#saw like two of these fucking posts in a row in my for you page

[rogarte]

I could be wrong guys but I don't think this is darkest dungeon, did DD2 get a new update or sm?

[awerzo]

he's right behind me isn't he

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

Tim and Damian piss Jason enough that the next week Jason is their Literature teacher in the School

HAHAHAHAHSDFSHKSD OMG YES

Tim and Damian may not be close, but they're always willing to team up and mess with Jason. They think it's funny. Jason does not. His frustration has been slowly building throughout the past few weeks until finally, he gets glitter bombed after a rough patrol. Post clean up, post shower, about to get into bed, he opens up his clothes drawer and BOOM. Glitter. He has had enough.

He sends a text to them reading 'I'm done with this. Pray for your fucking lives' and gets to work on coming up with a revenge plan. Beat them up? A classic, but too basic. Screw with their patrol routes? Nah, that would just piss Bruce off, and he's not interested in that right now. He knows a few of Black Mask's goons.. maybe he can use them to mess with them? No.. the last time he used Mask's henchmen for revenge behind his back, he was sent a very strongly worded text message. He had to apologize with freshly baked cookies.

He remembers Tim and Damian talking about a literature project. Something about having to choose a book to read for class work. Apparently, Tim is struggling with his book and Damian hasn't even started his. He can steal the books? Tear out a few pages so they don't get the full story?

Wait.

Wait just a minute.

Jason has a degree in English.

He.. he can use this.

He does end up getting help from Mask's goons (with permission, of course), and suddenly their teacher is nowhere to be found and they're stuck with a substitute. They think it's great. Damian uses that time to draw and Tim brings his switch to school for the week and it's awesome.

On Monday the next week, Tim gets a very bad feeling while walking into school. He asks Damian if he feels weird, and he admits that something feels a bit off. They wander into class and find it completely rearranged. Where there used to be a silly alphabet poster, there is now a Hamlet quote. The bright red curtains were replaced with black. On the desk, two books- are those Tim and Damian's books??- are stacked on top of each other, a skull resting on top. The sub isn't there. In fact, Damian swears he saw them walk into a different classroom.

They sit down at a desk, not their usual one, seeing as the desks were moved from groups to lines, and wait. The bell rings and the door slams open, Jason strutting in. They both sit there in shock as their brother sets his stuff down and writes 'Mr. T' on the board. He turns around and smirks at them before turning to the rest of the class.

Jason: "Hello everyone, you can call me Mr. T. I will be your new English Literature teacher for the year."

Student: "You don't look like a teacher.."

Jason, narrowing his eyes: "And you don't look like you're going to pass my class."

Student:

Jason: "That's what I thought.. everybody up. I'm assigning seats."

He switches everybody around, placing Tim and Damian in the front row on opposite sides. He claims he heard something about a project, and he will be collecting it now, seeing as the due date was that day. Tim and Damian watch as the majority of their class hands in the work in shame and slight fear. Jason calls on them for their work and they have to admit to the class that they didn't do it. They receive ten fat F's.

When Jason begins his teaching year, he uses it to torment his brothers. He makes them read aloud, calls on them to answer questions they don't know, curves the lessons to ones they struggle with, etc. Eventually though, he finds that he actually enjoys teaching. His class seems to like him too. He's a fairly young guy who doesn't try to act like he's all professional, and he teaches the lessons in a way that makes them interested. Tim and Damian hate it, and are the only ones who seem to not like the new teacher.

When he leaves at the end of the year, he receives a bunch of flowers and gifts and cards from his students. He cries.

Years later, the kids will come up to him when they see him on the street. He gets told about what new books they're reading, what they're majoring in, how they're doing. A couple kids tell him that he inspired them to study English Literature, and he feels like he's on top of the world. He gets invited to the wedding of two of his students who he assigned together for group work. He's invited to college graduations. They even have a book club that he occasionally goes to.

Tormenting his brothers is the best

[grainsofexcellence]

What happens when Agatha goes looking for a fake date on the buy nothing group? Let's find outttttt ;P

Agatha opened the first group that came up for her, her local buy nothing group. Because while she had left behind her poverty years ago – she was still that thrifty little poor kid at heart. She scanned the page and debated giving away her extra blankets to a woman collecting for a local animal shelter that had just had a fire. She had always loved animals, but the only ones she was allowed to have were the outside dogs, cats and horses on her family's broken farm. She made a quick note of the woman’s post and a reminder to collect some blankets for her that weekend.

She opened a new post and let her cursor blink at her while she thought about how to go about this. She knew this space probably wouldn’t be the avenue for this endeavor, but maybe she could get a good laugh out of the post.

“Greetings All, I seek someone to follow me on the road home for the holidays as somewhat of a stand-in woman in my life, to piss off my deranged mother. I can promise you front row seats to a family drama more interesting than reality shows and Christmas movies combined. An all expenses paid trip to my hometown with me for a week. I know this is last minute, but if you want to do something interesting with your holidays – give me a shout.”

She rolled her eyes – it wasn’t her best work, and yet, she hit post. She let herself pick up her laptop as she decided some hot chocolate and some very strong alcohol must be in order for reading through the comments that were sure to come. 

She tilted her head as she found the expensive chocolate powder in the kitchen and wondered if this was more of a weed situation. She shrugged and continued on with her drink, grabbing a bottle of bourbon – she could get crossed, that seemed like a good evening plan. She had done it before with a good amount of success.

She stirred her drink and placed it in the microwave, her eyes moving back to her laptop that sat on her island counter. A man had responded – because of course one had. She leaned over as if she was luring her chest in his face, fucking with him. Well, if he could have seen her. She let her eyes take in his photo. Ah, so not even a man that would have been in her league. 

She snorted and ignored the message. She heard the ding of her microwave and returned to get her drink, grabbing her laptop. She wandered into her living room and pulled out a blunt from her cabinet drawer. She sat in her recliner and set her laptop on her lap, took a sip of her drink and set her mug back down, staring at her weed. Her eyes landed on the lighter she needed across the room. She rolled her eyes. A ping had them drifting down to the post, a new man, better looking this time, was shooting his shot.

“You’re stunning, Gorgeous. I would love to accompany you home for the holidays.”

She groaned. “Well, apparently literacy is dead.” But what had she expected? That there might be some woman, some hot woman, that would want to accompany her home just to help her piss off her mother? Maybe she could settle for a stupid man, maybe there would be one that could piss off her mother, even if for a brief moment Evanora would think that Agatha had been “Cured”.

She moved her laptop and went to retrieve her lighter. Upon lighting up, she walked over to her window, cracking it open with force. She held the smoke in her lungs for as long as she could before she let it trickle out slowly. She let her eyes follow the trail of smoke as it blew towards her neighbor’s window, her lips ticking upwards into a smirk. 

Mrs. Heart was going to have a field day when she figured out what the smell was and where it was coming from – but Agatha knew the woman would give it a good two hours before she would be able to identify the smell and come stomping over in the snow to confront her about her life choices. She swore it was as if her mother were around sometimes.

She smiled as she saw Mrs. Heart’s nose scrunch up in disgust through her partially open kitchen window. Coughing quickly as the smell must have hit her. Her voice growing frantic as she shouted for her husband to come quickly, a skunk must be outside! Her desires firm that he needed to go chase it away before it got in the house. 

Agatha chuckled as she heard the man complaining loudly about how he didn’t want to get sprayed either. As they argued, Agatha took another long drag of the blunt and closed her eyes, letting the smoke fill her lungs and relax her body… and her mind. Both enjoying the moment of stillness.

A ping had her eyes flashing open, the smoke leaving her mouth in a whoosh that sent a cloud billowing from her window. She turned and set her joint down on an incense tray, as she made her way back to her computer. Her eyes ready to pop out of her head when she saw the most beautiful woman she had ever seen respond with a large photo of herself in a revealing black swimsuit. 

“Oh, I’m all for pissing off mother’s. Give me a call. (or like a DM).”

Blue eyes scanned for a name. Rio Vidal. Ah, Spanish, she loved a bilingual girl.

She snorted after her eyes had devoured the picture. Had this woman really just posted a photo like that on the Buy Nothing page? She moved to hover her cursor over her name and hesitated before clicking on messaging her. Her self preservation attempting to kick in.

What if she was a psycho? Is this how she wanted to die?

She looked at the woman’s photo once more, and raised an eyebrow, happy with what she saw.

Honestly, how could she be mad at it? What a way to go.

Continue reading:

[lemoncrushh]

Cubicle // 11) Start of Something Good

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 3103

Monday // Harry

When I got to work, I already had a stack of stuff on my desk with post-it notes attached from Nina. I rolled my eyes as I shrugged out of my jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair. Then I made my way to the break room.

I was disappointed not to find Roni in there, but I knew it was still early. I'd been so anxious to see her again, I'd hardly slept and by five AM, I'd finally just decided to get the day started. After preparing my tea, I sat at the table, hoping Roni would walk in any minute. I saw both Alice and Travis with whom I'd chatted for a bit, and even Gerard made an appearance. But never the face I wanted to see. I considered just going to her side of the office and strolling to her desk, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. Nerves perhaps? But what was I nervous about? I'd slept with the woman two nights in a row, for fuck's sake.

After twenty minutes, I deduced that she wasn't coming so I walked back to my desk to start on the pile of work. I was halfway through a report, staring at the computer screen when I heard a light tap behind me. I swiveled my chair around to see Roni standing at the edge of my cubicle, a coffee mug in her hand.

"Hi, Harry," she muttered shyly.

"Hi," I grinned.

God, she looked beautiful. She had her hair pulled back from her face, pretty little tendrils falling on either side. She wore a pink and black polka-dotted jumper that fit her like a glove, yet showed no skin, and a black skirt. It was probably the most conservative ensemble I'd seen her wear, though she still looked completely sexy.

"How are you?" she inquired as she stepped closer to me.

"I'm great now," I replied, leaning back in my chair.

She beamed at me, her hands gripping her cup. "Good." Then with a lick of her lips she continued. "I'd hoped to run into you this morning, but I got held up with Greta."

"Oh," I raised my eyebrows. So that's what happened.

"Yeah," she grimaced, leaning against my desk. "As soon as I got out of the car she hounded me about crap that needed done for the sales team. She chatted about it all the way and insisted we get it done first thing. So I only just now got a chance to get my morning coffee."

She brought her cup to her lips, taking a sip. I suddenly felt like a complete prat for not going to her desk earlier.

"I was wondering," I admitted. "I waited for you."

"You did?"

The way she looked at me just then, like she was disappointed that she'd missed me, or worse, made me wait, took all I had in me not to take her into my arms. She looked sweet and vulnerable, and I wanted to hold her and kiss her.

"Yes," I nodded, trying not to give too much away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Alright, here's the thing. This woman does something to me. She exudes this sexiness like no other woman I've met before. I'm constantly finding myself wanting to reach my hands out and touch her, pull her into my lap and fuck her like there's no tomorrow. But another part of me is starting to feel something else. I can't quite put my finger on it, probably because I've never felt these emotions before. It's like...I care about her. I care about what she's doing and how she's feeling. It's driving me crazy, to be honest.

I wasn't lying when I'd texted her last night to tell her I'd thought about her all day. That wasn't some cheap line. I'd thought about her all fucking day. She was all I'd thought about. I'd probably gotten a total of three hours' sleep after I'd gotten home. Even after jerking off, imagining her sweet mouth on my cock, I'd tossed and turned until I finally got up and took a cold shower. She was on my mind whilst I ate breakfast, when I went to the gym, and even when I stood in the queue at the cafe. I'd wanted to call her, and even came close a couple times as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, immediately scrolling to her name. But I didn't press it.

Now, hearing her apologise to me...for what? For not being in the break room as early as I had been? For being busy whilst I sat at the table, resolved to making idle chit chat with co-workers to whom I barely speak otherwise? Waiting for her gorgeous body to walk through the door? It was almost more than I could bear.

"Harry..." Roni spoke again, almost causing me to physically shake the thoughts from my head. She set her mug down on the desk and stepped even closer to me. Her hand met mine resting on the edge of the desk, her fingers grazing over it. "I had a wonderful time with you this weekend."

I looked directly at her then, her beautiful eyes sparkling. Her voice had been just barely above a whisper, but I'd understood every word. I grinned at her, silent for a moment. Although her lips didn't quite smile back, the expression on her face did.

"I did too, Roni," I said.

I turned my hand over so that hers fell into mine. I caressed the back of it with my thumb, not taking my gaze off of her.

"Hey, Harry, have you finished —" I heard a voice begin.

As soon as I looked to my left, I felt Roni's hand leave mine. Nina stood by my cubicle partition, a folder tucked under her arm and her lips pursed. She's not an unattractive woman, but at that moment she might as well have been Satan.

"Yes, Nina?" I asked, my tone underlined with contempt.

"Have you finished the report for Woolery yet?"

"I gave you that one on Friday," I spat.

I didn't mean to be so harsh with her, but this was the third time in the past week that she'd asked me about something that I'd already done. Not to mention the fact that she'd interrupted my time with Roni.

"There's some revisions that need to be made," Nina retorted. "I put it on your desk this morning."

"What?" I sighed, lifting the stack of papers. Underneath two other reports was the one to which she was referring. "Well, why didn't you put it on the top if you needed it done first?"

"I need them all done first," she huffed.

I turned my chair around and glared at her. It wasn't even ten in the morning yet, and she was already getting under my skin. I heard Roni try to stifle a giggle behind me.

"I'll get to it as soon as I can," I told Nina, my jaw set.

"Thank you," she said before turning around and walking away.

"That woman needs to take a chill pill," Roni piped up.

"Tell me about it," I smirked.

"Unfortunately," she added, "I have to get back to work, so I'll let you get to yours."

"Okay."

"See ya, Harry." As Roni turned around I noticed the back of her stockings had a little line with tiny black bows going down. I immediately imagined running my hands up them and under her skirt.

"Oh, by the way," she said when she reached the edge of my cubicle, "I'm free for lunch if you are."

"Absolutely," I grinned. "Noon?"

"Perfect. Bye."

She waved at me with the tips of her fingers before turning away once again. Like always, I watched her go, her ass shifting underneath her skirt. Only this time, I could add more to my mental image.

Roni

He'd waited for me. Oh, I could just die! When Greta chatted my ear off as soon as I got to work this morning, I knew I was in trouble. She's my supervisor, so there's no way I could tell her to put a sock in it. For an hour and a half, I helped her with a project, my head beginning to pound from lack of caffeine. I knew I'd missed my chance to run into Harry, so when Greta was finally satisfied, I quickly grabbed my cup of coffee from the break room and made my way toward Harry's cubicle.

To hear him admit that he'd waited for me, wondering where I was just about crushed my heart, but at the same time lifted me on a cloud much higher than nine. I could tell by his tone that he was a bit relieved to know that I had been busy working and hadn't stood him up, although we hadn't exactly made plans to meet. Neither of us want to reveal too much just yet, but I think we both know there's something between us. The way he turned his hand over to catch mine told me a lot, and if Nina hadn't interrupted when she did...well, let's just say I might have kissed him at his desk.

Office romance is a tricky subject. I know this from experience. My ex, Roland, and I used to work together. It was the reason why I'd asked Harry if he'd ever dated anyone from work before. It was a little bit different situation, however, because it was at a factory. Roland was a maintenance worker, and I was a receptionist. We had already been dating when I started there. I rarely saw him unless he happened to come into the office. Still, in the end it proved to be a sticky situation after our break-up, and I finally started looking for another job.

I'm not going to be presumptuous about Harry and me. We've gone on two dates and had amazing sex. We flirt at work. It's too soon to think we'll turn into anything more than a fling. But even with that, you have to be careful. And I like Harry too much to risk doing something stupid.

When I got back to my desk, Gerard Holcomb was looking around as though he'd lost something.

"Can I help you?" I asked him, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my voice.

"Ah, Miss Graver," he announced, turning around. "Did you happen to print that price list for me yet?"

"You can't print that yourself?" I raised my eyebrows, perturbed.

"I thought you were making edits to it. Remember, we talked about it Friday?"

I sighed and sat down in my chair. "Sorry, Gerard. I got busy."

Gerard eyed me for a moment before speaking again. He made my skin crawl.

"Can I have it before lunch?"

"Sure," I replied.

He tapped the end of his pen against my desk before leaving my cubicle, without so much as a thank you. He really is a knob head.

I worked on Gerard's precious price list for a total of ten minutes. It wasn't hard for me to do what he'd wanted, I just didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I could get it done so quickly. Just because he's the top salesman doesn't mean I'm going to drop everything to tend to his needs. I have an entire sales team for which I work. And none of them as of yet have asked me to do something that they could easily get done themselves.

After I finished a report for another salesman, printed and binded it, I walked to his desk to hand it to him. With a courteous thank you from him, I stopped by Gerard's desk and handed him his price list.

"Looks good, Miss Graver," he muttered, taking it from me. Still no thank you. I gritted my teeth.

"You know, I have a first name," I told him.

He glared at me as though I'd slapped him.

"Sorry, I tend to refer to most people by their last names. But if you prefer, I'll call you Veronica."

Once hearing my name fall from his lips, I started to have second thoughts. Instead, I nodded. "Thank you."

As I headed back to my desk, I realised it was almost noon. I smiled to myself at the obvious pleasure I took in anticipating my lunch with Harry. I was quite giddy and even had a little hop in my step. I checked a few quick emails before grabbing my handbag. Just as I turned the corner, I almost collided with Gerard.

"Miss...I mean, Veronica," he said. "I wanted to apologise for earlier. I was rude."

"Oh," I waved my hand, "no worries."

"You did a good job on the price list, and I want to thank you."

My eyes widened at his statement. "Oh. Okay. You're welcome."

"Let me take you to lunch," he added.

"Oh..." I mouthed. "Thanks...but I already have plans."

"Oh." Gerard genuinely looked taken aback. I wondered how many times he'd been turned down before.

Just then I saw Harry out of the corner of my eye walking down the hallway towards me. I smiled at him and waved, turning my attention back to Gerard for only a second.

"Maybe next time," I said sweetly.

I didn't wait for his response as I brushed past him to meet Harry.

"Ready?" I asked him.

"You bet," he replied.

We walked together out to the parking lot where he opened the car door for me. When he walked around to his side and got behind the wheel, he faced me.

"He didn't seem too pleased," remarked Harry.

"Who?"

"Holcomb. I know he doesn't care for me, but his eyes were throwing daggers just now."

I chuckled as I leaned back in my seat. "He'd just asked me to lunch."

"You're joking," said Harry. "And you turned him down to be with me?"

"Who else?"

Harry smirked as he put the car in reverse. "Or maybe it's just for the free food."

"You never said you were paying," I quipped.

I watched Harry's dimple dip deeper as his smile grew wider.

"This is true," he agreed. "But I am anyway."

Harry

I almost wished Roni had seen the look on Gerard's face as she'd waved and then walked up to me. It was quite comical. He looked like someone had just told him to solve a horrendous mathematical equation. He looked from her to me, and back to her again as though he couldn't make sense of it. As I let her walk ahead of me, I took one last gander back at him, his eyes narrowed in disgust. Let him be angry. I'm sure he's wanted to get Roni into bed since her first day, too. Lucky for me, she thinks he's scum.

"So did you get all of your reports completed for Nina?" Roni asked me as we shared an organic pizza.

"Almost," I rolled my eyes. "I have one left I think. But it wouldn't surprise me if there are more on my desk when I get back."

"I don't get it," said Roni. "She's the administrative assistant, isn't she? Isn't that her job?"

I shrugged as I wiped my mouth with a napkin. "Yeah. But I'm sort of her assistant. So she drops it on me when things need correcting."

"Ah," Roni nodded. "Like how I'm Greta's assistant."

"Exactly."

I watched Roni as she chewed her pizza, looking at the wall behind me. Her face said she was pondering something, and when she took a sip of her water, she finally spoke.

"One day..." she said. "One day I will no longer be anyone's assistant."

Her declaration sounded like a line from a movie, but I didn't laugh. I felt a pang in my chest from her words and the look on her face. She seemed so hopeful. It was the purest and most beautiful thing I'd ever witnessed.

"What?" she grinned shyly when she caught me staring.

I merely shook my head. If I told her what I was thinking she'd probably laugh or think it was corny. She looked so pretty sitting across from me, her lipstick half gone from eating, her cheeks rosy from possibly feeling slightly embarrassed about her statement. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to touch her face and brush my mouth against hers.

After I paid for the lunch, we drove back to the office. I pulled into the parking spot, but didn't turn off the engine. I stared straight ahead, not sure what to say, or if I needed to say anything. My palms were sweaty, and I quickly wiped them on my trousers, wishing to God my heart would stop beating as fast as it was. Finally, Roni broke the silence.

"Can I say something?" she asked.

"Of course," I replied, turning my head to face her. Jesus, yes, please say something!

Roni adjusted herself in her seat, leaning on her side, her sexy smile spread across her face.

"I really enjoy being with you," she confessed.

I couldn't stop myself from grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. "Really?"

"Mmm hmm," she nodded. "I know it hasn't been that long, Harry, but I feel like...well...there's something here...between us."

"Me too," I blinked.

Roni did that fucking lip bite thing that drives me crazy.

"Good," she said, putting her hand on my thigh. I watched as she slid it up my leg dangerously before leaning closer. "So are you gonna kiss me now, or what?"

