twinkling below made your breath catch.

“Now this,” you murmured, running your fingers along the edge of the jacuzzi, “is impressive.”

Seonghwa followed you, his hands tucked into his pockets as he surveyed the scene. “The view alone is worth it. And the security here is unbeatable.”

The agent chimed in, her tone professional but enthusiastic. “This building is known for its exclusivity and privacy. We’ve housed celebrities, diplomats, and business leaders. The residents appreciate the discretion and safety we provide.”

You glanced at Seonghwa with a raised eyebrow. “Diplomats and celebrities? Feeling fancy yet?”

He smirked. “It’s not about fancy. It’s about giving us a space where we can feel secure and enjoy ourselves.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

Seonghwa gestured toward the jacuzzi. “I’m just picturing you in there, a glass of wine in hand, completely relaxed. Maybe I’ll join you if you let me.”

You laughed, swatting his arm. “Big talk, Mr. Park. But can you actually imagine us living here? I mean, this place feels more like a retreat.”

“That’s exactly the point,” he said, leaning on the balcony railing beside you. “A retreat. Somewhere we can escape from the chaos of work and everything else.”

The agent excused herself, giving the two of you space to discuss. Seonghwa turned to face you fully, his expression softening.

“This building is safe, private, and beautiful. It’s everything we need,” he said, his voice steady. “And I can’t stop thinking about building a life with you here, Y/N.”

His sincerity caught you off guard, and you looked away, pretending to focus on the view. “You’re really selling this place,” you said lightly, though your heart raced at his words.

“I’m not selling it,” he replied, taking your hand. “I’m choosing it. For us.”

You glanced at the jacuzzi, then at him, a teasing glint in your eye. “Alright, but only if you promise to make my favorite cocktails while I’m soaking in that jacuzzi.”

His smile widened, and he squeezed your hand. “Deal.”

The decision was practically made, but Seonghwa, being meticulous as ever, wanted to ensure every detail was perfect. He requested another walk-through with the agent, focusing on the security measures and amenities.

While Seonghwa discussed logistics with the agent, you found yourself wandering through the spacious master bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a panoramic view of Seoul, and the room exuded a quiet elegance with its neutral tones and luxurious finishes. A large walk-in closet adjacent to the bedroom caught your attention, and you stepped inside, running your fingers along the polished wood shelves.

“This closet is bigger than mine,” you muttered to yourself, chuckling.

“You say that now,” Seonghwa’s voice came from behind you, making you turn. He leaned against the doorway, his hands in his pockets, watching you with a soft smile. “But I have a feeling it won’t stay this spacious once your wardrobe moves in.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smirk on your lips. “And here I thought you liked my sense of style.”

“Oh, I do, sweetheart,” he said, stepping inside and closing the distance between you. “But I also know your shopping habits.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest. “Fair point.”

He reached out, his hands settling on your waist as he pulled you close. “So? What do you think?”

“It’s… perfect,” you admitted, leaning into his touch. “But it feels like such a big step.”

Seonghwa tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours. “It’s a big step because we’re building something big together. And this place? It’s just the beginning.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him softly. “Alright, Mr. Park. Let’s do it. Let’s make this our home.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face, and he kissed you back, the moment sealing the decision between you.

The agent returned shortly after, her professional smile in place. “Have you made a decision, Mr. Park?”

Seonghwa glanced at you, his hand still on your waist. “We’ll take it.”

The agent beamed, congratulating you both as she began explaining the next steps. But for you, the logistics blurred into the background. All you could focus on was the man beside you and the future you were about to create together.

As you left the apartment later that evening, Seonghwa laced his fingers with yours. “What do you say we celebrate tonight?”

“Celebrating what?” you teased.

“Our new home,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And maybe breaking in that jacuzzi a little early.”

You laughed, leaning into him as you walked to the car. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Throughout the drive, Seonghwa's hand had been resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing small, tantalizing circles against your skin. The touch was innocent enough at first, but the heat in his gaze when he glanced at you told a different story.

Seonghwa expertly maneuvered his car into the expansive garage of his mansion, the quiet hum of the engine echoing off the pristine walls. The garage itself was a showcase of wealth—a collection of six luxury cars gleamed under soft, strategically placed lights, each one an emblem of sophistication and power.

As soon as the car came to a halt, you barely had time to unbuckle your seatbelt before Seonghwa leaned over, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hand slid up your thigh, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” you teased breathlessly when he pulled back for just a second.

“Not when you’ve been driving me crazy all afternoon,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.

Without another word, he opened the car door and stepped out, only to open yours moments later. But instead of leading you toward the house, he pushed you gently back against the car, resuming the kiss with even more intensity.

The air in the garage grew heavy with heat and anticipation, and when Seonghwa lifted you effortlessly, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, each kiss leaving a searing trail on your skin.

“Backseat,” he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with urgency.

The suggestion sent a thrill through you, and you didn’t hesitate. The two of you slid into the backseat of the spacious car, the leather cool against your skin as Seonghwa hovered over you, his body pressing into yours. You could feel the heat at your pussy and your clit was throbbing.

His hands roamed freely now, slipping under your blouse as his lips claimed yours again. Each touch, each kiss was a promise of what was to come, and the confined space only heightened the intimacy.

“An early celebration…” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours as he paused to catch his breath.

“In the backseat of your car? Didn’t know you would take such a risk, Mr. Park,” you said with a smirk, reaching down to the waistband of his pants, pushing it down quickly, freeing his cock. You pumped his hard dick while he pushed your skirt up, moving your panties to the side to swipe the wetness at your slit before rubbing your clit.

You guided his cock to your entrance, letting him enter you. “God, my love,” he muttered, his eyes closing while he pushed himself all the way in. “You always feel so good, so tight, so warm… and always so wet for me.”

“Hwa…” you moaned while he started fucking you in a fast pace that had you gripping the seat. Seonghwa was going rough and you absolutely loved it when he did that, especially when he brought his hand to your neck to gently choke you.

The heat between you two caused the car windows to get all foggy and that sent a chill down your spine as you’ve never had sex in a car before. The knot forming in your lower abdomen was getting tighter and Seonghwa could sense that by the way you arched your back and moaned his name.

He reached down to rub your clit in circular motions, and it wasn’t long before your orgasm took over you, his own following right after.

“This was insane,” you said breathlessly, a dazed smile on your lips as you tried to steady your breathing.

Seonghwa chuckled deeply, his chest still rising and falling from exertion. “You make me lose all sense of control,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

He pulled out and pulled his pants up before getting out of the car, adjusting his clothes. Stepping out of the car, you winced slightly, shooting him a playful glare. “You could’ve warned me how wild you’d get.”

He smirked, smoothing the creases on his shirt. “You don’t seem to mind, though.” His gaze lingered on you, full of unspoken heat, before he reached for your hand, helping you regain your balance.

The cool air of the garage hit you as you straightened up, and you felt a mix of exhilaration and a little embarrassment as you noticed the faint fog still clinging to the car windows.

“Come on,” he said, tugging you gently toward the door leading to his mansion. “We should probably clean up and get some rest. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

“For what?” you asked suspiciously, though your lips curled into a teasing smile.

He glanced over his shoulder, his smirk returning. “You’ll see.”

Seonghwa led you through the private entrance of his mansion, the soft hum of motion-sensor lights illuminating the grand hallway. The cool marble underfoot contrasted with the lingering warmth of his hand holding yours.

“You know,” you began, glancing around as you stepped into the main living area, “I’ve been here before, but every time, I notice something new. Do you change the décor often?”

He smiled, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over a chair. “Not really. Maybe you’re just paying more attention now.” His eyes glinted mischievously as he closed the gap between you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Or maybe you’re just too distracted by me when you’re here.”

You laughed softly, swatting at his chest. “Someone’s confident.”

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. His lips were warm and insistent, reigniting the spark that had barely cooled since you stepped out of the car.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, resting your hands on his chest. “As tempting as it is to continue… I think I need a shower first. You were… thorough.” Your cheeks heated at the memory, and his chuckle only made it worse.

“Good idea,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ll join you.”

“Of course you will,” you teased, pulling away and heading toward the grand staircase. “I don’t trust you not to ruin the water bill.”

He followed close behind, his eyes glued to you. “You say that like it’s not worth it.”

Seonghwa’s bathroom had a sprawling walk-in shower, dual rainfall showerheads, and sleek black-and-gold accents. You turned on the water, letting it heat up, while Seonghwa leaned against the vanity, watching you with an expression that was equal parts admiration and hunger.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as your lips twitched into a smile.

“Like what?” he asked innocently, though his gaze remained intense.

“Like you’re planning to do something,” you replied, stepping under the warm cascade of water.

He smirked, following you in without hesitation. “I am planning to do something. And I promise you’ll like it.”

You didn’t doubt that for a second.

---

The following morning, Seonghwa woke you with a soft kiss on your temple and the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee. His excitement was palpable, even as you groggily sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he teased, setting the coffee cup on your nightstand. “We have somewhere to be today. Get dressed—something comfortable.”

You raised an eyebrow at his cryptic instructions. “And where exactly are we going?”

His lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

An hour later, you found yourself in his car, heading toward the outskirts of the city. The drive was tranquil, the morning sunlight casting a golden glow over the scenery. His hand rested warmly on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles as soft music played in the background.

As the city gave way to rolling hills and serene landscapes, your curiosity grew. Finally, Seonghwa turned onto a private driveway that led to a secluded, picturesque airfield. Your jaw dropped as you spotted the sleek helicopter waiting on the tarmac.

“A helicopter?” you asked, glancing at him in surprise.

He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Surprise number one.”

The ride was nothing short of breathtaking. The helicopter soared over lush greenery, glimmering lakes, and winding rivers. Seonghwa pointed out landmarks, sharing tidbits of trivia and making you laugh as he held your hand. As you descended, you noticed a stunning villa nestled by a crystal-clear lake, surrounded by vibrant flowers and shaded by tall trees.

“Where are we?” you asked as you stepped out, the fresh air invigorating.

Seonghwa smiled, taking your hand. “This is a surprise I’ve been working on for weeks. Come on.”

The villa was a masterpiece of modern luxury, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the tranquil lake. Inside, every detail screamed elegance, from the marble floors to the plush furnishings.

“Seonghwa…” you said, your voice tinged with awe as you took in the stunning interior.

“Do you like it?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Like it? It’s amazing,” you said. “But what are we doing here?”

He turned you around to face him, his gaze warm and steady. “It’s yours. Ours. I bought this villa as a pre-wedding gift for you.”

Your eyes widened, the weight of his words sinking in. “You bought this for us?”

He nodded, a proud smile on his face. “I wanted us to have a place away from the city, somewhere we can escape to when we need peace. Another place where we can make new memories.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked around the villa, imagining all the moments you’d share together in this beautiful space.

“You’re incredible,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I just want to make you happy,” he replied, his voice tender.

The day was filled with exploring the villa and its surroundings. Seonghwa had arranged a private boat ride on the lake, followed by a couple’s spa treatment in one of the villa’s luxurious suites. As the sun began to set, you both stood on the expansive balcony, a glass of wine in hand, watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink.

“This place is perfect,” you said, leaning into him.

“It’s perfect because you’re here,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you couldn’t help but feel that this villa was more than just a gift—it was a promise of a future filled with love, peace, and endless possibilities.

-x-x-x-

The quiet rhythm of your office was interrupted by the sharp click of polished shoes against the marble floor, followed by a familiar, booming voice that carried an air of cheer wherever it went.

“Y/N!” Yunho called, his tone bright and unmissable as he entered your space, closing the door behind him. He held a sleek leather bag in one hand and a smaller paper bag in the other, the latter adorned with an elegant Swiss logo.

You glanced up from your laptop, already smiling as the tall figure approached. “Yunho! Look who’s back from the land of watches and chocolate.”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, his grin wide and infectious while he gave you a hug. “And I brought the goods.”

He placed the bags on your desk with a flourish, his energy filling the room as he slid into the chair across from you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic presentation.

“Goodies from Switzerland?” you asked, peeking into the paper bag.

“The finest,” he said proudly. “Chocolate truffles, because who doesn’t love Swiss chocolate, and…” He gestured for you to open the second bag.

Your fingers brushed over the soft fabric as you pulled out an intricately designed silk scarf. The deep blues and golds shimmered under the light, the pattern an elegant mix of florals and geometric designs.

“Yunho, this is gorgeous,” you said, running your hand over the delicate material.

“Only the best for my favorite bride-to-be,” he replied with a wink, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile.

“You’re spoiling me,” you teased, draping the scarf over your shoulders.

As you admired the scarf, he leaned back, crossing his legs. “So, how’s the wedding planning going? Last I heard, it was all systems go.”

You groaned playfully. “Oh, it’s going. Yeri has been practically living at my place with Seonghwa’s mom. They’ve been going through venues, flowers, dresses—everything. I think they’re having more fun than I am.”

Yunho chuckled. “Sounds about right. So, what’s left for you to do?”

“Mostly just finalizing details and staying out of their way,” you said with a laugh. “Seonghwa and I are focusing on other things, like finalizing stuff for the new apartment we bought.”

“Ah, the married life prep,” Yunho teased before his expression grew thoughtful. “Actually… speaking of weddings and planning…”

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in tone. “What is it?”

“Well,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was thinking… I’d like to propose to Nari soon.”

Your jaw dropped, a mix of excitement and surprise. “Yunho! Are you serious?”

He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Nari’s… she’s everything to me. I want to make it official.”

“That’s amazing!” you exclaimed, practically bouncing in your seat. “Do you have any plans yet?”

“Not yet,” he admitted, laughing at your enthusiasm. “But I figured I’d need to know her schedule first. She’s always running around, and I want to make sure I catch her when she’s free and in a good mood. So… think you can help me out with that?”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “Yunho, you’re lucky she’s my secretary. Of course, I’ll help! But you’ll owe me, cause Nari is very smart and will catch on quickly.”

“Done,” he said without hesitation. “What do you want?”

“I’ll think of something,” you teased, already mentally mapping out Nari’s upcoming schedule, keeping in mind that the quarterly reporting period was coming up. “But seriously, Yunho, I’m so happy for you. She’s going to be over the moon.”

“I hope so,” he said softly, his usual confidence giving way to a rare vulnerability. “She means the world to me. I just got the green signal from her parents to propose.”

“You’ve got this,” you assured him, reaching across the desk to squeeze his hand. “And when you do propose, make sure you do it in a way that’s as amazing as she is.”

Yunho grinned, his excitement palpable. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve got some ideas.”

Yunho chatted with you for a while about his business trip and the things he got for Nari. As he left your office, the thought of another proposal on the horizon filled you with joy. Love was certainly in the air, and you couldn’t wait to see how Yunho’s grand gesture would unfold.

---

The sleek boardroom of Byeol Materials Group was abuzz with energy as executives shuffled papers and exchanged nods of approval. Seonghwa sat at the head of the table, his sharp suit emphasizing the commanding air he carried effortlessly. The unofficial quarterly report presentation was underway, and the results spoke volumes about the company’s recent surge in performance.

“…and with the latest projections, we’re expecting a 25% increase in revenue compared to the previous fiscal year,” the CFO concluded, his voice brimming with satisfaction. “The strategic partnerships and increased visibility have proven highly effective.”

Seonghwa nodded, his expression composed, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “Excellent work, everyone. Let’s keep this momentum going.”

As the meeting adjourned, Wooyoung leaned in to hand him a folder. “These are the media reports and market analyses you requested. There’s a lot of positive press surrounding your engagement,” he said with a knowing smile.

Seonghwa flipped through the pages, scanning headlines like: “Byeol Materials Sees Surge in Investor Confidence Following CEO’s Engagement” “CEO Park Seonghwa’s Leadership Gains Traction Amid Upcoming Union with CEO Kim Y/N”

“It’s incredible how much influence the engagement has had,” Wooyoung continued. “Investors see it as not just a personal union, but a strategic alliance between your family and the Kims. Confidence in the company has skyrocketed.”

Seonghwa set the folder down, his mind briefly drifting to you. It was strange to think that what began as a corporate necessity had evolved into something so deeply personal. His gaze shifted back to the room as he addressed his secretary.

“Schedule a meeting with the PR team,” he instructed. “We need to ensure the narrative stays focused on the company’s growth and future endeavors, not just the engagement.”

“Consider it done,” Wooyoung replied.

-x-x-x-

The last three weeks had been a whirlwind of chaos, deadlines, and unrelenting stress. The quarterly reporting period demanded everything from both you and Seonghwa, leaving little room for anything else. Late nights at the office had become routine, and your phone calls dwindled to sparse, clipped conversations about work.

Seonghwa had been quieter than usual, a fact that gnawed at the edges of your mind. Even when you managed to meet once for a quick dinner at his office, his demeanor was distant, distracted. The glint of confidence you adored in him seemed dulled, replaced by a furrowed brow and a heavy silence.

