#seriously the list of musicals goes on...

[jungkoode]

5 SECONDS TO FREEDOM | prologue

˗ˏˋ debts unpaid ˎˊ˗

"In Tokyo's underground, there are only two currencies that matter—respect and reputation. When someone threatens to take both, you don't just race them. You destroy them."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 3.5k

content: street racing culture, debt collection, first meetings, midnight races, dangerous driving, Spanish endearments as provocation, the dynamics of Tokyo's underground scene, and your first defeat in nineteen months.

✧ author's note ✧

Soooo here we fucking go.

I've been obsessing over this story for months—I think we all know that lmaooo I think I posted the teaser like a couple months ago and I was devastated because it barely got 50 notes. But you know what, this was still in my head so I did write some drabbles—and I kind of shaped the prologue, which is what you’re gonna read below hahaha.

“But Kiki we just sent you 45 asks telling you to rest” AND I SAID SIKE??? No actually, I’m okay I promise! Usually writing different stories is what prevents me from burning out, because I get frustrated with the same storyline so it’s like… I write something else and my brain goes ‘yay thanks’. You know, ADHD—shiny new toy, mind dances to the music.

Anyways, so. I love this. I love this because as always I get to experiment with different personalities and psychological backgrounds and what I fucking love about these two is the masks they wear and how opposite they are. He’s cocky and arrogant, but in a different way FMU!jungkook is. She’s determined and ambitious, always pushing for more, but still very distinct from all my other Y/N’s because she’s handling different situations (you’ll see in later chapters).

And Hachiroku and Jaque aren't just racing personas—they're escapes. And what makes this delicious is that they're running from opposite lives. One from privilege, one from struggle. Both finding freedom in the same five seconds at the starting line.

And yes, the cars matter. They're not just vehicles; they're extensions of identity. The AE86 is legendary for a reason—not the most powerful, but perfectly balanced in the hands of someone who knows exactly what they're doing (sound familiar?). Meanwhile, the R34 Skyline is raw, unapologetic power held in check by someone who understands precisely when to unleash it.

AS ALWAYS—READ THE AUTHOR INTRO AND TW listed in the index post. This is a must before reading this story.

Fair warning: this isn't going to be a clean race. These characters are messy. They make decisions that will make you want to scream at them. They'll crash into each other's lives and leave debris everywhere, and the kind of attraction that feels like a guardrail giving way on a mountain pass.

But that's the point, isn't it? The most interesting stories happen in the dangerous curves.

So buckle up. We've got a long road ahead.

Ready? Light’s about to turn green.

Also. Notes for this one are pretty high, that’s intentional. Like I just wanted to post the prologue to have it out for a bit but I still need to work on the arcs and major plot points. So I don’t have the story fully shaped out for now, which is why I want this to rest and check for engagement and reactions. Seriously—don’t crash out, I know this one will take time and that’s absolutely my intention!

Edit: prologue takes place 6 months before the main storyline!

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Respect isn't given in Tokyo's underground—it's paid in cash or blood.

You roll the cherry lollipop against your teeth, counting seconds in your head like engine timing.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours since you left Kalo and his overpriced Supra in your rearview on the Hakone downhill, his taillights disappearing around the corner while you took the perfect line through the hairpin that everyone else brakes too hard for.

It's nighttime at Daikoku.

You cross one leg over the other, letting your heeled boot dangle casually off the edge of your AE86's hood. The mini skirt wasn't a random choice. Neither was showing up without your racing gear.

Because tonight isn't about driving—it's about collecting.

"Kalo's nowhere to be seen," Maya says, leaning against your car's hood, arms crossed. "Dipped hard."

You don't bother looking at her, just shift the lollipop to the other side of your mouth with your tongue. The neon from nearby signs reflects off the polished black and white paint of your 86.

"What?" Maya catches your expression. "I'm just saying. Word is he's been avoiding this spot since you embarrassed him."

"While still flashing cash at that club in Roppongi," you add, voice flat. "Buying drinks for anyone who'll listen to his bullshit version of what happened on the mountain."

You tug at one of the layered chains around your neck, watching the crowd that's gathered tonight.

The usual suspects are here—wannabes with more money than skill taking photos of each other's cars, veterans huddled around hoods talking suspension setups, scouts looking for the next race.

Everyone except the one person who should be here with your money.

"So what's the plan?" Maya nudges your shoulder. "Just gonna sit here looking pretty until he magically appears?"

You roll your eyes. "Since when do I just sit and wait for anything?"

"Fair point." She grins that wolfish grin of hers. "So?"

"So I track his ass down." You twist the lollipop stick between your fingers. "He owes me fifty thousand yen. But more than that, he owes me the respect of paying up and admitting I smoked him fair and square."

Maya snorts, exactly as you expected. "Called it. Knew you wouldn't let this slide."

"It's not about the money." You straighten up, adjusting your cropped leather jacket. "It's about the principle. You lose a race, you pay your debts. That's how this works. You don't just disappear like some amateur who can't handle defeat."

"Especially not when he talked all that shit beforehand," Maya adds, picking at her black nail polish. "What was it he said again? Something about how no girl could ever handle his—"

"'No girl could handle my power on the downhill,'" you quote dryly. "Right before I passed him on the outside of that corner everyone brakes for."

The memory brings a slight smile to your face.

The shock in his eyes when you appeared in his side mirror where no car should have been able to fit.

The desperate overcorrection that sent him nearly scraping the guardrail while you smoothly accelerated away.

"Exactly." Maya pushes off your hood. "So what's the first move? Hit his usual spots?"

You pull the lollipop from your mouth with a pop. "Already did. Club Seventh in Roppongi. The garage where his uncle works in Setagaya. That ramen shop he's always at in Shibuya."

"Stalker much?" Maya raises an eyebrow.

"Thorough," you correct her. "There's a difference."

A brief silence falls between you as you both watch a metallic blue GT-R roll into the lot, bass thumping hard enough to vibrate the pavement.

Not Kalo's crowd—these guys run with the Yokohama crew.

"Kenji might know," you say finally, referring to your mutual friend who somehow knows everyone's business in Tokyo's racing scene. "He mentioned Kalo's been hanging around some new spot in Meguro the past week."

Maya pulls out her phone. "Want me to text him now?"

"Already did." You tap your boot against the bumper of your car. "He's supposed to meet us here in—" you check the time on your wrist "—fifteen minutes ago."

"Typical." Maya rolls her eyes. "That guy couldn't be on time if his life depended on it."

You're about to respond when you spot a familiar face weaving through the crowd. Kenji, with his signature sunglasses despite it being well past midnight, making his way toward you.

You straighten up slightly, not wanting to appear too eager for information.

"Ladies," he greets with that irritating smirk of his, adjusting his sunglasses even though there's absolutely no need. "Looking dangerous tonight, Y/N. Someone's not here to race."

"Just tell me what you know about Kalo," you say, cutting through his bullshit.

Kenji leans against your car without asking—a liberty you allow only because he's useful.

"Direct as always. That's what I like about you."

"Kenji," you warn, patience already wearing thin.

"Fine, fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "Your boy's been hanging at this new garage in Meguro. Place called Midnight Rush. Trying to get in with that crew that runs the Wangan on weekends."

You raise an eyebrow. "The twins' territory? That's desperate even for him."

"After what you did to his reputation?" Kenji shrugs. "Man's gotta find somewhere to start over."

Maya laughs. "Not how this works. You don't just reset when you lose."

"Exactly." You shift your weight, boot heels clicking against the pavement. "So he's there tonight?"

"Should be. They're prepping for some big run tomorrow. Word is there's serious money changing hands. He's trying to buy his way in."

The conversation halts as the distinctive growl of an approaching engine cuts through the night.

Not just any engine—something with a tune you've never heard before.

Sharp. Aggressive. Perfectly balanced.

Heads turn as a midnight purple Skyline R34 GT-R glides into the parking area, before coming to a stop under the harsh parking lot lights.

"Who the hell is that?" Maya straightens up, suddenly alert.

Kenji's expression shifts from boredom to interest in an instant—a rare change for him. "New player. Goes by Jaque."

You study the car, assessing rather than admiring.

Aftermarket body kit, but tasteful. Custom wheels. The stance is aggressive but functional.

Whoever built this wasn't just throwing money at it—they knew exactly what they were doing.

"Jaque?" you repeat, keeping your voice neutral despite your curiosity. "What kind of name is that?"

"Latino guy. Showed up about a month ago." Kenji lowers his voice, shifting into the gossip mode he lives for. "Been cleaning up. Undefeated so far."

Your eyebrow rises slightly at that.

Undefeated is a bold claim in this scene.

"Never heard of him," Maya says, voicing what you're thinking.

"That's because he's been running mostly on the Wangan line. Outrunning cops, taking stupid risks. The kind of shit that gets you noticed fast." Kenji's eyes remain fixed on the car. "Word is he beat Hayato's record on the C1 loop last week."

That gets your attention, though you're careful not to show it.

Hayato's record has stood for three years.

This guy has broken it in a month.

Who the fuck is this?

Your question is answered when the driver's door opens, and the crowd's murmur intensifies. A figure emerges, oozing the confidence of someone who knows they belong anywhere they choose to be.

Not tall, but with a presence that fills the space around him. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and a smirk that suggests he's already three steps ahead of everyone else.

"He drives like he's got nothing to lose," Kenji adds, a note of genuine respect in his voice that you rarely hear. "Like he doesn't care if he crashes or dies. It's... I don’t know man. Something else."

You watch as the driver—Jaque, apparently—leans back against his Skyline, surveying the crowd like he's taking inventory.

His gaze sweeps across the parking lot, until it lands on your group.

Or more specifically, on you.

He gives you a small nod, as if acknowledging territory.

"Looks like you've got an admirer," Maya mutters, nudging your ribs.

You shrug, unimpressed. "Looks like another ego with a nice car."

But you don't look away, and neither does he. It's a standoff of sorts, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.

You've played this game before with countless racers who thought they were hot shit.

You've never been the first to look away.

"Don't dismiss him so quickly," Kenji warns, surprising you. "I've seen him drive. I’m dead serious, it’s not normal."

"Nobody's unbeatable," you say, finally breaking the staring contest to look back at Kenji.

Just because you had to look back at Kenji.

"Maybe." Kenji shifts uncomfortably. "But this guy... he doesn't race like a normal person. It's like he's got some kind of death wish, but with the skill to back it up."

You scoff, though something about Kenji's tone—the genuine concern beneath his usual bullshit—gives you pause.

"Death wish or not, a car's a car, and physics is physics. There are rules to this game that nobody breaks."

Maya's watching you with that knowing look she gets when she can tell someone's gotten under your skin, even just a little.

"You want to find out, don't you?"

"I want to find Kalo and get my money," you correct her, though your eyes drift back to the Skyline against your will. "That's why we're here."

You scoff at Maya's knowing smirk, about to tell her to shut it when fragments of conversation float over from where the newcomer stands. One word cuts through the ambient noise of engines and chatter.

Kalo.

Your head snaps toward the source.

The Skyline guy—Jaque—leans against his car, talking to a small circle of racers. His hands move expressively as he speaks, gold bracelet catching the neon light.

"Kenji." You cut him off mid-sentence. "Who exactly is this guy talking to?"

Kenji follows your gaze. "Nobody important. Some Yokohama kids trying to get noticed." He adjusts those stupid sunglasses. "Why?"

"He just mentioned Kalo."

Maya straightens beside you. "You sure?"

No mistaking it. Not when you've been hunting that name for two weeks.

"Excuse me," you say, already moving.

Maya sighs behind you. "Here she goes again."

You don't look back. Your boots click purposefully across the pavement, moving slowly. Not rushing—you never rush. But determined.

Three guys surrounding Jaque glance up as you approach, their expressions shifting from interest to wariness. They know who you are.

He doesn't turn immediately. Keeps talking, voice carrying a rhythm unlike anything you've heard in Tokyo. An accent that doesn't belong here.

Only when you're close enough to count the stitches on his leather jacket does he acknowledge your presence.

And even then, it's just a partial turn. Forty-five degrees. Neck cradling slightly to look at you sideways.

Performative, if anything. Like he knew you were coming before you did.

You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip. His mouth twitches upward at the corner, eyes traveling from your face down to your boots and back up again.

Not subtle about it at all.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sight?" Velvet slides from his lips.

One eyebrow quirks upward, the slightest movement. His Japanese is fluent but different—consonants softened, vowels stretched in places they shouldn't be.

You narrow your eyes. "You mentioned Kalo. What do you know about him? What's your relationship?"

He studies you for two full seconds. Not answering. Just looking. Like he's trying to read something written in small print.

Then he chuckles, using two fingers to move a thin strand of dark hair that's fallen across his view. The movement is unnecessary. Theatrical. Done for effect.

"Why so serious, princesa?"

It’s Spanish, the last word. You know that much, know from the way the word rolls off his tongue, deliberate, inserted where it doesn't belong. Like he’s testing boundaries, hoping for a reaction.

"I asked you a question." You keep your voice unimpressed.

"And I asked you one too."

He turns to face you fully now, leaning back against his car with the casualness of someone who's never been afraid of anything.

"But since you came all this way... Kalo. The Supra guy, right? The one who races like he learned driving from a video game?"

The description is so accurate you almost smile.

Almost.

"I hear he owes someone money," he continues, watching your reaction carefully. "Someone who smoked him on the mountain course two weeks back. Embarrassed him so badly he's been hiding like a scared rabbit."

His three companions take subtle steps backward, no longer interested in being part of this conversation.

Smart.

Maya appears beside you, silent backup. Though her presence changes nothing in his demeanor.

"And how would you know about that?" you ask.

He shrugs one shoulder.

"People talk. I listen." His accent thickens when he adds, "Es lo que hago." (It’s what I do)

"Is that right?" You don't react to the Spanish. "Interesting that someone who just showed up knows so much about other people's business."

"I'm observant."

His eyes lock with yours.

"For example, I observe that you're not here to race tonight. That outfit? Those heels?" He clicks his tongue. "You're here to collect. To make a point."

Something cold slides down your spine. Not fear—you don't do fear. Something else.

Being read so easily isn't a sensation you're familiar with.

"What's your name again?" You ask it like you've already forgotten, though you haven't.

"Jaque." He says it with a slight emphasis on the second syllable. "And you're Y/N. The 86 driver who hasn't lost a mountain race in what, two years?"

"Nineteen months," Maya corrects automatically.

You shoot her a look.

Jaque's smile widens. "Nineteen months. Impressive."

"If you're done wasting my time," you say, turning slightly, "I have a debt to collect."

"From a guy who isn't here."

He pushes off his car, closing the distance between you by half a step. Not enough to be threatening. Just enough to make his presence unavoidable.

"And won't be. Not tonight," he adds.

"And you know that how?"

"Because I passed him on the expressway heading in the opposite direction. About twenty minutes ago." He taps his wrist where a watch would be. "Running scared, looked like."

You clench your jaw. If he's telling the truth, you've wasted your night. Another dead end in your hunt for the coward who owes you.

"So you just happened to recognize a stranger's car?" Maya asks, skepticism heavy in her voice.

"A white Supra with that terrible aftermarket body kit and the Rising Sun decal on the hood?" He makes a dismissive gesture. "Hard to miss. Hard to forget, unfortunately."

That description matches Kalo's car exactly; and the sick feeling in your stomach tells you he's not lying, as much as you'd like him to be.

"Well," you say, voice cooling by several degrees, "thanks for the information."

You turn to leave, disgusted at having your time wasted. First by Kalo's absence, now by this newcomer who clearly just wanted to get your attention. Another night, another waste.

"I'll pay you double what he owes you."

The words stop you mid-step.