I gave a low chuckle as I reach over and touched her cheek, just like I'd wanted to at the restaurant. When my lips met hers, the same excitement and surge of electricity bolted through me as they had all the other times I'd kissed her. But there was also something else. A sort of unspoken understanding - a tenderness that I hadn't felt before.

As we walked into the building together, I put my arm around her. I wondered if she would flinch or back away, but she didn't. She greeted Greta and thanked me for lunch as she dropped her bag on her desk. Then she turned to me and grabbed my hands, squeezing them.

"Call me later, okay?" she whispered.

I nodded as I squeezed her hands back, then headed toward my cubicle. It wasn't until I sat in my chair that it hit me. Bloody hell! I'm falling for this girl.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[musicalpancakes77]

Extremely interested in Ghost AU (the title so nice you say it twice lmao)

Hi Indigo!! omg the ghost au... god I haven't thought about it in so long, but as soon as you asked this and i saw it this morning I did indeed have so many thoughts about it 🥰 Thank you for asking!! This is gonna be slightly long I'm so sorry but stick with me LMAO

So the Ghost AU is a rather generic AU based off the peanut gallery from the movie Stardust- you know, the 2007 hit movie Stardust?? Surely we all know the one- but I say generic because I'm pretty sure at least half of the Ace Attorney fandom has individually, on their own time, went "Hey, what if Phoenix could see ghosts??" so like. It's really not THAT unique LMAO

But that's kinda what it is when you boil it down: an AU where Mia dies, befriends Greg in the "ghost world", and together the two of them have fun peanut gallery moments over the course of the OG trilogy. This is all possible by the magatama that Phoenix carries around of course; at first it's just their hushed voices, maybe a cold touch, but it develops into something more. By the time Phoenix starts cases from game 3 he begins to develop a more literal Sight for the deceased- I don't think the magatama cares who is using it, it doesn't discriminate, hell if Miles had it on him for long enough I'm sure he would have developed an ability to see them too. But in this AU it's just Phoenix dealing with joyful heckling from two more experienced (albeit dead) lawyers, Maya who complains it's so unfair that she's the spirit medium but she can't see them, Miles who would never believe this if you told him, and Pearls who is so happy to just be here LMAO

I never wrote more than about 7 pages in my document for this one- I barely got past the end of Turnabout Sisters 😭 I do still love the idea; if I were to ever come back to it I think I'd write it on a smaller scale than what my brain typically tries to achieve with fanfic (cough slowburn 100k stories COUGH) and I'd put a heavier importance on dealing with grief between all the comedic heckling 🤔

This is already one of my longer posts, but since you asked so kindly I can even provide a snippet or two, since I haven't talked about this AU in so long and there is an unfortunate chance it may never see the light of day again,,,

She wakes up to adrenaline, buzzing through her veins, with breaths that shouldn’t be choking in lungs that don’t exist. Her mind screams that there’s supposed to be pain- a single, blooming, unbearable pain in her temple- but miraculously, there is none. It’s just her, sitting in the dark, feeling like she’s having an out-of-body experience as her mind reels and reels over why she thought she was in pain, what she remembers, why she remembers being scared.  It takes a few moments of hushed breathing for it to hit her.  A hallowed clock, a wiretap, and a snake. 

“I would ask how she can watch that episode for the seventh time in a row, but that would be redundant since I know for a fact that Miles has watched it at least twenty times.”  Mia raises an eyebrow while Mr. Edgeworth hovers over the Wright & Co. office couch. Miles Edgeworth? Watching the Steel Samurai? At the same interest level or more than her literally obsessed younger sister, Maya?  “Miles Edgeworth, your son, the Demon Prosecutor? Watching the acclaimed children's show The Steel Samurai? I’d sooner think he’d die than watch a show like that.”  “Objection, Miles would rather die than admit to watching a show like that.”  Mia sits on the statement. “... You’re fucking with me.”  Maybe it’s the bluntness, maybe it’s the uncharacteristic use of language, but Mr. Edgeworth laughs to the point his hand meets his chest. Mia can’t help but giggle herself. Miles Edgeworth likes the Steel Samurai, who would have known. 

That's about it; thank you again for asking!! It was a joy to explain <3

[omegasmileyface]

Of All the People - ch. 3

Chapter 3!!! Still written by @attackradish and @ectolemonades and myself! I don't want to spam our artist @/toastyghosti by continuing to tag them, but check out chapter 1 to see their art, and please check out their own page!

Posting 3 chapters in a row since they were originally one big chapter before posting <3

whole fic summary: After a stupid dare puts Dash Baxter in the lab at Fentonworks during the middle of a ghost fight, he finds himself a little more spectral than usual. Apparently Danny Fenton’s gone through the same thing (someone has got to call OSHA on these guys eventually), and who could better help Dash than his hero? His lame, stubborn hero?

warnings: existential crises. In later chapters, Spectra.

words: 1521

AO3 link

first chapter

previous chapter

next chapter

===

After Dash passed out again (in his defense, he was having a very rough night), Danny decided he needed to go home. He shook him awake and asked whether he was good to walk. Apparently Dash, still a tad out of it from the night's revelations, wasn't very convincing when he said yes.

He ended up being flown home and, God, the thoughts that fought in his head — the dream-come-true of being whisked through the air in the unwavering grip of Danny Phantom, the settling knowledge that Phantom was the same unassuming teenager he had been picking on for years, some dawning realization that his vague not-crush on Phantom may have also extended to Fenton the entire time, and on top of it all the thought that maybe Dash could fly under the same power… Neither of them said a word to the other for the whole flight.

Dash didn't want to linger on the fact that Danny didn't need to ask where his house was. He was dropped off with a quick reminder to meet behind the band room 30 minutes before school, and Danny vanished without looking Dash in the eye.

Dash never slept that night. Sunlight was streaming through the blinds before he could get over the feeling of being abandoned. He didn't even realize he was grieving for himself until he saw that he was crying again. Even while he got dressed to face the world at school, he couldn't take a full breath without shaking. The still-present ache in his chest and leg were forgettable, it was the way his brain felt like it was fraying at the edges that made Dash decide that dying sucked.

The next day, Danny was in the promised spot. And so were his two friends. Dash patted down his rumpled clothes one last time before approaching.

"Hey, Fenton. Didn't you say you wanted to talk? Alone?"

"It's cool, Dash, I already told them what happened."

He said it like it meant nothing. Like it didn't even cross his mind not to. Dash boiled over with rage before he could think about why. Danny had been keeping his own secret for years, and the second the same thing happens to Dash, he goes and tells every loser who hangs out with him without even asking first? Dash was the one who had bones broken last night! He was the one who passed out twice in the house of Casper High's biggest embarrassment! He was the one who had to find out that the guy who he’d buried his feelings for under knuckle sandwiches was the same guy he’d practically worshipped for years, and then not even talk about it! He was the one who died last night, and Fenton got to tell his loser friends everything before Dash himself was even sure what happened? How dare he.

Danny cringed before Dash could yell at him. His hands shot up in a defensive position as he rushed to explain.

"They've known everything about me from the start. I wasn't sure I could help you without their help too. I promise you, I trust them with my life."

"Dash," Manson chimed in, "we're going to help keep you from fucking up, okay?"

"You've got questions, and we've got answers," said Foley.

Dash was still fuming, but he never got a chance to argue.

He ended up getting what was basically a lecture on "liminal ghosts" ("...other ghosts will probably call you a 'halfa', but for the record, it's much more likely you're slightly more human than ghost.") and the ways he could take care of his adjusting body and mind. He wasn't thrilled to recognize some of the emotional shifts he'd had since the night before in the "ghostly patterns" they were describing. He didn't like feeling like a different person, like the old Dash had died. He couldn't just let go of who he was.

He was put into a group text, protests ignored, and told to report to them about any unexpected sensations or medical patterns, and then Manson and Foley set off.

Dash was about to get going himself, ready to forget this whole ordeal by telling his friends he'd completed the dare (if they wanted something to show for it, they could fuck right off) when Danny grabbed his arm to hold him back.

Dash couldn't help staring at his lazy slouch, drawn in on himself like he was trying to appear as small as possible. It didn't look unfamiliar, Danny wore the posture like a skin, but Dash just couldn't keep his mind off it. How it made him look like an entirely different person compared to the easy grace he had the night before. It was entirely alien to the full-bodied confidence of Phantom. Obviously it was some sort of mask, and now that he knew it was there, it was incredibly off-putting.

"Look, Dash. I get that you probably don't want to have to start associating with me just because of what happened to you. Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

Okay, ouch.

"But it'll make things a hell of a lot easier for both of us if I make sure you're equipped to understand yourself. So I need you to tell me every time you start developing a new power so I can help you with it. We're gonna have to meet soon, to make sure you don't slip up on those ectoblasts or the other basics. You good for after school at my place?"

Dash blinked. "Uh, sure, I guess. Can my friends come with?"

Danny looked at him like he’d asked to bring a GIW rep. "Dude, what are you talking about? You can't just be putting us out there like that. You can't tell your friends."

"The fuck do you mean I can't tell my friends? Am I just supposed to keep it to myself that I straight-up died?"

Danny shushed him like he hadn't been saying equally incriminating shit just as loud two minutes ago. "Do you really think the rest of the A-listers are just gonna keep quiet about the weirdest thing to happen at this school all year? If people find out about you, they're gonna find out about me, and then both of our asses get handed over to the first mad scientist to call dibs. We're both in th—"

"You don't know them! You think I'd be stupid enough to let people figure you out? My friends are just as trustworthy as yours!" God knows they'd been keeping secrets for Dash well enough already. "Just because they're not fucking outcasts doesn't change that! I'm not losing my friends because you think I'm too dumb to stay safe!"

Danny's eyes were narrowed, but he took a breath anyway. "Sorry. I guess you're right. You can tell a few people about yourself— not about me— if you promise me that you trust them not to blab."

"Fine." Dash rolled his eyes. "I promise I'll only tell people I trust."

"And they can't come to training, because I'm gonna have to reveal myself if they do."

"Whatever." Dash was itching to walk away and forget all this.

"And one more thing." Danny's eyes were intense, the way they looked into Dash's. They didn't reflect light in the morning sun. Was that a ghost thing? "I need you to keep out of trouble." His body was drawn up into that composed posture from before. This wasn't a request. Was he always this tall? "Don't try to fight any ghosts. I don't need you getting hurt right now."

Danny walked off just as the warning bell rang.

===

Dash's friends were insufferable, trying to get him to tell them how the dare went and why they hadn't seen him before school. He refused to say a thing before lunch. The moment fourth period ended, Dash skipped the lunch line and made a beeline for the A-listers' usual table, and waited for his friends to show up. 

“Hey Dash, where’s your food? Fenton didn’t bring lunch money today?” asked Kwan, taking the seat across from him. 

Dash glanced around the room for eavesdroppers. ”I needed to talk to you guys ASAP. Didn’t want to get stuck in the lunch line.”

“Right! You’re finally going to spill the beans about the dare. I’m not sure what you mean by ASAP, though. You've been avoiding it all day.”

“Alone. I want to leave before this place gets too crowded.”

“Ooh, it was that bad?” Paulina appeared in front of the lunch line, Star trailing behind her.

“If you draw attention to us, then we’ll have an audience. And then I won’t be able to tell you until after school.” Dash pushed out through gritted teeth. 

Star flipped her hair. “Well let’s get going, then, before that audience shows up. Any secluded places in mind?"

“The boy’s locker room should be empty by now,” suggested Kwan. 

“Sure. Sounds great. Let’s go.” Dash felt like there were ants in his veins. Every person here was a potential ear against the door. He should’ve waited 'til after school.

“And Dash? Loosen up a little.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing’s going to draw more attention than you looking nervous. It’s out of character.” 

“Right.” He straightened his shoulders, and strode to the gym with as much casual confidence as he could muster. Just a normal day for Dash Baxter.

There were still a couple stragglers in the locker room, but he knew how to take care of that. He slammed his fist against a locker and glared at anybody who looked. They were smart enough to take the hint and leave.

Star piped up the moment the door shut. “I’m dying to know what all the secrecy is for. It’s gotta be something big, you haven’t acted like this since…”

“Since that. And that’s why I���m trusting you with all this. Nobody can know, ok?”

“Our lips are sealed.”

“Ok.” Dash took a deep breath that stung just behind his sternum. “I’m part ghost now. There w—” he was interrupted by the roar of laughter. Kwan was doubled over, slapping his knee. Paulina was tearing up. The sound was overwhelming, and he swore that he could taste bewilderment choking the air. 

“Guys, stop laughing! I’m serious!” His friends looked at him with skepticism written all over their faces, but the laughter died down. 

“I went down into the Fentons' stupid lab and they left this giant portal open and a freaking ghost showed up!”

“Did it bite you?” Star teased. 

“No! Would you let me finish? I grabbed this bazooka thing off a table and tried to shoot it but it jammed and exploded against my chest. Then something happened to my leg and I blacked out. When I woke up I was so mad I fired off an ectoblast, and that's when it sank in.”

“Listen, dude, if you’re this worked up about the dare we can figure something out. This is just kind of sad.”

“I’m not making this up! You know what it’s fuckin' like to know you died? That you’re not really human anymore? You think I’m acting?!”

Paulina put her hands out in a soothing motion. “Alright. If this is real, those injuries might be serious. I’m going to take a look. Show me which leg it was.” Dash huffed and struggled out of the left leg of his jeans. Stupid skinny jeans, couldn't roll them up. At least his friends had all seen him with his pants off before.

His leg looked fine from the outside, despite the persisting ache. He wished there was at least a bruise or something to show he wasn’t lying. 

When he took off his shirt she paused, and whatever his friends saw made them go quiet. When Dash looked in the mirror, he saw a massive dark spot in the center of his chest. A circle haloed in curling rays, like an old drawing of the sun. Looking at it— having other people look at it— made Dash want to crawl out of his skin. He tugged his shirt back on.

“I’m sorry for not believing you. Nobody should have to go through that.”

“What can we do to help?”

Dash looked down and pulled his pant leg back on. “Nothing at the moment, I guess. I just really needed to tell you guys. I managed to get in contact with Phantom. He’s worked with limin… half-ghosts before, And he’s going to teach me all the ghost stuff I need to know, and help me control my powers and all that. But I’ll let you know if there’s anything."

"You got to talk to Phantom? What was he like?”

"Lucky!"

“Can I meet him? You’ve got to introduce us!”

The switch to familiar jeering was fast. Dash knew they were doing it to cheer him up.

It was nice. He smiled.

[parkers-gal]

Heyy. Could you repost the fic where reader announces She s pregnant but gets scared that Peter will reject her so she breaks up with him? (I had requested part 2 of the 2 parts if I'm not wrong.) You don't have to ofc! Love you 💙💙

yep, i’ll post part two too!

—

warnings: lol pregnancy, slight angst, cursing (characters are all 18+)

wc: 2k

There was a fine line between a lot of things, but being pregnant and not being pregnant was not one of those things. In hindsight, maybe Midtown should have told the students which condom brands were least effective, or maybe even May or Pepper. And just by luck, Y/N happened to have skipped her birth control pills for two days in a row, the two days she spent entirely with Peter. And now, though she didn't know it was inevitable, she was facing consequences she thought would come much later in life, if at all. 

What would her parents say? How would Peter even react? Would she keep it? Would Peter support her either way? 

She didn't want to find out the answers to any of the questions flying through her mind. In all honesty, she didn't want to ask the questions at all. Instead, she sat on the bathroom floor, leaning against the cabinets as she let tears slip in realization that this was going to change her life forever. 

Wiping off a few last stray tears, she tucked the test into the back of the cabinet before getting up and leaving the bathroom, grabbing her purse and making her way to the front door.

"Y/N, honey? Are you alright?" Her mother asked right before she left. "You were in there an awful long time, hun."

"'m fine, mom, just thinking. I'll be back, probably gonna get more of my stuff."

Y/N was just in the middle of moving out and into her own apartment. She was corning her last year of college, and she figured it was best to slowly transition into her own life as an independent adult. As of right now, her apprenticeship wasn't the best she could get, so she was only moving into the Avengers tower with the rest of the team until she got the promotion her mentor promised her. Despite being an avenger, she didn't actually work for Tony or Bruce, and she didn't depend on them as much as Peter did. She was still close with all of them, though. 

Walking through the double doors, she gave a small nod and smile to George, the man who stood on guard at the entrance of the tower. Making her way to the elevators, she pressed the button and debated on what she was going to say to Peter. 

The living quarters of the tower were two main floors, but the central living center had the kitchen, so most Avengers stayed there until "curfew," as Tony had called it. 

Making her way through the halls, she passed the kitchen, where Bucky, Sam, Steve, Wanda, and Natasha were located, talking and drinking what must've been one of Steve's old fashioned drinks. 

"Hey, Y/N," they greeted her individually. In response, she only nodded, trying to get to Peter as fast as possible. Furrowed brows and wide eyes they were, shocked at how closed off she was being. It was only when she left the room that Wanda gasped, staring at the spot Y/N had just been on. 

"What?" Nat said quickly, urgently. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Back in Peter's room, Y/N had just knocked, Peter granting her access and she stepped inside, clutching her purse close to her as her breathing quickened and her pulse increased. 

"Hey, babe," Peter said, his back to her as he fiddled with something on the bookshelf. 

"P- .. Peter, we need to talk." 

At this, he spun around, glancing in her eyes to try and decipher what she was thinking and what she was about to say. What came next was not what he expected. 

"Okay."

"We need to break up."

"W-what? Why? I though- I thought w-"

"We just need to break up- I'm breaking up with you," she rushed out. 

"Baby, come on, let's talk about this. Tell me why. Did I do something? Did something happen? I can make it better, I can change- make things right, c'mon don't just-"

"Peter I'm breaking up with you," she said, her voice cracking as she finally allowed the tears to flood her eyes. Peter was full on crying as she turned around and left his room. Thirty seconds passed before he went sprinting out of the room after her. 

Wanda and Natasha had called just about every Avenger into the compound's kitchen, and just in time to see Y/N leaving with tearful eyes and Peter chasing after her. 

Wanda hadn't explained to anyone what she had read in Y/N's mind. Though they knew something was up, they weren't prepared to witness the action of the words (or thoughts). 

"Y/N," Peter breathed out. "Y/N!" he said again, gripping her wrist to spin her around. "Why? Why the fuck would you just drop that? What happened to us?"

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Parker." 

"I'm not! I just want to know why the girl I'm in love with is leaving me so sudden! Don't you think I at least deserve to know why?"

A few more tears fell down her face before she exhaled. "I wish.. I wish I could tell you, Peter."

"Well why don't you?!"

"I- I can't."

"Did you stop loving me? Was that it? Did I do something?"

"I didn't stop loving you. I could never stop loving you-"

"Then why are you giving up on us?!" Peter exclaimed with defeat, both of his hands pulling at his hair before covering his face as he started crying again. 

Y/N stepped forward, hesitantly about to reach out to console him before deciding against it and leaving altogether. 

When she was gone, Wanda breathed loudly, Natasha doing the same. 

"Peter.." Nat said, walking towards him slowly. "Are you... alright-?"

"She just- did it!" Peter whined out, abruptly cutting her off. Natasha rushed forward to catch him and he gripped her tight as he cried out to whichever god cursed him.

"We need to talk," Wanda whispered to Nat, before filing out and leaving the two alone. 

***

"What the fuck was that about?" Sam exclaimed in the training room. The Avengers had resorted to the gym for some privacy, knowing neither Y/N nor Peter would come willingly unless they had scheduled training, which neither did. 

"Seriously, though," Bucky replied. "They were doing so well, things were going so great-"

"Okay everyone just sit down!" Wanda exclaimed, pacing back and forth as Natasha stood next to her, rubbing her forehead in thought. 

"Do you know why?" Steve asked after a moment. 

When Wanda didn't vocalize her response, merely making guilty eye contact, the Avengers knew. 

"Of course you know," Bruce said. 

"Okay, what's this about?" Tony said, coming through the doors, a few minutes late. 

"Y/N just broke up with Peter," Loki stated blandly.

"What the fuck?"

"I know, right?" Steve said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and sympathy for the pair. 

"And.." Tony glanced back and forth between Nat and Wanda and the rest of the crew. "Wanda knows?"

"Mhmm," Nat hummed. 

"Well, wouldn-"

"Y/N is pregnant," Wanda blurted out. 

The silence that overcame the group was deafening. Pure shock and surprise were overwhelming emotions as the heroes struggled to wrap their minds around the realization, the truth. 

"Holy fuck," Sam whispered. 

"That's why.. she broke up with Pete?" Bucky said. 

"Mhmm," Wanda hummed back quickly. "I could feel the anxiety she had. I think she let it get the best of her. She was still in shock, still panicking. I don't think she's known for long." 

"We have to do-"

"No, we don't do anything. Nobody says a thing, nobody does a thing," Natasha informed strictly. "I swear to fuck if any of you do something I will come for you myself. Let Wanda and me handle this. You all don't know the start about female anatomy." 

"Yes, ma'am," Bucky replied, the others nodding in agreement. 

***

About a week later, Y/N was walking into the training room. She saw Steve, Natasha, Peter, Tony, and Bucky standing around talking about something, and as much as she wanted to avoid him, she also knew that she had to attend training. 

"Hey, Y/N/N," Tony greeted. "I'm making some schedule changes."

"Okay.." she said after a moment, putting her bag on the bench as she glanced at his clipboard before making eye contact again. 