You had tried to bridge the gap, offering words of encouragement and support when you could, but his responses were mechanical. It wasn’t like him, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

Meanwhile, at Byeol Materials, Seonghwa stared blankly at his computer screen, his mind a storm of self-doubt. Despite the glowing financial reports and the celebratory buzz from his team, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his success was hollow.

Is it me, or is it just the engagement?

The question loomed over him, festering in his mind until it became an unrelenting weight. He replayed every congratulatory email, every handshake from investors, and every mention of your name in connection to the company’s success.

His chest tightened. What if they’re right? What if I’m only riding on Y/N’s coattails?

His phone buzzed on the desk. It was a text from you. You: Hey love, thinking about you. Hope your day’s going okay. Let’s talk soon if you’re free?

He read it, then set the phone down without responding. He couldn’t face you—not now, not when he felt like this.

-

You sat at your desk, staring at the screen, but your mind was elsewhere. Your colleagues had noticed your distracted state, whispering among themselves, but you didn’t care.

The truth was, you missed him—missed his presence, his warmth, and the way he always seemed to lighten your burdens. Now, it felt like you were on opposite ends of a chasm with no bridge in sight.

You finally gave in and called him. The phone rang… and rang… and rang.

When his voicemail picked up, you sighed, feeling the sting of rejection. It wasn’t like him to shut you out completely. You debated calling again but stopped yourself.

That night, you paced your bedroom, rehearsing what you would say. He’s under stress. Don’t push too hard. But don’t let this go, either.

When he finally called back, it was almost midnight.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice weary.

“Seonghwa,” you began carefully, “is everything okay? You’ve been… distant.”

There was a long silence, and you could hear the faint rustle of papers on his end.

“I’m fine,” he said, his tone curt. “Just busy.”

“Busy?” you repeated, frustration creeping into your voice. “You’ve been avoiding me, Seonghwa. You don’t even text me back anymore.”

“I don’t have time to text,” he snapped, the sharpness in his tone catching you off guard.

You took a deep breath, fighting the hurt. “Seonghwa, I get that work is crazy right now, but we’re supposed to be partners, we’re getting married in a couple of weeks. If something’s bothering you—”

“I said I’m fine,” he interrupted. “I’ll call you when things settle down.”

Before you could respond, he ended the call.

You stared at your phone in disbelief, the ache in your chest spreading. This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t like you two. And as much as you wanted to give him the space he seemed to need, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was wrong.

---

You were buried in paperwork, trying to focus despite the lingering ache in your chest from Seonghwa’s recent coldness. The sound of your office door bursting open made you look up, startled.

Yeri strode in, a wide grin on her face, practically glowing with excitement. She plopped down into the chair across from you, not even waiting for an invitation.

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’re not going to believe this,” she said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, already amused by her dramatic entrance. “Okay, spill. What’s got you looking like you just won the lottery?”

Yeri clapped her hands together, barely able to contain her glee. “I hooked up with San!”

Your pen froze mid-sentence, and your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“San! You know, your friend with the face of a literal god, Choi San?” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “We’ve been kind of… seeing each other for like four weeks. Well, officially dating now.”

You blinked, utterly floored. “Yeri, are you serious? How did this even happen? I didn’t even know you two were close!”

She giggled, biting her lip. “Neither did I, honestly. It just… happened! He was so sweet and funny at the last party, and one thing led to another, and—”

“You hooked up,” you finished, smirking. “And now you’re dating.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. “And let me tell you, Y/N, this man is perfect. His face is already illegal—those cheekbones, that jawline—but his body? Oh my God. His abs could literally cut diamonds, his shoulders are so broad they make me feel tiny, and don’t even get me started on those arms!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. “Wow, Yeri. You’re really into him, huh?”

“Into him? I’m obsessed,” she admitted, fanning herself dramatically. “And he’s so sweet, too! Like, he actually listens to me, remembers little details, and he’s so considerate. But then he takes his shirt off, and I’m like, ‘Okay, I get it. You’re not just hot—you’re ridiculously hot.’”

You shook your head, laughing harder. “I’m happy for you, Yeri. But I have to admit, I did not see this coming.”

“Neither did I!” she said, throwing her hands up. “But here we are. And honestly, I’m not complaining. I feel like I hit the jackpot.”

“Well, San is definitely a catch,” you agreed, still grinning. “But I think he’s the lucky one for landing you.”

Yeri leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face. “Thanks, Y/N. I just had to tell you because I knew you’d appreciate how insane this all feels. And you know what? I think he might actually be the real deal.”

Your heart warmed at her happiness, even as you felt a twinge of longing for the connection you and Seonghwa seemed to be losing. Still, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the pure joy radiating from your best friend.

"Anyway... enough about me! We finalized on Seonghwa's tuxedo for the wedding! I know you've been busy lately, but you need to find some time to try out the wedding dresses I chose for you," Yeri said. The mention of Seonghwa's name made your face fall and Yeri instantly noticed.

She tilted her head, her excitement dimming when she noticed your expression shift. “Hey, what’s with the long face? What’s going on?”

You sighed, setting your pen down and leaning back in your chair. “It’s Seonghwa. He’s been… distant lately. Barely communicating, working himself to the bone. We’ve only seen each other once in the past three weeks.”

Her brows knitted together in concern. “What? That doesn’t sound like him at all. Did something happen between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “He’s stressed with work, I get that. It’s quarterly time, and I’m busy too, but it feels like he’s shutting me out completely. He’s barely texting, and when he does, it’s short and impersonal. It’s like he’s putting up a wall.”

Yeri frowned. “That’s so out of character for him. He’s always been attentive, especially when it comes to you. Did he say anything? Give you a reason for why he’s acting this way?”

You shook your head. “No. That’s the thing. I’ve tried asking, but he just brushes it off, saying he’s fine or that he’s too busy. It’s frustrating because I feel like I can’t even reach him anymore. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, and it’s starting to hurt.”

Her concern deepened. “This doesn’t make any sense. He adores you—anyone can see that. Why would he act like this? Do you think it’s wedding stress? Or maybe something at work?”

“I’ve considered that,” you said, folding your arms. “But he’s always been good at balancing work and our relationship. This feels different, like he’s deliberately keeping me at a distance.”

Yeri leaned forward, placing her hand on yours. “Y/N, you need to talk to him—really talk to him. He might be dealing with something he doesn’t know how to share. And knowing Seonghwa, he’s probably overthinking everything and blaming himself for something that isn’t even his fault.”

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. “You’re probably right. I just don’t want to push him if he’s not ready to open up. But at the same time, I can’t keep feeling like this. It’s like we’re drifting apart, and I hate it.”

She squeezed your hand reassuringly. “You’re not drifting apart, Y/N. He loves you, and I’m sure he’s just going through something right now. But if you don’t address it, it’ll only fester. You’re getting married, for crying out loud. Communication is key.”

Her words struck a chord, and you sighed. “Yeah. I guess I just need to find the right time to bring it up.”

“Don’t wait too long,” she advised gently. “You both deserve to be happy and on the same page, especially with the wedding coming up.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Yeri. I’ll figure it out.”

“Of course,” she said, leaning back with a determined look. “And while you’re sorting that out, please find time for your wedding dresses. You’re not getting out of that.”

You chuckled, grateful for her unwavering support. “Alright.”

After chatting with Yeri for a while, you headed into a meeting, Nari being all cheery by your side.

The conference room hummed with energy as you sat at the head of the table, your leadership team arranged around you. The large screen at the front displayed a series of graphs and charts, all trending upwards—a testament to the hard work of the last few months.

“And with that,” your CFO concluded, clicking to the final slide, “we’re pleased to report a 7.6% increase in stock prices per share this quarter. Revenue is up by 12.4%, with a significant boost in our medical devices division. It’s been a phenomenal quarter, Ms. Kim.”

A wave of pride surged through you as a round of applause erupted in the room. “Thank you, everyone,” you said, your voice steady but warm. “These results wouldn’t have been possible without the collective efforts of every single person in this room and beyond. Your dedication and commitment have been nothing short of extraordinary.”

The room buzzed with excitement as you continued. “The rise in stock prices shows that the market has confidence in us, and I couldn’t agree more. But let’s not get complacent. This is the time to capitalize on our momentum and continue delivering excellence.”

Your COO leaned forward, his expression enthusiastic. “The new product line has been a major hit, and we’ve seen significant traction in international markets. If we keep this up, I wouldn’t be surprised if we surpass our annual projections.”

“Agreed,” you replied, nodding. “Let’s strategize on how we can sustain this growth while innovating further. I want to schedule another meeting next week to dive deeper into expansion plans. For now, celebrate these wins because they’re well-earned.”

As the meeting adjourned and your team dispersed with smiles and congratulatory pats on the back, you lingered behind, taking a moment to let the success sink in. The satisfaction of seeing your company thrive was unparalleled, but it also reminded you of the other side of your life—the part that hadn’t been going as smoothly.

You pulled out your phone and hesitated for a moment before texting Seonghwa:

You: Quarterly results are in, and it’s a win, stock prices up by 7.6%! Hope your day is going well. Miss you.

Hitting send, you sighed softly, hoping he’d respond with more than a polite acknowledgment. For now, though, you allowed yourself to bask in the triumph of your hard work and the knowledge that, at least on the professional front, everything was falling into place.

-

The conference room was silent except for the rhythmic clicking of a presentation remote. Seonghwa’s CFO stood at the front, his voice clear and confident as he walked the executive team through the quarterly results. The tension in the room was palpable—Seonghwa had set ambitious goals, and the team was eager to see if they had delivered.

“And finally,” the CFO said, clicking to the last slide, “I’m pleased to report an 18.4% increase in stock prices this quarter. Revenue is up by 20.3%, driven by the success of our new partnerships and increased efficiency in production.”

The announcement was met with a collective gasp of surprise, followed by a burst of applause.

Seonghwa remained stoic, his hands clasped in front of him, but the corners of his mouth lifted in a subtle smile. “Impressive work,” he said, his voice calm yet commanding. “These results show what this company is capable of when we focus on our goals and execute with precision.”

The COO chimed in, his tone animated. “The market response has been overwhelming. Investors are thrilled, and we’re seeing a surge of interest from potential stakeholders. The new biomaterials product line, in particular, has exceeded expectations.”

Seonghwa nodded, leaning forward slightly. “The success of the biomaterials line was a calculated risk, and I’m glad to see it paying off. Let’s ensure we maintain the quality and exclusivity that defines our company. No compromises.”

The marketing director added, “Media coverage has also played a role. Your engagement to Ms. Kim has elevated our brand’s visibility among younger, affluent audiences. It’s clear that people see our company as more aspirational than ever.”

Seonghwa’s expression flickered, his jaw tightening slightly. He straightened in his chair, addressing the room. “While external factors may play a role in perception, this success is the result of hard work, strategy, and innovation. Let’s not rely on anything else to sustain our growth. I expect everyone to continue delivering results based on merit, not external narratives.”

The room quieted momentarily before the CFO interjected. “Understood, sir. Moving forward, we’ve outlined a strategy to capitalize on the current momentum. I’ll schedule a separate meeting with your team to discuss the details.”

“Good,” Seonghwa said, his tone decisive. “Thank you, everyone. Let’s keep this momentum going.”

As the meeting adjourned and his team began to disperse, Seonghwa stayed behind, staring at the charts still displayed on the screen. The results were undeniable, but the mention of his engagement lingered in his mind.

Back in his office, Seonghwa picked up his phone and stared at the message you had sent earlier about your company’s success. A faint smile graced his lips as he typed a reply: Seonghwa: That’s great, congrats

He hit send, his chest tightening slightly. The company’s success was thrilling, but the pressure to prove himself as more than just “the fiancé of Kim Y/N” loomed larger than ever.

-

After work, you decided to go see Seonghwa’s parents as it’s been a while since you had time to meet them.

“Y/N!” his mother exclaimed warmly, rising from her seat. “Congratulations on your quarterly results! I saw the reports earlier—your stock prices are soaring. Such fantastic news!”

“Thank you,” you said with a grateful smile, bowing slightly. “It’s been a lot of hard work, but I’m glad everything is paying off.”

His father beamed at you. “We were just talking about how proud we are of you, Y/N. Both you and Seonghwa are doing such incredible work.”

You hesitated, a small frown forming. “Speaking of Seonghwa... has he been home at all recently?”

His mother and father exchanged a glance before his father replied, “Actually, he came home a little while ago, after days. He said he needed a break and went up to the bar room. We assumed he wanted some time to himself… he seems very off and very stressed.”

Your brows furrowed. Seonghwa coming home early was unusual, and the fact that he hadn’t reached out to you all day stung more than you wanted to admit. “I’ll go check on him, if that’s okay?” you said softly, excusing yourself and making your way upstairs.

The dim light of the bar room cast long shadows across the polished wood as you stepped inside. Seonghwa was slouched over the counter, a glass of whiskey dangling loosely from his fingers. The tension in the air was palpable, and his disheveled appearance only heightened your unease.

“Seonghwa,” you called out, your voice cautious. “Hwa?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Ah… Y/N. Here to gloat?”

You froze, taken aback. “What? Gloat? What are you even talking about?”

He let out a bitter laugh, setting the glass down with a heavy clink. “Your stock prices soared. Your company is thriving. And my company? Everyone’s saying it’s only because of you. ‘Park Seonghwa is riding on his fiancée’s coattails.’ That’s what they’re saying, Y/N. That my success isn’t even mine.”

You frowned, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “Is that what this is about? You’re upset because people are talking and you’ve been so distant because of this?” you stared at him in utter disbelief. “Seonghwa, you knew this would happen. We talked about this before agreeing to the engagement. This was the plan to save your company. And you agreed to it.”

He stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some charity case,” he snapped. “I didn’t agree to become a footnote in your life story!”

Your eyes widened, his words cutting deep. “A footnote? Is that what you think this is? That I’m out here trying to overshadow you?”

Seonghwa grabbed the bottle of whiskey, pouring another glass. “Isn’t it? Everywhere I go, it’s ‘Kim Y/N this, Kim Y/N that.’ They don’t see me at all. They see you, my fiancée.”

The anger that had been simmering finally boiled over. “Then maybe you should take a hard look at yourself, Seonghwa! You’re the one letting this get to you. You’re the one doubting your own worth. Don’t you dare put that on me.”

He slammed the glass down, the sound reverberating through the room. “You don’t understand, Y/N! You’ve always been the golden CEO, the one who succeeds without even trying. You don’t know what it’s like to constantly feel like you’re not enough!”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Your voice trembled as you spoke, the hurt bleeding through. “I’ve stood by you, Seonghwa. I’ve supported you, believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself. And this is how you repay me? By blaming me for your insecurities?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. And you never will. Your company is a subsidiary, you’ll never fail.”

You took a step back, your chest tightening. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t get it. But you know what I do get? I’m not going to stand here and be treated like this. I deserve better than this, Seonghwa.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you before a chuckle escaped his lips. “So, what? You’re just going to leave me now?”

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “Maybe I should. I’m not dealing with you when you’re drunk like this.”

Without another word, you turned and walked out, the sound of your heels echoing in the quiet mansion. You didn’t look back, even as your heart broke with every step.

-x-x-x-

The warm light of Wooyoung's living room did little to lift the heavy mood hanging in the air. Seonghwa sat on the couch, his head in his hands, his usually pristine appearance disheveled. Across from him, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and San exchanged uneasy glances, trying to process what they’d just heard.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wooyoung said, leaning forward, his voice incredulous. “You actually said that to her? To Y/N?”

Seonghwa nodded miserably, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t thinking. I… I just—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I messed up, okay? I’ve been calling her all day, but she won’t answer. Not even a text.”

San let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, I don’t even know what to say. That doesn’t sound like you at all. You’re usually so… composed.”

Yeosang crossed his arms, his gaze serious. “Seonghwa, what were you even trying to achieve by saying all that? You know Y/N isn’t the type to gloat or rub things in your face. Why would you accuse her of that?”

“I don’t know, I was drinking my ass off!” Seonghwa burst out, his voice cracking. “I was frustrated, insecure. Everything’s been piling up, and I took it out on her. I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself. And now…” He trailed off, his shoulders shaking as tears began to fall.

Wooyoung, usually the jokester of the group, sat back in stunned silence. “Wow,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’re really messed up about this, huh?”

Seonghwa lifted his tear-streaked face, his eyes red and swollen. “She’s everything to me, Woo. And I might’ve just ruined it. What if she doesn’t forgive me? What if I’ve lost her for good? What if she calls off the wedding?”

San reached out, placing a comforting hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions. Y/N’s mad, sure, but she’s not the type to give up on someone she loves. You just need to figure out how to fix this.”