You turn back slowly, measuring every movement.

"Excuse me?"

Jaque's expression hasn't changed, but something in his eyes has.

They’re gleaning.

"Fifty thousand yen, right? I'll make it a hundred." He says casually, like offering to buy a coffee. "If you beat me."

Maya makes a small sound beside you, something between a scoff and a laugh.

"And why would I race someone I don't know for money I don't need?"

You almost laugh. As if this is about the money. You were born into more yen than he’s ever seen—this is about respect. About principle. About owning your loss when someone beats you clean. No excuses. No saving face. Just bow your head and pay what you owe.

But he’s not done.

"Because you're curious." He says it like it's obvious. "Because you've been the best for nineteen months and you're bored. Because you want to know if I'm as good as they say."

"As good as who says?" You roll your eyes. "I've never heard of you before tonight."

"Then I must be doing something right." His smile shifts, becomes syrupy. "But if money doesn't motivate you, how about this—I win, I get to run with your crew. Race in your territory."

You can't help it—you laugh. Short and dismissive.

"That's not how this works. You don't just buy your way in." Your eyes flick to his car. "No matter how pretty your GT-R is."

"I'm not buying," he corrects, that accent slipping into his Japanese again. "I'm earning. Difference."

You narrow your eyes.

Maya leans close to your ear. "You're not seriously considering this?"

You should walk away. This guy is nobody. A newcomer with a nice car and too much confidence. The racing scene sees them every month. They come, they crash, they disappear.

But.

Something about the way he stands there, utterly certain of himself, gets under your skin.

Like he already knows your answer before you do.

And maybe it's the wasted night. Maybe it's two weeks of hunting Kalo with nothing to show for it. Maybe it's just the need to put someone in their place.

"One race," you hear yourself say.

Maya's head whips toward you in surprise.

"One race," you continue, "and when I win, you pay double what Kalo owes me, and you don't bother me again."

"And when I win," he counters, not missing a beat, "I race with your crew. Simple."

"If," you correct.

"When." He doesn't back down.

One calculated step closer brings his scent into focus. Leather, naturally, but beneath it something that doesn't compute. A scent that belongs to ryokan inns and meditation halls, not this arrogant foreigner.

Hinoki.

"You're awfully confident for someone who knows nothing about me or how I drive."

"And you're awfully defensive for someone who's supposedly unbeatable." His voice drops lower, meant for your ears only. "What are you afraid of, princesa?"

The Spanish word again. A barb. Challenging.

"Afraid?" You match his tone. "I'm trying to save you the embarrassment. And the money."

He laughs, so genuine that it catches you off guard. "So it's settled then. You and me. Tonight."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kenji approaching, drawn by the developing scene. Others are watching too.

Word travels fast in this world.

"Fine." You extend your hand, a formality in this world of verbal contracts. "My terms. My course."

He takes your hand. His grip is firm but not aggressive. Just right. His palm warm against yours.

"Your course," he agrees. "But I pick when."

You raise an eyebrow. "When, then?"

His smile widens, showing teeth. "Now."

Death has a rhythm.

Tonight, it sounds like Daddy Yankee.

The mountain is yours—every curve, every shadow, every inch of guardrail. You've memorized each crack in the asphalt like the lines on your palm.

Yet as you sit at the starting line, engine purring, the midnight purple Skyline beside you blasts "Gasolina" loud enough to vibrate your windows.

He's not even looking at the road.

Jaque's got hand on the wheel, the other tapping the window frame in rhythm.

Kenji stands between the cars, arms raised.

You grip your steering wheel tighter.

Focus. Calculate. This is your mountain. Your rules.

"Ready!" Kenji shouts.

You check your gauges, settle into position, drop your breath rate. Your 86 is an extension of your body.

"Set!"

Jaque turns to you—actually turns his head away from the road—and winks.

Winks.

What the fuck is his problem?

Your jaw clenches so hard you hear teeth grinding.

"GO!"

You snap into the first gear immediately, launching forward as your tires bite into asphalt. Perfect traction. Perfect release. Your 86 shoots ahead exactly as calculated, exactly as it always does.

The Skyline stays even.

First corner approaches—tight right-hander with a nasty camber that catches amateurs by surprise. You brake at the perfect moment, downshift, feel the weight transfer as you clip the apex.

Textbook. Flawless. The corner you've taken hundreds of times.

The Skyline mirrors you exactly, staying in your blind spot. The bass from his music is still thumping through the night air.

Second corner. Third. Fourth. Each attack perfect, each line immaculate. And still, he's there. Not gaining, not falling behind. Just... present. Like a shadow you can't shake.

"What the hell is this guy playing at?" You mutter, taking the next hairpin with a controlled aggression that should give you an advantage.

Should.

Doesn't.

The Skyline follows, its midnight paint swallowing the moonlight instead of reflecting it. Through the next three corners, it continues—you lead, he follows, neither gaining ground.

Until the straightaway.

The road opens up, and you floor it. The 86 responds instantly, pushing you back into your seat. This is where your lighter weight should shine.

But the Skyline surges forward, twin-turbo engine unleashing a growl that slices the night.

He passes you.

Not aggressively. Not dangerously.

Just... efficiently.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

For the first time in nineteen months, you're staring at someone else's taillights.

"No fucking way."

You push harder, finding speed you rarely tap into. The gap closes slightly on the approach to the next corner—a sharp left with a cliff drop on the outside.

No guardrail. No room for error.

Normal people brake early here.

Jaque, as it turns out, is not normal people.

You don't brake until the last possible microsecond, throwing the 86 into the corner. The tires scream, traction at its absolute limit. You can feel them searching for grip, dancing on the edge of adhesion.

You exit the corner a car length behind him.

"Come on!" You slam the gearshift, pushing for more.

The next section is technical—five corners in quick succession. Your territory.

It's where precision matters more than power.

You close the gap. Corner by corner, inch by inch. Three more and you're on his bumper. Close enough to see his fingers still tapping against the frame slightly to the rhythm.

The next hairpin is your chance. The inside line is risky—there's barely enough room—but it's your mountain.

You know exactly how much space you need.

You dive for the gap.

For one beautiful moment, you're alongside him. Equal. Your front bumper inches past his door.

Then he does something impossible.

Instead of defending the line—instead of doing what any rational driver would do—Jaque throws his car into a drift so aggressive it sends the back end swinging wide, nearly touching the guardrail.

The move creates an arc that cuts you off, forces you to brake or crash.

You brake.

The maneuver costs him speed, should give you another chance to pass on exit.

But before you can capitalize, he's already accelerating out of the drift, the Skyline's all-wheel drive finding traction where none should exist.

"What the actual—"

The move was insane. Suicidal. The kind of thing that ends with twisted metal and sirens.

And he pulled it off like he was parallel parking.

For the final stretch—three corners and the last straightaway—you throw caution aside. Push beyond limits you usually respect. The 86 responds, giving everything it has.

It's not enough.

The Skyline crosses the finish line two car lengths ahead. You slam your palm against the steering wheel.

The taste of defeat is metallic in your mouth, foreign and despised.

You bring the 86 to a hard stop, tires protesting at the sudden deceleration.

The music still pounds from his car. That same goddamn song.

You throw open your door, adrenaline and anger propelling you forward. The cool mountain air hits your flushed face as you storm toward his car.

Because that last move? It wasn't just reckless—it was deadly. The kind of stunt that gets people killed on these mountains.

Words build in your throat. Sharp words. Words about respect for the mountain and death wishes and arrogance.

His door swings open as you approach. The music blasts louder without the barrier of glass and metal. He slides out with that same casual grace you saw when he called you princesa, when he winked before accelerating.

And something stops the words in your throat.

He shakes his head slightly, dark hair falling across his eyes before he pushes it back with one smooth motion. His other hand remains on the Skyline's roof, some golden ring catching the moonlight.

When he turns to face you, there's no triumph in his expression. No arrogance.

Just... satisfaction.

Like he's found something he's been looking for.

His eyes meet yours across the short distance. That smile appears again—not the cocky smirk from earlier, but something more genuine. Lips curved just slightly at the corners.

"Thanks for the adrenaline rush, mami," he says, voice carrying over the pounding beat of Daddy Yankee.

You've never hated Spanish music more in your life.

goal: 500 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @jkrailme @graydolan12

next | index

© jungkoode 2025 | banner/div credit: @dailynnt no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[evilmenarehot]

Rafe the Protector

Frat!Rafe x reader (established relationship)

Summary: At one of Rafes frat party a guy gets a little too handsy and Rafe comes to the rescue.

Themes : Mainly fluff! Slight angst cause of gross boy who can’t take no for an answer 🙄

*this is my second time ever writing so once again cut me some slack😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could already hear the music blaring from inside the party when you stepped out of your uber. Tired from your long day at school you start to regret showing up, but your promised Rafe. Plus it’s nothing a little bit of liquor won’t fix. You look around and notice that the line to get in is at least 30 people deep, but luckily you’re the Tri Delt’s frat sweetheart. Meaning you get the lovely power of skipping the line. A perk you get when you’ve been dating the frat president for almost a year. You approach the door where two of the pledges have been given bouncer privileges where you wait for them to finish talking to the girls at the front of the line. Once done you step up and clear your throat to get their attention. “Hi my name should be on the list” you smile at them.

They look at each other as the smaller one hands the taller one their clipboard and give you a look that is probably supposed to be intimidating. However considering they’re barely legal adults is just kind of funny. “What’s the name?” “Oh it’s y/n, y/n l/n” you patiently wait for them to find your name as you hum along to the song playing inside, once your name is found they cross it off, and wish you a good time while opening the velvet rope. There wasn’t a velvet rope last year so I guess these guys take their jobs very seriously.

As soon as you step inside you’re hit with the smell of sweaty men and weed. What a glorious combination to be met with. You make your way around trying to spot your freshly buzz cutted boyfriend, but this place was packed. Luckily you see a familiar face in the crowd and make you’re way up, “hey topper have you seen Rafe? I just got here.” He looks down at you and his eyes are bright red, meaning that someone’s having fun. “Omg y/n hey, uhh I think I saw him out in the back boutta play some pong” he basically yells in your ear trying to overpower the music. “Okay thank you” you give him a smile and make your way to the back deck.

As you approach the sliding glass doors you can already see him playing pong against two pledges, and winning while doing so. You take a moment to appreciate his looks, wearing a gold chain and a tight fitting white t-shirt, he’s the epitome of sexy. You slide open the doors and make your way up to him sneaking your arms around his waist from behind. He jerks around in surprise until he’s met with your eyes. He puts his arm around your waist and sneaks down for a kiss. “Hey baby” he says with a smile. He lets go for a minute to give his attention to the beer pong in front of him but as soon as he lands it, he turns back to you. “Did you just get here?”

“Yeah I did, came straight to you.” You smile up at him,

“Okay I have one more cup to sink and then I’m all yours.” You let go and step back to let him focus on doing his thing. The crowd around goes silent while he takes aim, he shoots and lands his ball in the cup with a little splash. As the crowd erupts around him he turns around to pick you up and spin you around in victory. You giggle in return and wrap your arms around his neck. When he sets you on the ground he gives you a quick peck on the lips and ushers you both off to a quieter place of the house.

You end up in the kitchen where he puts you up on the counter and starts to prepare you a drink. He turns back around and hands you a red solo cup with some sort of red liquid in it. You give him a look of distrust, “ what is this?” “Just try it baby you’ll like it I promise,” you look down at it hesitantly and take a small sip. To your surprise it tastes rather good, like strawberry or something. You look up at him and give him a soft smile.

“Okay that is actually kind of good.” He smirks in response, “now why would I make you a drink that’s anything but.” You giggle and take another sip of your drink while Rafe gets a refill of his beer. “So how was my beautiful girl's day?” He asks while leaning on the island that is opposite of you. “It was good, just long, glad to have a night to relax, what about you?” He lets out a chuckle and takes a sip of his beer contemplating his day's events. “Uh I skipped class, bought some kegs, threatened some pledges, you know, just a typical Rafe day.” You chuckle to yourself and look at him to see he's smiling like a fool and staring at you.

“What, why are you looking at me like that?”

He steps closer to you and wraps his arms around your torso.

“Because I just love you, that's all.”

You sigh in his embrace, and after a moment you slightly push him back so you’re looking in his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be big bad frat president Rafe Cameron, if people hear you talking like a love sick dope your reputation might be ruined” you joke at him. He hums in response and looks around the room.

“Well luckily no one is here to find out my secret. Now come on, it's a party, let’s go party!”

He picks you up from the counter and sets you on the floor, giving your ass a little slap as you walk in front of him. You look back shaking your head with joking disappointment and make your way out to the crowd.

You spot some of your friends and lean back to tell Rafe you’re gonna go say hi. You walk towards them and after catching up you guys make your way onto the dance floor. You guys dance for a while throwing back more drinks and eventually you notice a few guys come and start dancing with them. Your friends seem to be fine with it so you look around hoping you’d find rafe to come join you so you’re not dancing by yourself. Instead of finding rafe some random guy walks up in front of you blocking your view.

“Hey sweetie looking for a dance partner?”

You back up from him allowing for some more space and continue to look around the room. “Um no thank you I already have one.” He cuts the distance again and leans down to talk into your ear “is he a ghost or something because I don’t see him here” he says with a laugh. You take another step back bumping into the person behind you and push him further away. “I think I’m just gonna go get some water and fresh air.” You turn to leave this weird situation when he instead grips your wrist and pulls you back in.

You frantically look around for rafe hoping to be saved from this moment, but the creepy guy continues to talk low in your ear. “I’m just trying to be nice. I don't get why you’re being such a bitch, it’ll be fun. Come on darling.” You try to find your friends in the crowd only to realize they’ve all disappeared. You realize you’re completely alone in the situation.

“Please just leave me alone” you say as you try to pry your wrist out of his grasp but instead he takes your hips and tries to force you to start dancing. Right when your fight or flight response is about to kick in you feel his hands being violently ripped away from your body.

You look over to see Rafe towering over them holding the guy by the collar of his shirt.

“Hey I don’t know if you have hearing problems or you just have a low fucking IQ, but I’m pretty sure the girl said to leave her alone.”

Everyone around goes quiet to watch the scene unfolding in front of them. The guy starts sputtering in response unsure of what to say, but Rafe doesn’t let him get a word in. Instead he turns the man around to face you and puts him in a headlock so he can’t go anywhere. “I’m going to need you to apologize to her before I take away your ability to breathe, got it?”

The guy shakes his head violently understanding the repercussions if he doesn’t listen. “I’m sssssorry” the man stutters. Rafe clearly not pleased with that pushes further, “you’re sorry for what?” He tightens his arm around the guy's throat waiting for the man to respond. “I’m sssorry for fffforcing myself on you,” Rafe looks down at the man in his grasp, still not fully satisfied with the apology. He then looks at you realizing how uncomfortable you are. Rafe decides it’s best to end this now so he can comfort you, even though he’d prefer to beat this guy unconscious, you’re the priority right now. He lets the guy go and looks at Topper giving him a nod towards the door. Topper then takes the guy by the shoulders to lead him out to the front door, and makes sure he gets his name to add him to the ban list.

Rafe then walked up to you wrapping his arms around your shoulders pulling you into him. “Are you okay?” You silently nod into his chest not wanting to break apart. Seeing that everyone is still staring he covers your ears before he yells as not to hurt your head.

“THIS IS A PARTY SO STOP STARING AND GET BACK TO IT”,

he lets go of you and grabs your hand leading you to the stairs at the front of the house. He then leans down to whisper in your ear, “why don’t you go up to my room, change into something comfy and I’ll meet you up there in like 5 mins.” You nod your head in compliance, no longer in the mood to party, and make your way to the third floor where his room is.