"Pete, you're in for four days a week, each a two hour session. You'll spar with Steve for two sessions, five mile runs with Nat, power training with Bucky and Sam, you know the drill."

"Y/N," he started, flipping a page. "I'm.. cutting your sessions to thirty minutes each. Only twice a week."

"What the fuck, why, Tony?" She asked.

"Yeah, that seems unreasonable and unfair. She gets less time and I get more?" Peter joined. 

"Well, I just want to be cautious with the baby on the way and all that," Tony said nonchalantly.

Time seemed to freeze as the group went dead silent, all except for Peter. 

"Baby? What baby? What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked, glancing between Tony and Y/N. "Y/N? Ar- are you- are you pregnant?" 

She closed her eyes and exhaled, her hands clammy and sweaty as they were balled into fists.

"I'-I'm..."

"Is that why you broke up with me?" he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as the realization hit him. "You thought you'd leave me before I had the chance to do that do you?"

"I can't do this right now," Y/N breathed, rushing out of the room. Peter ran after her, and Natasha punched Tony in the arm once they had left. 

"Y/N, Y/N!" Peter exclaimed, catching up to her and spinning her around. "Is it true?"

She closed her eyes before nodding again. When she opened her lids, her eyes were glossy and red, "Yeah." 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" he whispered, voice cracking. 

"I don't- I don't know, Peter! I was so afraid you were going to break up with me or leave me or that you were going to hate me if I didn't keep it or that my parents would disown me or some shit like that! I just did it first to avoid it all."

"Avoid it all?" Peter repeated. "I love you, Y/N," he stated, grabbing both of her hands. "A baby isn't going to change that, whether you keep it or you don't. It's your body, so it's your choice," he said, and her head rolled in disbelief as she sighed. "I love you," he stated again, tightening his grip on her hands. "And you're carrying my baby. Did you ever think I'd be happy?"

"Peter we're so young, basically fresh out of high school-" 

"I know it's unplanned, Y/N, and that makes it so scary. But I would never abandon you like that."

"I really love you, Peter," Y/N huffed out, her tears beginning to free fall now. 

"I know baby," Peter said while pulling her into his chest and embracing her for the first time in a week. 

After a few moments, Y/N's breathing evened out and Peter spoke up. "Are... are you going to keep it?" he whispered, kissing the top of her head. 

Her throat was sticky from crying, and after a few seconds, she answered. "I am." 

Peter held her at arm's length to look at her, really look at her, and he kneeled down and kissed her stomach, voicing his excitement and feelings. 

The Avengers, who were watching from the doorway of the training room, smiled in relief, a few of them wiping stray tears and rubbing their eyes to regain their composure. 

"God they're growing up," Tony whispered. 

"Not just yet," Pepper fired back, glancing at the pair before grinning herself, thankful they were in this together. 

(part two is out)

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough  Am I giving enough  Have I paid my debts  Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker -  and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

[stevesnailbat]

32 and 39 with steve

“the baby...it’s yours.” + “just go!”

summary: Steve’s girlfriend finds out she’s pregnant after an argument, and she’s afraid to tell him the truth.

warnings: a lot of angst, mentions of pregnancy

word count: 2.0K

a/n: i’m BACK!!!! i finished finals today and will be back to posting fics this week :) also i did a lot of research on 80’s pregnancy tests for this—they’re nothing like what they are now so if you’re curious, here’s what they looked like

Buying a pregnancy test at eighteen years old was something no girl really wanted to go through. But missed periods and too many early-morning runs to the bathroom warranted that horror.

The closest store that sold pregnancy tests was Melvald’s, but she really didn’t want to go there. Hawkins was a small town, everyone and their mother would find out if she bought the test from there. She knew that she’d have to go out of town if she wanted to be discreet about it, but it seemed out of the cards in the moment.

Another wave of morning sickness had rolled around for the third day in a row, and she knew it was time to find out for sure. She skipped school on that Wednesday to make sure she ran into the least amount of people possible. It seemed like a death mission honestly, all she wanted was to avoid everyone in the godforsaken town, but she knew someone would find her.

She was sure she looked like a wreck when she walked into Melvald’s. It was empty besides two people at the front of the store, who she didn’t even bother looking up at. As soon as she spotted the not-so discreet box on the shelf, she snatched it hastily and made her way up to the front. Her heart sunk to her stomach when she looked up to see Joyce standing behind the counter as Chief Hopper spoke to her on the other side.

Joyce stopped listening to whatever Hop was saying as she saw Y/N, her halfway-amused expression falling to one filled with concern. Hopper whipped around to see what she was holding and did the same, frowning down at her. They knew who’s child it would be, they knew they were on the rocks, they knew she was scared to even tell him.

They didn’t say much as she checked out, only a few small words of encouragement and comfort from Joyce filled the silence. She felt like she’d let them down, they had grown to be like parents to her during the hell that they’d all been through. She asked them to not tell anyone, not yet at least. She knew they wouldn’t, but she wanted to be sure that nobody would find out unless she wanted them to.

—

If nothing showed up on the stick, it meant negative. If it turned blue, it meant positive. She read the instructions at least twenty times in the thirty minute period that it took for the test to develop. There was something in the back of her mind that was telling her the whole time what the answer was, but she wanted to be sure.

Blue is positive.

She sat there with a blue-tinged stick in her hand for what seemed like an hour. She was in disbelief, she couldn’t believe what she was actually seeing. It was all settling in when there was a knock on the front door. She couldn’t bring herself to answer it, she was numb and in shock and her mind was going a hundred miles a minute.

In the day that she had been gone from school, she’d thought about Steve a lot. She knew she couldn’t call him, though. Three nights before, they had argued about where they’d go after her senior year and the bickering went to a new level. He had told her that he didn’t want to leave Hawkins and she had told him he needed to turn the page, striking a nerve. That night ended in her storming out of the house after he sent some backhanded comments in her direction to retaliate, they stuck her a little too deep that time for some reason. They were both too stubborn to admit when they were wrong, which usually ended in a short period of time without calling each other on the phone to apologize. Usually after a day of not talking, she’d end up back at Family Video after school with a bag of greasy food as a peace offering, but this time was different.

Steve had thought about his girlfriend all day and grew worried about her once 3 PM rolled around on the second full day of no contact. She didn’t show up to his work and it gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach, like it wasn’t just the argument that was stopping her from visiting him. After his shift ended, he bolted to her house. His knock on the door went unanswered, but her car was in the driveway. He knew she’d give him shit for invading her privacy later, but he let himself in anyways. He needed to make sure she was okay, he needed reassurance that his gut feeling was hopefully wrong.

The knock on the bathroom door was what finally brought her back to reality, making her jump at the sound.

“Hey, it’s me.” Steve called out from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

“No! I mean—Just wait out there.” she said, panic rushing through her as she frantically cleaned up the mess of the pregnancy test, which wasn’t really an easy task with all of the liquids and mess that the box came with.

She shoved the positive stick into the front pocket of her sweatshirt, glancing at herself in the mirror before reaching for the door handle to make sure she didn’t look to god awful. Steve stood on the other side and watched as she cracked the door open enough to see her face, he frowned at the sight of her tear-stained cheeks. He tried to push the door open a little more as she finally locked eyes with him, but she wouldn’t let him.

“Why are you here?” she snapped, realizing she had sounded a little more harsh than she had meant to when he flinched slightly in response. “Well, why’d you break into my house, actually?”

“I was worried about you, Y/N.” he said genuinely, reaching to touch her hand as it rested on the door frame. “Can we talk? Somewhere outside of the bathroom, preferably?”

“I’m fine, Steve. I’m just not feeling good today.” she lied, shrugging her shoulders as she ignored his request. “You can go, I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I haven’t seen you in two days, Y/N. I can help you, what do you need?” Steve offered, he sounded desperate for her attention now. “I can make you some soup, we can lay in bed all day. I’m—I’m sorry I was such an ass, I shouldn’t have said those things—“

“Steve, stop.” she said as she felt her lip begin to quiver, she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back her tears. “I don’t need help. I just want to sleep, okay?”

“Please, baby.” Steve begged, finally able to push the door open a little to get closer to her. “I’m sorry and I love you, I don’t deserve you. But I want to make this better, alright?”

“Steve, please.” she replied, he shook his head in protest as she held a hand out to block him from getting closer. “Just go! We—We can talk about this another time."

“No! I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” he proclaimed, watching as she shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pocket—little did he know, his world was about to be turned upside down by what was inside. “Is this about me not wanting to move? Because if it is, I—I’ll move anywhere, Y/N. I’ll move to another state, another country, across the world if I get to be with you. I was being selfish that night and I’m sorry. Please, can we just talk about this?"

She didn’t want to tell him, she really didn’t. She just wanted him to leave, he didn’t deserve the burden of a child right now. But, he was desperate for answers, and desperate Steve was stubborn as hell. She felt his hands reach to cup her cheeks gently, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. He looked too sad for her to push him away again too, it looked like he was on the verge of tears too. He was telling himself that this was the end, and it was tearing his heart out piece by piece with every second that passed.

A breath hitched in her throat as she gripped the stick in her hand, hesitantly pulling it out of her pocket. She stared down at it for a moment before Steve even noticed it. Carefully she watched as Steve’s face changed from sad to shocked to confused in the span of three seconds, and her heart dropped as he pulled his hands away from her slowly. His brows knitted together as he reached for the blue-tinged stick, still trying to process what she was showing him.

“You—You’re pregnant?” he questioned, finally looking up at her to see the tears that had started streaming down her face.

“Y—Yeah.” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “The baby…it’s yours. O—Obviously."

He didn’t say anything for a moment, only leaning against the vanity as he fully took in the situation. Steve muttered ‘fuck’ under his breath as he stared down at the blue, shaking his head. If her heart hadn’t been broken before, it was now for sure. His reaction was what she had expected, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She hadn’t cried more than a few tears about the situation before then, but the fact that he wasn’t saying anything to her made her break.

A sob wracked her body as she leaned against the wall behind him, sliding down it to curl herself into a ball on the floor. The cry broke Steve from his daze and he was next to her in an instant. He hadn’t really meant to react the way that he did, but this was quite the opposite of what he’d expected out of coming to her house.

“No, no, please. Fuck, I’m sorry baby. Don't—don’t cry, please, I’m right here.” he assured her, sitting next to her so he could pull her into his lap.

“I’m sorry, I—I’m so sorry.” she whimpered, burying her head in the crook of his neck as his shirt muffled her sobs. “I—I’m ruining your life.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve questioned, but she didn’t reply. “Y/N, please look at me.” he pressed, coaxing her by running his fingers along her scalp gently. “You’re not ruining my life at all, alright? If anything, I should be sorry for not being here for you! But mistakes happen, and we’ve both made some recently, it’s okay though. Of course this changes things a little bit, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”

“Y—You don’t want to leave me?” she asked innocently, the genuine surprise in her voice making his heart ache; she had really planned on doing this all on her own.

“Of course not, I could never leave you. I was so scared that you were leaving me, honestly. This was the last thing that I expected.” he chuckled quietly, smiling at her sweetly. “It’s okay though. It’ll be alright, okay? We’ll be alright, we’ll work through this and make sure this baby has the best life we can give it.”

She sniffled and nodded at his reassurance, her heart fluttering as he kissed her forehead softly. Steve smiled at her once more before sliding one of his hands along her stomach, caressing it gently as he finally came to terms with the whole situation. He knew he wouldn’t feel anything as he touched her stomach, but the thought of his own child in there was enough to make his heart swell.

“Does anyone else know yet?” he asked, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb on her hip.

“Well, I bought the test from Melvald’s, Joyce was working and Hopper was there too. So they know, but nobody else.” she sighed, resting her head against his chest once more. “But, y’know, I don’t think Dustin or any of the kids are gonna be too happy about this.”

“Why’s that?” Steve hummed.

“Because they’ll have even more competitors for your attention.” she giggled softly, Steve laughed in reply.

“I’m sure they’ll get over it.” he said with a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @a-magey @queenofthehairharrington @charmed-asylum @igotmadskills @daddystevee @heart-eye-harrington @lemonypink

[dal3ks]

coming home

pairing: peter parker x female reader 

word count: 2.7k

warnings: sexual remarks, smut, cursing, allusions to sex, marking 

a/n: this was a fic i had posted on my main account @a-dorin​, but i am in the process of switching over content so that it is a strictly star wars account! just a disclaimer, i am not plagiarizing or stealing content, as this is my fic! 

“so when does your flight leave columbus?” peter asked, his voice thick with sleep. 

“tomorrow at nine a.m.,” you answered, “i can’t wait to see you.”

he beamed, “me either, love. it’s been a long three months without you.”

currently, you were sitting in your dorm room at ohio state university. you were on a facetime call with your boyfriend, peter parker. it was approaching midnight, 11:38 p.m., to be exact.

 the next morning, you would be boarding a plane home. you were beyond excited to see everyone during thanksgiving break, as you hadn’t seen your parents in a few weeks. parent’s weekend was the last week of october, so it had been a while. 

your heart ached at the thought of being curled up in bed with your dogs. your heart also ached at the thought of being curled up with your sweet, loving, boy.

peter had opted for a small private college in town for engineering and psychics. since he was a part of the avengers, they provided most of the funds for his tuition. it also helped that stark industries was on his résumé. meanwhile, you were about five hundred and thirty-three miles away in columbus.

yet, ohio state was your dream school. you wanted to go there since you could remember. it also helped that your father was an alumni. the university granted you a scholarship for that, and your ACT and SAT scores helped as well. you felt extremely blessed to be at your dream school, and you always remembered to remain humble.

“well babe,” peter began, “i need to start my term paper for my english class. anything on your mind before i go?”

“i just can’t wait to fuck you,” the words tumbled out of your mouth, and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

peter raised a brow, “oh really? well, i can say the same for you princess.”

hearing your favorite nickname made your heart skip a beat, “i’m sorry i said that.”

“don’t be sorry,” peter smirked, “i loved hearing that. just you wait, princess. i’ll take care of you, just like i always do.”

“i want you now,” you whined.

“wait twenty-four hours and you’ll have me,” peter cooed, “i promise, princess. i have to go work on this paper, okay? i love you. text me.”

you pouted, jutting out your lip. peter sighed, “i can’t get distracted. it’s a ten page research paper. it’s really important babe.”

“okayyyy,” you huffed, picking a string on your comforter, “i love you too. see you tomorrow, handsome.”

“see you tomorrow, beautiful,” peter grinned, and the facetime call ended.

you plugged in your phone, letting it charge. you used to have a roommate, until she had to transfer in the middle of the semester. now, there was more empty space in the room. it was truly inevitable not to feel so lonely. especially when you were so fucking far away from everyone.

you hopped out of bed, opening the curtains. from your hall, you could see some of the glittering lights of the city. you could feel your heart aching, longing for the familiarity of your home. queens was your home. columbus was your second home. no where could ever compare to the place you grew up.

only a few more hours, though, and you would be home.

******

“is this seat open still?” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

startled, you glanced up to see a young man standing in the aisle of the airplane. even though you had the middle seat, the plane wasn’t entirely full. you decided to scoot closer to the window so you could see the sky.

you nodded, and the young man slid in beside you, “sorry, my seat was supposed to be the window seat, but i think you’re sitting in it. i don’t want to make you move. besides, looking out scares me a little bit.”

“i’m so sorry,” you apologized, “i didn’t know. you can have it back if you want.”

“oh no,” the man chuckled, “it’s not a big deal. don’t even worry about it.”

“where you flying to?” you inquired, as the man settled in his seat, “i’m (y/n), by the way.”

“i’m trying to get to manhattan,” the guy shrugged, “i’m aiden.”

“oh that’s cool!” you nodded, “i’m from queens.”

“gotcha,” aiden smiled, “actually, i’m coming from ohio state. i’m guessing you attend there as well?”

“yes,” you gushed, “i’m a kinesiology major, how about you?”

“i was a political science,” aiden replied, pulling out his phone, “but i switched to business. international marketing, specifically. i’m a junior though. i assume that you’re a freshman?”

“yep,” you answered, “navigating everything myself.”

“you’re not doing too bad,” he chuckled, “our background has probably helped a lot. do you have a snapchat or anything like that? don’t worry, i’m not hitting on you or anything. if you have a boyfriend back home, or at ohio state, i completely respect that. i just don’t want someone struggling alone. i’m not saying you are struggling, but i know the ins and outs of the school. if you ever need anything, feel free to ask.”

“oh yeah, i do,” you pulled your phone out of your pocket, “i’ll just add it to my notes and add you later. you’re extremely kind.”

“it’s not a problem,” aiden smiled, and that’s when you truly got a good look at him.

he was more than likely a college athlete. probably at ohio state for something like rugby, lacrosse, or rowing. he was fit, with a darker complexion. freckles dotted the bridge of his nose, and his dark brown curls were full. his jawline was clean, his handsome face completed with hazel eyes. god, if you weren’t single, you probably would have tried to make a move on the guy. he was gorgeous.

however, your anticipation to see the love of you life was eating away at you. your knee bounced up and down as you talked to aiden the rest of the flight. it was nice to have someone to talk to, as the it made the time fly by.

in no time, the plane was landing. aiden followed you as you boarded off, and towards the gate. security and bag checks felt like forever, but you finally made it through. you said your goodbyes to aiden, hoping that you two would reconnect once again. almost immediately, you were entering the train that was going to take you to your next stop. then, you would only be walking a couple blocks home. peter informed you that as soon as you were home, he was gonna come over.

you were excited, but a little anxious. insecurities started to creep into your thoughts. what if you had gained a noticeable amount of weight since the last time you saw him? what if you looked different? what if you weren’t good enough? even the thought of being naked in front of peter frightened you. however, you figured it was a little normal to be a little anxious. after all, it had been about three months since the last time you saw him.

suddenly, you were home. in front of you was your house, the crisp blue sky making the white paint appear clean and bright. the late november air was brittle, and the sun was on its way to dip over the horizon soon. skyscrapers in the skyline began to glisten as the sky got darker and darker. the traffic, people, and animals all became white noise as you walked up the sidewalk.

happiness flooded over you, especially as soon as you heard your dogs barking. you turned the knob, opening the door. your parents welcomed you with warm hugs, your dogs jumping everywhere with excitement.

after talking with your parents for a while, you trudged upstairs to your room. as soon as you opened the door of your room, you let out a sigh of happiness. so this is what pure happiness felt like. the feeling of bliss was immense.

you heard some commotion from your dogs downstairs, which you figured was a passerby or an animal. it happened often in your neighborhood. you could hear someone walking up the steps, and you inferred it was one of your parents.

it was not your mom or your dad. it was peter. immediately he scooped you into his embrace, and you felt yourself crumple into his arms. tears rolled down your cheeks as he squeezed you slightly, kissing the top of your head.

“i had no idea you were on your way,” you sniffled.

“once you stopped responding to my snaps for a bit i was worried,” peter murmured, “but i figured you were here. so i just decided to head this way.”

“i love you,” your eyes met his, “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” peter grinned, “i love you more than you know, princess.”

******

“so what were you saying yesterday?” peter turned to you.

you raised a brow, confused, “what are you talking about?”

currently, you two were in your bed cuddling. it was the day before thanksgiving, so your parents were out buying groceries for the big dinner. so that left you and peter alone. the room was dimly lit by the christmas lights strung on the ceiling, and your favorite playlist was on low volume. peter’s shirt was off, and so were your pants. it just made things more comfortable.

“you talked about wanting to fuck me,” he answered, gently kissing your neck. he ran his fingers through your hair, “or was i mistaken?”

“i think you have a hearing deficiency,” you snorted, rolling over.

“heyyy,” peter whined, “how about i give you a back rub?”

the idea was tempting. it had been a long time since you had received a backrub from peter. sighing, you slipped off your hoodie, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. you laid on your stomach, and peter straddled your back.

his hands worked in gentle, soothing patterns on your skin. they stayed on your shoulders and back for a while, but started to drift downwards towards the small of your back, along with your butt. as he continued, you could almost feel the sexual tension in the air of the room. it was almost electric between the two of you as his hands roamed your body.

“hey princess,” peter’s voice was low, “can i take off your thong?”

you felt yourself stiffen, “no.”

“is something wrong?” his tone shifted from lust to fear. peter shifted his body so that he was now laying beside you again, “baby, what’s wrong?”

“i feel ugly,” you muttered, “it’s been a while, and i don’t know, i guess i feel insecure.”

“hey,” peter’s hand cupped your face, “you’re still beautiful (y/n) i fell in love with. i don’t care if anything has changed. if there are more stretch marks, i’ll kiss them all. whatever you’re worried about, let me handle, okay? you’re beautiful, (y/n). you’re so gorgeous. three months has no change to your beauty.”

“i love you,” your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were brimmed with tears.

“i love you more,” peter’s lips met yours gently. he pulled back for a second, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

peter looked as handsome as ever. it was clear he just shaved, as his face was clean. his floppy brown hair was somewhat contained, and his brown eyes shown, as there was nothing but love for you in his eyes. his lips were full, and he a looked wiser than he did since the last time you saw him. you figured stress, college, and being a hero all were factors. his muscles were apparent, rippling whenever he moved. god, you were so lucky to have this man.

you pressed your lips to peter’s, this time a little more forceful. he was taken a back by your actions, but regained control. he licked your bottom lip, and his tongue entered your mouth. he shifted you so that you were now underneath him. his callused hands trailed down the sides of your body, going up and down in slow motions. you could tell he was being careful, as you both wanted to enjoy this moment between the two of you.