Yeosang nodded, though his expression remained stern. “But you have to understand, Seonghwa, this isn’t just about apologizing. You need to address why you felt the way you did and how you let it get this far. If you don’t, this could happen again.”

Seonghwa wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt, his voice trembling. “I don’t know where to start. How do I even begin to make this right?”

Wooyoung sighed, leaning forward again. “First, stop sitting here crying like a kid who lost his lunch money. You need to pull yourself together and think. What’s the one thing Y/N values the most?”

Seonghwa thought for a moment, his gaze distant. “Honesty. Effort. She… she always says actions speak louder than words.”

“Then start there,” San said firmly. “You need to show her you’re serious about making this right. Not just with some grand gesture but by being real with her. Own up to your mistakes, Seonghwa.”

Wooyoung smirked faintly, trying to lighten the mood. “And maybe, you know, don’t wait until she’s storming out to tell her how much you care next time.”

Despite the joke, Seonghwa’s face crumpled again, and he buried his face in his hands. “I don’t deserve her,” he whispered.

Yeosang’s voice softened. “Maybe not. But if you want her back, you have to prove that you’re willing to be the man she deserves.”

The room fell silent, save for the quiet hum of the air conditioner. Seonghwa nodded slowly, determination flickering in his tear-streaked eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said, his voice raw. “I just hope it’s not too late.”

-

You were sitting at your desk, trying to focus on your work, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the fight. Your chest tightened every time you replayed Seonghwa’s words in your head, the hurt still fresh.

A soft knock on your office door broke your train of thought.

“Come in,” you said, not looking up from your laptop.

The door opened, and you glanced up to see Nari peeking in. “Ms. Kim, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?”

Nari hesitated, then stepped aside to reveal Seonghwa standing behind her, holding a bouquet of white peonies. His expression was a mixture of nervousness and determination.

“May I come in?” he asked softly.

You hesitated, your emotions swirling, but finally nodded. “Five minutes,” you said, gesturing for him to enter.

Seonghwa stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him. He placed the bouquet on your desk and instead of him taking a seat in the chair across from you, he kneeled beside your chair, taking your hands in his, his gaze never leaving your face.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I’ve been carrying so much pressure, so much doubt, and I let it poison the way I treated you. That’s not an excuse—it’s my failure, and I’m very ashamed of it.”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. Your heart ached when you noticed the tears in his eyes.

“I was wrong to say those things,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Everything that’s happened with my company, the stock prices, the deals—it wouldn’t mean anything without you. I know I’ve been distant, and that’s my fault. I should’ve leaned on you instead of pushing you away.”

He leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you to give me a chance to make this right.”

Your resolve softened at the sight of him, so vulnerable and earnest. But the hurt still lingered. “Seonghwa,” you said, your voice steady but pained, “I love you, but I can’t be in a relationship where I’m left guessing how you feel or why you’re acting the way you are. I need communication. I need trust.”

“You’re right,” he said immediately. “And I promise you, I’ll do better. I’ll work on myself. I’ll show you, not just tell you, that I’m serious about us. Just… please don’t give up on me.”

You studied him for a long moment, the sincerity in his eyes undeniable. Finally, you sighed, some of the tension leaving your shoulders. “This is your last chance, Park Seonghwa. Don’t mess it up.”

Relief flooded his features, and he nodded, standing to leave. “I won’t,” he vowed. “I’ll prove it to you, Y/N. Every single day.”

-x-x-x-

As the days passed, the tension between you and Seonghwa continued to ease, though work and wedding planning kept both of you busy. Yeri and your mother had taken the reins on most of the arrangements, but one evening, Seonghwa insisted on joining you to finalize the wedding venue.

The two of you stood in the grand ballroom of a luxurious hotel, the soft glow of chandeliers reflecting off the white marble floors. The event planner led you through the space, pointing out features and discussing decor options, but your attention kept drifting to Seonghwa.

“What do you think?” you asked him, breaking his focus on the planner.

Seonghwa turned to you, his expression softening. “I think it’s perfect if you think it’s perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips. “That’s not an answer.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “The only thing that matters to me is standing next to you on that day. The rest is just details.”

The sincerity in his words melted the last remnants of your doubts, and you nodded. “Then this is the one.”

As you signed off on the venue, Seonghwa reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’ll make sure our wedding day is everything you’ve ever dreamed of,” he promised.

“And what about your dreams?” you teased.

He smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “They’ve already come true.”

---

Yunho’s mansion was decorated so beautifully. The high ceilings were adorned with crystal chandeliers that reflected the warm golden glow of the room. Tables were set with white silk tablecloths, elegantly arranged flowers, and gold-accented cutlery. A live string quartet played softly in the background, setting a romantic and celebratory mood.

You arrived with Seonghwa by your side, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back. The two of you paused briefly at the entrance, taking in the sight of your closest friends and family gathered to celebrate Yunho and Nari’s engagement.

“Wow,” you murmured, glancing up at Seonghwa. “They really went all out for this.”

“They deserve it,” he replied, his eyes warm as they met yours. “Yunho’s been waiting for this moment for months.”

As you made your way inside, Yunho spotted you and broke into a wide grin. Dressed in a sharp navy tuxedo, he looked every bit the successful businessman and soon-to-be husband. He approached with open arms, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, his excitement palpable.

“Of course,” you said, laughing as you stepped back. “There’s no way I’d miss this. Congratulations, Yunho. You and Nari are perfect together.”

Seonghwa shook Yunho’s hand firmly. “Congrats, man. You did good.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Yunho said, a playful smirk forming. “I learned from the best.”

Nari soon joined the group, her radiant smile lighting up the room. She wore a stunning floor-length dress in a soft blush hue, the perfect complement to Yunho’s tuxedo. She hugged you tightly before turning to Seonghwa, who congratulated her warmly.

“Thank you for coming,” Nari said, her voice filled with emotion. “It means so much to have you both here.”

As the evening progressed, the atmosphere grew livelier. Toasts were made, each one filled with humor and heartfelt wishes for the couple. Wooyoung, true to form, had everyone in stitches with his stories about Yunho’s awkward attempts at romance over the years.

“Remember when he accidentally sent Nari flowers meant for a client?” Wooyoung said, laughing so hard he could barely finish his sentence.

“Hey!” Yunho interjected, raising a glass in mock indignation. “It worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

The room erupted in laughter, and even Nari couldn’t help but join in, her cheeks flushed with happiness.

Later, you found yourself on the balcony with Seonghwa, watching the city lights twinkle across the river. The cool night air was a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the ballroom.

“They’re so happy,” you said softly, leaning into Seonghwa’s side.

“They are,” he agreed, wrapping an arm around you. “It’s nice to see, isn’t it? How everything fell into place for them.”

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Kind of reminds me of us.”

Seonghwa’s eyes softened as he turned to you. “I’d say they have a long way to go to match what we have.”

You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. “Always so competitive.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, his tone turning serious as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

The moment was interrupted by Yunho’s voice calling from inside. “Y/N! Seonghwa! Get back in here! They’re bringing out the cake!”

You shared a smile with Seonghwa before heading back inside, ready to celebrate the love and happiness of your dear friends.

End of Part Five.

[writinginpinkpink]

Scotty doesn’t know. [S.M]

stu macher x fem!reader

notes: my first song fic! i literally can’t stop listening to this song and it just needed to be a story. disclaimer: i don’t support cheating (obviously), but… yeah. hope you like it ❤️ should i do more in this format?

Warnings: infidelity(!!!), emotional manipulation, cheating, heartbreak, mature themes, angst, sensitive content

Scotty doesn't know that Fiona and me

Do it in my van every Sunday

She tells him she's in church but she doesn't go

Still she's on her knees and Scotty doesn't know

The van smells like cigarette smoke and gasoline, and Stu says that’s “part of the charm.” He says it with that lazy grin, the one that makes your stomach twist in ways it definitely shouldn’t — not when you have a boyfriend. A nice boyfriend.

But nice doesn’t feel like this.

Stu's seat creaks as he climbs over you, hands under your shirt like it’s second nature now. You arch into him, biting back a gasp, and the windows start to fog. You’re not even trying to pretend it’s wrong anymore.

Your phone buzzes beside you.

Scotty 💛: How was it, babe?

You ignore it.

“Church girl,” Stu mocks, licking into your throat like a sermon. “Bet God’s real proud of you.”

You’re already on your knees.

Oh, Scotty doesn't know

So don't tell Scotty

Scotty doesn't know

“Do you think he suspects anything?” you ask once, breathless, shirt halfway off, back pressed against the cold side panel of the van.

Stu just laughs — low and wild — as he tugs your bra down and mouths at the top of your chest like your skin is some kind of joke only he gets.

“Scotty?” he snorts. “That idiot thinks you’re praying for his grandma.”

You don’t want to laugh, but you do. You cover your mouth with both hands and muffle the sound, but Stu sees it anyway.

“See? You like it,” he says, like he’s proud of you. “You like the game.”

You shake your head.

But you don’t stop him.

He kisses down your stomach, unbothered, unhurried. You feel your phone buzz again — probably Scotty asking if you want to meet up after church.

Stu looks up at you with that devilish smirk, mouth hot and wicked against your thigh.

“Scotty doesn’t know,” he murmurs.

And you pretend that makes it better.

Fiona says she's out shopping

But she's under me

And I'm not stopping

Stu’s voice comes out half-muffled against your neck, mockingly high-pitched:

“‘I’m just running a few errands, babe! Gonna hit the mall!’”

You’re too breathless to laugh, pinned under him in the back of the van, one leg hitched around his waist, his hands gripping your hips like they’re his to keep. He’s relentless — all teeth and heat and sweat-soaked hair falling into his eyes.

You shouldn’t be here. You should be in the food court with Scotty, pretending to care about whatever new sneakers he wants to buy.

But you lied.

You always lie.

And now your back is arching, mouth falling open in a silent cry as Stu grinds deeper, faster, like he’s trying to erase every trace of your boyfriend from your skin.

He looks down at you, lips swollen and pupils blown wide, and laughs through a groan.

“You’re not thinking about him right now, are you?”

You shake your head.

He doesn’t stop.

He never does.

I can't believe he's so trusting

While I'm right behind you thrusting

Fiona's got him on the phone

And she's trying not to moan

It's a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing

You don’t even know how it started — the call, the madness. Maybe it was Stu’s idea. It always is.

“He’s probably bored,” Stu had whispered, lips brushing your ear as he pressed you against the wall of his bedroom, one hand already sliding under your skirt. “Text him. Say you miss his voice.”

And you did.

Now Scotty’s on speaker, his voice tinny and sweet, spilling out of the phone balanced on the edge of Stu’s nightstand. Stu’s behind you, body flush with yours, each thrust sharp and mean like he’s trying to punish you for something. Or maybe reward you. It’s hard to tell with him.

“I—I miss you too,” you breathe out, fingers clutching the sheets.

Stu bites down on your shoulder, grinning like the fucking devil, then pulls your hips back harder.

“You okay, babe?” Scotty asks from the phone. “You sound out of breath.”

“She’s fine,” Stu growls low in your ear, quiet enough not to be heard. “A little busy.”

You clamp your hand over your mouth, eyes wide, legs shaking.

Stu leans forward, breath ragged, and murmurs, “Go ahead. Talk to him.”

You fumble for words. “J-just walked up the stairs. I’m fine. Really.”

Scotty laughs. “You always get winded so fast. It’s cute.”

The thrusts don’t stop.

Your moans turn into muffled gasps.

It’s cruel.

We'll put on a show

Everyone will go

Scotty doesn't know

It starts with a party. Loud music, too much beer, bodies pressed together like no one's got anything to hide.

But you do.

You always do.

Stu finds you across the room like he’s tracking prey — eyes sharp, smile sharper. You’re wearing the dress Scotty likes, the one that makes you look "sweet." But there’s nothing sweet about the way Stu grabs your wrist and pulls you upstairs like it’s already planned.

He doesn’t bother closing the door all the way.

He wants them to hear.

“You're mine up here,” he mutters, pressing you against the bedroom wall. “Let them wonder.”

You can hear the party below — laughter, footsteps, bass shaking the floor. Somewhere down there, Scotty’s bragging to someone about how loyal you are. How he’s so lucky.

And up here, Stu’s mouth is on yours. His hips roll into you, slow and hard. You know the door is cracked. You know the girl in the hallway just saw.

You don’t stop.

Stu grins against your neck. “Let them watch. Let them all fucking know — except him.”

Every sound you make echoes just enough.

Every moan could give you away.

But no one says a thing.

The parkin' lot, why not?

It's so cool when you're on top

His front lawn in the snow

Life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know

You don’t even make it out of the parking lot.

Stu’s van door slams behind you, and you’re already straddling him in the driver’s seat, breath misting in the cold air, legs braced on either side of him as if the chill doesn’t matter. Your hips grind down, and he lets out a low groan, gripping your thighs like he owns you.

“You’re insane,” you whisper, smiling like it’s the best thing about him.

He tilts his head, hair falling into his eyes. “You’re the one riding me like we’re in a Fast & Furious sequel.”

You laugh — and then gasp as he bucks up harder. The windows fog again. Outside, people pass by, oblivious.

“You think Scotty’s home yet?” Stu asks, wicked. “Maybe we should stop by.”

You don’t think he’s serious.

Until you’re on Scotty’s lawn.

The snow crunches under your boots. It’s past midnight, and his porch light glows softly, like it’s waiting for you to come inside and kiss him goodnight.

But you’re not knocking.

You’re bent over Stu’s hood, thighs bare to the icy wind, his hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he’s trying to leave bruises in the shape of guilt.

“Tell me this isn’t better than him,” he growls.

You don’t say a word. You just push back against him harder.

Behind you, the snowflakes keep falling.

In front of you, Scotty’s window stays dark.

He doesn’t know.

And it makes you burn.

i did her on his birthday

You should’ve said no.

You should’ve been at Scotty’s house like a good girlfriend — balloons in your hand, cake on the table, sitting in his lap while his mom snapped pictures. You should’ve kissed his cheek and told him he was everything.

Instead, you’re in Stu’s bed.

Wearing the lingerie you had planned to surprise Scotty with.

Stu’s fingers trace the hem of it lazily. “He bought this for you?”

You shake your head. “No. I bought it... for tonight.”

He grins, wide and mean. “Guess you still gave him a gift. Kinda.”

He pushes you down harder into the mattress. The headboard creaks. Your breath stutters.

“You know what I’m gonna think about every year on this day?” he says, eyes locked on yours. “Not his candles. Not his party.”

He leans in, voice low and cruel.

“I’m gonna think about how I did you — hard — while he was blowing out fucking birthday candles.”

You whimper.

And Stu just laughs.

Outside, someone might be singing Happy Birthday.

Inside, the only thing you're singing is Stu’s name

Scotty will know

Scotty doesn't know

Scotty's gotta know

I'm gonna tell Scotty

Gonna tell him myself

It was supposed to be just a secret. Something wild, messy — hidden behind closed doors where no one had to know. But Stu’s never been good at keeping things quiet. He doesn’t do guilt.

He’s pacing, breath heavy, eyes restless and sharp. You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, half-dressed, skin still flushed from where you two tangled. Your mascara’s smeared under your eyes.

Then Stu stops and looks at you, voice low but fierce.

“I’m gonna tell him.”

You freeze. “Tell who?”

“Scotty.” His laugh is bitter, angry. “If you don’t, I will.”

Your throat tightens. Tears spill over, smudging your makeup even more.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whisper.

Stu scoffs, voice hardening. “Like what? Like you really love that idiot? After fucking me?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to break up with him.”

His eyes flash, disbelief burning in them. “Then what? You’re with me — right here — and still love him? You think that makes sense?”

You can’t look at him.

“There’s no way,” Stu says, voice rising. “No way you love him after this. After us.”

You bite your lip, voice trembling. “I don’t know what I feel anymore. I’m so confused.”

He steps closer, voice softer but intense. “Then you need to figure it out. Because if you don’t tell Scotty, I will. And when he finds out — he’s gone. You’ll have to end it. He has to go.”

You shake your head, but your body shakes harder, the tears falling freely.

[yellowocaballero]

Itwau? Covid puppy Tim just sounds very funny to me lol

"AU where Tim was quarantined in a radioactive house with the least functional family of all time and he's released into the wild three years later incredibly under socialized and dysfunctional" is, in fact, the premise.

I'm so vauguely unhappy with the fic that I refuse to post it. But also it's not straight up bad. But also I'm worried that it doesn't do justice to Cass, and doing justice to Cass is important to me. But also isn't any predominant Cass good. But also blah blah blah have a scene.

Short scene, and a CW for references to a sexual relationship between a minor and an adult. And an apology to Tim/Bernard shippers. The scene's a good summary of everyone's dysfunction, I think.

A rock collided with the window.