You approach his keypad locked door that he put in place due to the always too many roaming strangers in a frat house. You enter the code, your birthday, and make your way into his room. You make sure to close the door behind you and immediately head to his dresser. You rummage through his shirts until you find one you like and you start to strip off your party outfit. You slide the large shirt over your head leaving you in just his shirt fitting you like a dress. You go into his adjoined bathroom and start to wash off your makeup needing to wash off the night's events. Once your face is nice and clean, you take your place in the middle of Rafes bed and scroll on your phone waiting for him to come back.

After a few minutes you hear the door click open and see Rafe walk in. In his arms is an abundance of snacks and some water bottles. He places it all down on the bed in front of you and then looks at you in your curled up position. “I thought we would just have our own little movie night here instead. The party was boring anyways.” You smile up at him opening your arms, waiting for him to come into your embrace. He lays on top of you for a few minutes, the two of you just enjoying each other's company. Then he eventually stands up to grabs his tv remote off of his nightstand and passes it to you.

“Since your night was traumatized it’s only fair that it’s your movie pick.” You gladly accept the remote with a giggle. You hear him sigh from beside you and say, “I am really sorry I let that happen, I’m not letting you leave my side for now on, I should have been there.” You look over at him to see how beaten up he looks. You put your hand on his check and lightly caress his face to comfort him. “This was not your fault, and I’m not going to make you my bodyguard, we each should be allowed to do our own things and see our own friends. I’ll just be more careful on the dance floor.” You grin at him hoping to lighten the mood.

He removes your hand that’s resting on his face and gives a kiss to your palm. “You’re right, but I meant what I said about someone needing to watch you.” You roll your eyes knowing he is not going to let this go.

“New pledge duty, y/n bodyguard. I’m not letting you out of the pledge's sight for now on, and if they let something happen to you, no frat for them.” He crosses his arms looking proud of his new idea. You scoff in amusement . “ You can’t just assign a random freshman to follow me around everywhere, I can protect myself.” You stare him down hoping he’ll loosen his resolve and give up this crazy idea. He pretends to think about it for a minute before speaking up,

“yeah as much as I believe you, tonight didn’t prove that. Plus it’s too late I’ve already decided, you need a bodyguard. Can’t have anything happen to the Tri Delt First Lady now can we.” He slyly moves his arm around you pulling you in as you two snuggle up and prepare yourself for your impromptu movie night. “ I will stop complaining as long as we can watch pitch perfect” you bat your eyelashes up at him hoping it’ll help sway his mind. He looks at you with annoyance, but ultimately gives in.

“Fine, but y/n pledge duty starts tomorrow.” You chuckle at him and grab onto his bicep to get comfortable as you press play. “I love you Rafe” you mumble into his arm. You feel him give a kiss to the top of your head and hear him whisper

“I love you too baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*should I do a part two where she has to deal with a pledge being her bodyguard?! Let me know 💖

[wolvietxt]

unexpected confession prompts!

moments when the truth slips out before they can stop it, and everything feels suddenly different

🌀 it’s the middle of a heated argument, voices raised, hands gesturing wildly. suddenly, they stop mid-sentence, chest heaving. “you’re all i ever think about,” they blurt out, the anger draining from their face as if they only just realized it themselves.

🌀 you’re teasing them relentlessly, fingers brushing their arm, lips curved into a playful smile. they grab your wrist, pulling you closer until you’re practically nose to nose. “keep it up,” they murmur, voice low and rough, “and i’ll show you just how much i’ve been wanting this.”

🌀 you’re both stuck in an elevator, tense silence filling the small space. out of nowhere, they nervously start rambling about their day but end up confessing, “…and then i realized i’m in love with you.” you both stare at each other, wide-eyed, as the elevator dings and the doors open.

🌀 it's your birthday party, and they’re giving a heartfelt toast. “you’ve always been my favorite,” they say, looking directly at you with a softness in their eyes that wasn’t there before. the room goes silent, the confession hanging in the air like an electric charge.

🌀 you’re casually scrolling through old photos together, laughing at the memories. then they point to one, saying, “this was the moment i knew i loved you,” their voice soft, barely above a whisper. your heart skips a beat as you realize they’ve been holding this in for years.

🌀 it’s 4 am, and you’re both delirious with exhaustion, trying to assemble a piece of flat-pack furniture. between the chaos and laughter, they suddenly say, “i love you more than i hate this stupid shelf.” it takes you a moment to realize they’re completely serious.

🌀 the confession slips out in the middle of a mundane conversation, like they just can’t hold it back anymore. you’re discussing grocery lists and laundry detergent when they casually say, “by the way, i think i’m in love with you,” before going back to debating the merits of fabric softener.

🌀 you’re stuck in traffic together, both of you getting increasingly annoyed. without thinking, they hit the steering wheel in frustration and yell, “i hate this! …but not as much as i hate pretending i don’t love you.” it’s a confession wrapped in irritation, as raw as it gets.

🌀 it happens during a game of truth or dare, the lights dimmed, everyone gathered in a circle. someone asks them the most dreaded question: “who do you like?” there’s a long pause before they finally look directly at you, eyes unflinching, and say your name.

🌀 you’re working together late into the night, the room lit only by your laptop screens. the silence is broken when they absentmindedly say, “if i die first, just know i’ve been in love with you.” they brush it off as a joke, but there’s a flicker of truth in their eyes.

🌀 it’s raining, and you’re both huddled under a shared umbrella, racing to get home. as you laugh about being soaked, they suddenly stop in the middle of the street and pull you closer, “i don’t want this to just be friendship anymore.”

🌀 you’re playfully wrestling over the last slice of pizza, both of you laughing breathlessly. they pin you down, faces inches apart, and suddenly their laughter fades. “god, i want you,” they whisper, voice husky and eyes dark, like they’ve been holding it in forever.

🌀 you’re both tipsy at a wedding, swaying to the music. they lean in, voice almost drowned out by the noise, “i’ve been in love with you since that one time you spilled coffee on me.” you laugh it off, thinking it’s a joke, only to find them staring at you with a seriousness that steals your breath away.

🌀 it’s a text sent by mistake - meant for someone else, but sent to you. “i can’t keep pretending i don’t have feelings for them anymore. they’re everything i’ve ever wanted.” when you confront them, they go pale, realizing the confession was about you all along.

[prettycalla]

|| such small words ||

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader

Summary: Eddie thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Word count: 2k

Tags and warnings: Established relationship, mentions of self-esteem issues and body image issues, Eddie's a sweetheart (duh), Eddie's POV, slight angst with fluff and a happy ending.

(Honestly I wrote this for me, but hopefully other people enjoy it too! Title is from Creatures in Heaven by Glass Animals.)

Eddie Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist

Eddie's not the best for remembering things, if he's completely honest with himself. He's constantly losing his wallet, never seems to know what day it is, and loses track in conversations all the time. He thinks he'd lose his own head if it wasn't attached to his body.

And then he met you, and suddenly he's determined to remember everything. He has a calendar now, and a notebook to write to-do lists in, and post-it notes plastered all over everything.

He never wants you to feel as if you've been forgotten, and he'll go against everything he is as a person to make sure that never happens.

For one, he takes date night very seriously. Every two weeks, you make a point of doing something together - just the two of you. You alternate who makes the plans, and this time, it's Eddie's turn.

There's a band playing at the Hideout tonight. Eddie had seen them a few months back and gotten a copy of their tape after the show. He'd had it playing on the stereo one night when you were over at his place, and you'd really liked it, so he'd made the suggestion of the two of you going to see them together.

It helps that Eddie knows everyone who works there, and knows which seats are the best for acoustics (and which ones aren't completely busted from years of overzealous metalheads).

You aren't just as into the metal scene as he is, but you like a lot of the music and seem genuinely interested when he goes off on one of his (many) tangents, and honestly? That's more than good enough for him.

He's sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a magazine while he waits for you to get ready. He doesn't mind that you take so much longer than him, because really, his routine for going out is making sure that he's clean. It's not that he's lazy, he's just comfortable in how he dresses. And he knows you like him no matter what - you've told him enough times - and while sometimes he has a hard time believing it, he's learned that you don't have any reason to lie to him. He trusts you.

He checks his watch. You're running a little later than usual, so he decides to give you a few more minutes.

When you still haven't come out of your bedroom, he tosses the magazine aside and hauls himself out of the too-comfortable position he'd let himself slump into.

He stands outside your door, hesitant. He doesn't want to disturb you, but he knows how worried you get when you're running late for something.

He hears something clatter to the floor, muffled through the wood of the door. Then another thing. And another.

He takes a little breath and knocks.

"You doin' okay in there, sweetheart?" he calls.

No reply. He tries again.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

Nothing.

Deciding that whatever gets thrown at him for walking in on you half-naked will be worth it to make sure you're okay, he slowly opens the door.

"Before you throw something at me, I did knock, so-" he starts, trailing off when he sees you.

You're sitting on the floor, your head pressed to your knees as you hug your legs close to your chest. The room around you is a mess, clothes and shoes scattered everywhere, all over the floor and across your bed. Drawers lie open haphazardly, and clothes hangers lie in a heap next to your closet.

You're sitting in an oversized T-shirt, tucked into it as much as you possibly can be.

Eddie calls your name softly. You just shake your head in response, refusing to look up at him.

Not one to be deterred, he finds an empty spot on the floor next to you and sits down, crossing his legs.

“Hey,” he says gently. “What’s wrong?”

He hears a muffled little sniffle, and his eyebrows knit together in concern. He hates seeing you upset.

"Baby," he murmurs. "Talk to me."

You shake your head again, and he decides not to push you any further, just sits quietly next to you for a while. More than anything, he wants to pull you into his arms and hold you until whatever it is that's bothering you disappears. But he knows that's not what you need right now, and so he waits.

He knows you'll always talk to him when you're ready.

It takes a while, but eventually, you lift your head slightly. Your eyes are red-rimmed, your cheeks blotchy. You've been crying for a while, from the looks of it. His heart hurts just looking at you.

Eddie leans in a little closer to you. Not quite touching, but enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from you. He holds his tongue between his teeth, giving you the time you need.

"Nothing fits," you whisper hoarsely.

You gesture vaguely to the chaos scattered across the floor.

"It's all too big or too small. None of it's right."

Eddie takes a quick glance around the room, before turning his attention back to you. He wants to ask why it matters, but even he knows how that sounds.

"I just-" you start to say, before your words catch in your throat.

Your eyes are watering again.

"I just wanted to look nice for you," you whisper.

It all tumbles out of your mouth in a rush before you burst into tears, and Eddie's had enough of trying to hold himself back. His arms are immediately around you, holding you tight while you let it out.

"It's okay," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "It's okay."

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in Eddie's arms while he whispers little nothings to try and soothe you.

Eventually, your shoulders drop and you slowly slump into his hold. Your sobs quieten down to little sniffles, and only then does he risk pulling away ever so slightly to look at you.

"You mind if I say something?" he asks, still keeping his voice soft and low.

He likes to ask now when you're feeling like this. Before, he would just go off on a tangent until you were even more anxious and overwhelmed than you already were. He never meant to upset you, it just hurt him so much to see you like that, and he needed to tell you how amazing you were. He still does, the urge never leaves him. But he knows now that it only does more harm.

So he waits. And he asks.

You nod, giving him the okay.

"I know how you think about yourself," he says. "God knows I don't get it, but I know how it makes you feel."

He gently takes your face in his hands, dark eyes roaming your face. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, every part of you is perfect to him.

You won't meet his gaze, and he knows you're embarrassed. You hate him seeing you like this.

"It's okay if you don't wanna look at me, I understand," he says. "Just listen to me, okay? I want you to know something. I've said it a million times, and I'll say it a million more times if I have to."

You shake your head slightly.

"Eddie, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he insists softly. "Aren't you always telling me I'm allowed to express how I feel?"

You reluctantly nod. He smiles at you then.

"Well then, you're gonna let me say what I have to say," he says, his tone still light and quiet.

He takes another little breath, to steady himself.

"I think you - yes, you - are the most beautiful thing in this world. And I'm not saying this "because I have to", or whatever bullshit that mean little voice in your head's gonna tell you. I'm saying it because I want to. And because it's the truth."

He gently wipes at your tears with his thumbs, not daring for one second to let you go.

"I don't care what you wear, or how your hair looks, or if you've got food all over your face, okay? Because you're fucking gorgeous, no matter what. Yes, even when you've been up all night with one of your projects. Yes, even when you're drooling all over me in your sleep."

A tiny laugh escapes you at that, and Eddie's heart feels like it's about to burst. He's so in love with you.

He hopes someday he'll find the courage to tell you.

"We don't have to go anywhere tonight, okay? We can just stay home and order some food in and, I dunno, watch The Muppets for the 800th time."

"But it's date night," you tell him worriedly.

Eddie just shrugs. "Yeah, and? I don't care what we do, so long as I'm with you."

He lightly taps your nose, making you laugh again, and God, he could easily become addicted to that sound.

You bite your lip, before you finally nod. Eddie smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get up before my old man knees start giving me shit," he jokes, holding his hand out to you.

You take it with a smile, letting Eddie lead you into the living room. He makes a big fuss out of pulling a blanket around you and setting up the VCR.

"Eddie, I can't get too comfy. I gotta clean my room, it's a mess," you tell him.

Eddie shakes his head.

"Nope, you're not going anywhere," he replies firmly. "Look, how about this? I'll go clean it up, and you can rewind the tape that I obviously just shoved back in the box the last time we watched it. Deal?"

You don't answer right away, and Eddie holds his hand out to you.

"Deal?" he asks again, insistent.

You can hardly keep the smile from your face as you shake his hand.

"Great! Won't be long, I promise," he says.

He leaves you to your task, heading back into your bedroom. It's not as bad as you seem to think - at least, compared to his mess at home. Some clothes on the floor? Please. This is a cake walk.

He might not tidy it quite the way you would, but after a couple of minutes, you can at least get into your bed without having to toss anything out of the way, and the floor's no longer a tripping hazard, so it's practically spotless in Eddie's eyes.

Thankfully, you're still in the same spot when he returns to the living room, the VCR paused and waiting. He knows how hard it is for you to relax sometimes, especially after being so vulnerable like that. It takes a lot out of you, and while he knows he can't fix it, he can at least be there and help you through it.

He shrugs off his jacket and kicks off his shoes, climbing under the blanket with you and pulling you close to him how he likes, with his arms around your waist and your back against his chest.

"Did I keep you waiting long?" he asks, pressing a little kiss to your cheek.

You shake your head.

"Good. Hit play, I'm dying to know what happens," he says with a little squeeze to your waist.

"You know what happens," you retort, but you do as he says anyway.

You lean your head back against his chest, pulling the blanket up to your chin, as the upbeat opening music starts to play. Eddie threads his fingers through your hair, only half-focused on the movie.

He still can't believe he gets to hold you like this. That you're really with him.

He makes a promise to himself. That he's not gonna wait forever to tell you how he really feels.

You deserve to hear those three little words.

And somehow, in spite of all his worries, all his insecurities, he thinks you'll say them back.

Taglist: @punkrockmlchael @hikohyuuga @iitsmandii @medievalharlot @glassbxttless @getaapologist @fandom-princess-forevermore @robinbuckleywife @samslvrgirl @cheesesandwichsanto

(You can join the taglist here! If you wish to be removed, please let me know!)