“fuck,” peter mumbled.

“what?” your lips were still against his.

“i’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he admitted, “i can’t wait to make you cum.”

“then do it,” your words almost pushed him over the edge.

he tilted your head up, kissing directly under your jawline. you moaned softly, urging him to continue. he placed sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin. he had barely even started with you and you could feel how wet you were.

“can i take this off?” peter’s breath was hot against your skin.

“yes,” you answered, arching your back so his hands could unclasp your bra. he casted it to floor.

he placed kisses all over your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your thong.

“is it okay if i take this off too?” his tone was full of lust, you could tell he was beyond turned on.

peter’s cheeks were a slight tinge of pink, and his ears burned bright red. you figured you were just as bad, as you laid naked in front of him. his eyes casted over your entire body, taking it all in.

“you’re so beautiful,” peter seemed completely awestruck, “like fuck. can you do something for me princess?”

“what’s that?” you bit your lip.

“please sit on my face,” his question was more a plead as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “i want you to ride my face.”

“peter i don’t know,” your were unsure. it had been a while since you tried that position with him, and you didn’t want to suffocate your own boyfriend.

“i’ll still be able to breathe baby,” peter chuckled, as if he was reading your thoughts, “please? i need to taste my princess.”

his words were enough. you nodded, and peter laid on his back. nervously, you swung one leg over his body, and he pulled you closer to where he wanted you. once you were situated, his eyes met yours once more.

“just relax,” peter cooed, gently kissing each one of your thighs.

his tongue found your clit, going in slow, circular motions. a moan escaped your lips, only encouraging peter to keep going. one hand was on the small of your back to keep you steady, the other reaching up for your breasts. he began to suck slightly, which drove you closer and closer to your orgasm. god, you had missed this. peter knew exactly what you loved, and he showed no signs of slowing down either.

peter glanced up at you, watching as you moaned for him. his tongue slowly began to lick up and down, “such a good girl, keep moaning for me. i love when you’re loud.”

your moans echoed off the walls as peter continued to lick all over your pussy. his fingers tugged at your nipples, and you could feel your orgasm coming. you came without warning, your vision becoming blurry. your thighs trembled as pleasure washed all over you. peter gave your pussy one final lick, sending a shudder through your body.

“are you okay?” peter’s voice was no longer demanding. it was more gentle and soft. he helped you off his body, laying down with you in the bed. he began to trace his fingers down your exposed back, going in slow, soothing motions.

you nodded, “just tired, now.”

peter smirked, “did i wear you out?”

“just a little bit,” you scoffed, rolling over.

“don’t roll away from meeee,” he protested, wrapping you up in his arms, “i love you, princess.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, giving him a chaste kiss.

peter sighed with content, pulling you closer to his body. the door to your room was shut, so your parents wouldn’t bother the two of you. as you began to run your fingers through your hair, peter began to drift off. soon enough, he was out, his chest rising and falling. it wasn’t too long after that you fell yourself yourself.

coming home to peter was your favorite thing in the world.

[kyoupann]

Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like: 

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels. 

A chunk of his handwriting: 

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your  4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending ­a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk  Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine,  defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life. 

One of his letters would look like this: 

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.-  Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy -  Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write.  He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

[simpsiren]

sticky notes: the story

mark lee x reader

introduction 

main masterlist

description. you use sticky notes to get into contact with your soulmate.

genre. soulmate au, high school au, strangers to lovers au

warnings. nonee

a/n. so some people requested for a full story of this so here it is! i really liked making this because the concept is just so cute cudndn oh and i did include the same idea as what i did in my previous post but i had to change it a little so that it would fit the plot. this is a really really long ff since its a slow burn typa thing so please try to stick with me on this one HAHA anyways enjoyy! :D

“you actually believe that?”

you lift your head up from your notes to look at soyoung. she nods her head and hum eagerly. you rub your temples from seeing her respond. “i do believe soulmates exist. but sticky notes to talk to them? what’s social media for then? and how is it even scientifically possible?” you question soyoung, bringing your eyes down as you continue to do your homework.

“that’s the beauty of soulmates, ray!” soyoung whines. you shake your head. “you’re dumb to believe it without confirming the information with other relevant sources.” you mutter out bluntly. you hear soyoung letting out a ‘tsk’. “here you go again being a history student. i swear im glad i never took it.” you scoff and slam your pen on the table gently.

“excuse me, woman! at least i dont have to memorise the whole textbook and only having 5 pages of content coming out in the exam.” you stick your tongue out playfully to tease soyoung. “i cant get over the fact that valcanos didn’t come out eventhough i memorised so much for it.”

the both of you laugh, knowing that the two of you can never stop debating on whether history or geography is the better subject.

“ray complete your homework at home. we cant stay in the classroom for long you know?” soyoung stands up to get to her seat, which is 2 rows down yours since you were sitting right at the back. you liked sitting at the back. it allowed you to always be able to use your phone in case you get bored in class. you still cant believe that your teachers think you’re a good and obedient student. you figured they only assumed that due to your high grades.

you sigh “that’s true.” you turn around to grab your back that was hanging in your chair and start packing your materials. once you were done, you grab the class key and walk over to soyoung’s seat, waiting for her to finish packing. you notice soyoung has finish packing and went to switch off the lights. you allow soyoung to step out first before you close the door behind you and lock the classroom door.

you and soyoung walked down the hallway silently, you were looking out the window to watch the sunset while soyoung had her eyes on her feet. only your footsteps could be heard as almost everyone has left the school grounds except for some teachers who were working late. the school normally closes at 7pm and you’re walking out at 6:50. to break the silence, soyoung opens her mouth to start a conversation.

“okay if you dont believe me why dont you try it yourself? like write a simple introduction to your soulmate.” you raise an eyebrow as you shove your hands into the front pockets of your mom jeans. “why dont you do it?” you fought back as you huff. soyoung bites the inside of her cheek as a moment of silence passes for her to think of an answer.

“because i believe it. and you do not. so you should try it.” you smacked soyoung’s arm, making her flinch back and shouting a loud ‘ouch’. you roll your eyes, knowing you didn’t hit her hard and she was just overreacting. “brilliant excuse,so. but if its going to make you stop talking about it, i might as well.” soyoung face lit up as she jumps happily and starts skipping ahead of you. you laugh and pull the handle at back of her bag to keep her explosion of excitement to the minimum.

“you owe me brown sugar milk tea. large.” you taunted. soyoung waves her hand lazily. “i’ll buy you one after school tomorrow. but you better update me during math.”

you wanted to say how you could just text soyoung to update her, but you remembered the fact that soyoung’s mother took away her phone since she didn’t do well for this year’s midterms. although to you, soyoung’s grades were decent. unfortunately for her, soyoung has to live up to her asian mom’s high expectations. the thought of this made you want to frown, but you showed a bright smile regardless as the two of you finally made it to the school gate, waving to each other and bidding farewell before walking down opposite paths.

once you arrived at home, you took out your phone from your back pocket. you saw a notification from your mother saying that your parents would be home late. you shrug your shoulders as you walk to your room. “as always.” you breathed out.

you did your normal routine of showering and eating leftover dinner that you needed to heat up at the couch while you completed one episode of the anime series you were so hooked on. you continue watching but with the amount of homework you have, you might finish them all by midnight if you dont slack.

you turned off the tv and washed your plate before heading into your room. as you close the door behind you, your eyes immediately went to your desk, which was pretty messed up since you had a test to study for yesterday that you completely weren’t prepared for and had to squeeze in as much information as you can. hence, the scattering of notes and textbooks.

you stroll over to your desk and sat down. you take out your homework from your back which was beside the desk. looking at the stack of homework, you groan in despair as shove it to the back of the desk till it hit the wall. “ah fuck it! im just going to ask kun for help.” you admitted your defeat depsite thinking you would be able to gain some energy from your dinner. you also thought about how you’ve done your homework in the morning plenty of time so i shouldnt be a problem unless kun doesn’t offer his help.

you jump to your bed and lay down, bringing your phone out and immediately start scrolling through instagram. as you swiped your finger up to look at the posts of the people you follow, you stop at one. a picture of a couple who met through the sticky note theory. or so they claim. your thumbs hover over the screen as your eyes look up to the ceiling, starting to remember what soyoung asked to do to get your bubble tea.

yoy tap your index finger on the side of your phone as you constantly started to think whether you should do it or not. you’ve heard the rumours. but are they even true? the more you thought about it, the more intriguing the idea got. but at the same time, you also thought of how stupid it sounded and was probably made to fool people.

after contemplating and having in a debate in your head that felt like forever, you finally place your phone down beside you and take a deep breath. “ill do it.” you groan to yourself, letting curiosity take over your other feelings.

you gather up your strength to stand up from your bed and walk over to your desk. you push all the papers and textbooks aside, grabbing a yellow sticky notepad from your stationery organiser. you had other colours too like pink and purple, but you figured that you should go with the classic.

pulling out a random pen that was laying in between the pages of one of your textbooks, you tilt your head to the side as you start thinking of what to write, unconsciously biting the end of your pen in the process.

you bite the side of your cheek and shrug, deciding to go with the plan of writing whatever that comes to your mind.

um hi? i dont even know if you’re going to see this. its funny, really. i heard a rumour that you can communicate with your soulmate through sticky notes. it’s probably just fake news and im writing to a nobody. that would honestly be embarrassing but it’ll be like love letters.. to myself(?) or my soulmate. write back? haha

you read over what you wrote an endless amount of times, thinking if you should make changes. you groan and immediately stick the sticky note onto your wall, giving up on giving second thoughts about what you call this ridiculousness.

you went about your night, forgetting you have left the sticky note on the wall. as you were on you bed scrolling through tumblr at 2 in the morning, you hear something. it sounded like a piece of paper had fallen from your desk.

unable to see in complete darkness, you turn on the flashlight from your phone and walk around your room, trying to find whatever it is that fell. it didn’t take you long to find a small yellow sticky note that you accidentally stepped on.

you pick it up, remembering that you wrote on the sticky note and thought that it was yours. however, once you were able to get a closer look, you noticed that the words on the sticky note have changed. so has the handwriting.

holy shit. i dont know what is this. but apparently a sticky note appeared on my wall saying i have a soulmate. my friends told me i should write back because of some rumour. so here i am trying. hi im mark. i dont know your name, but hope you’ll tell me once you recieve this. you’re in luck because apparently the rumour is true. im just as crepped out as you are.

you froze in your spot. your fingers shaking as you read the note again. you scratch your head. being too tired and unable to think straight at 2 in the morning, you place the sticky note on your desk and went back to bed to play with your phone. you soon forget about the fact that your soulmate has replied to your message that you have written on your sticky note.

as you got ready for the next period which was math, soyoung immediately runs over to you, dragging the chair from the desk beside you and taking a seat. you flinch a little when you suddenly see her close to you. 

“so did you try it?!” soyoung asks, her voice filled with enthusiasm . you brushed a few pieces of hair behind your ear, nodding your head as you take out your textbook from under the desk. “did you get a reply then?” 

your mind started to take you back to the mysterious encounter that you had last night. “mhm.” you reply simply. “though the only thing i remember because it seems to be the only relevant information is that the person’s name is mark.” soyoung gasped loudly, making you crease your forehead as you watch her overreacting again. 

“your soulmate’s name is mark then.” soyoung concludes, folding her arms confidently as if she made a great discovery. you laugh, rolling your eyes sarcastically. “isnt it obvious?” soyoung frowns fakely. 

your mouth gapes open as you hit soyoung’s arm lightly. “buy me my milk tea!” you demanded with a wide smile. soyoung places her notebook on your table and nods constantly. “i will you addict.” she groans. you happily say thank you as your teacher comes into the classroom and class began. 

“what are you going to do about it now though?” as you recieved the question from soyoung, you kept silent for a moment, giving time to think of an answer.

 “ill write something back? i dont know.. ill have to read the letter again when i get back home.” you whispe to soyoung. she nods in reply as the two of you payed your attention to the front again. it surprised you that soyoung was paying attention but you only assumed that she wanted to do better in class and shrug your shouders, writing down the notes youve missed while talking to soyoung.

as for you, your concentration in class dipped slightly because now, the thing that is occupying your head the most is the thought that the sticky notes theory might actually be real and you cant say its not possible anymore, making you even more shocked than you did last night.

lucky for you, today is the only day of the week where your class ends the earliest, along with two other lower ranked classes. you and soyoung quickly pack up to go to the mall to get your reward. after soyoung buys you your drink, you and soyoung went your separate ways.

after about 30 minutes of taking the bus and walking, you finally arrived at home. you place your drink on the living room table and proceed to place your bag in the room and head for the showers.

once you were done showering, you walk out of the bathroom to head to your room while drying your hair with a small towel. opening the door, you enter and went straight to your clothing rack. just when you were about to grab a shirt from the hanger, you heard the same noise last night. another piece of paper has fallen on the floor.

you turn your head and look down. this time, you found another sticky note right in front of your feet. the colour of the sticky note changed from yellow to a light blue. you tilt your head as you pick up the stick note from the floor, finding it odd as you wonder how the colour of the sticky note changed.

you take a deep breath before reading it, noticing that the handwriting was similar to the one you read last night. a little messier, but still readable.

hi again.. im not sure if you’ll recieve this since its the afternoon and i know people are busy with work or school. i skipped school today so haha. um i just wanted to write to you, despite me not knowing a single thing about you. its odd really. its like i feel the need to write something to an unknown identity that people assume to be my soulmate. i still dont know your name, so i hope youll reply soon. take your time and take care :)

- mark

“skip school? what is he, a bad boy?” you scoff to yourself. you try to take in whatever’s on the note, but another thought comes to mind. you walk over to your desk and saw that the yellow sticky note with mark’s reply was still there. you find everything about this weird and just odd in general. a lot of questions sprouted, but you didn’t want to think of it since you were afraid you would complicate your thoughts and just throw yourself into a stress hole.

you continue to dry your hair with one hand while the other held onto the light blue sticky note. you bit your lip and gulp. after letting out a long sigh, you place the sticky note next to the other one and changed into your clothes, as well as bringing your drink from the living room table to your room, placing it on the desk as you sat down.

you take out your pencilcase from your bag and brought out your fresh new black pen that you just bought at the school’s stationery store. the previous pen you had was full of ink till soyoung was dumb enough to drop it, spoiling the pen and was unable to be used again.

peeling off another yellow stick note from the stack at the edge of your desk, you were about to put your pen on paper when you realise you dont even know what to write. what do you say to this person you barely know about? you continuously tap the edge of the pen against your desk as you take a sip of your drink. you look over to the two sticky notes with the messages that the person has left. its funny how you have to think so hard just to write a short message.

hey again. i actually ended school early today. my name’s raven. but my friends call me ray. i honestly don’t know what to say to you. im still dumbfounded over the fact that you’re my soulmate and we’re here communicating over sticky notes. the world really does work in a strange way. if you dont mind, i guess i want to know how old you are and you’re education status?

you held out the sticky note in front of you and sigh in satisfaction. why? it’s because of your neat handwriting. it was always a trait of yours that you deeply appreciate. you place the sticky note on the wall and advert your attention to the other sticky notes, placing them on the wall beside the new one you have just written.

“will this drive me insane? i might end up with a whole wall of this.” you say to yourself, rubbing your face with your palm before going to your bed and laying down, wanting to have your evening nap.

“this is awesome!”

“no its scary.”

mark and his group of friends stared at the sticky note that has a message written with beautiful handwriting. mark flinched when he felt an arm on his shoulder, turning around to notice it was chenle’s. “when did you write your previous sticky note?” renjun suddenly asked. mark tilts his head as he tried to find an answer.

“less than an hour before you guys came i guess?” mark shrugs, standing up from his desk and taking a seat at the edge of the bed beside jaemin and haechan. “this raven girl is your soulmate then.” chenle walks towards mark and stands in front of him. mark nods slowly. the room grew silent again with everyone having the similar thoughts.

“you know what would be funny?” haechan smacks mark’s thigh, the sound making everyone turn their attention to mark and haechan. “what?” mark asked with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“why dont we prank her and say you’re a sugar daddy and live in a mansion?!” everyone gave yuta weird looks, making haechan laugh hysterically. “are you crazy? do you think i want to chase my soulmate away?” mark scolded haechan, smacking him hard on the chest, resulting in haechan’s back falling onto the bed.

“you’re always asking for a beating i swear.” renjun comments, walking towards haechan and balling his hand into a fist and acting as if he was about to attack. jaemin laughs to try and calm them down. “kids let’s not fight.” jaemin announced, looking over to jeno only to find him standing there watching quietly.

“go ahead, mark. you should write something. we cant keep her waiting.” jeno finally spoke up, grabbing the sticky notepad and a random pen from mark’s table and passing it over to him.

mark stared at the blank paper while the others were talking about what to have for dinner. it didn’t take him long to decide what to write. when mark starts writing and began to be in full concentration, everyone crowds around him to see what he’s writing.

sup raven! i wont call you ray since we aren’t friends yet. im still shocked. like the possibility of things like this being possible is just another possibility that can possibly happen. but anyways, to answer you question, im a high schooler from dream high. im in my third year. its kind of awkward for me while im writing this since my friends are reading every word im taking down. i guess i should ask you the same question back then. hope to hear from you soon.

“will you guys stop being nosy?” mark groans, standing up and pasting the sticky note on his wall, along with the other sticky notes he received from you. “you didn’t have to say that we’re here.” haechan retorts. mark rolls his eyes. “jesus..” mark mutters under his breathe. “anyways, yall are paying for dinner since you guys bribed me to write back.” mark sticks his tongue out playfully and runs out to the living room. everyone follows suit.. except for jeno.

jeno slowly walks towards the wall and leans forward to get a closer look of the sticky notes, specifically the two others beside the new one that mark just wrote. “raven? why does that sound so familiar? the handwriting...” jeno brings his finger up and lightly hovers them over the uniquely written words. it looked like calligraphy, and retro looking. jeno felt as though he had seen it before somewhere, or knew someone who wrote like that.

jeno snapped out of his deep thoughts when jaemin called out to him, making him walk towards the door and glancing at the sticky notes once more before joining the others in the living room.

you were currently video calling your friends when you heard the crackling of a piece of paper. of course you knew what that meant. you peered down the the floor from your bed and reached your hand out to pick up the sticky note. “ray?” doyoung called out to you when he noticed your face wasnt on screen. you lay back down on the floor and brought your phone up to show your face.

“what was that sound earlier?” lucas asked, currently sounding hyper. “the mysterious mark sent me another sticky note.” you reply sarcastically, waving the sticky note to the camera to let everyone look at it. everyone nodded their heads at the some time, some letting out a long ‘ah’ as well. “read it out loud!” yuta shouted.

“the fuck no!” you shouted back. you stared at the sticky note, but didn’t bother to read it. you thought of doing that once you’re done video calling them.

“how was today for you guys?” you asked, wanting to know how they’re doing.

“its tiring! we had dance practice, then we have to do recordings for our new albums. we barely get any sleep.” ten whines, his tone filled with stress. you laugh loudly. it made everyone frown and pout. you sigh. “pursuing your NCT world domination is never easy.” you commented, highlighting the word ‘world domination’ with a change of tone.

everyone lets out a long sigh and started to complain one by one, making the whole video call chaotic for almost 10 minutes. you could only smile and shake your head.

after about an hour or so of talking about basically everything and catching up with each other, everyone decided that they should end the call here since it was beginning to get dark and they needed to start practice soon. you bid your goodbye to them once more and ended the call.

you now adverted your attention to the sticky note. reading the letter, you raise both eyebrows. “dream high? that’s not far from here..” you mumbled to yourself. you started to think about everything you know about dream high. you know it’s was about an hour’s journey from where you live. it wasnt really well known either. the overall vibe of the school was mediocre.

however, you felt like you were missing something. something about that school is somehow related to you. you just couldn’t think of an answer despite squeezing all thoughts that you have in your brain. you groan and stood up from your bed and to your desk, proceeding to wanting to write a reply to mark.

hey. sorry if you get this quite late. i was busy video calling my friends. to answer your question, im a third year as well from jookin high. i would ask for your number so we dont have to do this all the time but my friend would scold me saying “but you’re removing the fun out of it.” but anyways, mark aka my soulmate, tell me about yourself, to start off.

you stick the note onto the wall, looking at the row of messages you’ve had recieved so far. you found it weird how the first time you’ve sent the note and got a reply back, it was on the same sticky note, just different handwriting. but you had to write on a new sticky note to send a new message only to get the same sticky note with a different message in return.

you only see his answers lined up on your wall. you started to wonder how this mark guy looked like. is he good looking? what are his hobbies? his attitude towards school? you really wished you could just text him through instagram and not have to go through all this trouble. but that option would earn you a large smack on the back by soyoung and your really didn’t want that.

“do we really need to be here now? like now?!”soyoung whined, while pushing the cart and following behind you while you tossed some packets of frozen bacon. you stopped walking and turn around, nodding your head intensely. soyoung groans and took out her phone, proceeding to use it while still pushing the cart.

you walk around the supermarket, trying to find the ingredients listed on your notes in your phone. it was the weekends and you’re parents were going to be away for a business trip for a week so you thought of inviting soyoung over and making home cooked meals as a bonding session for you two.

after about 30 minutes of gathering the ingredients and having soyoung constantly screaming and fangirling over tiktok edits of jaehyun from NCT. one note: she has yet to know that you know them and that they’re your friends. you figured that it would be best to not let anyone know so as to avoid any situation that would put your friends in a tight spot, since well they’re idols, you were looking for one last item that you had trouble finding.