Tim’s aim was true, as always. He shifted his balance on the withered tree branch, mindful of its tired creak, before flicking another pebble and hitting the glass panel again. The sharp thunk was clear in the mild night, and Tim only had to wait another minute before a face appeared in the window. Tim waved. The face grinned.

The carefully maintained window slid upwards, and Tim easily hopped off the branch to land on the windowsill and slide inside. The boy inside had already stepped away, locking the bedroom door and fixing the deadbolt.

“They home?” 

“Mom’s on nightshift and Dad’s out with his friends again.” Bernard turned back to Tim and smiled at him. ‘Out with his friends’ meant he was getting drunk and wouldn’t be back ‘til morning, but that hadn’t bothered Bernard in a while. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Tim stepped forward and kissed him eagerly, and after a half-second Bernard kissed back. It was a comforting and familiar kiss, and after so long it was definitely Tim’s favorite. “It’s so good to see you.”

Bernard gave him another kiss before stepping back, yanking some old clothing off his desk chair and stuffing it in the laundry tote. Tim shut the window and started taking off his mask, the buzzing energy in his limbs already melting away. Cass was expecting him back at three in the morning, so that gave him three hours here. More than he needed, probably, but it was never bad to surprise Cass by coming back early.

“How was your day at school?” Bernard asked archly, and Tim rolled his eyes. “Did you make the soccer team? How did the math test go?”

“How do your math tests go?” Tim asked pointedly, and Bernard abruptly looked a little guilty. “Right. Who cares, honestly. It’s not like you’re ever going to use the stuff.” Left unsaid: or ninety percent of what you’re learning in that weird little schooling co-op you attend, you freak.

“I will be loved for my pretty face, not my brains,” Bernard drawled, sitting down in his desk chair. Tim sat on the bed and pressed the secret button on his boots, letting them deflate and yanking them off. “I shall marry a powerful enforcer for the Penguin and live the rest of my life awash in chocolate and weed.”

“Will you still remember me when you’re rich and powerful?” Tim panned. He started unbuckling his tunic, undoing the golden arrow-shaped clasps running down the center. “The little girl next door?”

“You are anything but the girl next door.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Tim smirked a little, letting his hair fall over his face in the motion he knew Bernard liked to see. “You’re already fucking a territory boss, Bernard, it’s hard to go up from here.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Bernard laughed a little, short and sharp. “That’s still so wild. Only fifteen and you’re already a gang leader. You’re, like, one of the fifteen most powerful people in Gotham.”

“Sure am. Let me know if your parents need another job or anything. I don’t got a lot of employees, but I can find something for ‘em.” Tim brightened. “If you guys ever need to run into protected territory you know I’m right next door! You’d be the safest teenager outside of the Garden.”

“That’s - really nice of you, Tim. Thanks.” Bernard caught Tim’s thrown tunic, putting it on the desk behind him. His eyes lingered on the dull R, but he quickly shoved it away. “We’re doing okay, though. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I’ll find out.” 

“Fantastic things to hear. I love it.”

Tim grinned at him, shucking his gloves and carefully tossing them at Bernard so he could put them next to the tunic. “You know what to expect from me.”

“Lord help me, I definitely do.” Bernard held the gloves, finger rubbing against a ridged green thumb. His posture was stiff. Tense. He was nervous. Tim stopped undressing. “Look, I -”

“Quiet.”

Bernard fell silent instantly. Also suspicious. Bernard was one of the more contrary people Tim had ever met, and he knew Helena. Tim stood up, silently walking towards the window and sliding the panel open so he could sit on the windowsill and check the surroundings. Nobody out there. It was the only window in the bedroom, so Tim was forced to close it. He spot-checked the rest of the room, finding nothing out of ordinary.

Long-suffering, Bernard said, “Tim. Why are you looking for an ambush?”

“You’re nervous,” Tim said bluntly. Bernard opened his mouth indignantly. “You would break if your parents were kidnapped.”

“I - yeah, fair.” Bernard paused, clearly debating with himself, before saying something he was clearly fairly certain he’d regret. “What did your other ambushes look like?”

“Somebody planted intel of a human trafficking ring in a brothel,” Tim said. He undid the locks on the door and poked his head out into the hallway, just to be sure. “There were trafficking victims. But there were also several pounds of explosives.”

“Yikes. Everybody make it out of that one alright?”

“Yeah, we always check over the premises of a tip like that. If the story involves starving babies being cooked into stews it’s a dead giveaway for a trap.” Tim closed and re-locked the door. Bernard opened his mouth again. “Do you really want to ask that question?”

“...point!” 

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” Tim walked over and leaned against Bernard’s desk, crossing his arms and grinning down at him. The cool look was slightly hampered by the wobbly leg. He’d have to offer to repair that. “The Upper West Side doesn’t see the worst of it. Don’t do anything stupid and you should be okay. And you get in any trouble just call me.”

Bernard smiled weakly. He grabbed Tim’s hand and squeezed, and Tim squeezed back. Tim wondered when would be a good time to start undressing him. Three hours was enough, but they should probably start. “It’s weird thinking about how crazy fucking lucky I am. My mom has a job with that laundry group and my dad just got that reconstruction job for the cops.” Tim did not like the cops as much as the cops liked the cops, but Gordon kept them in check. “We still live in our house. I got my own job at the orchard. The co-op and my friend and stuff. I got you. Couldn’t have imagined this three years ago.”

Three years ago Bernard and his family lived like anybody else - hiding from looters and scavenging for FEMA aid. “There’s more and more families like yours in Gotham every day,” Tim said. The thought made his heart feel lighter. As Robin, he saw the change grow and grow. It was amazing to watch. “Just watch, Bernard. One day soon everybody’s going to have a job. Everybody’s going to have food on the table. Gotham’s getting better. Isn’t it fucking wild?”

“I feel like a person again,” Bernard said. “We were living like fucking animals for ages and now I feel like a human person. Shit, Tim, I know you see the worst of the worst nonstop. Maybe one day soon you won’t have to see grotesque shit every day.”

“Maybe one day soon I’ll stop having to punch the grotesque in the face,” Tim said lightly. “Speaking of the grotesque, hurry up and strip for me.”

Bernard froze, and Tim knew why he had been anxious and tense since Tim stepped into his room.

“Ah,” Tim said.

Hurriedly, as if he wasn’t already far too late, Bernard said, “Can we talk?”

Tim stared at him, and he knew the weight had returned to his expression. Bernard’s eyes anxiously flickered around the room before focusing in on Tim, steady and alert in an intimately familiar way.

Bernard was a confident person. He probably used to be fearless. Tim wouldn’t know. Nobody was fearless in Gotham anymore, and more than anything Bernard was a very, very smart person. It was just good sense to be careful with the apprentice of the most dangerous person in Gotham. And, these days, a gang leader. 

Tim had been dangerous when they first met, even at fourteen. He had been nicer back then, but Bernard hadn’t been stupider. It had been a risk. Hero had begun to fit strangely on Batman. 

But they had been two very smart, very curious boys with little adult supervision. Having sex with Robin did incredible things to Bernard’s already considerable ego and Tim liked being cool and hot to somebody as cool and hot as Bernard. 

Bernard had often bemoaned how he was fucking actual Robin and he couldn’t even tell anybody. He was so cool and sexy he had bagged actual Robin, and yet he would never rule the school. Tim had laughed and swatted him with a pillow.

The thought of anybody wanting to brag over being with Tim, that scrawny nerd Tim Drake with no friends and nothing interesting about him…life had gone crazy in every way. 

They had always limited it to Tim sneaking into his bedroom in the middle of the night. He had never even been downstairs. Tim had been excruciatingly clear that they were casual, Bernard had felt extremely adult at the concept of casual sex, and they both had a regular hook-up ever since. Tim just dropped by whenever he was anxious, stressed, wired, or bored. He really hoped Bernard hadn’t caught feelings. He wasn’t so sure. Cass had never met him, so he couldn’t ask. Tim didn’t go into detail about Robin stuff, and Bernard didn’t go into detail trying to satisfy his insatiable curiosity about his dubiously ethical missions.

Bernard had only brought up a rumor once. The Jokerz in Amusement Mile had grown far too rowdy, and some of the leaders were making noises about taking the territory from Harley and returning it to ‘the real mad lads!’. Harley had asked Tim and Cass to come in and help definitively destroy the burgeoning coup before it began. 

Destroying coups obviously involved a lot more than beating up the rabble rousers and calling it a day. It was really a fear based endeavor. You had to stop anybody from even dreaming of crossing you again. Harley had done most of the work, but Tim and Cass played back-up. They weren’t Batman, but they definitely had their own cred on their own merits.

Tim had just waved off his concerns. “You know way better than to listen to the Batman rumors, man. Just ignore them.”

“Yeah, I know they’re all Batman Morningstar. I was just asking if they’re true.”

“And I was just telling you to ignore them,” Tim had snapped. “Why are you arguing with me?”

That had ended with Tim leaving in a huff and Bernard closing the window in a huff. But Bernard hadn’t asked again, so Tim counted that one a win. Bernard was the most curious person Tim had ever met, a miniature investigative reporter in an uncaring apocalypse, and a part of him was always striving to seek out the truth and ferret out secrets. 

Bernard had also grown a survival instinct. He didn’t do that anymore. Even with Tim.

So Tim kept his posture loose and forced his expression into something light and pleasantly neutral. Bernard recognized the mask, but he also recognized the ‘I’m pretending I’m not a dangerous person so you feel safe’ face, and he silently gestured to the bed. Tim slowly sat down, bouncing a little old on the old mattress, and Bernard slowly moved to sit next to him. 

Their thighs brushed, but they didn’t look at each other. They sat in silence a little, Bernard wrangling hard with how to say something difficult. Tim really hoped this was just ‘let’s not do this anymore’ and not ‘I jumped inside radioactive waste and I’m going to conquer Gotham’. 

Finally, Bernard said, “You remember Sid?”

Thank god. No need to bring out the Hazmat suit.

“The guy in your math group?” Tim asked. To his own strange surprise, he couldn’t fight the smile. “The reason you failed your test?”

Bernard flushed, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re the one who snuck in the night before we had it!”

“Yes, I’m so sorry I disrespected the sanctity of your math club to have fantastic sex with you. It’s all my fault. Nothing to do with the guy who had sex with you of undetermined quality during your math club.”

“It’s not a club, it’s a co-op - oh, never mind.” Bernard had visibly relaxed, and Tim gave himself a mental pat on the back. He saw Bernard mentally cross out ‘Robin’s gonna go into a jealous rage’ on his list of potential conversation outcomes. “We’re just getting…I don’t know. I like him a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I haven’t met anybody as nice as him in years. I’ve started volunteering at the soup kitchen with him, he’s been teaching me how to make tamales. He’s useless with art, but he keeps on borrowing my art supplies to draw trees. Terribly. He sucks.”

They had been going on dates? He hadn’t mentioned that. “I thought you guys were casual too.”

“It started out that way. But we just saw each other in class so much, and he’d always insist on walking me home the entire way. It was so corny. And…I don’t know, Tim. I just didn’t want something casual anymore. We had a connection. So he asked if we could get more serious. And I said yeah.” Bernard shrugged, rubbing his shoulder. He ripped it open on a barbed wire spike two years ago, and it hadn’t healed right. Tim gave him small back massages sometimes to loosen it up. “He says that he wants to be monogamous and just focus on each other. I want that too. So we both agreed to stop seeing our other guys. So I guess what I’m saying is - it’s really not personal Tim, I swear, it’s just - like, the shape of my life right now -”

“Dude,” Tim said. “I’m so fucking happy for you.”

Bernard sagged, all of the tension drained from his body. “Thank god.”

“What, did you want me to start crying?” Fat chance of that. Bernard grimaced. He had obviously been worried about that and a lot more. “You’re an awesome lay and I’ll miss being with you a lot. But that’s not worth ruining the good thing you have going on right now. You deserve to be happy. If monogamy is what’s making you happy right now, then go for it.”

“You are taking this super well,” Bernard said, almost incredulous. “We’ve been seeing each other for a year and a half, dude. It’d be pretty normal to be upset.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim asked. “I said a billion times that we were casual, Bernard.”

“I’m aware, but casual doesn’t mean we don’t give a shit about each other.”

“Of course I give a shit about you. That’s why I’m really glad you’re happy.” Tim clapped Bernard on the shoulder and stood up, moving to grab his left glove. “I liked sleeping with you because you’re a good guy and a lot of fun. But you know I really just sleep with people for fun, Bernard.”

Benard’s mouth twisted. “Fun’s one word for it.”

“Stress relief,” Tim amended. “And there’s plenty of people in Gotham I can relieve stress with. I got, like, four on the regular.”

“What, including the twenty year old?”

“You have some sort of vendetta against Ruby and it’s very rude.”

“She’s twenty, she needs to get someone her own age.”

“It’s really none of your business. So come on, tell me more about Sid. Amusement Mile’s actually pretty great for date night these days.”

“You’re insane.”

Tim shoved his uniform on as Bernard told him more about Sid. They were pretty sickening. Tim could tell that they would only get worse. Monogamy was out of fashion among kids these days, which caused some pretty spectacular juvenile drama. Tim was more familiar with the Garden’s culture than the greater Gotham teen culture, but the Garden’s queer scene was pretty dire. All the gay people had already slept with each other and battle lines had been drawn. 

Truthfully, some part of Tim had always worried. He knew distantly that he had started kind of young, and that he put very little of himself into any of his partners. They were all short-term. But he knew he had taken Bernard’s virginity, and that Bernard was the person he kept coming back to, and he didn’t want his weird-ass sex life to conflict with Bernard’s normal life. His normal happiness, as much as any of them could possibly scrape together happiness from nothing. He thought he might have ruined him. That, at least, was a relief.

“Tim.”

Tim finished sliding up the window panel, turning around. Bernard stood in front of him, uncertain and anxious and sad. As gorgeous as ever. Thin, without muscle or hard edges. Big eyes and sure hands. He had been so awkward as a kid, but had more than made up for it with enthusiasm. He had been warm.

“Are you ever going to find somebody too?” Bernard asked. “I mean - are you ever going to let yourself?”

“I’m Robin, dude. Ninety five percent of my time is spent doing Robin shit.” Tim sat down on the window frame, swinging his legs outside the house. “My life isn’t schools and friends and boys. So you have fun for both of us, okay?”

Bernard crossed his arms, mouth twisting. “I want to ask if we can still be friends, or if we can still meet up after this and do normal teen boy shit. But I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that one.”

“If you ever need help, page me,” Tim said. “I’ll come running.”

He disappeared in a swish of cape, and after a few seconds he heard Bernard sigh and close the window after him. 

Tim sat down against the wall of Bernard’s house, hiding in the darkness obscuring him from view. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his forehead on his kneecaps, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

Tim sat like that until the moment had passed - unmoving and silent. He didn’t cry. He didn’t even think much. He just sat there, curling into himself.

Then he stood up and left, roaring his bike engine a little louder than necessary and ripping away from the battered street.

*

The drive home was longer than usual. Batman was waist deep in a case that was proving to be a massive pain in the ass, so he had called in all of them to help. Now it was everybody’s pain in the ass. Cass and Tim had been running ragged on Batman’s heels for the past two days, so they had crashed in the Clocktower for the night. Stumbling home from a long night out and falling into the king sized bed with Cass in their shared room on the fifth floor was sweetly nostalgic, and Tim had been sleeping easy the past two nights. Diamond District was theirs, but it just wasn’t familiar like the Clocktower was. 

Tim pulled into the garage at 1:30am, far before his promised return time. Cass would be happy. He already sorely missed her, even after less than two hours away. He needed a hug. Or sister cuddles, which sometimes were sweet and sometimes involved her lying on him and refusing to move. Fuck, he’d even take that right now.

For the first time in a while Tim wished desperately that Cass was not privy to every single thought and emotion he had. He didn’t want to share this with her, but there was really no way around it. She wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t want her to, but she would still know. Best they could do.

He dragged himself into the lobby of the Clocktower, which was the one floor that had rooms and objects for real people who actually used the Clocktower for things that were not fighting crime. Barbara had, obviously, ripped it all up and replaced it with servers. They used the ground floor above the garage as the storage space for their heavier and more durable supplies, such as replacement parts for the cars. It was also where they kept the brig. Don’t ask. 

The lobby boasted a leftover reception desk, made of thin wood with a cracked marble top that had seen better days. Old rolling chairs were pulled against the sides, and the desktop was cleared of everything but cigarette butts and ashes - Helena wasn’t allowed to smoke inside. There was normally nobody sitting on the rolling chair. Today, there was Batman.

Tim stopped short. It wasn’t Batman - it was Bruce, wearing sleep pants and a tattered shirt. Sandals, for the consistent potential tetanus. Tim had barely a few seconds to notice that Bruce looked tired before he saw Tim’s entry, and the deep-set exhaustion settled into a glower.