[webslingingslasher]

j! its been so long but omg hi

i was super obsessed with ur frat!peter hows he doing?

i just saw a tiktok that was about a frat boy yelling at a party “if youre not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!” has this been brought up in the frat!peter circle?

i have so many scenarios in my mind like at the different stages! when they first started and trouble isnt super stable in the relationship and she goes to head out but peter (or ethan omg) grabs her arm and hes like ur part of that demographic trouble. im melting 🫠

or when theyre like broken up/taking a break and she goes to leave and peter goes all sad puppy dog eyes :((

omg yes queen::

*a little something ya'll can wake up to. <3

---

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

you hold in a sigh, the party's over. ally won't make it home with you tonight, she ditched you thirty minutes ago to 'go with matty,' aka, you won't see her again until tomorrow.

you glance down at your drink and debate chugging it, if you do you know you'll leave with a woozy stomach. you take two sips and dump the cup in the kitchen trash, it sends two empty beer cans falling, you shrug at the mess and keep walking.

a girl stumbles into your shoulder and profusely apologizes with tears in her eyes, you keep telling her it's okay but she doesn't let it go until her boyfriend nudges her out of the house.

the house music cuts, any stragglers were just seriously kicked out. you follow the crowd and prepare for the cold walk home, a hand loops around your upper arm before you can get through the threshold.

'where do you think you're going?' you turn around and grin at your friend. 'home? where are you going?'

'also home. i'm just waiting for everyone to clear out first.' ethan pulls you away from the dwindling party. 'you know, brother duties.' he sends a wink your way, you nod along like you understand.

'yeah, but i'm not a brother so i don't think i should help with that.'

ethan stops you again. 'parker is a brother, yes?' he is. he's also not there tonight. something about going to queens being more important than the typical friday night party. 'he is.'

'and you're fucking him, right?' you love when ethan has a little liquor in him. 'i am.'

'okay, so then you fit the requirements. hang back with me and we can go to my place together.' it's not a hard sell but you'll act like it is. 'are you sure? peter's not even here, do those rules still apply?'

'i'm a god damn chapter officer, i get to make the rules and it's everyone else's job to follow them. how about that?' you pat ethan's shoulder, you're not arguing one bit.

'can't fight you on that, can i? you twisted my arm good enough, lorax. i'm yours until peter gets home.' ethan holds out his hand, you shake it like it's a business deal.

'good. he told me to make sure you stayed.' he says it with a wink, a gentle suggestion he wasn't supposed to tell you that but you're glad he did. it makes you warm thinking peter didn't want you to feel excluded, especially because he was missing in action tonight.

'well... i am fucking a brother, right?'

'you are. and you know what that means? you have to stay here after every party.' he says it like it's a bad thing but you can get used to being on an exclusive guest list.

it feels nice. so, ‘hell yeah.’

-- vs. after the breakup--

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

hearing it makes you sad. no one's going to make you stay or tell you that those exceptions still apply to you. ally gets to stay here and you have to tuck your tail between your legs and scoot out the door.

'i can leave with you.' your best friend is kind for offering, you're an even better friend for saying no. 'that's okay, stay with matt.'

'are you sure? you shouldn't have to walk out of here alone, that kinda blows.' it does and you don't like the reminder. you'd prefer if ally stays, actually. you don't want her pity.

'it's fine. beats the alternative, right?' she looks at you to say what the alternative is, you do it with a sigh. 'fucking peter. that's my other option.'

'who said it had to be peter? there's like forty guys in the frat and you're buddies with at least five, take your pick.' you've thought about it but frat boys, especially the ones from sig nu, make you queasy.

'it's fine, ally-cat. i'll walk back with one of the other girls in our dorm.' the same faces you see in the hallway at your dorm are gathering their stuff to leave, they'll have no issue with you tagging along. 'boo. i miss when we would have frat house sleepovers.'

'good. blame peter.'

'and i do. he hates to see me coming his way, he really does.'

another brother screams out the same line, you frown and decide to leave while you still have friends in eye-distance. when you reach the door you look behind one last time to send a wave to your best friend. ally sends one back and blows a kiss with it. you catch it and slam it to your cheek, she giggles, you grin. your eyes flit up to the stairs, someone's already watching you.

peter sends you a sorry smile, he hates that you don't get to stick around anymore either. you match his melancholy and give him a shrug, more like a 'whatcha gonna do?' vibe. rules are rules and you're no longer a fitting member for the requirements they need.

'you can stay.' peter mouths it, you pretend not to know what he just said. 'wait.' you're still pretending, you turn around and walk a little faster down the steps- peter catches you on the bottom step.

'i said you can stay.' you have no reason to stay behind. you're not a brother and you're no longer involved with one. you point to an imaginary watch on your wrist, 'i'm about to turn into a pumpkin.'

'yeah, you almost left a shoe running out of here so fast, cinderella.'

you grin, 'i'm just following the rules.'

peter wavers his stance, he doesn't care who said what- he wants you to hang around a little bit more. he likes seeing you around. 'you're still included. i mean, we're involved, aren't we?'

you look at him like he's crazy, you swear you see him blush before he starts fumbling over his words. 'i just meant that i'm not moving on and you're not moving on and i'm trying to get things back to how they were- no, wait, i'm trying to get things better than they were before. not that they were bad! well, i mean they were bad but not... trouble, help me out here, you know what i mean.'

you do. you just like ignoring it. 'you're cute when you grovel for me.'

'i'll get on my knees right fucking now.' he's not even drunk and he's willing to beg for you in front of his party goers. you have to hold in a smirk of pride. 'to ask me to stay or to convince me with your mouth?'

peter's eyebrows raise, 'if you're asking me to go down on you the answer is yes. it's very much a yes, my place or yours? fuck it, let's go to the bathroom.' you're halfway back inside before you realize what you started.

you rip your hand away from peter, you refuse to go back to what it was. you need more than a few apologies to make you crawl back into his bed, you need a real confession. 'nuh uh, not happening. not in a damn bathroom.'

'okay, that's fine, my place is closer.'

you have to stop yourself from following him a second time. 'no, wait! i meant no, it's not happening. period.'

'i don't care if you're on your period, i'll still do it. that's how committed i am to you.' you manage to keep from gagging at the visual, instead you shove peter's shoulder. 'ew! you're so gross! i'm not on my period, you dolt. i'm just not having sex with you.'

'cool, don't have sex with me, let me just show you i can still make you come in under five minutes.' he has no idea how tempting it is. you're being braver saying no than he is for asking, post-breakup included.

'go find another girl, i'm sure there's a whole line-up waiting to get picked on.' peter's nose wrinkles, he doesn't even think of it as a cheap shot. 'gross, other girls are icky.'

you shut it down. 'peter, i'm not a brother and i haven't touched you in two months. there's no reason for me to still be here, goodnight.' you try to leave, a whine follows behind you.

'but you're still-'

but you're not, no matter how much he says it.

'if you changed the rule to 'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or used to fuck a brother, then get the fuck out!' how many girls would stand around and wait on you?' peter looks at you, he doesn't say anything and silence always screams that you're right.

'mhm. rules are rules, goodnight.'

there's a sense of succeeding when all you get is a wistful goodbye behind you. it lasts until the next week when the routine friday night party comes to an end with the normal call.

'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or go by trouble, then get the fuck out!'

ally squeals and tells you 'that's you!' but you're too busy glaring at peter's smug face to celebrate. it's his turn to shrug, his mouth forms four words that fuck you over.

'rules are rules, trouble.' 

[yanderenightmare]

your vocab is really rich, what's ur secret

Vocabulary Tricks & Tips

Excellent request!

♡ Read!

And every time you stumble upon a word you've never noticed before or know but don't often use, put it in a list, write down its meanings, and try using it the next time you write!

I'll put my list at the end of the post!

♡ Read Different Things!

Different authors and different styles, especially poetry! I mean, if you're looking to fatten your vocab, reading poetry is one of the best ways to do it. Poetic writers must search far and wide for the perfect words to create rhymes and rhythms and audibly pleasing sentences---they practically do all the work for you! Honestly, I am so serious about this. One of the best things you can do is buy a fat compendium of poetry with all different authors and eras. Get you some Edgar Allen Poe, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, and Shakespeare if you want to hurt your head.

Also! The same goes for music! Try listening to the lyrics---you'll probably hear some words you've never thought of using in your writing.

♡ Cheap Trick for Bilinguals~

Write something in your own language and put it through Google Translate. Honestly, I've found so many words just by doing this.

♡ Synonyms!

Every time you feel you've used a word too much, or anytime a word bores you to read, search up its synonyms and try using something you've never used before---don't stop the search until you're satisfied. Sometimes, it takes me more time to find just one word than it takes to write an entire post. Not only does this enrich your vocab, but you've probably just written a whole other sentence with newer meanings and more nuance

Make your own synonym lists! Seriously! Because you can only find that many creative synonyms by searching up "word+synonyms.

Additionally! Think outside the box! Often, the best synonyms are those words that aren't actual synonyms at all. If you read poetry, you'll see poets use unorthodox words in place of something all the time---it's called a metaphor. Take flesh, for example---you can use fat, meat, muscle, brawn, beef---but you can also use cake, down, plume, pillow, softness, etc...

I find this one especially useful for writing erotica, as you have to describe a lot of the same actions and body parts over and over and still make it interesting. (I'll add my synonyms list at the end of the post)

♡ Showing vs Telling

Also! This one is trickier, but instead of using words and synonyms, try making sentences that can replace the word instead---such as longer metaphors and fuller descriptions!

This aligns with the literary device of "showing vs. telling." Of course, outright telling has its uses too and should not be disbarred entirely from writing, but often, it's showing that persuades the reader more.

For example, instead of saying nervous, make sentences that describe how the character in question showcases nervousness---does their throat close up, do they sweat, do their eyes go wide, do they stutter, do they fiddle with their fingers, pick their nails, bite their lip, kick the ground, hunch their shoulders, look away, blush, flush, cry, run away or do they feel stuck?

Describing these things helps the reader better understand the type of nervousness the character is experiencing. Hence, it makes for not only more interesting writing but also clearer writing!

♡ Focus & Expanding

A similar literary device is "focus and expanding," which slows down the reading or puts focus on certain aspects of the text by describing something to a great extent. If, say, this nervousness the example character is experiencing is of great significance, then that's what the readers' takeaway should be. But the reader won't think too much of it if the text simply states that they're nervous without underlining it.

Luckily, there are plenty of ways of doing that, firstly through showing vs. telling, such as in the examples above, then metaphorically, such as:

The ground seemed to swallow him up, down the guzzle of a monster with an appetite for disaster---darkness ensued like a storm cloud, cold and clawing with a weight heavy enough to nail him to the spot---all eyes were on him, unblinking and all-seeing, no matter what, he couldn't escape, he was stuck, glued to the ground by the soles of his shoes.

I mean, the options are truly endless.

These metaphors piled together are also a form of focusing and expanding, but you can take it even further than that by focusing on a small detail and giving it significance.

For example, say the character is sweating because he's so nervous---you might focus on a single droplet of sweat instead of everything else:

A chill ran down his back. No, not a chill--sweat. Cold and creepily tracing the rigid bones of his spine. He can't move--if he moves, then they'll see. The sweat will seep into his shirt, and everyone will know what a sweaty and pathetic wreck he is. So, he can't move. No, yes, leave it alone. The droplet continues, running down the cold skin of his clammy back, sliding undeterred until meeting the band of his boxers and disappearing in the fibers. He swallows thickly and sighs with relief--only for another to pill at his nape, tracking the same course as the former. A vicious cycle is forming. He needs to get out of there!

And that's focus and expanding, folks! Focusing on something minuscule and expanding it by using it to describe what the character is feeling. It's a way to have a fresh take on something that's been written a thousand times before, such as "he was nervous."

♡ Lastly~

Anyway, I might have gone a little above and beyond, but really, all these literary devices are ways of "expanding vocabulary" or at least giving an impression of it.

♡ NEW WORDS!

Manically---like a maniac

Despotic---like a dictator, having unlimited power over someone, often using it unfairly and cruelly

Chasm---a deep fissure, like a ravine, wound, or metaphorical rupture

Shunts---track-change basically, scoots to the side

Dearth---a scarcity or lack of something, a shortage

Raucous---making a harsh or loud noise

Innocuous---not harmful or offensive---harmless and safe, but also bland and unremarkable, maybe even a little boring

Lanyard---the woven necklace of a festival pass

Gossamer---fine spiderwebs, almost mesh

Cossetted---care for and protect in an overindulgent way

Beribboned---decorated with many ribbons

pupil-fat---cool way of saying enlarged pupils

Chitters---snickers, like a bird

Decadent---corrupt, depraved

Blotting---either soak up and absorb, or stain, or obscure

Barbell---a bar “pole” with attachments on each side

Bunting---of animals, when they butt or rub their head against you

Garnet---red

Cherubic---angelic, plump cuteness, quality of a child

Haunches---hips

Sodden---soaking

Waxing poetic---speaking in a flowery or poetical fashion

Inkwell---a container for ink---a dark well

Rend---tear in two, or more pieces

Ebb---recede, go back, like a tide wave

Webbed---like a duck's feet

Cloying---sickly sweet

Saccharine---oversweet

Apple of your cheek

Swathes---wrap, swaddle

Shroud---obscure something

Moonstone---to describe something grey and dusty, but pretty

Kinked---tangled, messy

Leaden---heavy, dull, slow or the colour of lead, grey

Stygian---devoid of light and brightness, hellish

Flaxen---of hair, champagne colored---ashy blonde

Tepid---lukewarm

♡ SYNONYMS!