“soyoung help me! stop watching tiktoks!” you groan, snatching soyoung’s phone away and shoving it in her back pocket. soyoung rolls her eyes lazily and the two of you proceeded to scan the different isles and shelves, looking over every item.

while you were too concentrated looking at the bottom shelves, you felt that you have bumped into someone. you squat down, letting out a soft ‘ouch’ before standing up and looking to see who you bumped into.

“wait. jaemin?” you furrow your eyebrows as you tilt your head, pointing your finger at the guy in front of you. “raven!” you noticed that it was jaemin after all, and both your faces lit up and the same time, grinning widely at each other.

“uhhh..” soyoung says out loud, you and jaemin turn your heads to face soyoung who was behind you. “oh! this is jaemin. we used to be neighbourhood friends before he moved out 4 years ago.” you introduced jaemin to soyoung. jaemin nodded and gave her a bright smile. soyoung only shrugged her shoulders and took out her phone. you turn your attention back to jaemin.

“why are you even here? dont you live quite far?” you ask, your fingers interlocked behind your back. jaemin nods, running a hand through his hair.

“well yes. but we came here to find something that only this supermarket sells.” jaemin replied back, his warm smile never leaving his lips. you smile, reached your hand out to ruffle his hair, laughing softly afterwards. “we? who’re you with?” you stared at jaemin with eyes of suspicion. jaemin started pinching your cheeks, making you whine and begging him to let go.

“with my friend, ray chill. im still single.” jaemin pulled away and folded his arms, pouting. “im sure you’ll find one soon.” you reached out to ruffle his hair and give off a wide smile.

while you and jaemin were catching up and being in your own world, soyoung got too bored of watching the two of you and decided to walk around the supermarket, leaving the cart behind you.

just as she was looking at the drinks isle to get her favourite sweet drink, she sees someone picking up a bunch of bottles one by one and placing them back on the shelve. out of kindness, she decided to help, picking up a bottle and placing it on fhe shelve before looking up to face the guy, who had a straight face while looking at her.

“i was just trying to help. im soyoung.” soyoung smiled, reaching her hand out and waiting for thr guy to greet back. he looked at her but doesn’t respond, proceeding to pick up the last bottle that was seen on the floor. “im jeno.” jeno stands up and nods his head to greet soyoung. soyoung nods back, walking down the isle to grab her drink from the shelve. “have a nice day.” soyoung says before leaving the isle and disappearing out of jeno’s sight. he only shrugged in response and went to do his own thing.

“you met who?!” haechan asks as he takes a sip of his ice cold water. everyone had their heads turned to jaemin, who raised an eyebrow at everyone’s weird expression. “i met my old friend raven. what’s so shocking?” jaemin asks back casually, picking up a few pieces of fries and dipping it into the sauce before shoving it in his mouth.

“dude that’s the name of mark’s soulmate!” haechan screams, making everyone flinch due to the loud noise. “i highly doubt it. there’s plenty of girls in the world with the name raven.” jaemin protests with his mouth full and chugging down gulps of coca cola.

“i mean that’s true. jeno you were with jaemin, right? dont you suspect anything?” renjun starts to question jeno, who was silently playing with his phone. looking up at the others, he gulps.

“i didn’t know he met his friend. i was picking out drinks. i just met a girl named soyoung.” jeno shrugs, taking a bite of his burger. mark scratches the back of his head, now starting to think of the fact that jaemin might have met his soulmate. though he also thought about how that could not be totally possible.

“nah i dont think its her. like really ‘raven’ could be anyone.” mark says, siding with jaemin. haechan tilts his head in awe. “jaemin do you know what school she’s going to?” jaemin only shakes his head.

“i lost all contact with her when i left her neighbourhood. plus we were young. i barely knew her honestly.” the living room falls silent, everyone trying to think of a conclusion to this.

chenle groans, standing up from his seat and slamming his hands on the table, gathering everyone’s attention as their heads shot up. “instead of pondering as if yall are solving some crime, why dont mark just ask her through the sticky note god dammit?” chenle pinches the bridge of his nose.

everyone’s mouths gape open as the room was suddenly filled with ‘ah’s all over. chenle shakes his head. everyone was now looking intensively at mark. mark furrows his eyebrows. “okay guys hold up ill grab the stick note.” mark stands up and takes one bite of his burger before going into his room for awhile and coming out with a sticky note and a pen.

jaemin noticed jeno being silent the whole way. and althought thats normal since its jeno’s nature and personality to not be so outspoken like the others, jaemin could sense that jeno was off and seem to be in deep thoughts.

and jaemin was right. jeno couldnt stop thinking about jaemin’s encounter with ‘raven’. the name sounded so familiar. he tried to recall every girl he has came into contact with during his life. why did he feel like the name was tied to the handwriting he saw on the sticky notes?

“jeno.” jaemin nudged him in the shoulder. jeno mumbled a soft ‘oh’ before turning his attention to mark just like the others. “she didn’t send me a reply after my last one though.” mark says, looking up.

“its fine. she probably didn’t see it. just write already.” chenle says in anticipation. mark shakes his head. “calm the heck down its not like we can get an answer immediately.” mark rolls his eyes and began to write.

hey raven. um i know this may sound weird. but have you gone to a supermarket and met a guy names jaemin? im not a stalker i swear. its just that he’s my friend and apparently you know him. though i dont think that such a coincidence and come by just like that. hope you hear from you soon.

jeno stared at the sticky note that mark proceeded to place at a random wall of the living room while everyone continued to eat and chat. his thoughts finally linked and a imaginary lightbulb appeared on above his head when he finally realises why he was so drawn to mark’s soulmate.

you were focused on wanting to solve a math question when the sticky note above your desk’s wall had fallen in front of you, revealing a new message. you place your pen down and let out a sigh, remembering that you hsve forgotten to write a reply and that mark probably sent you another one.

you tied your hair in a messy low bun before picking up the sticky note to get a closer view. you blink your eyes rapidly as your eyes furrow in awe. what the note said really shocked you and made you freeze in your spot. jaemin is friends with your soulmate? there’s no way.

you sat there for awhile as you constantly read over the words, still in shock with your moutb hanging open. you just couldn’t believe it. was it really what it seemed to be? another thought came to your mind as well. the thought of just who is this friend of jaemin’s? could it be mark? was your soulmate literally in the same place as you yet you never knew?

you grab a fresh new piece of sticky note and proceeded to write a reply after staring at it for so long and thought that it was finally time that you do something.

okay what you wrote really was weird. jaemin’s my old neighbourhood friend. its such a coincidence how you know him. i guess the connections are there. so haha yeah. damn. im very mind blown right now.

you take a look at your handwriting again, smiling to yourself. “i really do love my handwriting.” you mumble under your breath. you stuck the sticky note on the wall and resumed doing your homework, hoping that mark would reply soon.

while the boys were immersed in the horror movie they were watching on friday night, everyone turned their heads to each other when they heard the noise of a piece of paper falling onto the floor. in unison, everyone turned their head to where the noise came from and seeing the sticky note that fell.

jisung grabs the controller and pauses the movie. “we’re watching a scary movie and creepy stuff like that happens?!” jisung asks, stuttering out of complete fear.

mark decided to be the brave one after seeing everyone’s terrified face and stands up to pick up the sticky note, going back to take his seat on the couch soon after. “d-does that always happen?” mark shrugs. “well duh. that’s how i know she sent a reply. it wouldn’t be this scary if we weren’t watching a horror movie.”

everyone’s heads once again gather around mark as he read the note out loud. everyone gapes their mouth open, some covered their mouths while jeno could only stare at it in disbelief. “i guess we’ve confirmed its her.” mark breathes out, placing the sticky note on the table.

jeno reaches out to grab the sticky note to have a look. the unique handwriting that he suspected would belong to you really was yours. out of anger, he tears the sticky notes into two. everyone had their eyes widened at jeno’s sudden shocking action. mark snatches the now torn note back, looking down at them before facing jeno.

“what the heck was that for?!”

“dont talk to her anymore. she’s trouble.”

everyone lets out a sigh in unison except for mark, looking at everyone’s weird reaction. “what do you mean trouble? and why does it look like you all know something except me?” mark furrows his eyes as everyone exchanged glances continuously for a moment.

“she’s just not someone you should be with. that’s all.” jeno stands up and walks to his room, slamming the door shut and produring a piercing noise. the room was silent for awhile until mark speaks up.

“what am i missing here you guys?”

no one replies.

“we’ve been friends for a year and you guys are all keeping secrets for me?” mark scoffs in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“we arent in the position to tell you. its jeno.” jaemin murmurs under his breath, looking down on the ground just like the others.

marks keeps silent and stands up from the couch, the palm the torn note was in is balled into a fist as he goes into his room as well.

haechan sighs. “jeno has to tell the truth. he’s been holding onto that grudge almost forever now.”

everyone nods their heads in agreement. “if not, he’s going to live in despair now that he knows she’s his best friend’s soulmate..” jisung adds on. 

everyone could only silently hope that things could go well. 

after that day you’ve sent a reply, you havent heard from mark since. you dont know why. due to your lack of information on him, it felt as if he disappeared into thin air. although only a week has past by, you felt concerned and somewhat worried for him. did something happen to him? what made him cut off his connection with you? its not like you did anything wrong. 

out of pure desperation, you decided to skip school today. youve never skipped school before, and you felt so rebellious and bad. why did you do this? so you could go to dream high and meet mark in person. youve had enough of the sticky notes. you just wanted to see how he was like in real life, not having to think about it through notes. 

with a little help from jaemin by texting him on instagram, you knew that mark’s class should be ending by 4pm, and you were there at 3:50 in the canteen where jaemin told you to wait. funny how the security guard lets a student from another school come in with a pass or anything.

you slowly start seeing groups of students going down the flight of stairs that lead to the canteen which had a path leading to the front gates. some eyes glanced at you as they notice someone who doesnt belong at their school, you couldnt care less though. your thoughts were only filled with mark. how he looked like, how he would carry himself. your anticipation was the only thing you felt.

you wore your headphones yet you could suddenly hear a lot of squealing and shouting. you look up, turning you attention to the stairs. a large group of girls crowding around another group of people, who you assumed to be guys. you scoffed, thinking about how there’s always that one group of good looking guys all girls seem to go crazy for. you watch as the group of guys push through the large crowd.

once you got a closer look, you tilt your head to the side. you slowly bring your headphone down from your ears and let them rest on your neck, getting intrigued by how the girls were getting so crazy, even more crazy than the ones from your school.

“its mark! he’s so cute!” 

you widen your eyes as you heard the word ‘mark’. you stood up from your seat, peering your head up to find which one is the girl referring to. you only see two guys walking. one smiling sheepishly while the other kept a straight and cold face. just which one is mark?

suddenly, you felt an arm grabbing yours and pulling you back. you jump out of fear and turn around noticing it was jaemin. you calmed your breathing as you look at jaemin. 

“meet mark under the block nearby. its too hectic here for you to talk to him.”

jaemin dragged you out of the school grounds and to a secluded block where only a few students where walking past and left you there. you were lost in confusion but decided to trust whatever jaemin was doing, sitting down at a random bench.

“jaemin told us to meet him here where is-” 

“raven.”

“what?”

you immediately stood in front of the two guys you saw at the canteen as you notice a familiar face. you werent able to get a clear look at them before, but now you realise that you knew one of them. “jeno..” you look at a different direction a you tried avoiding his gaze, though you knew you couldnt, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

mark looks at the both of you, utterly confused as his attention shifts from you to jeno constantly. “this raven?” mark points at you, tilting his head. you nod slowly as your turn your head to face mark. you observed his body up and down. he was good looking, just like jeno.. yet his aura told you that he was way more outgoing and open than jeno. 

“you look...”

everyone was silent.

you gulp in nervousness. “im busy. bye mark.” before jeno could go, mark pulled on his arm to bring him back to stand beside him, earning a glare from jeno. the one you could never forget. “stay. i know something happened. you were always quiet whenever we talked about this girl. and i also know you all kept something from me.”

you slowly turned to jeno. you could he was annoyed whenever he looked at you. you felt it through his eyes, and it was terrifying. jeno took a deep breath in, folding his arms and placing his weight on one leg. 

“if you remember clearly, chenle told you that before we became friends with you, we had a fight and didnt talk to each other for a long time. we didnt tell you this, but it was her who caused it. she brought chaos into our group. everyone forgotten about it clearly, but i cant. after what she did.. i cant forgive her.”

you opened your mouth, wanting to reply but your words were somehow stuck in your throat. you didnt exactly know what to say or do in this awkward situation.

“it.. it was a long time ago jeno, please. my feelings for you were real, even if we werent meant to be. i dont know how many times you need me to say sorry.” you pleaded, biting your lip as you waited for jeno’s reaction.

jeno sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a huff of rustration. “then why did you leave? you left me stranded, and because of you, i almost left my friends becaused i lived in agony since i missed you so much. i almost pushed everyone away.” you shivered as jeno’s voice started to raise. 

 you also glanced at mark, who still kept his confused expression on his face. through his gaze never left you as you felt his eyes scanning you body up and down. 

“you two used date?” mark asks. you nod in reply.

“we were kids. we didnt know about all this soulmate stuff. but now..” 

“you know what? be together. im not going to leave my friends just because of my pent up grudge and feelings. i cant control fate either.” 

years had now past since you met mark. it really was fate. the two of you became close in no time and now.. you were fianally married. you couldnt be more happy to be with mark. who you were destined to be really was made for you, and you only. and to think this all escalated due to a note you sent out in pure curiosity.

you still remember what happened with jeno after that day, despite the lack of interaction between you two, jeno was open enough to accept you as his friend again. you are now living a happy life with mark, and always being able to hang out with his group of friends. today was no different. 

“haechan get the chilli sauce!” you hear mark shout as you smile widely, feeling his arm snaking around your waist to pull you close. having a barbeque was a great idea to celebrate jisung’s birthday. 

you soon see haechan with the bottle of chilli sause, placing it on the table where everyone gathered around the table which had jisung’s birthday cake. “before we do anything with the cake, let me announce my wish.” jisung announces proudly. you raise an eyebrow. “you cant say you birthday wish out loud!” you scolded jisung, but everyone laughs.

“his wish is something we all know.” jeno says, winking playfully at you. you tilt your head in confusion when you suddenly feel mark’s arm leaving you waist. you look over to mark who was shoving his hand into his pocket as if to find something.

you were completely clueless when mark nods towards jisung, to show some kind of signal. “i wish for mark and raven to get married!” jisung shouts. 

you gaped your mouth open in shock when mark pulls out a small box, opening it in front of you to show a ring. you cover your mouth in disbelief. “did you guys really-”

“please marry me, raven. my sticky note soulmate.” you hear everyone clapping s a tear of happiness drips from your cheek. you quickly wipe it away as you heard the nickname that mark gave you. “we wouldnt normally do this but it was jeno that suggested this.”

you look over to jeno who had a soft smile on his face as he nod his head. looking back at mark, you grin widely as more tears started flowing out. “of course ill marry you, you dork.”

[pain-somnia]

A Rhythm That Guides

Rated: M Pairing: SasuSaku Disclaimer Day’s Notes: This fic is an exclusive on Patreon. At least Part 2 and the soon to be posted Part 3 are. I wanted to surprise everyone by releasing the first part if Biden won the election. A Rhythm That Guides is my Incubus AU which has art created by ceejss that you can find in this links: part 1 & part 2 Part 2 is only a sneak peek but you can find the High Res versions on her Patreon and also in PDFs on mine for special tiers.

I hope you enjoy my Incubus AU. Part 1 can be read as is with no continuation if you like...but there are more parts of it if you want to follow Sakura and Incubus!Sasuke’s journey.

Part One

It was happening again.

Lately, in his afternoon lecture class, he was getting a painful empty feeling in his lower stomach. He wasn’t eating as much as he used to during his lunch break so that could have explained the empty feeling.

But the throbbing between his legs was making Sasuke consider that perhaps, something else was going on.

The lecture would barely be halfway through the hour and Sasuke was finding himself adjusting himself in his seat to discreetly hide the rising tent in his pants.

Luckily he sat in the back row, but it was getting ridiculous how often it was happening.

Nearing twenty and in the beginning stages of adulthood, Sasuke realized—a little later than he should have considering how obvious it was—what exactly was to blame for his predicament.

Or more specifically, who.

Turning in his seat, Sasuke created more space between himself and the girl sitting just a single space down the row from him.

Sasuke had been affectionately labeled a late bloomer by his mother when his father had expressed concern in his disinterest in humans of either gender.

“He’s going to have to feed eventually,” his father had grunted, not at all pleased when his mother pointed out the decrease in his consumption of human food she regularly made to feed him and herself.

“Meal times will be lonely once I’m the only one that needs to eat,” she had grumbled, taking his half eaten dishes away.

Sasuke wished he took after his human lineage instead. It would have been so much easier if he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to be getting his meals for the rest of his life on top of all of his course work.

Sighing to himself, he turned a page in his notebook and continued taking notes. He would just have to suffer through the ache.

.

.

Bending over slightly, Sasuke picked up his sports drink from the bottom of the vending machine. He could do without the sweetness of it but he desperately needed to replenish his electrolytes.

As soon as his class had ended he fled the lecture hall and put as much distance as possible between him and the source of his problems. He knew he would start to hunger for a different energy source but it made it all the worse that temptation sat with only a space between them.

When the new semester had started, Sasuke did what he always did: he found the seat farthest away from other students. It wasn’t that he disliked other people. He just didn’t want any distractions.

Sasuke had always been like that, studious to a fault. At first it was to impress his father, but he learned later on that he quite enjoyed having his name at the top of the board with all of the exam scores. He moved away from trying to make his father pay more attention to him and worked to make himself happy.

And his road to happiness required a degree in engineering.

He knew he could have picked another school, one that catered more to those of his kind, but he didn’t want to go to just any school he wanted to go to the school. Even if that meant attending a school with a high human population.

I have so many regrets now, he thought as he took a big swig of his sports drink.

Sasuke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. He was going to have to stop by a canteen for snacks if he was going to survive the rest of his day.

Eating usually sustained him for a few hours. It did nothing to fill the empty feeling in stomach but it allowed him to focus more on his lectures and labs until he could get home and try to sleep away the ache.

At least that’s what he hoped would happen. It was getting harder and harder to quell the hunger.

.

.

Sakura buried her nose into her textbook, pretending to be deep into her reading. Peering over the top she caught hold of heated dark brown eyes and quickly averted her gaze back to her textbook.

What did I do? She wailed inwardly and mentally flipped through the past few days searching for the offensive thing she may have done.

She couldn’t recall a single moment that she had even spoken to her classmate. Why was he so angry with her?

He probably figured me out…

Although she had never spoken to him, Sakura couldn’t help how smitten she had become over her classmate.

Uchiha Sasuke was a quiet boy. He didn’t seem to be a part of any of the circles and mostly kept to himself and his studies. If she didn’t see him in class, she would usually find him in the library or in the computer labs.

Sakura mostly made her own lunches and snuck them into her bag when she went to the library but when she visited the cafeteria she would find him grabbing some onigiri to go. She wondered how he kept going with their long days if he only ate rice and snacks. Humans couldn’t live off of sports drinks.

Sakura had been considering joining a study group but had been procrastinating. She had started to drift from a circle she had joined in a previous semester because of an extremely flirtatious upperclassman.

He was too touchy for her comfort but it was mostly the fact that he took any opportunity he could to complain about Uchiha Sasuke.

I guess an incubus wouldn’t like to share the attention.

Sakura shrugged off his comments and made sure there were at least two of her human upperclassmen in the same room. They were already used to the circle hopping incubi and succubi that used the campus as their hunting grounds and usually helped the underclassmen steer clear of them when they weren’t interested.

She guessed, in a way,  it made sense why the incubus upperclassman felt threatened.

Uchiha Sasuke was quiet and polite but mostly he was really attractive. And it helped that he didn’t flirt with anything that moved.

An herbivore maybe? Sakura had joked to herself once.

Well now her quiet classmate was glaring daggers at her and she had no idea why.

And yet he is still beautiful while angry. The gods are so unfair.

Sakura kept her head down and she waited for the professor to arrive. She hoped he got there soon.

.

.

It was irritating how dangerous a blush could be.

Haruno Sakura was fair in coloring with pale skin that colored easily.

Sasuke had wondered if she was a regional dryad when he first saw her hair and eye color. Humans had a tendency to dye their hair but her eyebrows and pale, untouched lashes proved her to be a natural rose gold haired person. There was a chance of her being descended from a cherry blossom tree nymph.

But she was obviously human—or at least too far down the family tree from any possible nymph—without him having to ask.

“Is this computer taken?” Sakura asked, pink dusting the apples of her cheeks.

Glittering sea foam green eyes cast to the side shyly and the biting of a plump lower lip was just a reminder that Haruno Sakura was an above average beauty, even when compared to incubus standards.

It would be difficult to find a tastier looking meal.

What the fuck?

Disregarding that passing thought, Sasuke looked around the room for an available computer station. Even if there wasn’t one she could still switch computers with someone that wasn’t working yet.