“Tim!” Bruce barked, and Tim’s spine snapped ramrod straight. “Where have you been?”

What the hell? What was this? “Out?” Tim cried, beyond baffled. “Did something happen? Did I miss a rendezvous?”

“A rendez - Tim, you and Cassandra said you were retiring for the night two hours ago. I expected to find you in bed, not gone. Where were you?”

Holy shit. He couldn’t be serious. Tim couldn’t believe this. It strained his mind, like a weak computer trying to run one of Oracle’s three disc programs. 

“Okay,” Tim said slowly, “back up. You said we were off duty from the mission for the night. I didn’t fail to update you on anything.”

Bruce’s lip ticked backwards. “On mission or off, I expect you to be where you said you would be. And not sneaking out.”

Automatically, Tim said, “What makes you think I was sneaking out?”

“You deactivated the motion sensors, security cameras, and perimeter silent alerts. You also took the old suit without the tracker.”

Oh. Right. Yeah. That one was pure habit. He had been kind of guilty about this at first. “If my movements are off the field they don’t need to be logged.”

“Why don’t you want them logged,” Bruce said flatly.

“Why do you need them logged?”

“You were not where you said you would be and I couldn’t find you leaving on the cameras. If it wasn’t for Cassandra I would have worried that you were abducted.”

“There you go. Cass knew I was fine.” Abducted? From the Clocktower’s security system, with Cass right there? That was a completely irrational fear. “I wasn’t off the grid.”

“She wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

Right. Tim had sworn her to secrecy about this years ago. She had promised to keep it even from Bruce, but that had never been put to the test before. Man, she was brave. He’d have to find her a pastry. 

“That’s because I was on personal business. She told you I was fine, right?” Bruce’s lips thinned. “Then I was fine. I’m sorry, Bruce, can I be excused? Nothing I did tonight was mission relevant, so I can’t see where I broke any rules.”

“Broke any -” Bruce halted hard, mouth twisting strangely. “Right. I never gave you two a curfew.”

What the fuck. “We have work at any hour of the night.”

“I am well aware. Tim, I -” 

Bruce stopped short. He blinked hard at Tim. Tim tried to see if he could make a break for it or if he had to deal with being pointlessly reamed out for the next hour. 

Somewhat strangled, Bruce said, “You’re wearing your tunic improperly. Your boots are fixed unevenly. Your left glove is unlatched. Cassandra refused to tell me where you were.”

Ah. Shit. Tim didn’t blink. Lying was a terrible idea, so he stayed silent. It was important to take the time to compose the proper rhetoric.

Slowly, as if he couldn’t believe the words he was saying, Bruce said, “Tim, were you with a girl?”

“Not during mission hours.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend during mission hours,” Tim said. Or at all, but Bruce would perceive a flat denial as a lie. “I was not obligated to report this to you and I was not obligated to log my off-duty movements. I did not do anything wrong and I would like to be excused.”

Bruce stiffened, and Tim stiffened too. It was the oddest sort of Mexican standoff, one with uncertain weapons and an unknown result. The analytical part of Tim’s mind worked overtime to puzzle out how to get Bruce to leave him alone and get out of this. He had to figure out how Bruce was thinking and attack the train of thought directly. Through applying the art of misdirection, he could -

“I am not a punch clock, Tim,” Bruce said shortly, and Tim halted. “You aren’t allowed to do whatever you want, even if it’s outside of the Mission. I expect you to behave like an upright young man. Not sneaking out in the middle of…” Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why even hide this from me? I’ve never prevented Robin from having friends or partners in his civilian identity.”

Bernard had not been in his civilian identity. Whatsoever. Information that did not have to be shared.

“Taking off my mask is not a civilian identity. I don’t have a civilian identity. Where would I even find the time, Bruce? We get one day off a month and we work fourteen hour days. You already control how I spend fourteen hours of my day, and now you want me to log and document my two hours of free time a day? You should have specified.”

“That’s not the point,” Bruce said, and Tim could hear the frustration in his voice. He should probably back off and back down - just agree and apologize and be done with it - but it just wasn’t in him today. His head was pounding with exhaustion and his heart still hurt. “Omitting information is different from hiding it from me. I am only asking why you went through such great effort to hide something as simple as a girlfriend from me.”

It wasn’t a girlfriend. Bernard was not his girlfriend. None of them had ever been girlfriends, not even the actual women. The only permanent relationship he needed in his life was Cass, and everything else was stress relief. Or stressful, if it was the rest of the ‘family’.

He hated this picture Bruce painted. What must it have looked like to him? Was there some meet-cute during an undercover mission where Tim bumped into a redhead passionate about literature? Did they go for walks in the park, make tamales together? Did he tell her that he loved her, but they just couldn’t be together?

It was sickening. It was wrong. It had been Dick and Jason’s. Tim knew that was the picture summoned in his mind right now: Dick’s teenage flings, Jason’s juvenile middle school romances. 

What had that looked like for them? Had they sat around the dinner table, eating steak and potatoes talking about Dick’s day in Gotham Academy? Had Dick excused himself early, claiming that he was hanging out with Jennifer or Bailey or Heather? Had Bruce given him that extinct smile and asked - so Jennifer/Bailey/Heather, huh? You been seeing a lot of her, haven’t you? And Dick would stammer and pretend to be late and run out of the room, and maybe Bruce had laughed at him.

Jason would have told him. He would have burst into Bruce’s study where he was doing taxes or some ridiculous crap, announcing that he had gotten a date! With a girl, obviously, no homosexuality in this apple pie world. And Bruce would have clapped him on the shoulder and said something about how he was a man now or some utterly asinine bullshit like that.

Did Bruce think that was the situation? The idea itself was insulting. Batman wasn’t delusional. He was practical and grounded. He always considered all of the factors and made the decision that guaranteed the best outcome. He didn’t let pathetic fantasies control his behavior like this. Bruce wasn’t acting like Batman. 

Why did the thought flush such sick rage through Tim? It made red climb in at the corners of his vision, sending every inch of his skin buzzing. Bruce was supposed to act like Batman. Bruce was Batman. Everything Bruce did was the right thing to do because it was Batman doing it. And when Bruce strayed from that - forgot Batman like this - then Tim always pulled him back on the right path. It was always an accident, a slip of control. It had never been on purpose like this.

It was weak. It was weakness. Standing in a ruined Gotham, fucking daydreaming about Dick and Jason and mansions and schools and boyfriends and dates and connection and - while Tim was out in the real world, sacrificing for the real world. Hypocrisy. It was sheer hypocrisy. 

Tim lost his grip.

“I only tell you about the mission because that’s all you’ve ever fucking cared about!” Tim yelled. “I tried telling you about my life when I was a little kid and you shut me down every damn time! If I say it’s none of your goddamn business then it’s because you told me that! I always listen to you, I always do what you want, so don’t give me the third degree when I do exactly what you’ve trained me to do!”

Bruce completely shut down. His face blanked out, a weight settling onto his features. He stepped forward and Tim stood still, forcing himself not to tense. 

The sick anger flipped instantly into something else, just as powerful and nauseating. His eyes darted to the exit before he forced himself to keep them on Bruce.

It was natural. It was smart. Tim was confident, but he wasn’t fearless. He had never told Bernard that he understood how he felt. Sometimes he wondered if Bernard had known anyway. It was just the structure of their world, it was nobody’s fault. Bernard even felt it a few hours earlier, and god knew Tim had worked triple time to make sure he wasn’t rough with him. Bernard had noticed and appreciated the effort. Bruce never made the effort. Tim wasn’t sure if he had never noticed or if he just didn’t care. Or if it was the point. 

“You do not talk to me like that.” It wasn’t a threat or a command. He said it with the utter expectation that it would become true. “I expect you to act respectfully, Tim.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you only have any respect for me as your mission command, then that’s your prerogative. We won’t have this conversation you find so useless again. But if you ever hide anything from me again, no matter how irrelevant it is to our relationship, you will be acting against the interests of the organization. Do you understand?”

You did not want to act against the interests of the organization. You did not.

“Yes, sir.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually understand anything I’m saying or if you are just trying to make me shut up.” Tim flinched hard, but Bruce just sighed. “Forget it. It’s in one ear and out the other with you. I can’t…just do what I say, Tim.”

“Yes, sir.” He worked hard to bite down on the words leaping to his tongue, but he had lost all ability to restrain them. “So do you want daily logs of my sex life or can they be weekly?”

Then Bruce’s expression really darkened, and Tim wasted no time in scampering off and taking the rickety freight elevator to his old bedroom. 

Cass was still awake, obviously. She was lying on their old bed, all of the lights on and playing the GameBoy. They had liberated a large cache of batteries from the Penguin, so they were booting up the GameBoys with abandon. When Tim walked in and flopped on the bed next to her he saw that she was playing Pokemon Blue again. It was kind of impressive that she had figured out how to play with a barely kindergarten reading level, but she could memorize the words and what they did well enough. Amazingly, the skills were transferring to real life. She could navigate some of the higher level children’s books now. She was so cool.

She looked up from her game, looking towards him. Tim watched her register it, all of it - Bernard and Bruce and moments obscured by shadows. She dropped the game and immediately pulled Tim into a hug, and Tim clutched onto her for dear life. 

Tim buried his face into her shoulder. “I just need you. Right?”

And Cass had heard him say the words verbally so many times before that she understood completely. She tapped the base of his spine twice with one knuckle. Yes. 

“You’re enough,” Tim said, because she fucking had to be. Because he had no other choice. Because she promised to protect him and keep him safe. Because she loved him and would stay, and that was all Tim needed. “This is enough.”

[positivelybeastly]

Would you consider beast being a closet bisexual @

"I'm an open heterosexual, thank you very much, and I would recommend that in future, you keep such speculation to yourself."

"Ehehehey, well, wow, that's quite the question, not often I get accused of being a closet anything, but, ah, pretty firmly straight over here, friend."

"Despite what you may have heard from the press or a certain ex-girlfriend of mine, I am quite firmly in the heterosexual camp."

"I think someone needs to have gone on a date sometime in the last year to be qualified to be anything sexual, no?"

"Asexual aromantic. And if you ask again, I shall be displeased."

"Do you have a pulse? Are you happy with scalpels in the bedroom? Actually, your answer to that second question doesn't particularly matter, we'll get you warmed up in no time at all."

All right, so this is one of those moments where I have to pull back the curtain a little bit and talk about how I play a character who is canonically heterosexual, but whom I read to be bisexual because it's truer to the character as I find them.

Now, you know, I actually misremembered how this conversation went? I remembered Emma saying that Hank had never had so much as a gay thought, but that's not what she says here. She say that Hank has never had any kind of physical relationship with another man, and . . . you know what, I kind of believe that to be true.

Because as much as I fucking love THIS moment, it's not a relationship.

We can all agree that a kiss is not a relationship.

However.

. . . Guys, Hank is, like . . . really queer.

This post sums it up nicely, but yeah, Hank acts in a very over the top, dandified manner, over speaking and over-exaggerating everything about himself so that you won't pay attention to the blatantly obvious. He performs masculinity in a way that reads as overcompensating because he feels like he's been othered by his mutation.

There's also panels like this.

"Flirt with everything this side of Boy George."

Boy George being the androgynous gay icon of the 1980s, yes?

And this is coming from Hank's girlfriend, who he has admitted in dialogue to only really being with because she feels stable and safe and familiar, a tether to his old life in a time when he feels without a direction in life?

Like, this isn't me putting words into Hank's mouth, this is HIS dialogue during a time when he was arguably his most heterosexual! Yeah, you could just read it as him having a wandering eye, because he's a very flirtatious fellow, but that really isn't how it reads, is it? It reads as, I need reassurance I'm doing adult, normal things while my life goes weird, abnormal places.

It reads as, I think I'm kinda fucking queer but I'm too afraid to admit it.

Because lemme be real with you, this is Hank at his most heterosexual, but there's. Some. Stuff. Going on here.

"I was GOING to go out on a date with you, really pretty girlfriend, but then my MALE friend turned up and I just got so excited that I went out with my MALE friend and am basically hanging on his every word and eager to impress him, while the straight people at the table (Isaac and Dolly) are on an actual date, and Overmind sounded concerned about three wheeling a date when they asked to come with?"

Ladies and gentlemen, I am a gay man, and I have never been in just a towel around my best friend while he scrubbed another man's back, because that's just a little gay.

Hey, did you know Bobby's gay?

I don't bring that up for any real reason, just, you know.

And then there's Simon.

Oh boy is there Simon.

From Earth-763, but.

Like.

Come on, man.

When Logan and Hercules did this shit, people were celebrating in the streets because it confirmed bisexual Wolverine, but when Hank and Simon do it, no-one gives a fuck.

But that's an alternate universe. All they've done in 616 is kiss (GAY), so maybe it's just, you know, horsing around.

Right?

Hank, you don't look happy to be put down.

Hank never smiles like this on the X-Men. I'm not exaggerating. I've read X-Men comics for nearly 20 years, and Hank does not smile around other people like he does around Simon Williams. He looks fulfilled. He looks free. He looks delighted, constantly.

Are you two gonna fucking hold hands, like, WHAT?

And you know what, let's talk about the X-Men.

Scott, for someone who said very firmly that Hank wasn't gay before, you don't even throw that in there first?

Is it because of what comes next?

I'm - sorry? What in the FUCK are you trying to say to me?

And let's, for a moment, turn to Dark Beast. Because he has some words on the matter.

You know what, yeah, Dark Beast does seem like the idea to suck, fuck, thrust and kill his way through a Tuesday night, honestly.

And look, I know that alternate universes are shaky ground to be drawing conclusions from, but, like . . . this is. Getting to be rather a lot of very suggestive dialogue.

Look, I get that there's not quite the same amount of outright coding that Bobby had before he was forced out of the closet (Cloud, Emma Frost's prodding at his mind, all the stuff stacking up across Lobdell and Austen and Liu), but it's still . . . questionable. Isn't it? Like, at this point, I have to question why we think Hank has to be straight. Which is why I don't think he is.

So, now we get to the point of the evening where I pull at the curtain, because how Hank talks about himself in my threads works according to a certain kind of logic - canonically, as of right now, 21st of January 2024, he's officially straight, so any references to canon events will be as if he's 'straight' but actually just closeted bisexual. Because I care about continuity and keeping my facts straight and drawing as closely from the comics as possible - within reason - but my interpretation still takes precedence.

And my interpretation is that Hank, at any point in his life, is a bisexual man who feels afraid to admit it. But here's the question you're going to ask - WHY is he afraid to admit it?

You could go with an answer that draws on canon, and point out that when he tested the waters with coming out as gay, Scott and Emma both basically verbally smacked him and said he wasn't.

But that's not my style. I don't personally read it that way.

In my mind, Hank considers coming out to be That One Last Step Past Normal that goes too far. Like, it's one thing if he's a blue furred, canonically kinky, canonically weird, basically canonically bipolar, canonically psychologically damaged beast, but if he's a blue furred kinky weird bipolar psychologically damaged bisexual beast, that's the point where people will turn on him and be disgusted.

I could see him drawing that invisible line and deciding, I have to keep this one aspect of me to myself because I can't trust people to accept that from me. I think Hank has conditioned himself to believe that being accepted is something he has to earn over and over again, in part because of how Xavier schooled the X-Men's train of thought on that, but also because, unlike Nightcrawler, he knows what it's like to go from passing to not passing, and experiencing that scarred him in a way?

Like, one of the last bits of good Hank content we got before Krakoa was that Christmas special where he's back at his parents' for the holiday, and he can hear them talking from downstairs, and they're their usual lovely sweet selves, but they mention wanting grandkids, and . . . for someone whose bedrock, whose psychological wellbeing, is so incredibly dependent on other people, especially his parents and friends, I could see him being terrified of threatening that, even if it means he has to hide a part of who he is (perhaps unnecessarily).

There may be a degree of that where I'm projecting, because I had to deal with my dad being very heteronormative for a while after I realised I was gay, and even though I was certain he wouldn't reject me because of it, it felt easier to just not challenge that and let it slide because What If, you know?

But I feel like it makes sense for how Hank is, with his very tenuous relationship with feeling accepted, and I feel like this also accounts for why Emma 'saw' that he was straight in New X-Men, because he's wound himself into a psychological knot to the point where he reads as straight telepathically, even though he doesn't act like it and isn't.

If there weren't hints, I'd be inclined to be like, okay, maybe I'm just reading it this way because I see myself in Hank and him being a bit more like me makes me happy, but then there are GENUINE hints. The Exiles relationship, the fact that everyone basically treats Hank as Simon's emotional support, EVEN HIS GIRLFRIEND, and then the DeMatteis comment from Vera about how he flirts with everything this side of Boy George.

This isn't looking at pre-Krakoa Logan and Scott and thinking, yeah, they have tension, they want to fuck, this is looking at this guy who is extremely sex positive, flirtatious, open minded, and hearing from his girlfriend that he doesn't confine himself just to the purely feminine.