Related to sucking cock:

Swallow

Glug

Drink

Eat

Guzzle

Receive

Take

Suck

Suckle

Slobber

Gargle

Gurgle

Drool

Gulp

Gobble

Stuff

Glut

Choke

Gag

Lap

Lick

Kitten-lick

Slurp 

Allow entry

Related to kissing:

Kiss

Lock/brush lips

Tongue-feed

Suck faces

Smooch

Peck

Snog

Canoodle

Related to biting:

Bite

Graze

Nip

Nibble

Sink teeth into

Chomp

Related to crying:

Whimpering

Mewling

Bleating

Whining

Snivel

Sniffle

Cry

Sob

Bawl

Hiccup

Spluttering

Blubbering

Coughing

Croaking

Related to pre-cum:

Ooze

Leak

Weep

Well

Drip

Dribble

Flow

Drain

Bleed

Sweat

Seep

Pill

Pearl

Cry

Related to fear and panic:

Hysterical

Wild

Manic

Uncontrolled

Unrestrained

Frantic

Frenzied

Restless

Hectic

Sporadic

Swivel-eyed

Related to screaming:

Scream

Yell

Wail

Yelp

Yip

Yammer

Squawk

Howl

Squeal

Shriek

Related to moaning:

Moan

Whine

Yelp

Purr

Hum

Croon

Related to overstimulated moaning:

Mumble

Croon

Warble

Quaver

Burble

Bumble

Hum

Slur

Ramble

Mutter

Whisper

Stammer

Stutter

Scramble

Jumble

Muddled

Babble

Blubbered

Splutter

Blurt

Related to groaning:

Groan

Grunt

Growl

Grumble

Grouch

Hiss

Guttural

Feral

Rusty 

Throaty

Wet

Sloppy

Related to angry noises:

Howl

Roar

Bark

Grizzle

Grump

Related to surprise or fear:

Gasp

Gulp

Choke

Suck in a sharp breath

Flinch

Jump

Jostle

Wince

Hiss

Pull back

Related to comforting:

Coo

Fuss

Comfort

Hush

Shush

Tsk

Mollycoddle

Nurse

Cuddle

Babying

Consoling

Soothe

Loving

Smothering

Hug

Hug tight

Cocoon

Snuggling

Swaddling

Rock back and forth with

Cosseting

Petting

Overwhelm

Related to begging:

Beg

Pleading

Pray

Bargain

Related to soreness and pain:

Ache

Sore

Throb

Swollen

Fattened

Welted

Related to taking cock inside entrance:

Swallow

Receive

Take

Suck inside

Stuff

Fill

Allow entry

Submit to

Ease inside

Bully inside

Squeeze inside

Force inside

Push

Pry

Tear

Related to how the hole squeezes:

Kissing

Fluttering

Hugging

Pressing

Squishing

Squeezing

Tightening

Pulsing

Related to a wet hole:

Slush

Squelch

Squishy

Creamy

Sloppy

Wet

Soaked

Slosh

Sop

Cry

Slick

Weep

Drool

Gush

Swollen

Velvety

Gummy

Cotton

Silken

Satiny

Related to thrusting:

Squeeze into

Pound

Jam

Ram

Rut

Loll

Rock

Thrust

Stuff

Bottom out

Fill

Fit

Nestle

Cram

Prodding

Poking

Kissing

Hammering

Jack-hammer

Smack

Slap

Ream

Tear

Related to pleasure:

Ecstatic

Opium-eyed

Euphoric

Elated

Thrilled

Blissed-out

Rapturous

High

Cloudy

Numb

Related to overstimulation:

Overstimulated

Outdone

Aching

Burning

Sweating

Feverish

Delirious

Febrile

Numb

Immobile

Dazed

Dull

Related to being dumb, high, or overstimulated:

Ditzy

Dumb

Clumsy

Silly

Foolish

Giddy

Brainless

Dizzy

Fuzzy

Dopey

Whimsical

Fickle

Featherbrained

Daft

Hare-brained

Awkward

Graceless

Blundering

Bumbling

Klutzy

Clueless

Cloddish

Dense

Related to the body and the flesh:

Tender

Supple

Soft

Creamy

Plush

Doughy

Cakey

Downy

Pillowy

Malleable

Squeezable

Biteable

Pliable

Touchable

Putty

Plume

Related to cuteness:

Cute

Cherubic

Adorable

Sweet

Soft

Precious

Darling

Lovable

Endearing

Baby

Related to weak or smallness:

Breakable

Brittle

Weak

Fragile

Dainty

Delicate

Frail

Flimsy

Vulnerable

Petite

Small

Little

Tiny

Feeble

Defenseless

Powerless

Helpless

Worthless

Hopeless

Related to struggling:

Struggle

Winding

Striving

Straining

Toiling

Playing

Wriggle

Wiggle

Twist

Shake

Tremor

Shiver

Quake

Related to men:

Vulgar

Loud

Oafish

Rough

Rude

Rustic

Gruff

Gross

Doltish

Barbaric

Bearish

Beastly

Churlish

Coarse

Swinish

♡ NIGHTMARE'S HELPDESK

[starsinthesky5]

Do Joe and Songbird have any pet peeves about the other person or just little thing that they do that get on each others nerves?

Obviously we know they’re obsessed with each other, but everyone gets a little irritated when you spend so much time together, especially living together. I think even their bickering would be cute. Like an old married couple already.

a/n: this is adorable

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

ohhh they definitely do. like they’re madly in love, fully obsessed, but they’re also in each other’s space 24/7—sharing bathrooms, kitchen routines, sleep schedules. so of course there are little things that drive them nuts, but it’s the kind of irritation that’s endearing—never serious, always laced with affection. their bickering sounds like background music, soft and familiar, like two people who couldn’t imagine life without each other.

she’s got a little running list in her notes app called “joe burrow crimes (affectionate)” because for all his golden retriever charm and quiet softness, the man is not without his little habits that drive her up a wall. but like…lovingly. with a kiss and an eye roll.

he leaves his socks everywhere. seriously. bedroom floor, couch cushions, sometimes even under the kitchen table. she’s convinced they multiply like what the hell, how does he have so many pairs? “are you shedding?” she teases while tossing them into the laundry basket with mock offense.

he doesn’t fully close cabinets. just leaves them cracked open. she’s like, “what is this, a horror movie? close the door, burrow,”.

he steals her skincare. but only the expensive stuff. and when she calls him out, he acts like he has no idea what she’s talking about while using her eye cream right in front of her.

he has a specific sigh when she’s running late. not mean or impatient—just this soft, put-upon exhale that says “i love you, but we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago,”. she always catches it and goes, “don’t sigh at me, quarterback,” which makes him grin.

his alarms. he sets four. and he snoozes all of them. she’ll be blissfully asleep and then—brr-brr-brr—cue him fumbling blindly for his phone, muttering, “just five more minutes,”.

“you said that ten minutes ago,”.

“no i didn’t,”.

“i have time stamps, sir,”.

and somehow, somehow, she’s always the one fully awake, groggy and grumpy, while he’s dozing off again with his face in her shoulder.

joe’s got a short list of pet peeves about her, and they’re all wrapped in that boyish, lovesick frustration—the kind where he’s pretending to be annoyed but his eyes are literally heart-shaped the whole time. like he’ll mutter something under his breath, but then immediately pull her into his lap or kiss the top of her head like he can’t stay fake-mad even if he tried.

she’s a chronic light-leaver-on-er. like they’ll get into bed and he’ll have to do a whole lap around the house turning things off. “i swear, you’re afraid of the dark and just won’t admit it,”.

she talks to herself constantly. like full-on commentary—narrating her skincare routine, whispering lyrics while she scrolls, talking herself through what to eat like it’s a high-stakes debate. he’ll walk into the room and be like, “are you on the phone?” and she’ll go, “no, just chatting with my brain.” drives him insane in the cutest way. he'll say, “baby, who are you even talking to?”. and she'll say, “myself. i’m a delight,”.

she hoards mugs. he once opened the dishwasher and counted seven of her mugs, all half-drunk, scattered from different days. “you’re running a cafe in secret, aren’t you?”.

she never finishes TV shows. they’ll be five episodes in and then she just…moves on. “we are not starting another series until we finish the last one,” he’ll say, and she’ll smile like, “sure,” before playing the pilot of something completely new.

she never puts her phone on the charger. and it’s always when they’re about to go out or need directions. “my phone’s on 2%!” she’ll gasp. joe just closes his eyes and breathes real slow, already plugging it in for her. “it’s like you want to live on the edge,”.

but the thing is? every pet peeve ends with a kiss on the cheek or a smirk across the room. they tease each other, roll their eyes, poke and prod—but it’s never cruel. they’re those people who bicker while folding laundry or doing the dishes, all while staying so ridiculously in sync. it’s old-married-couple energy, for sure—half flirt, half roast, all love.

[peacheeeliz]

024. still not forgiven (wc: 791)

“Dude, come on, it's not that hard to just send me a list of snacks,” you groan as you walk into the convenience store late at night, the bell ringing above your head. Grabbing onto a basket, you make your way towards the alcohol and look out for the flavors you and your friends loved the most.

“Well, it's not my fault the boys pre-gamed a housewarming party,” Karina says over the phone, rolling her eyes even though you can't see her. “I mean, seriously, a housewarming party? We're friends with a bunch of alcoholics.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you browse the different soju brands. “Just get the drunk idiots to shout out different snacks, I'm sure you'll get something.”

Within a matter of moments, you can hear barely audible grumbles from the boys as they recite the snacks they're craving. Karina speaks through the phone again, “explain to me why we're buying snacks for them if it's our housewarming party?”

“We're not,” you start, satisfied with your beverage choices and moving onto food. “I'm using Hyunjin's card.”

Karina laughs loudly, “As you should, girl.” She takes a while to calm down, shushing the boys who can only question her fit of laughter. “Well, hurry up, because I don't want to babysit these children any longer.”

“What's about Ryu?”

“She's basically one drink away from joining them, so she's no help,” Karina sighs, and right on cue, you can hear Ryujin hyping up the boys in the background. “Jesus Christ, I'll see you soon. Ryujin, get off the table!”

You chuckle as the line goes dead, and you slide your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. Once you grab an adequate amount of snacks and other food, you hum and make your way towards the counter. The rest of the convenience store is quiet, besides the quiet indie music that plays through a speaker behind the counter. There's no other customers than you, leaving you alone with the worker you've yet to see.

When you're too busy placing your items on the counter, you still don't see the worker until they speak up. “Y/N?”

The voice startles you, eyes wavering to find the source of it. “Oh, uh, Wooyoung,” the words leave your mouth breathlessly. “I�� Didn't know you worked here.”

“I needed the money after, you know, leaving the band,” he answers quietly, beginning to slowly check your items. When you don't know how to reply, it goes silent between the two of you. “I saw you two moved out.”

You nod slowly, “Yeah, we found a new apartment nearby.”

His eyes find yours, but you're quick to look away. He takes a deep breath, not knowing why he expected anything else. “I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other, then.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you say sullenly, sending a fake smile his way. You continue jokingly, “Let's not make it a habit, though, huh?”

He stares at you for a moment before laughing, “Yeah, I think I can make that happen.” He catches that sweet smile of yours before you can stop yourself, and he thinks for a second before speaking again. “I'm, uh… I'm sorry about what I said back then. That was really uncalled for on my part.”

He watches as your smile drops, “But, I guess we can save the apologies for next time.” He finishes bagging up your items, sliding them across the counter. “Don't want to spoil your mood before you go back to,” he pauses, looking down at the soju and snacks he bagged. “Whatever it is you're celebrating.”

“Don't worry about it,” you tell him, grabbing hold of the bag's handles. “Just know that it's going to take a lot more than just a few worries to make it up to me. You did call me a bitch, remember?”

He mentally face palms, the memory flashing through his mind like it has the past six months. “Please don't remind me.”

“Oh, I'm gonna remind you everything I come in,” you comment, a smile playing at your lips again. You're about to walk away, but you stop in your tracks. “Wait, shit, I didn't pay.”

“Don't worry about it, it's on me,” he responds, smiling back.

You eye him for a moment, “Nope, still not forgiven.” You tell him before turning to leave. You can hear the impact of his head hitting the counter, and you struggle to hold back a laugh. Once you reach the door, you turn back to him. “See you later, Wooyoung.”

He looks back up from the counter, watching you walk out the door. He lets out a sigh, and his head falls back down onto the counter.

synopsis ⤏ when wooyoung, mr. "scared of commitment," finds himself catching feelings for you, his supposed friend with benefits, he struggles between keeping things casual or possibly ruining your friendship.

prev / masterlist / next

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist is closed!

@potatos-on-clouds @kookieswithjung @cheruphic @17ericas @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @lezleeferguson-120 @roronoas-wife @injunnie-lemon @ateezswonderland @jaytheatiny @lcvejjoong @staytinyzen @justcruisingalonguntilbamkpop @starzzinies @kysstar @lovergirl08 @asherthehimbo @t-102 @va1entinaa @milkfromacow @d3kstar @rikiiss @sweetiejaeyun @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @yunhorights @bookishcaptain @sparda1234 @xh01bri @matchahintonagar @xryusarax @desssss-0 @alwayswonbinning @spenceatiny18 @reikaxslvr @drkbluedream @sannieflix @douqhnxtss @cherryangel-coke @hadesforpreswrites @betda @conwunder @banez @i03jae @p1hbrook @arusio @cixrosie @wooyoungsbrat @thedistractedwriter @sanniesdimples1 @hsified

[ottersandfandoms]

Full Analysis/breakdown of the asmodous crystal exchange because the episode broke me and this is how I cope. Warning: long

So the first shot we have is Stolas sitting on his bed in apprehension, then Blitz jumps up on the balcony. Blitz starts the night off like any other, bringing out his bag of sex toys and just speaking in an unworried manner. Yet we have the sad music playing in the background that lets us know this is temporary. It’s NOT a normal night. Stolas knows this too and he’s just quietly watching.

Stolas finally speaks and he stutters at the beginning. This is really happening. He disregards all the other things Blitz brought and instead just asks for the book.

This is when Blitz first starts noticing something is up. We see a quick shot of his smile dropping. He was all worried about Stolas getting bored of him earlier and wanting the book back and now he began to actually think those fears are being proven true. Even if he doesn’t admit it, Blitz has a big fear of not being wanted and just pushed aside, like he has been for most of his life. 

So when Stolas admits he needs the book back Blitz panics. His fears are true. He begins to hurriedly speak and makes excuses. This book is his livelihood and the reason for his jobs so it makes sense why he is scared of losing it. He leans in and tries to initiate sex. It works every time with Stolas so why wouldn’t it work now? Stolas begins to grow sad. He does want to have sex with Blitz. But he knows that would be unfair so he gets up.

Blitz is terrified. He desperately begs Stolas for the book. Blitz is being put in a vulnerable situation and he doesn’t like it. His whole life could be destroyed if he can’t keep his business afloat. He wouldn’t be able to support himself and couldn’t support Loona. He would “do anything” to keep it.

But then Stolas shows him the crystal. Stolas presents it to him in a happy tone. He tries to be happy and hopeful even though he is clearly still very worried. Maybe everything will be ok. Maybe Blitz will reciprocate Stolas’s feelings and everything will be great.

Blitz thinks Stolas is joking. He doesn’t understand why Stolas would do this. Now his job is safe but his relationship with Stolas is not. His deepest fears are being proven once more. 

He’s not good enough.

He goes into this state of wanting to please.

When Blitz was a child, his dad clearly saw Blitz as the weakling compared with Fizz. And no matter how much Blitz tried to prove himself, it was never enough. “I can do better” is almost juvenile in its phrasing. A desperate plea and promise that might diffuse the situation. Blitz reverts back to his childlike self where he was always last choice and flung aside like he didn’t matter. Imagine how many times he said that exact sentence to his father.

Stolas explains. Stolas actually does a good job of saying what he wants. He is clear and to the point, emphasizing asking what Blitz wants. During Stolas’s speech, Blitz glances back and forth at the crystal, trying to make sense of what’s happening  and then at Stolas. Because he does want to stay. He likes Stolas. If he didn’t care, he would've taken the crystal and left, but he didn’t and chose to stay. Stolas finally just finishes his speech by confessing his feelings. He says them in a frantic way; he is putting himself out there but there is hope there too. 

Blitz thinks he’s joking. Of course he would be. Why could Stolas actually seriously care for him? How could Stolas care for him? The only possible explanation has to be that Stolas is joking. So he puts on a roleplay because he thinks it’s what Stolas wants. He refuses to accept there may be something more.

Stolas takes this as a mocking rejection. His hope has been squashed. Stolas is so used to being mocked that he immediately takes Blitz’s ‘roleplay’ as Blitz making fun of him. Stolas has been mocked by the people, the other Goatia, Stella. Blitz is just another one to add to the list.

He accepts the supposed rejection and walks away. Blitz now realizes he wasn’t joking. He is legitimately surprised that Stolas would want anything true with him. Blitz has this worldview of nobody truly wanting him; finding him useful, sure, but actually wanting him…that would be impossible. Stolas’s confession is a stark blow to that worldview and it makes sense why Blitz needs time to accept this.

This is where Stolas makes his mistake, he doesn’t give Blitz time to think through this. He takes Blitz’s confusion as rejection, not stopping to consider that Blitz is just as scared as he is. His hope is now totally gone. Both Stolas and Blitz are eerily similar in their fears. They both just want to be wanted but where Stolas shrinks away in sadness, Blitz lashes out.

And that's exactly what Blitz does now. And he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t want to deal with his own hurt feelings so he instead blames it all on Stolas, to hide the fact that he may be blaming it on himself. The thing is, most of what Blitz says is true. Stolas repetitively called him a plaything and ‘little imp’ so it makes sense why Blitz doesn’t fully believe him. Blitz has always been the inferior one in his relationships. With Fizz, With Verosika, with Stolas, with countless demons. This has caused him this inferiority complex that he can’t escape. 