“You should find a different computer,” he snapped when she reached for the chair. He gripped the top of the seat’s back and attempted to stare her down.

Pale green eyes went wide and the trembling of her lower lip made Sasuke’s stomach drop. He instantly regretted his behavior despite the fact that he needed her as far away from him as possible. Sasuke opened his mouth to ease the situation when, with more strength than he had expected, Sakura yanked the chair out from under his hand.

“Unfortunately for the both of us, this is the only available computer station,” she said hotly, face flushing red. She sat down and propped her textbook up so that she could reference it for notes.

A side effect of his awakening incubus nature was a heightened awareness of the emotions of different creatures. Sasuke could feel her irritation and her anger rolling off of her in hot waves. Her anger did nothing to quell the ache in his lower abdomen. Instead, heat pooled lower and a familiar twitching had him exhaling deeply through his nose.

“Shisui likes to get Izumi angry on purpose,” Itachi━who had lucked out and had taken after their human mother━━had explained once when he and his spouses were visiting. “Something about more flavoring.  He never gets me angry like that but then again, I’m more likely to withhold if angered. It affects him more.”

It was something that he had absolutely no interest in knowing about his older brother and his in-laws but it had explained a lot about Shisui’s behavior on certain days. Shisui was like his father, faithful. It was a strange trait for an incubus but it was one that ran in the Uchiha family. They married their partner━or partners like in Shisui’s case━and fed from them exclusively. It was interesting to watch how Shisui and his spouses functioned in comparison to his more traditional father.

But at the moment he was just irritated to know he shared a similarity with Shisui of all people.

The sound of fingers pounding down on the keyboard next to him lightened to a steady stream of light tapping. Sasuke chanced a glance from his peripheral vision at his neighbor.

Something glittery caught his eye when Sakura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The shorter strand curled around her ear and revealed a trio of silver studs along her lobe. His eyes trailed from her ears to her cheeks, the color had faded out as her temper cooled.

Her eyes squinted, a crease forming between pale brows as she contemplated her next keyboard strokes. Eyes drifting from the wrinkle between her eyebrows, Sasuke eyed the way she bit her lower lip at the right corner.

As she worked the scent of desire had diminished from her direction. Her anger hadn’t quelled it but her focus on her assignment had overcome the secondary feeling. It drifted to a quiet buzz, the way a few humans got when they were near someone they were innocently attracted to.

Sakura continued to work, not bothering to try and chat with him, like she always did in their shared lectures. That was the part Sasuke never understood. She never bothered him outside of handing him the exit slip for their lectures or to get around his seat.

And yet her existence was hard to ignore.

She wasn’t the only human at their university that was attracted to him. He wasn’t oblivious to the stares and to what people assumed was subtle brushing against his body.

So why exactly was she such a problem?

Sakura sighed and pushed her keyboard away from her. The action caused her propped textbook to slide upwards  against the monitor and system unit and fold in on itself.

“Oh, shoot!” Sakura hissed under her breath as the book began to fall. She fumbled with it as it slipped off of the desk.

He hadn’t intended to reach for the textbook. It was mostly reflex that had him making a grab for it. It hadn’t even occurred to him until after it was safely in his hands that catching the book would give away the fact that he had been paying far more attention than he should have been. He shouldn’t have been paying any attention at all.

“Thank you,” Sakura murmured as he handed back the book. Her face did the thing again where it colored easily, pink spreading across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

Great.

Sasuke sucked in some air to try and distract himself from the heat pooling in his groin. It wouldn’t do for his hunger to manifest itself as a lump in his jeans.

Quickly logging out, Sasuke grabbed his belongings and made a swift exit.

He needed to get as far away from her and her dangerous blushes as possible.

.

.

It was odd. He could still taste the slices of tomatoes his mother had chopped up. They slid across his tongue, still tangy and cool from having just been taken out from the refrigerator, every bit as tasty as it always was but it didn’t hit his stomach the same way.

“Is everything alright?” Mikoto stopped in her stirring as she eyed the way Sasuke’s mouth twisted and he pushed away the plate of his favorite fruit.

“I ate like three tomatoes worth of slices and I’m still hungry.”

“Oh.” Mikoto looked down at the pot on the stove and frowned. “Should I make more or…?”

“I don’t think it would matter if I ate more or not at this point.”

Sasuke’s jaw clenched as the ache in his stomach stung sharply. He was running out of time.

He had hoped he would never have to deal with this problem. His older brother Itachi never did—he turned out to be human, no matter the fact that he was almost perfect in everything he did, he was human through and through.

Sasuke had figured if his brother ended up being human then he would get passed over as well. Unfortunately, genetics weren’t on his side on this one.

Clearing his bowl and wiping down his spot at the kitchen table Sasuke bid his mother goodnight, calling it in for the night.

Without bothering to turn on the lights for his bedroom he peeled off his shirt and kicked off his house slippers before collapsing onto his bed. He yanked his duvet out from under him and pulled it over his head.

“I don’t even want to touch anyone like that,” he sighed.

As soon as he had the thought, his mind flashed him an image of pink hair and red blushes clashing with jade colored eyes.

I’m not entertaining that.

Sasuke curled into a ball and clutched a pillow to his chest. Maybe tomorrow he would be less hungry.

.

.

It was like he hadn’t eaten in days.

There was nothing that could have distracted him from the pain in his lower stomach. It was pride that had him struggling to get to class. That and an exam later on in the day that he couldn’t afford to miss.

Traveling by train was a hassle due to the amount of attention he was attracting.

“Never let yourself starve,” Shisui had warned him weeks ago when the signs of transition were revealing themselves. “Your body will go into starvation mode and release pheromones that attract nearby humans that you can feed on. That may sound helpful, but it gets chaotic in public spaces.”

Sasuke was forced to exit the train five stations away from the university station and call a taxi company that specialized in otherworldly patrons. A pair of high school girls were inching closer and one middle aged man had already brushed his back against Sasuke’s chest much too often to be blamed on the rocking of the train car.

He wouldn’t survive the rush of travelers that would hop on the train at the central station.

“You don’t look good, kid.” A single horned demon cab driver turned in his seat to look back at him. “I could drop you off somewhere you can get easy prey.”

What, did he have a sign on his forehead that read “Starving Incubus?”

“Take me to K Uni,” Sasuke growled out more forcefully.

Incubus physiological issues weren’t going to get in his way of passing the semester with top marks.

The demon gave him a disapproving look before pulling away from the curb. He muttered something derogatory that Sasuke chose to ignore.

Sasuke was dropped off as close as possible to the building he needed to get to but it still wasn’t enough. He weaved through campus, taking the least crowded hallways to get to his destination.

“Fuck.”

Sasuke ducked under a stairwell and slid down against the wall to the floor. The hunger pains were getting worse.

Exhaling deeply through his nose, Sasuke resigned himself to missing his two lectures for the day and then braving his way to his exam. He would just have to hide out. Luckily he was in a part of the building no one used, choosing instead to use the staircase and elevators on the opposite side of the building than the ones that faced the cafeteria.

Unzipping his jeans to make more room for himself without actually whipping his penis out Sasuke sighed out, grateful for the few centimeters of relief.

Sasuke rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. Unlike erections from his youth, he was having difficulty willing his current predicament away with meditation. It wasn’t arousal, it was hunger. And it wasn’t going to be going away just because he wanted it to.

Closing his eyes, Sasuke leaned his head back and tried to focus on the cool cement wall behind him.

“Uchiha-kun?”

Oh, no. No. No. No!

“Uchiha-kun are you, okay?”

Of course Haruno Sakura would be the one person that chose to walk in a secluded part of the building. Of course it would be the last person he wanted to see him in such a state.

“Do you...need assistance?”

Or maybe...she was the perfect person to find him?

“Uchiha-kun, do you need me to get someone? Or something?”

Her voice was warm and full of concern and just so inviting. The tone promised she would do anything to help him. Anything.

Opening his eyes, Sasuke let out a groan. This just wasn’t his day.

Sakura squatted so that she was eye level with him and tossed her bag on the ground. The hem of her blue button down shirt dress rode up her thigh, revealing more of her legs than he had seen before.

“You look a bit feverish…” she mumbled, placing a cool hand against his forehead before sliding the back of it against his cheek. “You’re really—“

Her sentence was caught off when she gasped. Her skin was so cool and he was so hot that he had leaned into her touch and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

“Um, Uchiha-kun?” Sakura squeaked and Sasuke took advantage of her shock to take hold of her hand and press an open mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist and dragged his lips up her palm.

He wasn’t sure of what he was doing, but something inside him was telling him to take her slim fingers into his mouth and nibble at the tips.

“Uchiha-kun…?”

Already in his presence for too long, Sakura’s green eyes glazed over and she was beginning to pant. Sliding his left hand up her thigh over her dress, Sasuke gripped her hip gently and tugged her so that she would fall on to his lap.

Sakura’s breath hitched when Sasuke pressed his forehead to hers. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and lightly tapped against her face. Nudging her nose with his, Sasuke pressed his lips against hers, guiding her into opening up for him with hesitant movements. Sakura returned his kiss, running her tongue along the seam of his mouth.

Every sigh and moan lightened the ache in his stomach. Sasuke rolled his tongue against Sakura’s and brushed the underside of her right breast, gently strumming his fingers against her ribs.

“Mmh!” Sakura made a sound of surprise as he gave a small breast an experimental squeeze.

Sasuke groped around with his thumb, circling a hardened peak through the cloth of her dress. Sakura grunted in frustration as he avoided the places she longed for him to touch.

Irritation rolled off of her in waves as she bit down on Sasuke’s lip, tugging it as she pulled away from him. Sasuke couldn’t help the upturn of his lips as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and puffed out an exhale to blow hair out of her face.

The more frustrated she got the more her arousal spiked. Her body was demanding release and as much as Sasuke’s hunger clouded mind wanted to give it to her, there was another part that wanted to prolong the moment.

Since the start of the semester, Haruno Sakura had been a nuisance. Every shared lecture she would distract him with her not so subtle glances and the smell of fresh linens and apples whenever she passed him to get to her seat.

So he wasn’t in any particular mood to just get it over with.

Slowly, as not to frighten her off, he slid his hand up her thigh under her dress. He pulled her in closer by cupping the back of her neck and thumbed smoothing circles along her jaw.

Sasuke was sure lack of experience would cause him to stumble, but apparently being an incubus did have its perks. His heightened senses guided him and he was sure he was moving exactly the way Sakura wanted him to. Not a single intake of air or moan was hidden from him.

“Oh!” Sakura buried her face in the crook of his neck as his fingers slipped into the front of her cotton boy shorts.

With two fingers he lightly traced the velvet soft nether lips and hummed in delight at the way Sakura trembled at the slight touch. He wondered how much of it was the exposure to his incubus pheromones and how much of it was her own sensitivity.

Stroking inward, Sasuke groaned at the moisture pooling between her legs. His stomach clenched, cramping with a sudden pang of pain. He slipped his middle finger inside and curled it, feeling her walls and stretching her a bit. He pumped slowly, keeping alert for any signs of distress, and then with his thumb circled around a curious, knobby bit of flesh right above her entrance.

It was almost instant the reaction he got out of Sakura. She gasped and curled inward on herself, clutching his shoulders.

“Please…” she begged, swiveling her hips hesitantly. “Please, oh, please!”

Sasuke gave in and pressed his thumb directly on her clit, massaging it and rubbing circles, adding pressure to it and listening to the change in pitches of Sakura’s moans. Slipping in his ring finger as well had Sakura letting out a strangled cry. Sasuke paused, worried that he had hurt her when she whimpered.

But then Sakura grinded her hips against his hand and he resumed pumping his fingers and twirling his thumb in the way she seemed to enjoy.

“Hm!”

Sakura caught him off guard by taking his face in her hands and lifting his face up to hers. Their teeth clanged together from her eagerness, but Sasuke allowed her to relax and settle into a languid meshing of lips all on her own.

A moan rolled into his mouth and it caused a delightful shiver to run down his spine. Sasuke increased the pace of his pumping fingers and the rubbing of his thumb, coaxing more of Sakura’s little moans. He shuddered when one particular moan of hers hit at the same time the walls of her core fluttered and clenched around his fingers.

That was good…

Sasuke pulled his fingers out, smirking at the dejected whimper that fell from Sakura’s lips. He slipped the fingers that had just been inside of her gathering her fluids and sucked on them. His stomach growled, needing more.

Sasuke laid Sakura down on the linoleum floor and tugged on her panties, dragging them down from her legs. He kept an eye on her face for any signs of protest but instead what he got was Sakura shimmying her hips to assist in helping him peel away her undergarments.

“Huh?” Sakura blinked her unfocused eyes as Sasuke adjusted their positions so that her upper body was lying on the ground and her legs were lifted onto his shoulders. “What are you━?”

She cried out in shock as he cupped the pert rounds of her backside and pulled her up to his mouth. Sasuke let out a breathy chuckle before flattening his tongue against her core and giving it one long lick upwards, flicking her clit at the end of the stroke.

Sasuke groaned, pressing open mouthed kisses to her core as Sakura covered her mouth with her hands to reign in her moans.

No matter how hard she tried to keep quiet and hide her reactions, Sasuke felt them all as they warmed his lower stomach, easing the ache he had been suffering through for weeks.

I wouldn’t have been avoiding this if I knew how good it felt to feed.

Sasuke wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves that caused the most delight and sucked on it. He adjusted his hold on her to slide his right hand around so he could slip his fingers back inside and thrust them in and out in tandem with the oral attention he was giving her clit.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to tense up, thighs squeezing together around Sasuke’s head as she held on tight to her orgasm. Sasuke licked languidly at her core, letting her ride it out as long as possible.

The better she felt the less empty his stomach felt. The only problem was the throbbing between his legs.

Sasuke laid Sakura back down on the floor. Her dress bunched up around her hips, showing off her bare pale legs and the tuft of glistening pink curls at the peak of her thighs.

She was so pink everywhere. Her hair, her flushed face, even down below she was just so pink.

Sakura peered up at him from beneath wet, pale lashes. Her chest rose with each harsh pant as she tried to settle down her breathing. Sasuke was just about to call it off—perhaps he had reached the limit as to how much Sakura could take at once—when she lifted the hem of her dress further up, dragging it to bunch up at the cinched section below her breasts.

Swallowing hard, Sasuke sat up on his knees and tugged his jeans lower on his hips.

“Holy…” Sakura shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not going to fit.”

It was a part of the incubus anatomy that Sasuke hadn’t considered causing him any issues before. Sakura was petite, much smaller than he was. The size difference would be a challenge.

Especially considering incubi had much, much larger members than humans.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her, kneeling in front of her.

He spread her legs wider and pulled her up so that she was propped on his lap. It was a move that had his cock brushing the entrance of her core and he groaned at the heat radiating from her.

Sasuke pressed the head of his cock and watched Sakura’s eyes as they widened when he inched further in.

Sakura whimpered as he stretched her further. Even with all of the foreplay earlier, Sasuke was still much too big for comfort. Sasuke soothed her by stroking her thigh. Sakura reached up and took his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers.

“Keep,” She panted, “going.”

Gripping her hip with his other hand, Sasuke steadied her as he pulled out and thrust back in. He kept his thrusts shallow, hoping to get her accustomed to having him inside of her.

“Oh!” Sakura tightened her hold on his hand when he sank further in, finally able to slip past the tight passage of her core.

It’s still not much inside though…

Sakura arched her back, clearly ecstatic at the new sensation as Sasuke picked up the pace. Her face was no longer pinched in discomfort, much to Sasuke’s relief.

But maybe it would be better if I…

Sasuke slipped out and Sakura sobbed at the loss of his girth inside of her. He knew that his pheromones and body fluids acted as an aphrodisiac but he didn’t realize that humans could become so desperate once they came in contact.

Sasuke turned Sakura over so that she was lying down on her stomach. Realizing what he was up to, Sakura braced herself on her forearms and arched her back so that her ass was in the air.

Sitting up on his knees, Sasuke took his cock in his hand and guided himself back into Sakura’s wet heat.

He groaned aloud at the feeling as he sank even deeper than he was able to before. He waited for a moment as Sakura got used to the new position. A high pitched cry had gotten caught in her throat as he had stretched her out once more but it had turned into a moan as he slipped further inside.

Using a two handed grip on her hips to anchor himself, Sasuke pulled out and drove back in. His pace was slow but the thrusts were harsh and deep as he soaked in the blissful energy radiating from Sakura.

Sasuke began to increase his pace when a door opened up from a floor above them. A loud set of girls had flung the door open and were giggling to each other as they made their way down the stairs.

He instantly halted his movements and strained to listen to where the people were heading. He was reluctant to pull out; partially because he was almost well fed, partially because Sakura had turned her head to look back at him, face scrunched up in a pout, silently pleading for another release.

He was pleased to hear their voices carrying upwards, going in the opposite direction of where he and Sakura were hiding on the first level.

A sigh of relief caught in his throat and choked him as Sakura began to push back against him, grinding her hips.

“Oi,” Sasuke chastised, tightening his hold on her hips to still her grinding. They still weren’t in the clear until he heard them exit the stairwell through one of the doors.

Sakura whined low in her throat but settled when he leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her nape. She sighed dreamily as he continued to lavish her with sweet attention. He trailed more down her spine until he heard the clanging of a door shutting.

As soon as they were alone again, he pulled out and rammed back in. He couldn’t drag it out any longer or he would risk them almost getting caught again.

Snaking a hand around Sakura’s hip and down between her thighs, he reached for her clit and pinched it. Sakura squealed and the walls of her core clamped down on his cock. He rubbed it in a pace to match his thrusting.

Sakura mewled in delight as he swiveled his hips, grinding deeply. One good thrust and she came undone once again. Reluctantly, Sasuke pulled out at the last possible moment, ejaculating on the back of her thighs.

He could only compare the decision to pull out to the feeling of someone swiping away the last bite of one’s favorite dish before they could get to it but it would have been unwise to come inside of her without knowing if she were on any birth control.

He moaned softly as the last drops of cum oozed from the slit of his cock’s head. The act was so messy despite how pleasurable it was. It wasn’t going to be fun trying to clean up.

“Haruno,” Sasuke tried to get Sakura’s attention. She was face down on the linoleum, arms having finally given out from under her. “Haruno?”

Sasuke shook her shoulder and when he got no reaction he flipped her over onto her back. Her eyes were shut and her chest rose slowly with each breath she took.

Haruno Sakura had passed out right after her climax. Considering his starved state, he had drained her of more life force than was necessary.

Sighing to himself, Sasuke took out his handkerchief and got to work on wiping his ejaculant from where it was dripping on her legs.

So fucking messy.

.

.

Blinking her eyes open, Sakura yawned before turning her face into the comforting warmth she was leaning against.

A small cough drew her attention up to the face of her classmate Uchiha Sasuke.

“You missed two lecture blocks.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. He had just fucked her until she was unconscious and that was what he wanted to inform her of?

“You’re an incubus.”

If the abnormally large size of his penis wasn’t a dead giveaway, his eyes had shifted colors and glowed red when he had sucked his fingers clean of her fluids. When had they shifted back to dark brown? She had no clue. She had been knocked out by the sudden draining of energy he had consumed.

Sasuke glared at her before averting his gaze. He stared at the wall and muttered, “Unfortunately.”

Sakura took note of how he cradled her in his lap, his cardigan sweater covering her. She watched as he avoided looking at her even as his ears burned hot pink.

He was still Uchiha Sasuke despite everything.

“This might be a weird time to mention it, but I like you. A lot.” The pink on his ears spread down his neck. “And I usually have more stamina than that. I’m not kidding, Uchiha-kun. I was in my high school’s track club.”

Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply.

“How about you start with calling me by my first name and we’ll work from there?”

“I can do that.” Sakura squirmed in his lap, making herself comfortable. She was still exhausted from earlier despite taking almost a three hour nap.

Ah, shit.

“I had an exam during one of those blocks.”

“Shit. I have one in half an hour.”

Sakura burst out laughing as the color drained from his face. He really was still the same Uchiha Sasuke she had been sitting next to all semester.

“At least you won’t be hungry, huh?”

“Real funny…”

[writearctic]

Ask Me Again - oneshot

⚤︎ badboy!felix and fem!reader

✔︎ fluff, hints of angst, semi suggestive

⌨︎ 4.9k

monnie's @ "To Your Heart"

hello! this is our first book of The Pasta Chronicles! i'm so glad @monscastle was able to collab with me; also shoutout to monnie for the lovely banner~ ♡

“Go out with me.”

Lee Felix, the campus bad boy, asked you out. Again. It was a weekly occurrence: him asking you; you saying no as politely as possible.

He never stuttered his words. Not the first time and certainly not today. “Go out with me, y/n. Please.”

It sounded like a plea for you. But his voice never wavered. It kept you in reality that he was a player, and you were an ideal student. Not the best but better than him.

“Felix, I’m sorry. I can’t. Not with exams coming up,” you replied with a soft smile while stepping past the boy. You were lucky to find a real enough excuse. He dug his heels into the cement path and followed you-- an action you couldn’t fail to notice.

“Gosh, he’s a real stickler, huh?” Your roommate, Lea, quietly reminded you.

“After exams, y/n.” Felix sped up to stand in front of you, stopping your pace altogether. “I’ll wait ‘til exams are over.” He leaned forward and pecked the sweetest, gentlest kiss on your temple. He smirked at your blushed reaction before skipping back to his crowd.