And it's also, like . . . like, I've talked about this with my boyfriend, and people love to throw out the YOU'LL JUST SHIP ANYTHING accusation, and maybe that's kinda true for some people, but I find I don't do that. Like, there are people out there who ship Hank with Cyclops, and I'm like . . . sure, fine. I don't personally see it, but you go for it, my dude.

If I genuinely did just want Hank to be an action figure that I smash with other action figures in a gay way, I feel like I'd have a stronger reaction, but instead, I look at the way he is with Bobby, and with Simon, and even, to a degree, with Logan (pre Krakoa, obvs), and I'm like . . . this is not the way a straight man acts. This reads as a bisexual man who doesn't feel like he can be 100% himself because he feels as though he's already asking a lot of people to accept him as he presents himself to be.

Hank's entire character from, like, moment one makes so much sense when you understand that he's basically always playing someone else. Sometimes it's who he wants to be, sometimes it's who he thinks other people need him to be, a lot of the time it's who people want him to be - like, I was reading the 2004 Nightcrawler solo the other day, and Kurt is internally narrating about how everyone on the X-Men is just an emotional basket case EXCEPT Hank, and I'm like . . . THIS.

THIS RIGHT HERE, is what the problem is! No-one on the X-Men is capable of seeing that Hank is constantly performing, and just how exhausting it is. That's why Simon is such a breath of fresh air, because Simon doesn't need him to perform, he just needs Hank to be . . . fuck, man, he just needs Hank to be happy, because that makes him happy, and the sheer lack of self-interest inherent in that dynamic is such a GIANT part of why I think Hank finds Simon so attractive. Like, imo, Scott's so insistent that Hank isn't gay during the New X-Men arc because of all of this, because he fell for the act, because he thinks this is just another joke that Hank is gonna duck behind.

Scott is SO INSISTENT that Hank isn't gay, and it's like, bro . . . Scoot . . . how do you know? You barely know what you want on a good day, and you think that just 'cause you and Hank hung around in the OG X-Men locker rooms for three years that you know him better than anyone else? He was on the Avengers and the Defenders and he has so many friends that you just DON'T KNOW ABOUT. How. Do. U. Kno. Scoot. Like, in universe, if Hank was working his way up to maybe coming out, and using the excuse of a joke to do it, THAT kind of reaction, and Emma TELLING him that he isn't gay, would push me RIGHT back in the closet.

If there wasn't coding, if there wasn't a genuine basis to this, it wouldn't have come up in Exiles, honestly. Like . . . okay, so multiversal stories are an excuse to do off the wall shit, right, and especially make characters gay just to push and prod and see what actually changes, right, like Governor Logan and Hercules, but they can also reveal a good amount of truth about a character out of what DOESN'T change.

And on a meta level, like, SOMETHING made Jeff Parker think Hank and Simon worked. He didn't pick Hank and Bobby, he didn't pick Hank and Hercules, he didn't pick Hank and Warren - Hank has NO shortage of male friendships you could pick from, but he picked Simon, and it's because there's enough there that even if you don't buy it for 616, it makes sense for a multiversal thing. Which means there's SOMETHING THERE.

And Ben Percy, cursed be his name, only added to that with X-Force. The idea that Simon is somehow going to be the catalyst for whatever awakening of classic, GOOD Hank is going to happen is just so . . . like, he still clearly cares for Abigail? They were on panel doing the eye socket thing? But, and this is partly because of who Abigail is, the narrative did not change because of her presence. But it does when Simon's around.

Yeah, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but sometimes a cigar is something to unpack. Like, I really Do Not Know how Hank became 'the straightest X-Man,' because A) have you fucking read Avengers and Defenders, and B) even discounting ALL of that . . . do you not find Hank's way of acting to be a little . . . you know . . . effete? Like, yeah, it's an act, he's playing the dandy, he's offsetting his appearance, but there are other things you can do to offset the Beast.

So why does he always go back to the brightly coloured suits, the loud fashion, the high energy, the camp, the billion dollar words - to put it bluntly, why does he always seem to act just a lil' fruity?

So, yes, in my mind, he's a closeted bisexual man, and that's how I play him. Thank you for coming to my lecture.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Not a Zucest shipper (more into Maiko) but that scene where Azula isn't wearing makeup and she and Zuko are in her bedroom and she's all touchy-feely towards him was honestly more sexual and intimate than the Zvtara cave scene. Honestly I would argue that Azula is a lot more on his mind than Katara, who only comes to mind when she's convenient for tracking down Aang. Heck, I would even argue Zuko has more chemistry and investment with Aang than he does with Katara.

Maiko might not be my OTP but it is still a personal favorite because MY GOD, these two are clingy with each other and it's so fucking cute.

Zuko and Aang's friendship is legitimately one of the best parts of the show, and, ironically enough, their dynamic is the closest the show ever got to the fanon zutara idea of "this hero can tell the bad guy has a heart and wants to offer him the chance of being a better person", only without the romance part - but it could have totally made for a perfectly reasonable endgame if just a few details had been changed.

Plus everything about them meeting the dragons was absolutely iconic, from "I don't care what people said, you're pretty smart", to Zuko suggesting they think about their place in the universe, to AANG ASKING ZUKO TO DANCE WITH HIM, to Zuko looking Aang straight (hehehe) in the face and going "You are source of my fire by the way. No homo."

I just love it whenever these two are on-screen together.

As for the bedroom scene between Zuko and Azula in the awakening... oh boy, did my mind go straight to the gutter the first time I saw it (and every time after that too).

Grey Delisle, iconic voice actor, former stripper, and former narrator of trailers for porno movies, really took a look at this scene of her character's older brother coming to her bedroom in the middle of the night and thought "Wouldn't it be really funny if I added some incest vibes here?" (not that the animation itself made it all that difficult).

And yeah, Azula was definitively in Zuko's mind ALL THE TIME. Like, this boy was trapped in a cave during a snow storm, Aang's soul had literally left his body and, for some fucking reason, he just... starts venting about the sister he has not seen in years. Like, I KNOW they are just setting up Azula as the villain of the second season, but that came out of nowhere!

And him imagining her as the blue dragon that represents temptation and is whispering in his ear stuff like "Just give into it" and asking when he will be going to his bedroom, even after he said he doesn't feel like sleeping... buddy. Buddy. What the hell is this?

Also I can't find that video anymore, but there was some panel Bryke was at in which they were "suggesting" many ships to the audience - and one just happened to be Azula and The Blue Spirit. If someone has a link to it, please send it to me because the audience's outraged reaction was the funniest fucking thing.

In case any of you want to see Grey being chaotic as fuck, and making Dante all embarrassed (and flirting with him) I recommend you check out these videos because they are HILARIOUS!

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 14]

The Lonely Lovely Mansion

TW: Ghosts? Genre: Romance, Comedy Pairing: Qian Kun x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 1.0K Prompt: A casual walk through a haunted mansion

[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Yesterday] | [Tomorrow] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: Kun is my ult OKAYYYY Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"Hey, honey," you leaned into your husband, keeping your voice below a whisper, "I know we really want a house but... there has to be other options."

"No, I agree," Kun nods. You both look at the house in front of you and the realtor slapped on a big smile on her face.

"So, what are we thinking?" She throws her hands up to gesture to the house. "It's very Victorian, so elegant!"

"Yeah," you forced out the enthusiasm and you and Kun both gave weak smiles. "We have to get out of here," you whispered to him.

"I know," he holds you a little closer, "let's just play along for now and then we'll leave," he whispers.

"So!" The realtor opens the door with some difficulty and with a key you were sure was centuries older than you. "This is the foyer," she gestures for both of you to look up and you swallowed harshly when you saw the array of cobwebs hanging off the chandelier. "Oop, looks like the previous owners forgot to get rid of this old thing," she looks at the broken mirror.

"Ahaha," your laugh couldn't have sounded more fake, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Here's the kitchen," she leads you into the next room and you move your foot to avoid the strange puddle of red on the floor.

"How long has it been since the last owners moved out?" Kun asks while eyeing the layer of dust on the stove.

"About sixty years," she nods.

"Wow, I wonder why?" You let Kun move you to a less precarious place as he runs his hand along the large fissure in the wall.

"And, before we forget, the living room is right over this way," the realtor takes you into a larger room and smiles with her hands on her hips as you shriek.

"That's a big ass spider!" You shout.

"It's fine, it'll be gone by the time you both move in."

"What the hell?!" Kun steps back, pulling you with him as the large spider takes notice of you.

"Let me just-" the realtor grabs a plank of wood and slams it over the spider's head, the thing simply being stunned instead of dying. "Anyway, lets go to the second floor," she ushers you out of the room and slams the door shut behind her. "Go ahead!" She urges you to go up the stairs and, as soon as you and Kun took one step on it, you heard the whole thing creak and you swear you heard something break.

"Um..." You looked worriedly around and Kun continued up, testing the floorboards with each step.

"Seems stable," he says.

"Oh, yes, very," the realtor catches her breath and walks past the both fo you. Hesitantly, you followed.

"Here's the main bedroom," she opened the largest door and, well, this whole room screamed haunted, that's for sure, and when the old painting hung inside suddenly fell that only confirmed everything for you. "Whoops! That darn draft," she laughs and closes the door. "Anway, the room next to it here could be a great guest room," she opens the next door to reveal the peeling paint and uneven floorboards in it. "Or..." her voice has a teasing tone to it, "it could also be a nursery," she grins and you and Kun laughed awkwardly.

"You mentioned this house had three bedrooms? I only see the two doors," Kun says.

"Right, right, we kind of have to work for the third bedroom," she says. She gestures for you both to follow her and she stops at the end of the hall, feeling for a certain wall panel before pressing on it and the wall pops open. She pulls on it and you and Kun gasp. "Whoops! Who left this here?" She laughs at the bible hung up by a string in the middle of the room.

"Nope! No, no, no!" You shout and turn around.

"It's a no, sorry, this is far from what we're wanting for a home," Kun explains while you both rush out.

"I know, it's a bit of a fixer-upper," the realtor insists.

"Fixer-upper?! This place should be demolished!" You narrowly avoid the hole in the floor.

"With some TLC you'll be able to make this home amazing!" The realtor keeps going.

"No thank you, we don't have that kind of money," Kun says unlocking the car quickly and waiting for you to get inside first.

"Should I put you both down as a maybe for this house?"

"No!" Your shout was apparent through the window.

"No, not at all," Kun says with a tight-lipped smile. He slides into the driver's seat and floors it.

"Damn it!" The realtor curses behind them. After a short while, you let out the breath you'd been holding.

"She was fucking crazy," you said with disbelief.

"I know... trying to sell us a house like that," Kun shook his head slowly. "Are you okay? You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"No, luckily," you shuddered. "You?"

"I'm fine," he does a quick look through of his hands and wrists. "Not to mention that giant spider, holy..."

"They couldn't have even cleaned a little before bringing us in there?!"

"Exactly! If they wanted that house out of their hair they could've at least put some effort into making it look nicer," Kun groans.

"I'm pretty sure the last owners were murdered there."

"Yup, I was."

Kun slammed on the brake and you both jerked forward, held back by your seatbelts. Nervously, you both turn to each other, before you look up at the rearview mirror, spotting the man who sat in the middle of the backseat. He waves at you.

"Hi," he grins.

"Oh my god!" Your hands covered your mouth and Kun was frozen.

"Finally! Someone who toured that damn house can see me!" The ghost relaxes against the seat. "I'm Yangyang!"

"Whatever was in that house is making me delusional," you covered your eyes.

"Nope! I'm definitely one of the ghosts of that house! And, now that I finally found people who can see me... I'm gonna need you both to make the investment."

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville 

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[whoslaurapalmer]

we're having a hard time re: the solar panels on this house (contract stuff) so before I even brought up a nearby house I'm interested in that has solar panels i messaged the realtor through the particular real estate app to see if I could get any information about their solar panels, bc if the company or the contract is the same then I will Remove it from my potential list and never mention it, like the reqltor might not be able to just give me that info but I figured it couldn't hurt to try and ask in advance bc that's all part of the consideration process (and i already minorly feel like im being talked around and over in the Family Sorting The House conversation so that's why I wanted to know before I even brought it up)

but then i was immediately called by a real estate vulture. yknow the ones who just get notified you've expressed interest in any house, who aren't even representing the house, and call and say 'yeah i could find that out if I was your agent :)' I was like 'well. I already have an agent lined up.' and she said 'perfect! so i can't give you any info :)' and I was like 'okay cool beans woman! goodbye!!' But then i just felt like I'd done something wrong anyway!!!!!

meanwhile I went for a walk this afternoon, said to myself 'I will walk to this one spot where I had a panic attack last week and not have one!!' and yet I did. so that was a. horrible ten minute walk back home. then I wanted to get home by 3 so I could see a sydney greenstreet movie coming on tcm but sometimes my key gets stuck in be door and won't unlock and it did that for like a solid three minutes which combined with the panic attack remnants was NOT WHAT I WANTED and I missed the first 3 minutes of the movie and grumbled about it a little.

meanwhile re: the solar here, the contract is Really Bad so my aunt and my cousins wife are trying to sort that out, they had my neighbor come over and flip the switch so it's not giving the house solar anymore, which I understand but also the electric bill is going to super go up here, and there's stuff to do about that but my aunt was like 'you'll just have to be careful with lights' and then one of the reasons I cried a lot last night was because I felt like i have to second guess any light I turn on, and it's not like I turn on a lot anyway!!!!!, and it's more about just unplugging small appliances not in use anyway but christ!!!!! also I feel like the family is starting to push Well What If You Rent and that's why. I feel like I'm not being listened to. In this conversation. especially bc they talked yesterday without me. And I got mad at my cousins wife about it this morning, like we do not know what my budget will be but i want to stay local and renting is impossible locally and everyone made me feel like owning a home was possible but now they're like Well. We Should Look At All The Options. Like A One Bedroom In The City An Hour Away? and I'm like!!! Oh!! Okay!!!!! So i should just go walk into the sea!!!!! (THAT WAS OUTSIDE OF MY MONTHLY BUDGET ANYWAY!) (the one bedroom, not the sea.)

my cousins wife: a house is for safety, not your possessions

me: im aware of that? but you guys are LITERALLY making me feel like I'm going to have to sacrifice everything I own. I know you aren't saying that. but that's how I feel. No I seriously just need this statement recognized, please

then i was gonna order dinner bc i just didn't know what I wanted and I dont do it often!! I make sure it's inexpensive!! But i feel like if i said that to anyone they'd think I was irresponsible!! AND THEN THE APP WAS HAVING PAYNENT PROBLEMS ANYWAY AND I CANT EVEN ORDER ANYTHING

then.

evening news: it's more expensive to buy than rent right now, oh no!!

me: I'M BEATING YOU BACK WITH A FUCKING STICK

the report: an average mortgage is almost 3,000!!

me: IT DEPENDS ON HOW MUCH YOU PUT DOWN AND THE TAXES OF YOUR PARTICULAR AREA!!!!!

anyway. I do have to figure out something for dinner now.

[grazhir]

Yeah, no, we were hosed

Okay, so power flickered Saturday afternoon/evening, went out for real at ~7.30pm. But hey, got on a call with my brother, got the breaker panel set, generator started (plus at least a half hour of troubleshooting because breakers kept tripping). Shut it off at 10pm, went to bed.

Wake up at 6am to my alarm. Oh, hey, no power. Fuck. Set a second alarm for 6.30, got up (no power), and headed out to clean off my car. I spent a half hour on that before reality set in.

Oh, hey, it snowed a lot, wet snow at that. The road isn't plowed (I live on a dirt road that is not maintained by the town), the drive isn't plowed, I'm barely halfway to getting my car cleared, and let's be real: there is no way on God's green earth I'm getting to work today.

So I called in at 7.30, hoping someone was there. Got the on-duty manager, asked her to please tell whoever got in for the pharmacy I wouldn't be in and why.

A few texts back and forth with my brother in the Me-Brother-Mother text group, and then my cell service died abruptly. I got tiny flashes of service throughout the day (enough for me to hear notifications go off for stuff like Hogwarts mystery or an incoming email), but never enough connection to do anything.

Bro sent another text I was finally able to glimpse, so I commandeered my mother's phone (I fucking despise iPhones at this point, and I will go to my grave using Android) to get on the horn with him about those two cans of gas in the garage.

Talk about frustration. I'm so sorry, but I just couldn't understand what he was trying to explain on using the spouts to empty them. I had to resort to Plan B, which was to remove the spouts so I could just pour.

[I sacrificed an old set of sheets mopping up the spillage, then bagged them up and chucked them in the big bins.]