Blitz has tears in his eyes and he is truly breaking down. He has spent so long trying to convince himself that Stolas doesn’t care and now suddenly he does? He still hasn’t actually accepted that Stolas cares for him. He can’t accept that and that makes it all more painful. It has to be some lie or game and he is begging Stolas to stop playing. To stop complicating things because that will force Blitz to think about how he feels.

"Let's go!"

Blitz fully expects Stolas to yell back. he is so used to being in arguments where the other person will lash back as well. And Blitz almost wants this. He believes he deserves it.

But Stolas doesn't...

Instead he takes Blitz sceaming the wrong way. You see this heartbreaking scene of Stolas starting to cry. Stolas has spent his whole life being told to be quieter, be more controlled, less emotional. Him crying in front of someone, rather than alone really emphasizes the hurt he is feeling. And then there is of course the most heartbreaking line: “I didn’t realize you think so low of me”.

Everyone thinks low of Stolas. He is the “pathetic” Goatia prince who is constantly scoffed at and bullied. Blitz was his escape from all of that, but now he believes Blitz thinks the same as everyone else.

But Blitz DOESN’T think low of Stolas. He thinks low of himself. 

Blitz realizes he fucked up. He went too far and hurt Stolas.

He realizes that Stolas misinterpreted what he said because Blitz was never really talking about Stolas, he was talking about his own feelings. We can see Blitz actually try to reach out to Stolas. He needs to let Stolas know that he doesn’t think that. You can hear him start to say “I’m sorry-” but as he’s saying that Stolas portals him away. 

Blitz “What the fuck” perfectly encapsulates his feelings. He doesn’t understand what happened but he knows that he messed up. Blitz needs to let Stolas know that he actually cares about him and apologize for what he said and Stolas needs to understand that Blitz needs some time.

Blitz never once said that he doesn’t care, only that he doesn’t believe Stolas can.  

[justtheclippy]

Tips and FAQ for Asks

Hello beautiful humans, I want to do my best to get to everyone's asks so here are a few things you can do to help make that happen! (if you're looking for the cast stream master list, skip to the bottom)

Please don't spam the same question repeatedly. I will get to you eventually, I promise! But when you submit the exact same thing multiple times, it just slows me down. I've got one single brain cell, please have mercy.

No spoiler requests. I cannot tell you anything about future episodes, when they will come out, what will happen to certain characters, how the story ends etc. We're limited on what we can say in general until more episodes release. The entire cast has signed NDAs (non disclosure agreement) preventing us from revealing anything, but more than that, we wouldn't want to ruin your experience of watching and engaging with the show organically! Trust me, just enjoy the ride, it's better that way.

Don't take anything too seriously. Please keep in mind most of these answers will just be for fun. My thoughts and opinions on the character, both for silly things like favorite dessert and more serious things like character analysis, are not hard and fast canon. Same goes for any of the actors. We can speculate about our characters, we know and understand them well, but when in doubt, assume its allllllllllllll non-canonical haha

Read through previous asks. This will help prevent asking things I've already answered. I'm going to be tagging (i swear I'll do it fr) my answers with #amanda asks and #tadc asks so you can find them more easily. If you do ask a question I've already answered IT'S OK DON'T PANIC I won't be upset haha

Even though I'll be tagging my answers so you can easily find them, here are a few frequently asked questions just to get them out of the way. If you decide to ask me something I've already answered, or something that goes against the guidelines above, I'll probably skip it, you silly geese.

Q: I've seen people use several different pronouns for you, what are your preferred pronouns? A: They/them and I prefer masc leaning terms generally! I'm queer, NB and very open about my identity. But people will sometimes use she/her because they don't know. I will never get upset with someone for not knowing- it's ok. But now that you've read this, you know! So you can go forth educated. You're welcome to correct anyone who doesn't know, but please be kind to each other. We've all been the person who didn't know before.

Q: What do you think of X ship? A: I love and support all the ships! Ships are part of a healthy fandom, keep creating content that makes you feel seen and that YOU want to see, that's the foundation of creativity. And if anyone disagrees with you, remind them that a lot of classics are just fanfiction about the gods at the time. It's always been here.

Q: What is your favorite ship? A: Bunnydoll and Buttonblossom, because the dynamics are so much fun.

Q: Do you like X AU? A: Yes. It doesn't matter what it is, yes. I love the AUs and if it's a new one, you better include a link so I can find it. I want all of them, thank you so muuuuuuuuch~

Q: Have you seen or played X game/show/movie/meme etc.? A: Always happy to chat about other media! But if you wanna ask about something specific, please include a link or explanation because lets be just so very honest, half the time my brain is off in adhd land so there's a good chance I'll have no idea what you're talking about at first.

Q: Have you watched Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure? A: Not yet! But due to VERY POPULAR REQUEST I will be putting together a watch stream to watch it live with yall. Once that's happened, I'll put the link here.

Q: Have you seen Queen's second game and will you be playing it? A: Yes, we've all seen the trailer and we're very excited! We will be playing it as a full cast, just like last time, as soon as the game is finished. For now, please go enjoy the demo and support the team! Once it's out and we're ready to stream it, I'll post the link here.

Q: Can you come to X convention? A: I will come to any convention that yall want to see me at!

BUT

In order for that to happen, you have to request me directly with the convention. Most will have either a request form on their site or a specific email for requests. Just write in that you would like to see me at their event, and then they will get in touch with my agent to book me!

Q: Can I request a song for you to sing? A: Of course! I promise yall I'll do my best to put out more songs this year. If there's a cover you want me to consider doing, or an artist/composer you'd like to hear me work with, let me know!

Outside of that, if you just want a little clip, you can drop requests in the asks and if I know the song I might record a bit. This is COMPLETELY dependent on time, especially if I'm busy. Please understand ❤️

You can also make requests during stream signings, which is easier to accommodate in the moment. Just put the request in the order notes, and I'll sing a little bit for you while I sign IF I know the song. So choose wisely.

Q: I want to be a voice actor! How do I get started? A: The best advice I can give on this subject is to

Join the Voice Acting Club Discord

It is one of the best resources available for anyone interested in getting started. Tons of articles and information on equipment, treating your space, what demos are and how to know when you're ready for one, tips on auditioning, workshops and classes, Q&As with industry professionals, plus casting calls.

Q: Can I write an ask just to show you cool stuff or tell you you're awesome? A: Of course you can! You can also tag me in stuff, that's ok too. I appreciate all the love and support yall have shown for me, Ragatha and the show in general. Yall are truly incredible. ❤️

Q: Do you have a PO Box so we can send you stuff? A: I'm setting it up THIS WEEK. I will post it here when it's ready.

Q: Where can I find X stream that the cast did? A: Moving forward, I will keep a master list of our group streams in order of date aired, to the best of my ability. If I miss one, let me know and I'll get it on here!

Saberspark TADC Cast Interview

Streamily Signing #1 (Amanda, Michael, Alex, Marissa)

Streamily Signing #2 (Amanda and Michael)

Streamily Signing #3 (Amanda and Sean)

Streamily Signing #4 (Amanda, Sean, Alex, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish)

TADC Fan Game Stream: Game 1

Streamily Signing #5 (Amanda, Alex, Ashley, Sean, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish, Wiz)

Fast Food Simulator Charity Stream (Amanda, Lizzie, Marissa, Michael, Ashley)

Marissa's Streamily Signing CRASHED by Amanda, Alex, Michael, Max (RU Caine/Jax), Julian (DE Jax), Adam (NL Jax), and Philip (NL Chad/Max)

[mintgreen-homewrecker]

Because theres some people reblogging my post, begging people to make content that allows Whizzer to embrace the little freak we all, deep inside, know he is and i actually started making a list after posting that

A list of headcanons of Weird Shit Whizzer Does:

Whizzer will drink tea in phases 

he will get a new tea and only drink that one for an indeterminate period of time 

could be a few days, could be nine months 

When they were first dating whizzer was on a streak with a specific tea

Marvin was convinced it was his all time favorite and bought like 5 boxes 

Then Whizzer just stopped drinking it and started drinking another one, that one lasted about a month 

After the 5th tea Marvin gave up stocking up on Whizzer’s “favorite” tea bc he already had about 8 unopened boxes of teabags of different kinds of tea he literally never drank again  

Meanwhile the opened ones just sit collecting dust 

When Whizzer watches baseball he gets so absorbed he forgets other shit he was doing 

This led to a new house rule in the form of a note on the wall above the stove:

No food on the stove or in the oven during a baseball game. I WILL turn it off and leave it there. I love you - Marvin 

Whizzer wanted to prove him wrong so he started making something before the next baseball game

the following morning he discovered whatever it was that he was making, moved off the stove top with the stove turned off - he did forget

occasionally he will still try to prove that "Marv, this time I won't. Seriously. Stop looking at me like that."

Whizzer is constantly buying exotic new condoms to try out 

At least one landed each of them in the ER bc of an allergy they didn’t know they had 

Every time they ended up there Whizzer, without fail, says “Well, now we know.” 

Meanwhile Marvin - usually the one to try them first because Whizzer is very convincing (in this regard to literally only Marvin) - will sit there with a rash and cursing himself for going along with it

Whizzer is athletic but NOT flexible

They found out the hard way 

Whizzer will try and fail to prove his mediocre flexibility 

Marvin continuously has to try and stop him from discolating something

When doing a foldover stretch he just kind of gets stuck mid-way and blames it on his legs being too long; but that doesn't mean he won't try; sometimes Marvin would randomly catch him trying to get all the way down and will tease him about it until they have sex - after that he started doing it on purpose

When he’s mad he will put any and everything out of Marvin’s reach

Everything and i mean EVERYTHING

If Marvin really fucks up that includes their stash of toilet paper

in the healthy iteration he will still do it but he got Marvin a step stool

Whizzer will say he loves French music but he could not name even one song

If someone asks him what his favorite song is, he either changes the subject or makes up something that sounds vaguely French and hopes the person he is talking to will buy it

Marvin actually believed him until Charlotte had a friend from France visit for a week

Marvin refuses to let him live it down - mostly because Whizzer will resort to sex to distract him; Whizzer is fully aware that Marvin is doing it for precisely that reason and just goes along with it

Whizzer will rearrange Marvin’s socks to mess with him

Because (of course) Marvin has a system for his socks and Whizzer knows how said Sock System works, Whizzer will find the most obtuse and convoluted way to mess with the sock system in ways that aren't immediately obvious

feel free to add your own headcanons

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Tim Drake Fics On A03

These are my list of Tim Drake fics on A03. It has everything. Angst, fluff, funny sibling relationship, family fluff, The core four etc... There are few TimKon fics thrown here and there too. Have fun.

Tim Drake (Doesn't) Drink Coffee by BabblingBookends

Every year, Tim goes on a caffeine detox for a month and has to deal with the resulting withdrawal symptoms. He doesn't tell the rest of the Bats about this, because, uh, reasons!

Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once

‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’

Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then-

‘Don’t tell Bruce.’

Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Play it Again by Jazz020

The manor feels too quiet without music. Tim and Damian bond over music.

Send to All by kerosceene

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

-

The bats have a sex pollen release form. Because of course they do.

This is on of the most funniest batfam fic I have ever read.

four brothers, one crush, and absolutely zero brain cells to be found by Ms_Trickster

Tim: i need to know what’s the best way to a boy’s heart 

Damian: Easy. The best way to someone’s heart is through their ribcage. Everyone knows that. 

Damian: Come on Timothy, I expected better from you. 

Dick: I-

Dick: Try again

-

Tim is having boy troubles.

Tim goes to his brothers for help.

Tim...did not think that plan of action through.

(In which the batbros give Tim advice on relationships, told entirely through texts.)

Their sibiling relationship is too damn funny.

Home by sElkieNight60 

“Why didn't you call home?” the Red Hood is scolding him, bizarrely making his head spin with how unreal everything suddenly seems. “Why didn't you call Dad? You've been missing for three days and he is losing his mind―he thinks you've been kidnapped again―everyone has been pulling double runs all over the city trying to find you! You fucking disappeared! Seriously, Baby Bird, give us one good reason why we shouldn't drag your ass back home right now and have Dad bench you until the end of all days!?”

The two vigilantes are staring at him equal parts furious and equal parts relieved, but there must be some kind of mistake, because:

“Who is Tim?”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Cork Board Contingencies by PrinceJakeFireCake

If you don’t use a cork board to obsessively plan contingencies for every possible way a date with your best friend can go, how can you go on a date at all?

Excerpt: “Are you free next Saturday?” Tim asked, pretty sure that Kon’s jumble of words was agreement that he wanted to date Tim.

“Maybe!” Kon exclaimed.

“Cool,” Tim commented, taking another sip of his drugged grape soda (“Dammit, Tim,” he mentally told himself. “Do not give in! Buy new grape soda! Stop drinking the drugged grape soda! I’ve shotgunned another can of drugged grape soda, haven’t I? Dammit, that makes five!”) then saying, “That gives me just enough time to pass out for fifty-two hours and plan our first date.”

Bloodlines by chibi_nightowl for exiled-one (mistralle)

“Mr. Drake, I can’t think of a better way to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. This file is for your first adoption. By the Drakes.” 

Tim blinked. “My what?” 

“You were adopted as a newborn by Jack and Janet Drake.” 

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

No words. This fic is just mind blowing.

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

“You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer.”

Road Rage Robin by heartslogos 

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

Only A03 users can read this fic

Liberal Usage of the Bro-Code by heartslogos for protagonistically (the_protagonist)

“You’re never going to guess who’s blood is on my shirt – similarly, this is not my shirt but these are my pants.”

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings--

“Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe.

Dammit.

i totally don't have amnesia by impravidus for odd_izzy

Based on this john mulaney bit: “I also think it's weird in movies when someone has amnesia and they wake up in the hospital. A lot of times they'll be surrounded by friends and family, but when they open their eyes they go "Who are you?" Because that's not how you act when you don't recognize somebody. That's very rude. It would be chaos out there if every time you saw someone you didn't recognize, you went, "Who are you?" I always try to be really polite in life, so like if I had amnesia, you'd never know it. I'd wake up and they'd be like "Hi John, we're so happy you're awake." And I'd just be like, "Oh, hey, man, how's it going?", "Oh, hey, dude, nice to see you again." because that's how you act when you can tell that someone recognizes you and you have no fucking clue who they are.”

Detective Timothy Drake and the Mysterious Case of the Unclaimed Dildo by JpegDotJpeg

Tim had a lot of experience with problem solving. Every goddamn day he was solving problems. There was no shortage of problems in Tim’s life. He’d learned how to deal with overbearing parents, underbearing parents, malfunctioning equipment, in-team conflict, lawsuits, emotional breakdowns, financial difficulty, broken ribs, ill-timed boners, and a whole host of other bizarre, anxiety-inducing, or life-threatening issues that plagued his existence.

None of them had prepared him for finding a dildo in the dishwasher.

I had so much fun reading this.

Little Overlooked Dreams by Lunette3002 for Marzue

Tim weighed his options. He was alone at night in some alleyway in Gotham. He had nothing except the clothes left on the ground by someone and the cloak wrapped around his skinny shoulders. His camera was nowhere in sight. His backpack was gone too.

He brought the device to his ear. “Hello?”

Whatever talking had been on the other end of the line immediately cut off at his hesitant greeting.

“Who is this?”

Family Photos by KelpieCodyne 

“I thought you quit your photo stalking?”

“In my defence, I never said I was quitting, and you never asked if I would,” Tim immediately counters. “So really, this is kind of on you.”

Just because Tim became a bat, doesn’t mean he stopped taking photos of bats. Several times Tim took photos of the batfamily, and one time they took photos of him.