“Well, I guess he won’t bother you for a bit.” Lea started walking again.

You bit your lip, mind still focused on how warm, how sweet, his lips felt on your skin. It made your heartbeat quicken; the thought of his lips on yours sent a nice, tingly flow throughout your body.

“Y/n.”

‘H-huh?” Lea snapped you out of your daydream.

“He won’t bother you for a bit.” She hooked her arm with yours and happily continued to your next lecture. “Now, you can put 110% into your grades.”

“I’m glad,” you faked a smile. Lea endlessly went on about her thesis book. Her words served as white noise to you though.

Honestly, you liked Felix. There was no doubt about it. He was courteous towards his professors. It was rare for him to turn in an assignment, but he was studious in class and never interrupted the professors or classmates.

He was kind and respectful, despite his liaisons with countless ladies on campus. When they came and begged to date him, he was thoughtful with his words. He never said no, but he never said yes. A handful of guys would ask him out as well, but Felix stuck to his words. He had a rule. No getting together, no relationships. No romance. Just a quick fuck. And everyone knew this. “Having strings ties you down. And I don’t see myself tied with you,” he had said, in the lightest way possible.

You haven’t slept with him, yet you knew he held a fragile piece of your heart. He was your fantasy. A dream. Nothing more. But it never hurts to dream.

Your mind stopped wandering when Lea opened the lecture hall door. As you entered, you were met with hateful glares from the students.

“Y/n. Lea. I saved you a seat.” Jackson’s deep voice startled you. Lea shuffled the pair of you through the isle and to the row Jackson was sitting in.

“Gosh, what the heck was that for? Is there something on my face, y/n?” Lea worried.

“No, Lea. You look beautiful as ever.”

She beamed back at you.

“Look.” Jackson held up his phone, allowing Lea and you to watch an Instagram story. It was you. Specifically, Felix kissing your temple.

Lea sighed. Someone had filmed the “intimate” moment you had with Felix. You read the words at the bottom of the post: ‘Another whore for Lix?’

You deserved this. It was karma coming to get you for the thoughts you had of the boy. You mindlessly reached your fingertips to where he kissed your skin. Why was he even attracted to you? Were you a dare? A dare for him to get in your pants? You had your dignity, but you thought this boy was melting it away piece by piece.

You returned to your shared rental with Lea after class ended. At the apartment desk, the security guard stopped you. “Miss Y/n. A boy left this parcel for you.” He grumbled and handed you the gift.

You thanked him kindly and proceeded up the stairs.

“Open it.” Lea crossed her arms and demanded after removing her shoes and coat.

You walked to the kitchen and cut the package with a pair of scissors. You dug into it and found a bag of homemade cake pops.

“I’ll take one thank youuu,” Lea joked while tearing the plastic bag of goodies from your hands. You giggled, a way of granting her permission as you watched her slump on the couch. You stepped to discard the package when a note card fell to the ground reading: ‘I’m sorry, y/n. If I had known they were filming us, I would have kissed you on those rosebud lips of yours to let everyone know you’re mine.’

You released a voiceless whimper. Felix was surely playing you, but he made you feel special and desired none the less.

You quickly picked up the note and hid it in your back pocket.

It's been almost two weeks since Felix last asked you out. You had seen him around campus and longingly stared at him in hopes he would look at you. The few times your eyes caught his, Felix blushed and turned away. Now that he was respecting your boundaries, you didn’t want him to ignore you.

The sneers and occasional trash talks you received since the video of Felix’s delicate kiss to your head didn’t get under your skin. The few times they would, you couldn’t think much of them; you had more important matters to ponder about. You chewed on the painful distance between you and Felix habitually.

Studying wasn’t worth it. Your mind always trailed back to him. You wondered how he was. You hoped he was fairing better than you with his studies. You couldn’t help but miss his tranquil presence. Even if he was desperate for you, Felix had a calming aura that aroused you in the most loving way.

Aside from studying, you couldn’t get much sleep at night. Felix was awaking you every time you tried to clear your mind. He had engulfed and overpowered you into a longing for him.

You sat down in your class with a huff.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Jackson teased playfully.

Upon seeing your lifeless form, Lea hummed. “I think it’s ‘cause she slept in.”

You folded your arms on the desk and threw your head down. “I’m not going to do well on this,” you muttered.

Jackson and Lea exchanged looks. “Y/n, you studied-”

“Not really,” you admit to them. “My mind’s been… elsewhere.”

“Wha- why?” Jackson asked. “Is it Felix? You said he was leaving you alone, right? He’s not bothering you is he? I swear I’ll punch that hopeless romantic in the gut if you fail your exams.”

“Please don’t.” Your friends recognized the pitch in your voice; you were crying now.

Lea leaned towards the table and softly spoke. “Y/n, what happened?”

“I- I don’t know.” You shot up from hiding your face in your arms. Your puffy eyes were no stranger to the classmates around you as it was finals season. Lots of tears had fallen from multiple peers in the past week. Thankfully, they paid no mind to your tear-stained face and brushed it off as the stress that came with final exams.

“He’s doing things to my heart, and I can’t explain how hopeful I am that he’s not toying with me.” You reached for your pencil case and pulled out the letter Felix had written a few weeks earlier.

“Oh.” Lea’s reaction mirrored Jackson, whose mouth circled like an ‘o.’ They already suspected your feelings for him long before you had received the note.

“So, do I beat him to a pulp or…” Jackson joked, hoping to make you smile. But his efforts only resulted in his ribs getting elbow jabbed by Lea.

“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice was pulsing with desperate hope from your friends.

“Tell him ‘yes.’ Y/n, next time he asks you, and I’m sure there will be a next time, say ‘yes.’” Lea soothed your anxious mind with the natural honey in her tone. “The only thing you have to lose is your chance with your dream guy.” She winked and turned her gaze to the podium where the professor was introducing the exam.

Her words echoed in your mind. What did you have to lose other than Felix? Your dignity? No. If Felix is the right guy for you, he would strengthen your worth rather than hinder it. As you opened your laptop to the class page, you crossed your fingers, wishing Felix would ask you just once more.

Two days have passed since your last exam. Lea scored higher than you on your overall average. It made sense, and you easily accepted it. You spent hours of mindlessly studying the textbook while Lea actually studied. The two of you, along with Jackson, celebrated the success of your roommate with drinks.

“So,” Jackson began after the clink of your shots. “Has he asked you out yet?”

“No,” you frowned.

“Hey! I thought tonight was about me!” Lea laughed, trying to lift the mood so thick, you could cut it with the wimpy, plastic knives from your college cafeteria.

Jackson had only downed a shot or two; thus, he still was fully aware of his surroundings. So when he saw Felix stride through the local campus bar, he pinched Lea’s shoulder.

“Yah! What do you nee-” Jackson shushed her and guided her face towards Felix’s figure. They turned their attention back to the dim-lit table and met your curious gaze.

Jackson winked. “Don’t worry, y/n. He’ll come for you.” Both he and Lea stood up and walked to the bar for another round of drinks.

You stood up with your brow furrowed, but before you could follow them, you spotted Felix. He looked stunning in his ripped, leather pants and neatly combed hair. The green neon lights above fell on his sculpted face in the most angelic way. You admired him for a while until he moved to dance with a girl. 'With that skin tight dress of hers, how could he fight the urge to grind on her thin hips?' You thought, wishing you had worn something more than a long sleeved crop top and black jeans. Your gaze fell to the floor; you wore your ballet flats. They weren’t the most attractive, but at least they didn’t blister your feet.

You sighed and went after your friends. It had been 2 minutes at most, but you found Lea shamelessly twerking on a peer from her bio class and saw Jackson, long past sober, swiveling on a bar stool and mindlessly ranting to the man next to him about asparagus. The sex driven Lea and rhetorical thinker Jackson had made way out of hibernation. They were drunk.

You hustled to pay for your drinks and exited the crowd. It was cold outside, and you fell victim to the chill in your thin shirt. You didn’t want to flag down a taxi or call an Uber; at this time of night, riding alone with a stranger was not a pill you could swallow. Leaning against the building, you pulled open your contacts. Maybe your landlord would give you a ride home? Before your finger hit the call button, Felix called your name.

Waiting for exams to pass without hearing your voice or seeing your tender eyes up close was absolute hell for Felix. On occasion, he caught you looking at him. But as quickly as he saw you, you bashfully turned away. He kept his word and left you to your studies. Felix knew you cared about your education, and he was the last person who wanted to be in your way. So, he backed off at your excuse of exams.

After the last week of tests, final averages were posted near admissions. Felix eagerly raced to see how well you did. He knew by allowing you the space you needed to ace exams would easily grant you a high grade. But your name wasn’t in the top 100 list. He checked it once, twice, thrice before turning to the longer list of all student results.

Felix’s eyes were glued on the page; he memorized each printed name as he glossed over them looking for yours. When he found it, his head fell from his defeated shoulders. You didn’t do well. In fact, you did better last semester when he had bugged you to go out with him.

Something was wrong, yet he couldn’t understand.

Until he realized, you must’ve been tormented by his flock of admirers. He came to the conclusion that he would permanently give you space; the last thing he wanted was to bring pain to the girl he truly likes.

Felix tried avoiding you by taking different routes to class. If he did see you, he felt guilty and wished there was a way to protect you from the world.

He couldn’t keep you from gracefully invading his mind. Jisung, another playboy at campus, suggested “getting drunk or having sex with another bitch to remove that chick” from his mind. Felix’s nostrils flared when Jisung referred to you as a “chick” when you deserved much more than such a lowlife name. He nearly immobilized Jisung had his friends not stepped in and prevented Felix from further harming the boy.

Directly after throwing punches to his friend, he felt horrible. Felix sprinted away from his peer; it was ironic how he found himself in the campus bar. He downed no more than three shots. He didn’t want to forget you. Yet, his carnal instincts kicked in when Belle approached him.

She wore a mahogany, sheath dress that did wonders for his dry spell. Felix hadn’t been sleeping with anyone since he promised to ask you out after exams. He believed he needed to be faithful and better in order to make you his.

As she began to shake her rear against him, he placed his hands on Belle’s hips. 'Too skinny,' he thought. He would’ve preferred you.

It was like a higher being heard his plea because he saw you seated with your friends. The dim lighting made you look like a fever dream. He longed for you to be his. When he turned back to catch a look at you again, you were gone.

“E-excuse me,” Felix removed Belle’s body from his, but she clung to him like velcro.

She flicked her false lashes at him and grinned. “My place or yours?”

“I need to go.” He pushed her off a little more aggressively than he should and left without another word.

He found you outside, leaning against the club. Alone.

“Y/n!”

A wave of heat flashed through your body when your name fell from his tongue. You eagerly turned to him. Felix ran the short distance between you before urgently pressing his lips on yours.

The kiss was patient, yet you both could sense a deeper passion. Felix pulled your cold body against his and tightened his arms around your waist. Your fingers ruffled the bit of hair that touched the nape of his neck. He pulled his lips away; you quickly whined in protest, but Felix didn’t let you go.

He burrowed his face into your shoulder. You leaned to kiss his head, and he began whispering soft words against your skin causing you to shiver, this time, not from the cold temperature.

“Felix,” you whispered. “I- I can’t understand you.” You giggled breathlessly at him when his face moved back to yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Felix, are you ok?”

“I- fuck. I love you, y/n. And I’m aware that we hardly know each other, but please. I want to learn every precious detail about you. Tell me your favorite way to pass the time on a rainy day. Tell me who taught you how to braid because gosh, when your hair is braided to the side, you make me want to rip out any gawking eyes that look at you. In fact, I won’t hesitate-”

“Felix.” Your voice was quiet. It was his first time hearing you so vulnerable, and it made him want to kiss every part of you. You deserved to be showered with kisses on a daily basis. But he traced his fingertips along the sleeves of your crop top and passionately listened to you.

“Ask me again.”

He smiled and raised a brow, puzzled. “Ask you what?”

You stared at him and fought the urge to kiss the small dimples on his face. You hadn’t noticed them before.

“Will you go out with me, Felix?”

“Fuck. No.” He cursed under his breath. His eyes turned to you when he felt you crumble in his hold. “Wait, shit. No, that’s not what I meant.”

You stepped back with tears brimming your radiant eyes, and it made Felix want to pull you back against him and never, never let you go.

“I wanted to ask you out!”

“You’re mad at me for asking you out!?”

“Yes!”

“Lee Felix, will you ask me out?”

“Y/n, please go out with me!?”

“Goodness yes.” You breathlessly whispered with no hesitation in your voice. He wasted not a second more before pulling you into his arms again. You tightly gripped his shirt; a few tears fell from your lashes. Felix felt them and released you from his embrace. He raised his hands and carefully wiped away every tear. He saw your lip quiver and observed how cold you were.

“Let me drive you home,” he quavered. Felix’s hand was warm in yours; his pinky tangled with yours as he led you to his car.

He knew where your place was. There weren’t many words spoken on the way to your apartment. Both of you were embarrassed and unsure about what to do next.

As he pulled to the building, he shifted to park and turned to you. “I want to take you out tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” your voice was sunny. You inched closer to him and kissed his lips once more. It was quick, but it was everything you needed to know he was yours. “Good night, Felix.” You stepped out of the car and trudged to the apartment gate.

“Y/n!” Felix stood on the drivers side and yelled. “I need your number!”

You stopped punching the code for the gate to open. “Pick me up here tomorrow at six, and I’ll give it to you!” You playfully hollered back.

“I’ll be here,” he whispered, watching your figure walk through the gates.

“Oh. Em. Gee. Wow! I’m so glad you got him, y/n!” Lea cheered when she finally had some conscience. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m not sure.” You realized the issue. Not having his number made choosing the perfect outfit harder. 'Shouldn’t have played hard to get,' you thought.

“Knowing him,” Lea stepped for your closet. “He’ll probably take you somewhere nice. Like a concert, fancy restaurant, or art exhibit. Since he’s head over heels in love with you.” She pulled a black velvet dress off its hanger and handed it to you. “Oh! Here.” She tossed you some sheer, black tights as well.

“I hope you’re right,” you giggled and went to change.

Lea adored the gown and begged to straighten your hair; she thought it looked best with your outfit. Once straight, she tied your hair into a low ponytail. She picked some dangly earrings for you to wear in addition to a silver bracelet. You felt like an actress being prepped for a scene. Lea was definitely the stylist between the two of you.

Your roommate stood by the window as it was nearing 6:00. You sat nervously on the couch, praying your outfit was right.

“He’s here.”

With a shaky sigh, you slipped on your shoes and went to the door. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, y/n. You’ve made an impression of Felix, one so strong he’s stopped sleeping around.” She walked over to straighten the collar of your coat before continuing. “Plus, if anything does happen-- but I highly doubt he’ll be a jerk to you-- remember, Jackson’s offer to beat him up still stands.”

You giggled in unison before hugging her and heading past the threshold.

What a sight you were. As you stepped out the apartment gates, his breath hitched. You bloomed in the evening fog. He hustled to the passenger door and eagerly opened it for you.

You paused before getting in. “Does my outfit fit the occasion?” You asked nervously.

“Yes; it’s perfect.” He charmed.

Felix drove away. His car was warm, and it calmed your nerves. You kept stealing glances at his profile, noticing the kisses of the sun on his cheeks and nose. His lips were highly alluring and since last night, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

The ride was quiet. Felix played some soft r&b music in the background. At every traffic light, he turned to you and took your hand in his. He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of your hand; his eyes remained locked with yours, causing you to buzz with delight.

“We’re here.”

He shifted to park before stepping to your side and opening the door. You stood on the curb and admired the restaurant while Felix paid the parking meter. Dilettante was one of the finest restaurants in town. You had never been; it was far too expensive. The thought puddled in your stomach. Felix brought you to a highly exquisite restaurant on the first date.

“Felix.”

He hummed. Finished with the meter, he latched your arm with his and strolled to the building. “Yes?”

“This is expensive. Are you sure we should eat here? We can always go to Olive Garden or-”

“Y/n.” Felix paused and slipped his hand in yours. “This is the only place you deserve for a first date.”

Your cheeks darkened at his comment when he started up to the door. “Mia, your finest table please," he winked. The receptionist led you to a candle lit corner booth. She placed the menus on the surface: “Your server will be here shortly.” Mia return the wink and strolled back to the front.

Felix obviously knew the girl. You removed your oatmeal coat and sat down. Felix sat across from you. You leaned in and whispered, “Have you slept with her?”

He laughed. He laughed at you. You chuckled nervously, unsure of why you were laughing. “Mia’s my cousin.”

Shoot.

“Your cousin?”

“Hmm,” he glanced down and played with his wrist watch. “My family owns this restaurant.” You were not expecting that. “We get to eat here for free-”

“So, I’m a free meal?”

“What? No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” His head snapped up when you spoke. His hands reached across the table and held to yours. “I’ve actually never brought a girl here.” He mumbled while his thumb caressed your skin.

“I wasn’t even expecting the meal to be free-- I mean, I was expecting a discount, but I think my family is excited for me to finally stop sleeping around and bring someone here.”

You nodded in understanding. Your hands played with his. “Felix, you said you didn’t want to be tied down…”

“That was before I met you.” That smile of his could light up the entire restaurant.

You didn’t get to respond right away; a server came and took your drink order. He placed a basket of fresh bread on the surface and slid a platter of sweet butter alongside. You both ordered water and the server returned quickly with your drinks in hand.

“Have you decided on something to order?”

“Gosh, you’ve hardly given us time to decide, Kang.” Felix sneered and rolled his eyes.

“Right, yes. Of course. Sorry, sir.” The boy, around your age if not younger, fearfully backed away. Felix hung his head in shame when the server scurried away.

You held his hands in your; you stopped playing with them and held them still. “Lix-”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at him.” He raised his gaze to yours. He shuffled closer to you-- the booth made it easy for him to melt at your side so quickly-- and linked his fingers in yours once more. He tucked a wisp of hair behind your ear and kissed your neck. “I just want tonight to be perfect,” Felix breathed into your skin before sitting upright again.

You didn’t know what to say. He kept leaving you breathless; you could hear your heart pounding louder now that he was closer to you. And when his palm slid to your thigh in a non-sensual way, you prayed he wouldn’t hear how harshly your heart pounded against your rib cage.

"This isn't the best table here," he commented upon seeing your flustered state.

"We don't need to move tables. This is fine," you assured.

"I made sure Mia reserved this table. It wasn't hard; no likes sitting in the back corner anyways. But I like it here. I can kiss you without any bothersome stares."

Felix reached for a piece of bread and spread some butter on it before passing it to you. 'What a gentlemen,' you reminded yourself for the nth time this evening.

You took a sip of water after finishing the dough and spoke, “What’s the best meal here?”

“The alfredo.” He didn’t hesitate at all, and he reached for the menu to show you the different options. “My favorite is the regular chicken, but they're all decent.”

“I’ll have a chicken fettuccine alfredo then,” you giggled and swiped a hair out of his eye.

The things you did to him caused red to tickle his cheeks.

A different waiter came back and took your order. Felix explained the kid who previously served you was a distant, younger cousin and that they weren’t on the best of terms. You didn’t pry.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

Felix bit his lip gently before continuing, “What happened to your finals?”

“Oh, that.” You laughed deeply.

“Were there more posts like the one on Instagram or have people been bothering you?”

“No. Well, only you.” You smiled, and when you saw his clueless face, you added: “I couldn’t really study because I kept thinking of you.”

“I’m glad it was because of me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if students had been hurting you,” he admitted and leaned a little closer to your warmth, blushing.

He watched as you tried to refold the cloth napkin into its original swan origami. And when he took his and instantly folded it back, an engaging conversation about origami fortune tellers and puppets took place. Apparently, Felix was in his 5th grade talent show with a few of his buddies. They put on a Star Wars puppet show made with construction paper. The talent show gave no winners, but Felix was certain they would’ve won.

“Who would’ve known you, the mysterious campus bad boy, was into arts and crafts,” you giggled delicately at him.

“Am I still a bad boy in your eyes?”

“No!” Your response was swifter than intended. “Sorry that was a poor choice of words. You were the campus bad boy, but now you’re all mine.” You pressed against his torso and kissed his lips.

“You changed me, y/n.” Felix began and paused his words when the plates of pasta arrived. “I found myself desperate for you. So desperate. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but you. I stopped jumping from bed to bed a while ago; I hoped it would prove myself to you. Because y/n, I want to be tied down with you for the rest of my life.”

It occurred to him that you hadn’t stopped looking at him since he began speaking. You hadn’t even touched your plate yet.

“Stop staring at me,” he blushed.

You moved your eyes to the cuisine and twirled the pasta. “I’m so in love with you I don’t think that’s possible.”

Felix’s fork clinked onto the ceramic plate. He faced you and met your gaze.

“Wait, was that too soon? I didn’t mean to offend-”

You couldn’t finish your apology with his breath dangerously close to your lips. “I love you, too.”

His lips were creamy and warm when they pressed into yours; they tasted like alfredo sauce. His pinky maneuvered its way to lock with yours while the other hand pulled you deeper into the kiss. He moved away after ensuring your pinky finger was connected with his.

Felix admired how dazed you looked after just one kiss. He didn’t notice it last night, but then again, that was the first kiss you had shared together. You opened your doe eyes at him, and he smirked.

“I’ll kiss you later. Eat your food.” He bent over his plate and continued to eat. You did the same. “How does it taste?” Felix asked, confident it would meet your expectations.