Anyway, I emptied one, and most of the second one into the tank. It sucked, because I was fast losing the light and had to pour a heavy plastic can with one hand while aiming a flashlight with the other.

[Yes, I did in fact order a rechargeable lamp from Amazon, allegedly being delivered today. One that I can hang up, IIRC.]

Which reminds me, I suppose I should haul those cans back up to the garage.

So yeah, last night was another two hours of generator use, with me getting horrifyingly frustrated at breakers tripping and finally resorting to flipping everything non-vital to off.

I even apologized to my mother for being snappish due to my high level of irritation.

Kept the fridges, heat, water pump, and the front and back bedroom (well, and the bathroom between them). Outlets? Fuck no. Kitchen lights and outlets? Fuck no. Master bedroom? Fuck no. And so on.

Gave us time to charge phones and other stuff (like this laptop, a solar battery that refused to charge in the freakin' sun—another item I put in an order with Amazon for, as a replacement) in prep for today.

Yeah, woke up today to no power.

Hauled the usual upstairs to suffer reading actual paper books. (Thank you Barbara Michaels.) Power finally came back on roughly at noon. So I had to go fix all the breakers, including the ones in the second panel I hadn't even realized was there but now do.

But no internet. So no TV, no wifi. I do have service on my phone today so I'm using it as a mobile hotspot.

But at least some enterprising soul on this road trundled through with their truck (with plow attached) to not only clear the road, but back down our driveway to plow most of that clear, too.

Bleh.

[crappymixtape]

move like water

it took so damn long, but finally you saved up enough to get your own place, and while it’s nothing fancy it’s yours, all yours, just like steve •  *18+ only | (  1.7k, smut all the smut, a sprinkle of fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

M O V E L I K E W A T E R 🎶 make you mine, giveon

Before the alarm went off at your bedside you felt Steve crawl out from under the warmth of the sheets, your body missing his as soon as he moved away from you. He was so much better at morning than you were, up with the sun while you protested against the soft light falling in through your bedroom window, but at least it made for a beautiful view.

Watching him shuffle his way to the bathroom, grey sweats hung low on his hips, he ran his hands through his hair and loosed a yawn. The muscles along his back tightened as he stretched his hands over his head and you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of your lips. How in the hell were you so lucky?

The soft static sounds of the shower mixed with whatever song was playing through the radio on the bathroom counter rubbed against your eardrums and you heard the glass panel of the shower close. Shutting your eyes for a minute you thought about lying there like you usually did, dozing for just a second more, but you couldn’t relax. Steve’s morning hair, the way his hips moved as he lazily walked across the room, the kisses he pressed to your forehead. Lifting your head you glanced at the clock.

7:48am. Plenty of time.

Dragging yourself out of bed, one of Steve’s giant oversized shirts dancing just above your knee, you traced the same path he’d walked to the bathroom.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Steve called over the shower door as he heard the door close. You could hear the grin on his lips, his blurry figure going through the motions of washing his hair.

“Gross,” you teased, grabbing your toothbrush and quickly running it through your mouth, leaning against the counter.

Steve laughed as you saw him turn and start washing out his shampoo, “I’ll make a pot of coffee as soon as I’m done, that should help.”

You hummed a reply and put your toothbrush back in your cup. “Coffee and…” you trailed off, fingers looping around the lace of your panties as you stepped out of them, pulling his shirt over your head.

“Breakfast?” he called back, tone matter-of-fact.

You couldn’t help laughing, your face flushing as you realized what you were doing, fingers curling around the glass panel of the shower and rolling it open. “Does this count?” you asked, peeking in at him as you stepped first one foot then the other into the steam with him.

“Does what coun-” he turned to call back to you, but stopped short when he caught sight of you, jaw slack and nearly dropping the bottle of conditioner he was now squeezing down into the drain.

You felt your confidence swell as you watched him watching you, slowly taking the bottle from his hand to put it back on the ledge and closing what little space there was between you. “This,” you grinned, pressing your lips to his.

He was impossibly wet, mouth slipping against yours as he caught your bottom lip between his, hair stuck messy across his forehead. “Oh yeah, yeah this definitely counts,” he murmured, pressing a grin into you, hands sliding across your lower back, pulling your hips into him.

Reaching back Steve turned up the heat on the faucet, kissing away the beads of water that had started to settle on your cheeks, your lips, your chin, your neck. His fingers pressed into the soft skin at your hips, nose nudging at your jaw, asking for more access and you gave it to him with the tilt of your head. It was slow, heavy, dragging across your skin and you felt yourself melting into him.

You could feel him against your thigh as he kissed you messy and wet, soft at first, but growing and wanting, needing you and the heat between your legs needed him too.

Steve grazed his teeth over your collarbone, tongue lapping at the water that had gathered there, and you moaned, hot and needy, your hips pitching against his. “What d’you want baby, tell me,” his voice was low, rough against your skin, still pressing and kissing and pulling on your body.

“Touch me, Steve,” your hand grabbed one of his and slid it between your legs, asking – no telling – him to feel you.

His fingers eagerly followed, slipping in the slick he’d pulled from you, and your breath caught in your throat. “Like that?” his lips were brushing against your ear now, other hand wrapping around your thigh and hiking it up to his hip. It opened you to him as he pressed two fingers gently into you, the rough pad of his thumb teasing against your clit, and you thought you might melt with the water that ran hot and dripping down your skin.

Feeling your head tilt back you loosed a moan, loud and blunted against the shower walls as your arms wrapped tightly around his neck holding on for dear life. Steve twitched against you hearing the deliciously dirty sounds that were slipping from your lips and he couldn’t help leaning back to look at you.

You were a sight, hair swept wet adn messy across your cheeks, water clinging to your lashes, your lips pretty and parted as you gasped for air, whispering curses against the feeling of Steve’s fingers inside of you. “You’re so pretty, baby, so good for me,” his words pulled another gasp from you as he picked up the pace, thumb drawing messy, heavy circles against your clit.

The feeling of the water, Steve pressing against you, pouring words into your ears like honey, fingers doing things to you that swore would render you undone. You felt yourself racing faster and faster to the edge, your nails pressing half-moon shapes into Steve’s shoulders, hips bucking into his hand. “That’s good baby, so good, you feel so good, want you come for me,” he murmured against your skin as his lips moved back down your neck, sucking a pretty lilac bruise against your skin, teeth gently nipping as he went and something inside of you shattered.

“Shit, Steve, fuck, I’m gonna come,” and your hips snapped into him as you clenched against his fingers. Biting into your lower lip you swore, his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer as he slowed, guiding you through each wave of your climax, arms holding you steady as your legs shook.

Pulling his hand from you he let you lean into him, water slipping and falling down your bodies as it washed away your heat, and you huffed a laugh against his shoulder.

“You okay?” Steve grinned, slowly pulling you away from him so he could look at you, still holding you tight around your waist.

“I’d like mornings better if this was my alarm,” you teased, reaching up to wipe the hair from his forehead.

“I dunno, still feel like I’d have to drag you out of bed,” he was laughing a little and leaned back to turn the water off, but you caught him with your hand.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

The look he gave you then was wrecked, his mouth parted in a pretty little ‘o’, and pupils blown, edged in burnt caramel and honey.

You reached over his hand to turned the heat up again before dropping to your knees and taking him in your hands, half hard, but stiffening the rest of the way at your touch. “Christ, babe,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw clenched as his hands tangled in your wet hair. Bringing your lips to him you flicked your tongue out to lick across his tip and a shudder ran through his body. Humming against him you slowly slipped his length into your mouth and paused, looking up at him through your wet lashes.

Steve was a hot mess. Hand bracing against the wall of the shower, the muscles in his bicep tense as he held himself up. Eyes squeezed shut at the feel of you on him. Hair soaked and falling into his eyes. Mouth dropped open and breath hitched. Water dripping down his chest, his stomach, his thighs and onto you.

Starting up a slow pace you bobbed on him, your hands twisting around what couldn’t fit in your mouth, and he loosed a heavy groan. “Jesus, so good,” he swore your name, hips bucking into you as gently as he could manage, and your tongue swirled around him as you sucked in tighter. “Not gonna last long,” he hissed, but he didn’t care, he would drown in this feeling.

He was panting now, blowing water from his lips as his movements grew more frantic, his fingers slipping against the wet shower wall, other hand pulling in your hair. “So close, baby, gonn com–” and then he snapped, hips rocking into you as he filled your mouth and you swallowed.

Your hand tangled with his as you stood, helping Steve find himself in the dizzying bliss that had wrapped around you both. He slipped both arms around you, holding tightly, and pressed sloppy kisses to your forehead as he murmured praise and I love yous against your skin.

“I can make breakfast,” you smirked, Steve’s eyes heavy.

“Mmm, yeah I’m gonna need a minute,” he huffed a laugh. Reaching back to turn up the water again his brows furrowed and he looked up at you, eyes wide. “Uh–”

“What?” you shot him a confused look, “What happened–oh shit!”

Hot water quickly turned to cold and Steve couldn’t scramble fast enough to shut it off, “Fuck, shit!”

Water gone you both stood there for a minute, arms wrapped around yourselves, wet and cold until you couldn’t stand it anymore and started laughing, wrestling over who got to get out first. Steve weaseled his way past you and you opened your mouth to call him a shit, but it stopped in your throat as he turned back around holding your towel out for you.

“I’m giving you the water bill this month,” he teased, wrapping the warm, fuzzy fabric around you.

“Jokes on you, hotshot, utilities are linked to your account.”

Steve looked at you for a split second, as if considering what you’d just said. Humming in thought you gave him a look, weirdo, but then he was flinging a hand out and goosing your ass. “STEVE,” you swatted at his hand and he laughed. “You’re a menace!” and you ran from the bathroom, Steve and his grabby hands chasing after you.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 8

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: recreational drug use

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

The pungent smell of acetone permeates the surrounding air of the living room, music a sharp contrast as it softly plays in the background. Intense concentration causes me to slowly blink as I focus on neatly creating streaks of black. My hand is as still as I can make it while I hold onto longer digits, meticulously painting my brother’s nails.

He sits in front of me with his raven locks pinned away from his face with overly cute clips and his other hand holding his phone. Soft taps resound from time to time when he types against hard glass and the occasional sharper sound from his ring adorned fingers.

Something lightly touches my lips as Stan handfeeds me a chip, my mouth automatically opening but my eyes never looking away from its current task. Loud crunching erupts between the two of us before my brother gently starts to  chuckle under his breath. Turning his phone, he shows me a social media post with a lengthy amount of text.

“Yeah, no. Sorry, but I am most definitely not reading all of that. Especially for you.” I declare to which he rolls his eyes in irritation at, our makeshift table beginning to move. Our family dog, Sparky, lays between the two of us as a place for my brother to place his elbow onto.

“Man, it’d be sick if we can go away with the guys somewhere for winter break.” My brother says wistfully, forlornly staring at his phone.

“Hmm?”

“I’d kill to rent a log cabin or something, one with a jacuzzi and everything. Maybe we can plan something this year and have Tolkien pay for it.”

My nose scrunches in disgust before I scoff, “Fuck no. I don’t want to sit in cum infested water. Knowing you, you’d probably get off on sitting near a water jet.”

“Oh fuck off, asshole! That happened once and you know it! I was fucking ten!” I gag, obnoxiously pretending to vomit as he indignantly tries to protect whatever dignity he thinks he still has.

“You really need to get your shit together, Stanley. I’d like to at least see you get into a serious relationship once before I die.”

“Yeah? Well I’d like to see you shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life but you’re living proof that not everyone can get what they want.”

I’m unamused as I blink up at my brother, wondering for perhaps the millionth time why the higher powers decided to make Stan Marsh. A shame, truly.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

TEXT MESSAGE (CLYDE DONOVAN)

Clydey: emergency

Clydey: like actually

Clydey: can u send me $3 pls

Y/N MARSH has sent $3 to CLYDE DONOVAN.

N/N: (rolling eyes emoji)

Clydey: ty ily <3

Clydey: (screenshot of his avatar in an app on his phone)

Clydey: they call me ranch cause i be dressing (sunglasses emoji)

N/N: did you just waste my money on an in-app purchase.

Clydey: respect the drip, babe

Clydey: god.

Tap!

My head shoots up from its prior position looking down, my body stilling to see if I can hear whatever disturbed Clyde wasting both my time and money. When I don’t hear anything after a few seconds, I dismiss it as an anomaly and look back at the screen in front of me.

Tap! Tap!

I take off my headphones and listen again, my eyebrows furrowing until I hear the disturbance another time. I locate the source and walk over to my window, watching as a rock hits the glass panel before I fully push aside my curtains and heft it open.

The cold air immediately hits me and I giggle at the scene before me: Craig perched onto a branch of an adjacent tree outside of my bedroom, his hand filled with rocks to pelt at my window. “What’re you doing? We have a front door, you know.”

Being friends with everyone for years, we’ve all naturally grown up to be honorary members of each other's families. This meant that it wasn’t unnatural for any of us to visit someone’s house even if their respective owners weren’t home. None of our parents would ever bat an eye if they were to go down to the kitchen to see that Cartman let himself in and was rummaging through our fridge, for example, even if Stan and I were both out. Formalities were a thing of a past so long ago and all of our parents learned that it was better to not question it.

“I know, I just thought that this would be more romantic.” I’m rewarded with Craig’s boyish grin and I mentally swoon at the handsome boy in front of me, giggling out loud.

He extends a large, tan hand and smirks down at me. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get out of here.”

The moonlight hits the visage of the attractive boy in front of me, accentuating his sharp features. I feel like I’m in a daze as I slowly nod, a blush quickly spreading on my cheeks when I catch myself. After quickly throwing on a jacket, I take his proffered hand as he helps me climb down the tree.

Crossing the short distance to the front of the house, I’m surprised to see the Tucker’s family car parked out in the front. The taller teen’s longer strides allows him to reach the door on the passenger side first, to which he chivalrously opens for me.

He ducks his head a little lower, a playful grin wide on his face as he sweeps the length of his unoccupied arm in front of his body. I laugh into the night as the hand he has on my lower back gently nudges me forward to guide me into the vehicle.

I watch as the scenery idly passes by us when I look out of the window, trying to see if I can figure out where the teen is taking me. He refused to tell me our destination, citing it as a surprise and evoking further excitement on my part at the already spontaneous outing. It’s harder to discern our surroundings so late into the night due to the darkness but despite it all, the moon eagerly follows us.

Music gently accompanies us as I soon find myself casting Craig several lingering glances while he drives, the attractive teen a sight to behold. He has one hand on the steering wheel, his thumb tapping a beat onto the leather in time to the surrounding melody and quietly mouthing along with the lyrics. Silver rings adorn his longer fingers, further accentuating the veins running along his hands to his arms. I thought he wouldn’t catch me since his eyes are focused on the road but he surprises me when he makes quick eye contact with me, smirking, before placing a large hand onto the side of my inner thigh.

I blush at the sensation, the weight of him evoking a faster pace on my beating heart. When he sees the red hues steadily painting my cheeks, his hand gently grips at the area before releasing the slight pressure and smoothing his thumb over my pants. I feel mesmerized by the repetitive motion of his finger, if only willing him to move just a tiny bit—to do something about the bundle of nerves slowly building up.

I quickly find myself becoming hyper aware of every action of the boy next to me and I intently watch as his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, making them appear even more enticing and plump. His eyes are half-lidded and when I involuntarily clench my thighs, I see the exact moment that his gaze on the road shifts from playful to something many shades darker. He deeply chuckles under his breath and oh Lord, it makes my legs go weak.

All too soon, the car slows to a stop and Craig looks at me again, flashing me a knowing smile. It’s smug and I can feel my face heat up even further, reaching the back of my neck before I break eye contact to stare out of the window again in a desperate effort to calm myself down. Something soft gets placed onto my head and I look at Craig to see that the teen next to me is missing his beloved chullo.

“Can’t ruin the surprise, can we?” A mischievous grin sits on his face before he pulls the hat further down, completely obstructing my view.

I hear him exit the car before getting to my side, grabbing one of my hands and interlocking our fingers together. When he begins to carefully guide me out of the car, I giggle every time I slightly stumble, the adrenaline of what awaits me makes me overexcited and impatient.

“I love surprises.” I speak out into the air.

“I know.” He hums.

After a few steps, he has me wait in one spot before I hear him open his trunk. Two hands place themselves onto my hips before he softly commands me to jump and I blindly obey, feeling myself getting placed onto a cold, hard structure.

When Craig grants me my vision back, I’m rewarded with a view overlooking what seems to be all of South Park. From this far, even the shitty town looks beautiful as the distance distorts the view, forcing whoever is looking to take in the colorful lights and buildings.

I look around to see that we’re both seated on the hood of his car, my favorite food spread out in front of me in an assortment of take-out containers. His windows are rolled down as his car continues to softly play music from the inside.