One of my all time favorite fic. And only A03 users can read this fic too.

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224 

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Have You Seen My Kids!? by Cute_Bear

Five Times Bruce's kids interrupted him as Bruce Wayne and One Time they interrupted him as Batman with the Justice League.

This is not Tim - centric, but it has really nice batfam fluff.

ten cents richer by Ms_Trickster

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

That’s how the saying goes. Take enough punches from the universe and eventually it becomes harder and harder to pop back up, to see the worth in fighting back, to stop yourself from turning around and delivering some punches of your own.

Tim never wanted to become the villain—

“Appendicitis,” Tim breathed in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to burn the world to ashes when shit like this kept happening to him.

A Saturday Evening by malcyon

Jonathan shrugs, catches the expression still on Tim’s face. “We did throw out the cyanide.”

“Only because it expired.”

“Marty.”

“Well, it did.”

*****

Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

unfurl by shipyrds

"Hey, Dick," Tim says. He's in costume, and fiddling with his gloves, but he doesn't remove his mask: nervous, and trying to hide it. "You've had sex with aliens, right?"

"I'm not going to like where this is going, am I?" Dick says, resigned.

"How did you deal with the whole. Junk situation," Tim says, in his best professional Mission Report voice. Its success is kind of undermined with how red his face is below the domino. — Tim asks some questions. Bruce and Clark come to some realizations.

The Conner Kent Conspiracy Board by Hayleythewriter

Tim figures out Kon’s feelings before Kon does.

His Baby by Musafir

Bruce once made Tim a promise that he would never break, just have to reaffirm later in life.

“Hi Tim. I’m Bruce and I am always going to be here for you.”

Banshee In A Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee)

Tim is five years old when he drowns in his parents' pool. He dies quietly, waiting for parents who love him, but will never be there, to realise that something is wrong. They never show up, and he sinks into oblivion.

When he wakes up and claws his way out of the water, the sun has set, and the lights of his house are on. He is cold and wet and his lungs burn.

But most of all, Tim is alone.

(If you die and no-one is there to see it, were you ever alive in the first place?)

The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks 

What the comics neglected to cover after Bruce returns from being lost in time.

Only a03 users can read this fic.

charity by Valkirin for Ms_Trickster

The biggest downside of being adopted by Bruce Wayne is putting up with rich people events, including one where Jason will be in a room with a bunch of rich kids for a couple very long hours while Bruce goes to the adults' meeting. Jason is ready for a very bad time but the Drake kid listens to him from the start and keeps backing up Jason's ideas even though they've never met.

Jason warms up to Tim Drake long before Mad Hatter tries to take over the meeting and Tim backs him up again.

city of stars by lovelyre

College friends-to-lovers AU with Tim Drake.

This is Tim drake x Reader fic. Trust me its really good.

Tricks of the Trade by Jazz020

Jason and Damian learn about Tim's fool proof method of getting what he wants from Superman

Security Updates by Jazz020

Hal, Clark, and Barry find an unexpected guest playing with the watchtowers security.

Vacation at the Watchtower by Jazz020

A continuation of Security Updates

It may have been a mistake to let Tim stay at the Watchtower while he heals from his injury but the kid really needed to get away from his brothers.

“Wait, what if I go to the Watchtower with you.” “I don't think-” “It’ll be great. I'll even help out if you need me to. I'll be the best unpaid intern the Justice League has ever had.”

Birthdays by Jazz020

Bruce was always aware that Jack and Janet Drake were bad parents, but every once in a while they give him an unfortunate reminder.

Loss by Jazz020

Out of all of Tim’s self-destructive tendencies, it was his willingness to die for his loved ones that frightened Alfred most.

Sick by Jazz020

Tim’s never quite figured out the proper behavior for someone who’s sick. Instead of resting, he often makes his way to the Watchtower.

We Can Work It Out by blackash26, Tigrislupa

Damian endeavors to make up for his treatment of Drake and apologize properly; however, Drake refuses to forgive him no matter what he does. Tim does his best to deny, avoid, and ultimately deal with the fact that the demon brat has a crush on him of all people. (Pulling pigtails never felt like quite such an understatement.) Meanwhile, the rest of the family takes sides.

In all of this, there's only one thing everyone agrees on.

Don’t tell Dick.

Only A03 users can read this fic.

you'll never find a thing like today by remrose

"I'm just saying, I don't think I've ever been to one of these things that hasn't ended in explosions," Bart tells them, eyes on the crowds as he tugs at the ends of his cuffs.

To the Boy Who Called Yesterday by Shirokokuro

Bruce wonders when six-year-old Tim changed, when he shed that sad look he’s wearing now.

Or, perhaps, when he got so good at hiding it.

Cough syrup by Stardustwrites17

It’s the coldest night in the year. So of course Tim falls into the Gotham-fucking-harbor.

Featuring a worried dad, Tim's missing spleen, and of course, Tim battling with himself between being independent and letting himself be loved.

Chili dogs seasoned with tears by Robin_The_Robiner

Ever so slowly, Tim looked down at his plate. On it was a steaming chili dog, topped with fried onions and fresh parsley.

“Oh.” he whispered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taking the place of a beloved dead boy was difficult, but Tim managed to do a decent job. He's smart, confident, and put together, so he wasn't effected by their devastating grief at all.

Tim is also a dirty little liar when it comes to his mental health.

A Pile Of Pillows By The Couch by reinersbigtits

Tim has always hated getting sick. He hates the haze and the pain. But, when he finds out his family is sick he jumps in to help without a second thought. However, without a spleen, he's incredibly susceptible to the illness and quickly realizes just how much he's missed out on.

Or: Tim Drakes repressed trauma followed by worried family feels and lots of comfort.

stepping on landmines by Ms_Trickster

There is a scar curved around Drake's neck that Damian does not understand.

So he asks Todd.

the butler's neighbor by deargalileo

It starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne's property. it's alfred's job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more.

after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds?

Stranger than Fiction by foxy_mulder

"There are details in this document that absolutely no one should know unless they have inside information on us. There’s hints that they know our patrol schedules and regularly keep tabs on us. I don't know who's behind this, or what they want with Batman, but tracking the writer needs to be a priority."

"And this document is… a fanfiction?"

_________

(Tim Drake writes Batman fanfiction. He doesn't expect Batman to actually find it.)

There are many many more fics which i will post later. Have fun reading

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

Okay so I’m new to the blog and I saw requests were open! So kind, dom Nat or Wanda with fem sub R who is very submissive good girl golden retriever vibes, but Nat/Wanda is sadistic so she finds the smallest reasons to punish R and R just goes along with it? Maybe slight mistress kink? 👀

Baby, my love

warnings: a teeny bit of degradation, fingering, praise, riding, ass groping? I don't know. strap on

word count: 2.7k

pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem reader (Minors and men dni!!)

A/n: Bro, this is so cheeks because I have had such a long break, bru. I'm so rusty. Please save me. (I started getting lazy at the end cause I got bored and tired sowwy.)

"So cute," Natasha gazes at you with admiration as you peruse the restaurant menu. Your undivided attention is fixed on the pricey delicacies listed before you when, suddenly, her hushed compliment causes you to snap out of your menu-induced trance and meet her gaze.

"What?" You ask Natasha, only now coming out of your trance and paying full attention to your girlfriend.

"I said you're so cute, baby, So focused," she tells you. As you sit across from her in the dimly lit booth, she leans forward and reaches a hand across the table. Her fingers wrap around the salt crusher, which she begins to toy with absentmindedly. Despite her focus on you, you can't help but notice the veins that protrude from her weathered hands absentmindedly. Despite her focus on you, you can't help but notice the veins that protrude from her weathered hands.

As you catch a glimpse of Natasha, your cheeks instantly flush red, and you feel the heat rising on your face. Despite being together for over three years, she still has the power to make your heart skip a beat and leave you feeling butterflies. Your lips curl up into a grin, and you can't help but feel giddy as you realize how much you still adore her.

"I - thank you," you stutter out to her. A low chuckle escapes her lips as she gazes around the restaurant. She seems to be looking for someone specific, perhaps the waitress. And just as if on cue, the waitress approaches your table seconds later, timing it perfectly with her search.

"Are you feeling nervous for me already, my love? It's funny how you worry so much even though I haven't done anything yet," she says with a gentle sigh, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. She looks up at you with a small smile, her eyes sparkling with affection and gratitude for your concern.

"I have nothing to worry about. You just—" but were interrupted by the waitress's appearance. She appeared from around the restaurant's corner, clad in a crisp uniform and carrying a notepad and pen. The steamy conversation was put on hold as she approached your table to finally take your orders.

As the waitress completes taking down Natasha's order, she turns her attention towards you. A warm smile graces her face, and you can't help but feel a sense of comfort in her presence. You reciprocate with a small smile, not wanting to appear impolite, as you place your dinner order. The soft murmur of other diners and the aroma of delicious food fill the air, making for a cozy ambiance.

"Perfect! I'll be back in a couple minutes to bring your food out!"The waitress says before walking away to assist other tables.

As you sat there, the soothing sound of low jazz filled your ears, enveloping you in a sense of calm and tranquility. For a few blissful moments, you were lost in the music, feeling your worries slip away. However, your reverie was abruptly interrupted by Natasha, who shattered the peaceful atmosphere with her sudden words.

"So, do you like her now?"

"W-what are you talking about nat? Do I like who?"

"Oh, please. Don't act like you don't know. The waitress."

"Natasha, I'm seriously not in the mood for this bullshit right now." You tell her; an exaggerated groan leaves your mouth as you put your face in your hands.

" Watch your fucking mouth y/n. You were all on her right? Smiling at each other like I wasn't here?"

The air grew still between you and Natasha, punctuated only by the sound of your own breath as you lifted your head to meet her gaze. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, pregnant with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

"But, she could never fuck you like I do, huh?"

You feel a sudden stillness in the air like time has slowed. Your cheeks start to flush with embarrassment once again. It takes a moment to fully comprehend Natasha's words. You can't help but wonder how she could be so uninhibited and unconcerned about expressing herself in such a public setting.

"Answer me, y/n."

"No, Natasha." As you begin to respond to her, you feel a slight discomfort between your legs. You shift your weight, crossing your legs to alleviate the buildup of heat and tension. Your words come out slowly as you try to maintain your composure.

"Good fucking girl," As you sit there, she leans in and whispers into your ear, her smirk growing wider with each passing moment. You can feel the warmth of her breath against your skin, and her words have a powerful effect on you, making your heart race and your mind spin. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, you can't help but feel a little bit helpless in her presence.

The rest of dinner was a torcher for you, and Natasha slowly lured you into her trap. It was too easy for her to have you melt in her hands. The night was filled with low teasing words that spilled from Natahsa's mouth, her shoe running up and down your leg. Only provoking the wetness between your legs.

As soon as the check arrived, Natahsa swiftly took out her wallet and paid without any delay. She made sure to leave a generous tip, expressing her gratitude for the excellent service. Without wasting any time, she grabbed your hand and hurriedly rushed back to the car, eager to have time with you.

During the seemingly long ride back to your New York apartment, you felt her veiny hand placed on your thigh, exerting a firm and steady pressure as she squeezed it. The touch of her hand sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind at that moment.

"'M sorry, Nat. I won't do it again," you tell her softly, just loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the car.

"You can try that cute apology again at home when I'm fucking your brains out, sweetheart."

Butterflies erupt from your stomach once more; you don't know how Natasha can be so collected when saying all these vulgar things to you.

You, on the other hand, had your legs squeezed together to get some sort of friction. Natasha's hand was inching closer and closer to your core making you more needy for her than you already were.

Natasha pulls the car into her designated parking spot with a sense of urgency, as if she can't wait to get inside. Without a moment's hesitation, she takes hold of your arm and guides you out of the vehicle and into the building. Her hand swiftly finds the key to the shared apartment, which she deftly inserts into the lock and turns with a satisfying click. Within seconds, the door swings open, revealing the cozy interior of your home.

Without any delay, she swiftly makes her way to your bedroom, determined to get you there as quickly and as safely as possible. Once there, she handles you with the utmost care and delicacy, making sure not to cause any further discomfort or harm as she gently eases you onto the bed.

Natasha makes her way onto the bed, looking at you with her full attention. Her hands clasp around your face, slowly bringing you into a kiss.

After a few seconds, she pulls away, her hungry eyes staring into yours. Her hands carefully and quickly come down to the zipper of your silk dress, slowly zipping down, until you were left wearing your bra and panties.

"So fucking gorgeous pretty girl. Can't even blame that waiter for wanting you."

All you can do is look up at her and whine, needing to feel her on you. In you.

Her lips travel swiftly down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet and passionate kisses that send shivers down your spine.

Small moans leave your mouth when you feel Natasha's hand slowly make its way down to your pussy, her two fingers brushing over your panties. Her mouth leaves your neck slowly. Natasha kneels down to admire your exquisite beauty. She gazes at you with wonder and amazement, taking in every detail of your stunning appearance. Her eyes scan every curve and contour of your being as she marvels at your magnificence.

"Baby, make sure to enjoy this moment because this is the most gentle I'll be tonight," she whispers softly into your ear. Her breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine as you feel her warm embrace.

Natasha doesn't waste time taking off your bra, leaving it on your chest. Her fingers move back down to your panties, this time moving them to the side to admire your wetness.

"Holy shit, you're this fuckin' wet, and I haven't even done anything." She laughs to herself as she looks at your desperate face, begging her to fuck you without having to say anything.

"P-please Nat," you moan out with desperation. you plead with Nat in a small and helpless voice.

"Please, what princess? What do you want me to do to this fucking cunt?"

Your face slowly lights up from Natasha's words. "Just want you inside." You whisper out to her.

"What was that y/n? I don't think I heard you." Oh, Natasha heard you.

"I-fuck. I just want you inside my pussy Natasha!" You finally yell at her, your head leaning against the pillow so you won't have to look at her.

"Yes, ma'am," She tells you and pulls down your panties, tossing them to them behind her. Two of her fingers direct themselves back to your pussy, slowly gliding over your slit. She groans when she feels your wetness on her slim fingers. She lifts her hand up from your pussy to show you your wetness.

"Look at me, baby, look at how fucking wet you are."

You look up at her again, her eyes fixated on her fingers. She slowly spreads them apart, your slick moving with her fingers. She carefully places her two fingers into her mouth and moans at your taste, her eyes now locked in on you.

Her fingers lead back to your pussy for the 3rd time; this time, she pushes her two wet fingers into your cunt. A loud moan ejects from your mouth.

"Oh baby, you're already clenchin' around my fingers, and I haven't even moved them yet.

It was almost like you forgot to talk at that moment. The one thing you had been craving was finally here. The only way you could express your pleasure was to moan into her.

You were a mess, to say the least. Your eyes are drowsy as Natasha speeds her long fingers into your pussy, slick running down your soft thighs. Your hips bucked back and forth to meet the fast thrust of Natasha's fingers.

Natasha's thumb makes contact with your clit, rolling the bud in a circular motion. Shattered breaths and whimpers escape from your mouth, the room filling with the sound of your wetness. Her fingers curl slightly into your cunt, and a low plea finds its way out of you.

"I can feel you squeezing around me, my love. Are you close already? You poor thing, do I make you feel good?" she asks.

"Mm-ph, yes!" You manage to squeal. Natasha pulls her now, sopping wet fingers out of your cunt right as you are on the edge. You knew it was too good to be true. The way she gave into you so easily.

"Think you deserve to cum that fucking easy, my good girl?"

You were too fucked out to reply to Natasha, only moaning and lifting your hips up to her leg, which she quickly moves away, leaving you no source of pleasure.