“It’s delicious,” you faced to him and smiled. Your pinky gave his a loving squeeze. “But…”

His eyes widened slightly. “But…?”

“The sauce tasted better on your lips.”

You pivoted back to your dish; you tucked that stray hair back behind your ear and bit your lips.

Felix looked down at his plate and pierced his lips together as he grinned. “You really are perfect,” he breathed, before twirling another spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

“Do you know how to make this?” You confidently inquired.

“I do,” he hummed.

“This is the best fettuccine alfredo I’ve ever had, and having a boyfriend who can make it-- you’re truly the love of my life.” Although you said it in a teasing way, you meant it, and Felix knew you meant it.

Despite not knowing each other for long, being in his presence made you feel loved and safe. And Felix vowed to do just that.

[hyunsracha]

now or never — bang chan

word count: 4.5k

summary: liquid courage lets you jump at your last chance to tell him how you feel.

one.

Han Jisung might just be your least favorite person on the planet. You think this when he leans over your shoulder, your thumbs paused above your phone’s keyboard. Your phone was open to Instagram as you struggled to think of a caption for this particular post. It wasn’t anything special, just a picture of you and Chan at the annual fair over the weekend. The two of you had gone together every year since you were little kids. It was one of your favorite traditions.

“I have an idea.” Jisung took the phone from your hands, his fingers quickly getting to work as you yelled protests at him, “Relax! It’s nothing bad.”

Oh, but it was.

“We look like a couple here?! Jisung, are you serious?” You cried out, yanking the phone back from him and editing the post before anyone (hopefully) saw. The boy next to you cackled. 

“It’s not like anyone would be surprised. Everyone already thinks you’re together.” He nonchalantly shoved fries into his mouth as he spoke. Jisung ate like a pig, but you didn’t complain about it anymore. Last time you did that, he got all up in your ear and started chewing with his mouth open. Disgusting.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Yeah, shut up, Han.” You don’t even flinch when Chan and Changbin take their seats across from you. You could practically sense when one of the three boys was going to appear. Changbin said it was because your friendship was so strong, but in reality, they all wore such strong cologne, you’d be an idiot not to sense them. 

“I literally did nothing and you’re attacking me.” Jisung whined, kicking Chan’s shin under the table. Chan gasped, kicking him back with more force. They would do this for hours if you didn’t stop them.

“Guys-” You started, but you stopped yourself. Jisung deserved to be kicked. 

The four of you were hardly quiet when you were together, so you ate your lunches and talked about your day. Jisung got the chance to tell Chan and Changbin about him spilling folic acid all over his crush in chemistry, which he told you about on the way to your shared history class.

“It was mortifying! He’s never going to want to talk to me again!” He cried, hiding his face behind his hands, “I was even planning on asking him to prom! Now what am I gonna do?” 

Suddenly, everyone’s attention was on Jisung. 

“Prom?” Changbin yelled, his eyes wide.

“Yes?”

“We were supposed to go to that together, you dick!”

“It’s my senior year! I wanted to shoot my shot!”

“Yeah! Senior year! That’s why we were going together!” Changbin shook his head, false disappointment evident on his face.

“Well, since we’re asking people to prom now,” Chan started, folding his hands on the table. He bit his lip, darting his eyes around the room, “Y/N...do you maybe...wanna go to prom with me?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. Your fingers twisted themselves around each other as you pulled your lip between your teeth, willing yourself not to smile like a lovestruck idiot. This was your best friend, asking you to prom as his best friend. You pulled yourself together, heaving a sigh before you replied,

“Yeah, totally. It’s a date.”

“IT’S A DATE? Have I lost my fucking mind?” You fell back onto your bed, staring at your ceiling in disbelief. Jisung cackled from his seat at your desk, obviously very pleased by your choice of words at lunch. He invited himself over to your house, wanting to discuss prom plans with you, but you two were getting nowhere. As soon as you got home, you ran to your room to wallow in your own peril. You remembered how Chan had smiled at you when you accepted his proposal, his eyes managing to sparkle even under the shitty fluorescent lights the cafeteria provided.

“I’ve only been waiting four years for one of you to slip up. I’m glad it was you so we can talk about it. That asshole Chan still hasn’t confessed his undying love for you to me. But I bet he told Changbin. Fucking traitor.” He started to ramble, his eyes drifting across the paintings on the wall, “Hey,” he pointed to one in the corner, “this one is new.”

You nodded, gazing at the painting yourself. You had only hung it up a few days prior. You smiled, remembering the night you painted it. Chris was at your house, taking up all the space on your desk with his laptop, portable keyboard, and hard drive. He was working on a 3RACHA song, like he usually was. You always found those days with Chan so relaxing. The two of you didn’t need words to communicate with each other, you had your art. He would make music and you would paint, and your art would always end up reflecting the other’s. The song he was working on that night, Alchemistry, showed itself in your painting, swirling clouds of grey in a fading sky of purple and black. 

“Since we’re not going as a group anymore, I need to find a way to ask Hyunjin to prom.” Jisung sulked, opening up one of his one thousand notebooks. Jisung was a notebook kinda guy. He wrote every little thought down, just in case something could be used in a future song of his. And if he wanted to find something specific? Get ready for notebooks being tossed at your head as he sifts through every single one because he doesn’t label or organize anything. 

“Write him a song.” You suggested, gaze still trapped in that painting. Now that you were thinking about it, most of the paintings on that wall had something to do with Chan. It was like he had seeped into every corner of your life, including the darkest and most personal ones. 

“That’s your answer for everything I do.”

“Because your songs are good?” Not that you were lying. Your three best friends made up the rap trio 3RACHA. Were you a little bit jealous that they didn’t even ask if you wanted to be part of it? Yes, but you designed their album covers, so you forgive them.

Jisung was silent for a second, pondering your idea. Then he nodded, flipping to an empty page in the neon green notebook. He started scribbling, and you can’t really tell if it’s lyrics or drawings. But you looked away, letting Jisung do his thing. Pulling yourself up from the bed, you made your way to your closet, flinging the doors open with a huff. You scanned the rows of clothing before deciding that you definitely needed to go prom shopping. 

“I need something new, something that screams-”

“Please date me?”

You scoffed, “Han Jisung, you’re going to be the death of me.”

two.

Your room was an absolute disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, makeup and hair products settling on every surface. You hardly noticed the mess, you were so...excited? Anxious? You didn’t really know.

It was the big day.

Changbin was laying on your bed, no doubt texting Chan about how dramatic you and Jisung were being. Jisung was three inches away from your mirror, sucking in a breath as he applied a line of dark brown eyeliner. You were on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair as you decided what to do with it.

“Just leave it how it is, Y/N, who cares that much?”

“I care that much, Changbin!” You huffed, deciding to leave it how it was anyway. 

The only reason Chan wasn’t with you guys is because he was now your date. Jisung had banished him and Hyunjin from the room as soon as you started getting ready, claiming that he wanted your looks to be a surprise.

“I’m giving you guys ten minutes before we leave, alright? I’m getting a fucking drink.”

“Your favorite juice is on the bottom shelf.” You called out as Changbin was leaving the room.

“I know where the juice is!” He shut the door firmly, leaving you and Jisung alone.

“Y/N,” he sighed heavily, having just finished his wing, “I think I’m going to piss myself.”

“That’s a rented tux-”

“I didn’t mean it literally! I’m just...really nervous.”

You nodded, moving from your spot to go comfort the boy, “If it’s any consolation, you look super hot. And I’ll make out with you if Hyunjin doesn’t.”

He laughed, and you could feel the nervous energy around him dissipate a little bit.

Once the two of you were ready, Jisung opened your bedroom door, calling out to the boys below. He linked arms with you before walking out the door and down the stairs slowly.

Chan turned around when he heard movement on the stairs, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. His face turned bright pink as he adjusted his tie. He cleared his throat, extending a hand for you to take, “You look...um...really...n-nice, bunny.”

You breathed out a nervous laugh, feeling your stomach churn at Chan’s nickname for you since you were children, “Thank you. You look...nice, too.”

Jisung unhooked your arms and wandered over to Hyunjin, and you could hear them mumbling soft compliments to each other, both of their faces tinged pink.

The car ride to the school seemed to be the most normal feeling part of the night. You all talked to each other, awkwardness temporarily thrown out the window. You laughed at Jisung’s impressions, trying to avoid the weight of Chan’s hand in yours. It felt nice; right, even. His grip was tight, but in a comforting way. Every once in a while, his thumb would gently graze over your skin, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

Once you got inside the gym, it all changed again. Now, Chan wasn’t just your best friend. He was your date, and you got all dressed up for each other, and everybody was looking at you two. He sent a charming smile your way, half bowing and extending yet another hand for you, “May I have this dance?”

And it was okay again, for a little while. The two of you danced, all worries about keeping face and feelings out of your mind. Your friends joined you for some of the songs, and you finally got to see Hyunjin dance. For months, Jisung would rave about how amazing he was. And you agreed; he certainly deserved his spot as co-president of the dance team. 

An hour or so into the dance, a slightly sweaty Chan pulled you away from the dance floor and over to the refreshments. Confused, you asked, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I just want some punch.”

“And you had to take me away with you. Felix was just about to throw it back!” You whined, feigning disappointment. In reality, you were kinda glad to be out of the dance circle. High school kids really didn’t understand the concept of personal space when it came to these things. And besides, you wouldn’t mind some alone time with Chan.

“Let’s go outside,” You suggested to him, “we’re both sweaty. We could use some air.”

He nodded, taking your hand again. Pushing open the gymnasium doors, the two of you were met with a cool spring breeze. You sighed, letting your eyes shut for just a moment. In that one moment, Chan’s eyes were trained on you, fondness practically seeping from his pores. He took you to his favorite spot on campus, the music hallway. It was his favorite place to study, and the acoustics were dope, just in case he felt like bursting into song. Jisung did that sometimes.

The two of you sat on the cold cement floor, giggling at each other like little kids. You weren’t worried about what your friends inside the gym would think. You were just thinking about Chan. Chan and his dimpled smile and his sparkly eyes and his calloused but still gentle hands and how he was getting closer and why he was getting closer and - oh, his lips tasted like peach. You always liked peaches. So you kissed him back, because he tasted like peach. Not because you’ve been head over heels for him since the 7th grade. Absolutely not. Although, to be fair, 7th grade you would be absolutely geeked at how good of a kisser Chan was. How those calloused hands still managed to hold your face like it was made of porcelain while he sucked on your bottom lip like he would die without it.

He pulled away first, the popping sound of your lips disconnecting making you blush.

“That was - I - I’m sorry-”

“Sorry for what?”

“I just kissed you!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” He gaped, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s just that, yanno, I dunno. The prom...energy...got to me...haha.”

You stared at him, running your tongue over your bottom lip, trying to push the feeling of his lips out of your mind. You forced a smile, “Totally! And we...don’t have to mention this to anybody if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah...that would be best...let’s go back to the gym.” He stood and pulled you up with him. How he can stand to still hold your hand after crushing your heart like that, you couldn’t understand. But you let him.

You would always let him.

three.

It only takes two weeks for you to tell someone about the kiss. Granted, you’re drunk. And it’s Jisung. And he’s offended it took so long.

“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I’m not just anyone, Y/N! Let’s not forget, I told you about my first kiss with Hyunjin when it happened!” He was practically yelling.

“You guys are dating! Chan and I are not dating!” You cried out, your grip on the plastic cup in your hand tightening. You weren’t really sure what was in the cup. Changbin had brought you one of his concoctions, promising to get you fucked up. And you just graduated high school, you deserved it! Thank whatever higher power that Choi Lia’s parents were on route to Canada right now. 

“You guys still aren’t together? That’s so embarrassing.” Jisung hiccuped. He had the lowest alcohol tolerance you had ever seen, and you knew Lee Felix. You smacked his arm, apparently harder than you thought, because he yelped in pain. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. You pouted, staring at the neon green liquid in your cup. Sighing, you downed the rest of it, your face contorting at the awful taste. You figured you needed to be wasted to deal with Jisung’s bitching for the rest of the night. You loved the boy to pieces, but he sure had a mouth on him. 

Seemingly out of thin air, Hyunjin appeared next to Jisung, immediately slinking an arm around the shorter’s waist. Jisung giggled, “Hey, handsome.”

“Don’t do this in front of me.” 

They couldn’t hear you, “I’ve been looking for you all night, babylove. Should’ve guessed I’d find you with Y/N.”

“Was the glittery silver blazer not enough for you to spot him? He looks like New Year’s Eve in May.”

Still ignoring you, Jisung poked Hyunjin’s chest teasingly, “Sounds like you missed me.” He bit down on his lip, and that was the last straw for you. You huffed, making your way to where Changbin was in the kitchen.

“Hey, Y/N! How was the drink?”

“Absolutely horrible. Make me another one.” 

Changbin took the cup from your hands, pouring random amounts of various liquids into it. He handed it to you with a sly smirk, warning you to drink slowly. Not that you ever listened to Changbin. You pulled yourself onto the kitchen counter, sipping on the horrible substance while making conversation. You ignored the dark cloud seeping into your mind while he spoke about college. Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had all made it into the same university, as they had submitted 3RACHA songs with their applications. You weren’t a musician, so you were going to a different university that focused more on your kind of art. It was only two hours away, but that was two hours farther than you had been from them in years. 

“Hey,” You interrupted his tangent, your voice barely above a whisper, “You guys aren’t gonna...forget about me, right?”

His smile dropped, “Of course not. We’re still gonna be best friends, aren’t we? And we’re gonna see each other every weekend, and when we come home for holidays, we’ll be together all the time.” He closed the gap between you two, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. It was awkward positioning, but Changbin’s hugs always made you feel secure. You swallowed your tears, mumbling a shaky, “thank you,” into his ear. 

When he let you go, you quickly finished the rest of the drink and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. Your last drink was starting to hit you, big time. A sudden determination filled your veins, “Hey, Binnie?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you seen Chan lately?”

“He’s probably with Seungmin somewhere.”

You nodded, jumping off the counter and starting your pursuit. It shouldn’t be that hard. How many guys did you know with fried blond hair?

After a few minutes of searching, you found him sitting on the couch with Seungmin like Changbin had said. Seungmin made a joke, and Chan threw his head back as he laughed. God, he was so...stunning. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched him. You felt your determination wither for a second, but you pushed through. This is your last chance, Y/N, you thought to yourself. It’s now or never.

“Can I talk to you?”

A look of alarm crossed Chan’s features as he nodded. He sounded unsure as he spoke, “Yeah, totally. What’s up?”

“I mean,” You glanced at the boy sitting next to him, “alone.”

A soft oh left Chan’s lips as he stood. He nodded to Seungmin before gripping your hand like he’s done so many times before. You could just barely hear Seungmin’s laughing as Chan pulled you away. Wait, you were the one who asked him to talk, why was he dragging you around?

To be honest, Chan didn’t know either. For him, taking your hand and leading you to secret places just seemed...natural to him. He led you up the stairs and into the first room he found. Lia’s room. Lia wouldn’t mind; she was a good friend. He closed the door behind you two, locking it just to be sure. 

“What’s up, bunny?” 

Your heart began to pound in your chest as you sat down on the bed. You sucked in a breath, making eye contact with Chan as you folded your hands, “I’m in love with you.”

He just stared at you, not even blinking. You watched his chest rise and fall with his breaths. An excruciating minute passed, which felt like hours to you, before he made his way across the room and next to you on the bed.

“Y/N…” He had hardly finished saying your name before your heart shattered, “we’re going to different schools next year. You’ll be focusing on your painting and I’ll be producing probably non-stop. I...wouldn’t be a good boyfriend to you.” 

You tried to hold in the tears, you really did, but you were drunk and the boy you’ve been in love with for like 5 years just rejected you and you’re cold. So you couldn’t really help the choked sob that comes from your throat, and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him for comfort. He started to stutter, “N-No that’s not what I meant! I mean, it is, but don’t cry!” He clasped your shoulders and pulled you to him, allowing your tears to flow freely on his nice black shirt, “Y/N, you know I have feelings for you. I just...won’t be able to be there for you like you need me to. I want to be with you, I really do. It would just end in heartbreak. I would rather still be your best friend and only that than have you hate me as a boyfriend, okay?” 

“I’ll wait for you.” You barely managed to get those words out through your cries.

“No, you won’t. Please don’t. Please move on, bunny.” You removed yourself from his hold, scrunching your nose up to sniffle the tears away.

“Can we just...go to bed?” 

The smile that he gave you in that moment broke your heart again; so sad and sincere.

“Of course.” He laid you down, holding you close enough to hear his heartbeat. He was so warm. 

God, how you wished you could stay like that forever.

four.

Chan couldn’t tell if he was more excited or nervous to see you. Your group hadn’t seen each other as much as you had hoped. At the beginning of the semester, you met up every weekend, excitedly chatting about your new classes and the new people in your lives. But as life continued, it got in the way. You hadn’t seen each other face to face since October, opting for texts and FaceTime sessions instead. And he missed you terribly. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?

He found himself thinking of you often. Even during songwriting sessions with Jisung and Changbin. They laughed at him when his lyrics became sappy, threatening to pull their phones out and text you Chan’s adoration. He regretted what he told you back in May; that he wouldn’t be good to you. 

He sat in the living room of his childhood home, fidgeting in his seat. Changbin was scrolling through channels on the TV, a bored expression on his features. Jisung and Hyunjin were in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for the third time that night.

He couldn’t focus. You were going to knock on that door any moment, your parents in tow, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Cry? Run into your arms? Fuck, try and kiss you? He stood abruptly, scaring the boy next to him. 

“I-I’ll be right back.” He excused himself, hurrying to lock himself in his bedroom to breathe.

Changbin opened the front door, his eyes lighting up at the sight of one of his best friends, “Y/N!” 

“Is Y/N here?” Jisung yelled from the kitchen, the pitter patter of his feet telling you that he was running your way. Two pairs of arms wrapped around you. They walked you through the door, with Changbin yelling something to your parents about where the other parents were. You felt your mother’s hand on your back, a way for her to tell you that they were going. When the boys finally released you, they noticed one other figure in the room.

“Oh…” Jisung gasped. Changbin just stared, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Um-” You coughed, trying to relive some of the tension, “where’s Chan?”

“In his room.”

You nodded before heading that way, lightly tapping on the door three times, “Channie? It’s Y/N.”

The door swung open, a breath-taking smile on the boy’s face. He wrapped you up in his embrace, swinging you around as he yelled your name.

“How have you been? How are you? Wow, you look so pretty!” His hands cupped your face, lightly dragging his thumbs over your cheekbones. You placed your hands over his, a dull heartbeat in your chest as you watched him speak. 

Chan’s heart was pounding in his chest. He thought you could hear it, and that’s why you were looking at him so...analytically. They’re right here, he thought. You lost your chance last time, but maybe it’s not too late. Now or never, Chan.

“Listen, Y/N…” He sighed, “about what I said after graduation, at that party-”

“No, don’t-”

“Please just let me say this.”

You nodded, allowing him to continue, “I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should’ve just...given us a shot. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You can ask the guys, all my lyrics have been about you, and they’re ridiculously cheesy. I know I told you to move on but...maybe I still have a place in your heart? And...maybe we can...try this?”

You couldn’t breathe. You shook your head, pulling away from him, “Chan, I-” 

Seven months ago, you would’ve jumped for joy at his confession. Taken him into your arms and kissed him until you were dizzy. But now…

“Baby! How long were you gonna wait until you introduced me?”

Chan froze. Baby? Who the hell was calling you baby?

You took a few steps back, glancing over at the boy next to you, “Channie...this is my boyfriend, Minho.”

Boyfriend. You had a...boyfriend. You went and did exactly what he told you to do, but his heart still shattered. But he plastered a smile on his face anyway, shaking Minho’s hand, “I’m Bang Chan. One of Y/N’s best friends. Welcome to her second home.”

And the night continued like that. Your best friends focused their attention entirely on you and Minho. They asked him an endless amount of questions, from where he grew up to his favorite kind of bean. Sometimes, you would notice Jisung or Changbin giving Chan a sympathetic glance, but you ignored it. Minho was a good boyfriend, and you were genuinely happy with him. You didn’t expect your feelings for Chan to leave you so quickly, but distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.

The five of you spent most of your winter break together. The only day you didn’t see each other was Christmas, which was spent with your families. The next day, you had your own Christmas, like you did every year. 

The hardest day for Chan was New Year’s Eve. You had a party at Changbin’s house, with as many kids from your graduating class as possible. It reminded him of that night after graduation. Jisung still wore that ugly silver blazer, drunk and attached to his boyfriend all night. Changbin still made horrible, hangover inducing nightmare drinks that he persuaded poor college students into drinking. You were drunk again, too. But instead of crying into Chan’s chest like before, you were giggling up a storm with your new boyfriend. Chan watched from afar, jealousy pumping through his veins at the way you draped yourself across his lap, and how he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That should’ve been him.

10 seconds before midnight, he felt sick. Everyone around him was so giddy, so excited for a new start. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you two. Your hands were locked together, staring into each other’s eyes as you counted down the seconds. The TV at the front of the room screamed, “Happy New Year,” as he watched Minho’s lips crash against yours, a smile evident on both of your faces. He stalked out of the living room, making a beeline for the bar. 

He had to get over you, the way you had so easily gotten over him. And he had to get over you now or never.