“So what do you think?” His voice is shy, containing slight hints of insecurity and nervousness at my possible reaction. My inner thoughts are filled with the sounds of me absolutely squealing for having evoked an expression like that from the notoriously uncaring teen.

“How’d you find this place?” I’m in awe of the scenery, never once seeing a view like this despite living in South Park all of my life.

“Took me a fuck-ton of driving to find something that I was finally satisfied with bringing you to.” He says, opening all the containers and setting everything up for us to eat.

“Your dad let you take out the car?” I quirk an eyebrow.

“Fuck no. I got home around 4:30AM yesterday for sneaking out so late.”

My heart stutters in my chest at the answer when I think about how well he hid his sleep deprivation at school. I feel overwhelmed at the consideration, watching as he bundles up the plastic bag the take-out came in to stuff into his pocket. Not only did he get my favorite food, but he also got my order down to perfection.

“You got my favorite food.” I say so softly that it’s almost a whisper. I feel like I’m going to cry of happiness from the thoughtfulness and care of this boy. Moments like these make me feel so undeserving, so lacking for how much unconditional love I receive.

“For you, I’d do anything.” Craig gently says, a smile so fond on his face as he reaches out for my hand. His azure eyes shine in happiness so tender, it’s almost as if they’re part of the stars above us.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“And you see how that star connects to that one? That constellation is your astrological sign, your zodiac.” Craig's deep voice lightly says near my ear, his arm extending forward to patiently point out the star for me.

We’re both lying on the hood of the car now, my head nestled onto one of his shoulders as his unoccupied arm snuggly curls around my waist. He lays on his back while I lay on my side, pressing our bodies together to combine our warmth with an arm of my own thrown over his taut stomach.

I’m in awe at everything he says, the usually monotonous boy’s voice filled with a passion so rarely seen from him. I drink in every bit of information that leaves his mouth, mesmerized by every cadence and intonation of his words. It’s hypnotic—he could tell me that Cartman weighs only 50 pounds and I’d believe it.

“Sorry, am I talking too much..?”

“No! No. I love hearing you talk like this. I could honestly listen to you for hours. Don’t let anyone, even me, tell you otherwise.” I turn my head to face him as I quickly reassure the ravenette, a gentle smile on my face.

My arm relinquishes its hold over his frame to blindly reach out to hold onto the hand at my waist. I intertwine our fingers together and give it a small squeeze in reassurance. He blushes and I can feel my insides melt at the utterly fond expression on his face knowing that it's for me.

His embarrassment causes him to continue to stubbornly stare up at the sky, refusing to look over at me. The blush adorning his cheeks develop into a darker hue after my words, so deep that I can see the vivid shade of red despite the dark night.

“… I brought you out to see the stars because they’re more visible today. A few days after a new Moon means that the moonlight isn’t as bright.” His voice is so low between us, as if he was sharing a secret.

“Craig…” My cheeks begin to hurt at the amount of smiling this boy causes me. He finally looks over at me, our faces so close together.

“I confessed to you under the stars so I wanted to have the stars as our audience again for when I took you out on our first date.” He brings his hand over to caress my cheek and his fingers are so cold against my flushed skin, but it grounds me to the moment.

He softly continues, gently smoothing a thumb over my face. “Because of that, whenever I look at the stars, I see you. And sometimes, when I can't sleep… I’ll look up at the stars and thank them for bringing you into my life.”

He brings his forehead closer until it lightly touches my own. “I love you, Y/N. More than all the stars in the sky. And as long as there’s one star up there, I’ll always love you.”

I can only nod, dazed, not trusting that this is not just a dream, afraid that speaking will ruin the moment. Before I know it, my eyes softly close as I feel his lips against mine. And I feel like crying because Craig kisses me just the way he loves me—soft and sure, like I’m the only thing that matters in the world. In his world.

The way he slots our lips together has no ounce of hesitation, it’s gentle and patient. He lightly pulls back and nips at my lips as a small parting gift. When the distance between our faces grows, I find myself whining, letting go of his hand and pulling at his jacket.

He laughs at my eagerness, endeared at my reaction. “Come on, beautiful. Use your words for me. What do you want?”

“Craig.”

“Hm?” A smile lazily lays on his face, smug and all too knowing.

“Please.”

I tug harder so he relents and brings his upper body over mine, propping himself up with his forearm against the car as our lips connect again. It makes me dizzy with how wanted he makes me feel, the sensations I feel beginning to get overloaded. My arms reach out to thread my fingers through his hair, slightly tugging and using them as leverage to bring him even closer.

He’s a passionate but patient kisser, drawing out the movements for as long as possible, biting and licking at my lips. When I allow him entry into my mouth, his tongue slides against mine and before I can even attempt to fight for dominance, he pulls back, smiling smugly and lazily at me.

Scratch that, he’s a goddamn tease and before I can call him out on it, a large hand grabs onto the side of my face to pull me back in. It’s slow. It’s sensual. His scent fills my nostrils before the hand on my cheek slides back, gripping onto my hair. Angling my face up, he lightly begins to trail his kisses down my jaw and onto my neck.

The wet sounds that invades my ears are lewd as I feel his lips touch my skin, lighting a fire in its wake. Every kiss lights my body up, heating it up and charging it. His fingers grip onto my hair just a little tighter, smirking at the skin underneath my collarbone when I gasp.

He leaves a trail of saliva as he works his way back up my neck, the light wind of the night lightly touches the wet spots and elicits goosebumps at the heightened sensation. He works painstakingly slow, kissing every space inch by inch.

I sigh out into the night, leaning my head back to grant him better access. He drags his lips across the sensitive skin of my throat, a barely there touch, not enough. I’m so needy that I almost moan right there, when he finally presses a searing kiss under my jaw.

He kisses across the expanse of skin as he goes back down, humming in approval at the sound of harsh breathing that his actions evoke. The vibration causes me to part my lips ever so slightly, desperate breaths of air spilling between us. I relish in the slight suction of his mouth, his teeth grazing against overly sensitive skin, and his hot tongue soothing itself over the abused area.

His other hand makes quick work at reaching underneath my shirt, cold fingers lightly trailing themselves at the skin of my waist. Long digits softly run along up my stomach, the cool rings making me shiver in anticipation. When he grazes the underwire of my bra, a loud ringing cuts through the air.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

The hold on my hair relinquishes as Craig reaches under me to retrieve my vibrating cellphone from the back pocket of my pants. I mope as I answer, mood extremely sour at the interruption.

“What.”

“Dude, where the fuck are you? It’s past 3AM. I’m not covering for you if mom or dad notice.” Comes my annoying brother’s distorted voice.

I sigh before hanging up in irritation, not deeming the conversation worthy of a response. I close my eyes in silent defeat before soft lips caress mine. Craig smiles down at me with a backdrop of shining stars over his figure. The moonlight glows brightly from behind him, as if casting a halo over the teen above me. Seeing such ethereal beauty before me is all I need before I find myself happy and content all over again.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Thick wisps of white smoke slowly blend up into the clouds and I watch them disappear into the cold morning air, a pervasive smell filling the parking lot. I’m sitting on top of my skateboard, idly rolling it from side to side as Craig sits next to me on the asphalt with his back against the school wall. One of his longer legs is pulled up towards his torso, his forearm lazily resting against the top of the elevated knee before he lifts it up to take a drag from the cigarette lit before him.  

My eyes languidly watch as Kenny skates on his own board, a blunt hanging from his mouth as his shoe hits the ground to gain momentum. An exhilarated grin forms around the object in his mouth as his body lifts off from the pavement, the board gracefully flipping in the air. I bring my hands together to encouragingly clap at the stunt in front of me, the blonde shooting me a wide smile at the kickflip he successfully performed.

He stops in front of me and offers me the blunt in his possession but I gently shake my head in response, satisfied with the current high I have going on right now. Kenny nods his head and with one last hit, he stubs the ember hues before putting it away in the plastic container it came in to smoke for later. Craig gets up and dusts the back of his pants off before offering me a hand, helping me up and taking my board off the ground for me. An arm wraps around my shoulders as we begin to make our way back to school, the ravenette stomping his cancer stick out.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“So… Do I get any context on why you two have sunglasses on when we’re indoors, or do I just accept it…?” Kyle’s eyebrows furrow as he warily watches Kenny and I giggle to each other, the whole group gathered in front of Tweek’s locker as he puts his extra thermal filled with coffee away for after lunch.

Craig knowingly snorts as the blonde and I exchange mischievous grins, fighting to keep our smiles from growing any wider. On our faces sits oversized, flashy shades that threaten to swallow up our whole face.

“Ugh, you guys reek.” Clyde brings his face close to the two of us, wrinkling his nose as he invades our space to sniff at our jackets. We playfully lower our glasses to the bridges of our noses, showing visual confirmation of his observation when the boys spot our blood-shot, half-lidded eyes.

“Dude. It’s only 8AM. School hasn’t even started yet.” My brother side eyes us, most definitely judging us for making the smart decision of getting absolutely zooted before class.

“My bad, man. Want a hit? We didn’t finish.” Kenny offers, his hand reaching into his pocket to lift up the plastic containing our unfinished blunt. It peeks through the orange material of his parka as Stan takes the moment to seriously contemplate if he should.

He resolutely shakes his head, the elder Marsh finally making a smart decision for once in his life. “Nah. We have that test in math, remember? If I fail, my parents are going to beat my ass. Maybe after school.”

My head shoots up from where it was laying against Butters’ shoulder, the blonde rubbing soothing circles into my back as he offers me a pack of snacky cakes for my weed induced hunger. Kenny stops sipping at Tweek’s coffee to sooth his sudden cotton mouth as he and I frantically begin to search for the other’s eyes in panic.

“Oh, shit!”

“Bunch of fucking crackheads, I fucking swear.” Cartman rolls his eyes, mumbling as he rudely snatches the offered snack from Butters’ hands for himself.

“Shut the fuck up, fatass! As if you’re one to talk. An addiction is still an addiction, even if it is food.”

”Yeah, dude. At least we’re not built like an improper fraction.”

“Aye!”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Dull thuds surround the practice room as the cheer squad practices their tumbling. I sit against the cool glass of the floor to ceiling mirrors that cover the walls, wiping the sweat that has begun to slightly bead at my hairline. Bebe tiredly leans against me and passes me her water bottle when she’s done sipping at it, my hands blindly reaching out until I feel cool metal against my fingers and muttering a small thanks. I drink the ice cold liquid before Wendy calls all of the team up to rehearse the new cheer we just learned, one final time before practice ends.

“We’re back, we’re better. We have no fear! Nothing can stop us, this is our year!” In synchronization we go through the motions of our choreography, making sure our chants are both clear and loud.

“The cows are here; in green, black, and white. We can’t be defeated, so prepare for a fight!” We ruffle our pompoms, before our co-captain is satisfied enough to dismiss us for the day.

Heidi throws an arm around my shoulders, playfully leaning her weight against me in exaggerated tiredness. I fondly laugh as I lightly skim my fingers onto her side, tickling her to force the touch-sensitive girl upright. She begins to pout at her failed mission to get me to carry her exhausted form before Red grabs one of my arms, hugging it to her chest as we make our way to the girl’s locker room.

“Hey, Marsh. You’re close with the guys, right?” I quirk an eyebrow at the redundant question as I stuff my cheer shoes into my gym locker.

Jenny Simons continues despite my lack of a reply. “You think you can bring me up to Craig? Like, put in a good word for me or something?”

She giggles as one of her friends playfully elbows her for her unabashedness and I exchange looks with Bebe, surprised at the girl’s interest.

“Uh.”

“Ooo, Craig Tucker?” Another one of her friends teases as she changes out of her practice shirt.

“Uh, yeah! Have you seen how he is with girls? It’s hot how he ignores them. Imagine someone as cold and unbothered as him giving you the time of the day. I’d die.” The ravenette continues in a dazed voice, fanning her blushing face. The other girls in the locker room exchange mischievous grins at the confession of her crush and they giggle in delight at the lovesick girl.  

No one but Kyle knows about Kenny and Craig confessing to me and our feelings being reciprocated. I’m not quite sure what to say in this awkward situation and before I can even attempt to try to pull something out of my ass, I get a text from Tweek saying that football practice is almost finished.

I let out a sigh in relief at the timing of the message as I excuse myself and head down to the school’s field, thinking about Jenny’s words. When would we tell everyone? It’s still new so I don’t think I’d be comfortable with announcing it until we all found our footing. The boys are still testing out the waters and I don’t want to rush what could potentially be a perfectly good thing, especially if it ends up not working out. And it hurts me to say it, but I’m absolutely terrified of people finding out I’m with two different boys at the same time.

Oh god, how will the boys even react when they find out? What will I do when my brother finds out?

All too soon, I see the back of the bleachers coming up and forcibly stop my thoughts before it can get out of hand. I circle around the structure to take a peek at the practice taking place, not wanting to distract the boys. A shrill blow of a whistle can be heard when I step onto the white-marked grass, the coach barking out directions. From my position, I can see Cartman lazily sprawled out on the floor, his chest rapidly heaving up and down in quick succession.

Typical fatass.

From across the green expanse, I can see Jimmy and Clyde arguing with each other. Tolkien plays devil’s advocate from his position on the floor, smirking up at the bickering in blatant amusement and instigating a fight. Kyle rolls his eyes when the coach yells at them to run a lap in punishment, Clyde fake crying in indignation.

“Y/N!”

Tolkien is the first to spot me, his delighted voice distracts everyone from their laughter at the running boys. All heads turn to my direction and I shyly wave at getting caught, stepping out of my hiding spot.

“Princess!”

Kenny’s yell echoes across the entire field in excitement, the upper half of his blonde hair is tied up and I take a moment to appreciate the sight. If he had been exhausted and depleted of his energy from practice a few seconds earlier, it’s gone now as he begins to sprint to close the distance between us. He hollers as if he hadn’t seen me a few hours prior, a wide grin overtaking his handsome face.

“Ken! Be caref- OOF!” I get cut off as his body roughly collides with mine, his arms immediately wrapping me up and hefting my body into his arms.

I automatically lock my legs around his waist, quickly reaching out to lay my arms around his shoulders. He’s sweaty and grass-stained but I sigh in fondness as he smiles into my neck, slightly squeezing me. He softly coos at my blushing face as he makes a debacle out of the both of us in front of the entire team, my brother rolling his eyes as Clyde sobs my name in the distance.

The amount of happiness in the blonde’s reaction threatens to make me combust on the spot, so filled with love for someone like me. He gently places a large hand on the back of my head, lightly stroking his thumb in my hair in tenderness. The coach takes the loss of interest as his cue to dismiss practice for the day and the boys begin to walk over in our direction.

“Did you see that throw I made?” He eagerly asks me.

Despite being fresh out of practice and unshowered, I deeply inhale his scent. He doesn’t smell like shampoo or clean laundry, but it’s still a scent that makes me feel so close to him. It's a boyish, musky scent that makes him feel like home, so warm in its protective embrace. It’s just so Kenny that makes it so addicting.

“No,” I giggle. “I just got here. But I’m sure it was amazing!”

At my words, I’m rewarded with a searing kiss pressed onto my cheeks. And even when the boys catch up to us, the blonde still doesn’t put me down as they start to make their way back to the boy’s locker room. I feel his fingers start to drum along my side and I start to bite my lips in a futile attempt to prevent my smile from getting even wider than it is now. I shyly wave over the blonde’s shoulder as the boy’s other teammates wave in greeting to me.

“Did you see that, N/N? Jimmy started bullying me but I still got into trouble!” Clyde fake sobs as he makes grabby hands at me. Kenny just rolls his eyes and reaches out a hand to push at the brunette’s sniveling face.

“It’s because you weren’t listening, Jesus!” Tweek tattles from the side.

The barista doesn’t play on the football team like the rest of the boys, instead choosing to pursue boxing from when Stan got our Uncle Jimbo to teach him how to fight when we were younger. On the days he doesn’t have to work at the coffee shop, he’ll sit on the bleachers with Butters to do his homework while the other boys practice.

“It’s okay, Clydey. I’ll buy you dessert, okay?” I soothe the dramatic boy, his theatrics making the rest of the guys push at his body to further “bully” him even more for being a crybaby.

And when we choose our after-practice food spot for the day, I keep my word and buy the brunette an ice cream cone in a flavor to his choosing. I shake my head when he tries to feed me a fry in exchange, bringing my hand up to ruffle his brown locks in thanks for his kindness. In his distraction, Craig takes a lick at his soft serve and I roll my eyes as the brunette whines again, batting the taller teen on the arm.

We sit along the curb of the sidewalk, fast food scattered around us as we talk about our day at school. My brother lights up the joint Kenny and I didn’t finish and I watch the fleeting smoke escape from his parted lips, disappearing into the night sky. When I see the bright stars twinkling overhead in vivid contrast to the darkness around us, I smile.