"Answer my question, baby. Do you think a little disobedient slut like you deserves to cum?"

"N-no."

"That's a Good answer, my love. I have two options: I can leave you needy all night and not touch you, or you can work for it. Which one?

"Two." You groan out, your high thoroughly washed over now, bringing you back to reality. Natasha just smiles at you and walks away for a few minutes. Coming back in only her sports bra and a pair of Calvin Klein boxers that had that seemingly noticeable bulge.

Natasha gets on the bed again, lying down and signaling her eyes at you to straddle her.

"Natasha, what are you actually doing?" You question her as you move your body on hers.

"Gotta work for what you want. And...you do want to cum tonight, don't you?"

You tilted your head slightly and moved it slowly, in deliberate motion, indicating your agreement or understanding.

"Then you can ride my fucking cock and cum that way, okay?"

"You're not going to help?" you ask her. You were never able to get off without Natasha's help. It was almost impossible, ever since the first time you both had the most intimate sex ever, she had a chokehold on you.

"Why do you need my help? You can go and flirt with other people, so I suspect you can do this, can't you?

You give a subtle nod, feeling a hint of skepticism creeping up. It's hard to believe that what you've just heard is true. Nonetheless, you try to keep an open mind and remain composed.

"The more you wait, the further away you are from coming."

You don't waste a second longer. You plam the outside of Natasha's gray boxers. She lets out a little sigh and grasps your ass. After feeling her through her boxers, you slowly pull them down, her large strap springing up and hitting her stomach. She looks you up and down smugly, her abs clenching at the thought of you.

You slowly spit on her cock, sliding your hand up and down her base as she just watches. You finally start to sit down, her cock, your face already contouring with pleasure. Natasha throws her hands behind her head, loving the view of your hands on her stomach as you sink down on her cock.

You need no time to start riding her like your life depended on it. Whispers of her name leave your mouth as you feel how she stuffs you.

"Keep on riding me just like that, love."

You move your hips back and forth, trying to get an immense amount of pleasure out of riding her. Your high wasn't building, only the frustration that came with it. You speed up your hips. Nothing. You try bouncing up and down on her cock. Nothing. She can tell that you are struggling; it's evident in your face and the rhythm of your slurred movements.

Natasha loves seeing you like this. She knows she's why you have difficulty coming undone without her help. She knows that no other lousy girl can fuck you the way she does. You were hers.

"Natasha, please. I'm sorry for what I did. I promise it's not going to happen again." You whine out to her, and your eyes start to water.

"Fine, but only because you asked so nicely."

Nat positions her legs in a bent way where your back can lean against them. Her hips quickly get to work. Fucking themselves into you at a rapid pace. The room was filled with moans from both of your mouths and the sound of skin slapping against one another.

"Look so fucking pretty like this. Can't even fuck yourself without my help. Pathetic."

You only moan at her words that bring you closer to the edge, her hips moving at a slower pace but fucking yours harder. Her hands gripped your ass tightly as she fucked you, not giving two fucks if the neighbors heard you. She wanted them to know that you were hers.

Your eyes are closed; your focus is on how good Natasha fucks your efforts.

"This pussy is so tight, shit." She moans out to you.

"So close, Nat, please don't stop."

And she doesn't. She works her hips like a god, her eyes fixated on how your greedy pussy swallows her cock. She's mesmerized by it all.

"Go ahead, baby, cum all over this cock." You need no other confirmation. Your eyes squeeze shut even harder, and your grip on her hips becomes stronger as high-pitched moans leave your mouth. You body slumps down on Natasha's as you catch your breath, she admires you from above.

"you did so well for me, y/n. But I don't know if I'm down with you yet, sweetheart.

[a-singer-of-songs]

A non-exhaustive list of what I've learned reading Les Mis by listening to it

Fandom (or the corner I've been involved in) wasn't actually exaggerating how gay R is for Enjolras

But they were underselling how obnoxious he is, holy shit I'd tell him to shut up too he's talking just to hear his own voice

And they undersold the extent of Enjolras' social awkwardness holy shit

Marius is really actually more hapless than anything led me to believe

Cosette is less blonde than you'd think, as in, not blonde at all

Courfeyrac is exactly as chaotic as my favorite authors make him (holy shit he adopted Marius ON SIGHT I cannot even with this goober)

I don't care what century you're in or how hapless you are STALKING IS STILL CREEPY, MARIUS

Seriously how is Marius just so bad at like... Everything, bless him, he tries and it just goes wrong

Except stalking but he arguably isn't effect very good at that

He accidentally sicced his crush's dad's archenemy on him HOW DID HE MANAGE THIS someone please help him before he hurts himself

How did I miss the whole Thenardier "saving" George Pontmercy thing

Eponine is EXTREMELY more feral than I expected

When Hugo writes something like "And now several pages on __" he means like, several hundred, and I haven't even gotten to the sewers yet

I somehow know less about Waterloo than I did when I started--and I knew almost nothing when I started

"Wait, THAT'S how you pronounce that????"

This is actually more enjoyable to listen to than I thought it'd be! It's fun to compare to the musical and it's fun to recognize where favorite fanfic authors have gotten different interpretations from.

[mourning-sapphire]

can you do headcanons for metal head aemond?

YES I CAN!!

𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 (SFW)

Usually wears tighter plain tees or slutty oversized tanktops that were bandshirts he cut the arms and neck off, says its easier to move in but really he likes when you look at his arms and side tit

Always spinning records, they're his prized collection, listens to anything from jazz to prog rock will take inspiration from everything.

In the similar vein that film nerds are difficult to watch films with, thats aemond but with music; will break down every song and why exactly its good, what he doesnt like, and what he'd change

Regularly goes to record stores, every week, has a list of records he wants to buy.

He owns a silver lighter than he's had for years, its ingraved and literally will fiddle with it when anxious; flicking it and lighting it when he's thinking or his mind is elsewhere

He does it when he cant get his hands on his guitar, which he picks at anxiously or twist one of his rings.

Also owns a switchblade (and a few flick knives), not for anything violent, but because he thinks they're very cool (he actually has a few of them), comes in handy at the stupidest times and he's always smug about it

Despite his home actually being clean, he never throws anything he deems important out! boots? he's had them for years, they're scuffed but they're still good why would he?

Funnily owns so many fucking jackets, from leather to heavy denim, its his fave thing.

He names his guitars but doesnt tell anyone, its his secret.

He's really reserved and tbh a little cold, but he's still nice - he just doesnt have time for nonsense

That also being said, he's not fun to work with; perfectionist that takes everything seriously and takes over projects, he's the main song writer for the band and it shows

put EVERYTHING in his music, his experiences make it in, his feelings, his anger; its the only way he'll talk about anything, and he's never even fucking talking

He helps the techs set up. always. he respects the people that handle the equipment so its not uncommon to quietly see him carrying amps or setting up his brothers drums.

he's a nerd with old tech, he likes old cameras (haha), he takes pictures and polaroids, he likes having physical media.

Drinks coffee, black, but he's more of a tea drinker; says its easier on his throat.

He smokes mentol or clove cigarettes, but always carries gum to hide the smell on his mouth.

He can play a plethora of instruments, annoying is good at everything he touches

He has a little leather book that he doesnt let anyone see, its always in his jacket pocket.

Smells like spice, sage, musk, and smoke; a mix of natural and fragrance.

I could literally go on for DAYS.

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𝐇αᥣᥣ𝖾𝗒'𝗌 𝐂ⱺꭑ𝖾𝗍.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Chapter 2 from ₊ Qʊɛɛռ օʄ ȶɦɛ Nɨɢɦȶ Series

-☄"Midnight for me is 3:00 a.m. (for you)"☄-

ραιяιηg: Neighbor!Choso Kamo x Bartender!Reader

𝖲ɣ𐓣: you come home at 3am from your shift at the club just to find your cold neighbour Choso awake and waiting for you to come home safely.

𝐂ɦ𝖾𝖼𝗄 ⱺυ𝗍 𝗍ɦ𝖾 𝚰𐓣ᑯ𝖾𝗑 ρα𝗀𝖾 𝖿ⱺ𝗋 𝗍ɦ𝖾 𝖿υᥣᥣ 𝐓𝐖 ᥣ𝗂𝗌𝗍

A/N: hey guys I'm finally back... This is my first fic in a long time, so sorry if this chapter might seem a bit boring... I swear, it's all for the sake of the slow burn!🤣

Series Tag list: Open!

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 | 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

⏭ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: нαℓℓєу'ѕ ¢σмєт by вιℓℓιє єιℓιѕн

Choso's POV

“She’s gone… you can finally breathe now.” Yuji barges into his brother’s room without a warning. Choso, who was peacefully existing with his headphones on, jumps back in his bed, dropping his music with an annoyed frown. “Ok…” he mutters, not even pretending to care, “did you at least understand a word she said?”

“Hold on, bro,” Yuji waves his arms around dramatically, “why aren’t we talking about how your killer glare probably made her want to join a monastery and take a vow of silence? We might need a priest to bless the room if she ever comes back.”

Choso, eyes darting to the corner, knows it’s true. He’s an expert at making people uncomfortable with his mysterious aura. But she wasn’t scared of him, right? She just seemed… interested? Or maybe confused? His mind goes into overdrive, battling between self-doubt and a strange sense of vulnerability. Was he the creepy guy, or were you just… not scared of him? He really didn’t know how to feel about that gaze of yours. It wasn’t judging. It was curious. And that... was new. So new he doesn't know how to cope with that.

“Well,” Yuji interrupts his spiraling thoughts, his grin screaming trouble is coming, “Can I ask why you were being weird today? Like, weird weird?”

Choso’s train of thought derails, and he stumbles over words. “I… don’t know…” he mutters. “Maybe… I’m just not used to… being around… girls?” His face turns into a tomato. “I mean, you know, girls usually think I’m a weirdo…”

A flashback to Yuki, the only girl he’d ever been able to talk to, flits through his mind. She had been his friend. A real friend. She was the only one who didn’t run for the hills when he spoke. The only woman who could accept him for who he is. Maybe the only one in his entire existence… he has always wondered if his mother really managed to accept his nature in the end. He wouldn't even blame her if not…But that’s a whole different therapy session.

Yuji’s grin widens, clearly about to unleash chaos. “I get it, bro,” he says, all innocent-looking, but Choso still can see the mischievous glint in his eyes. “But seriously, it’s time for you to join the human race. Go outside, touch some grass, bask in the sunlight. Maybe even put on real clothes for once instead of your comfy ‘I haven’t left the house in six days’ pajamas.”

Choso stares down at his pajama pants like they’ve personally offended Yuji. “Why do you hate my pajamas so much?” he mutters, defensive, like a child caught in his favorite blanket.

Yuji snickers. “Nothing. I’m sure even our neighbor’s jealous of your unique fashion choices.”

Suddenly, Choso’s cheeks turn pink as he realizes he probably should’ve made himself slightly presentable before you showed up. Oops.

“Jokes aside, don’t stress about her. She’s chill. Oh, and I bet she really appreciated you checking in on her tonight. Big bro points, my dude. Huge. I approve.”

As Yuji heads for the door, Choso’s mind starts to race again. You’re probably starting your shift right about now, and suddenly, his chest feels tight. Worry? Anticipation? He isn’t sure. Probably both. He’s no expert in nightlife (he’s more of a “stay home and brood” kind of guy), but he knows enough about what happens at clubs on weekends to be mildly terrified. Drunk people, loud music, bad decisions. And you, you’re… well, you’re attractive,beautiful even. The image of that pout you make when you focus suddenly comes to his mind, he noticed it while you were sitting in their kitchen, just an hour before.

Yuji snaps his fingers in front of Choso’s face. “Yo, Earth to Choso, where’d you go? What do you want for dinner? Spaghetti? Pizza? A small army of snacks?”

Your POV:

You’re back at the apartment, quickly switching into your pub’s uniform while grabbing a snack that’s barely worthy of being called dinner. "Hey 'Zuru, I’m over here," you call out, hearing the door open signalling your roommate's return. In your typical fashion, you join her, making a grand entrance, hopping on one foot while trying (and failing) to pull on your skirt without falling over. She shoots you an amused stare. Her laugh fills the room as she opens the fridge, rummaging around for ingredients. "So, how was your day?" she asks, but the disapproving tone in her voice could sour milk.

You shrug casually, leaning against the counter as you munch on your snack. “Eventful, to say the least. Classes were fine, but I ended up helping Yuji with his homework after bumping into him this morning. Had to do something for him, especially after he saved our apartment from that fire your straightener started...” You approach her, trying to help with dinner prep, although you're more distracted by the ongoing crisis of your skirt.

She squints at you, half amused, half exasperated. “Wait—my straightener now? Really? You’re incredible.” She scoffs, and you can feel the heat of her sarcasm even before she opens her mouth again. “Oh, and thanks for almost wrecking my date next week. You know, the guy from this morning, who definitely didn’t look like Kenji? Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled when you mistook him for my ex.”

You wince, feeling a little guilty. “Oops? But seriously, since when do you hang out with such prickly guys?” You try to make light of the situation, your innocent smile just the tiniest bit mischievous. It works—just a little.

“Lucky we’re friends,” she mutters under her breath, grabbing a piece of your KitKat bar without permission. “Anyway, how’d it go with Yuji?”

You lean back on the counter, kicking your legs casually, your voice almost dreamy as you glance up at the ceiling. “It went pretty well. You can tell he really puts effort into everything, even his chemistry work.” You pause, letting the suspense build before casually adding, “Oh, and I met his brother today. Choso.”

At the mention of his name, Shizuru freezes mid-step, her eyes narrowing “Who? The ghost of the block?” Her disbelief is palpable. She holds her pan like it might be some kind of defense weapon. “You’re telling me you actually talked to him? And got his name? How are you still alive?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Relax, he’s not that bad. He’s just a little…shy.”

“Shy?” She spits out the word like it's poison. “Shy doesn’t mean watching people from a distance with that I’ll stab you if you breathe near me look. That guy’s a creep! I don’t even know how they’re brothers. It's like one was raised by kittens, and the other by serial killers.”

You stare at her, raising an eyebrow. “Zuru, that’s not fair—”

“Not fair? Have you seen him? He looks like he’d bite your head off if you smiled at him wrong,” she interrupts. Her face is a mix of incredulity and concern now. “Tell me, what did he even say to you?”

“Not much,” you admit with a shrug. “He mostly just... studied me. Like, just stared at me the whole time.”

She bursts out laughing. “I knew it! No doubt he looked at you like you were the last woman on Earth. I bet the last time a girl talked to him, he thought it was some kind of alien encounter.”

You roll your eyes but your smile lingers a little too long, a little too soft. “Well, there was one thing... He did ask if I’d be okay working the night shift alone, said he was worried about me being out by myself.”

Shizuru drops her spatula. “Wait, wait, what? He asked you that? That can only mean one of two things: He’s either a secret knight in shining armor—like, a dark and broody ‘I’ll protect you’ type—or he’s a stalker serial killer making sure no one kills you before he can.”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, hopping off the counter. “And here I thought we could have a normal conversation. Why is it so hard for you to admit that he’s not that bad? Honestly, I’m heading to work now. Don’t wait up for me.”

Shizuru tilts her head, giving you that knowing smirk. “Never planned on it. But seriously—watch out for the Chosos on your way out. They tend to give people... intense stares.”

As you grab your jacket and head out the door, you can't help but think back to Choso—of how oddly protective he’d seemed earlier. There’s something about him that’s so... complicated, like there's more lurking beneath the surface. You shake the thought off, but a small part of you wonders just how much of a knight he might actually be.

...

The shift has gone smoother than expected, the hours slipping away unnoticed as you worked at the pub. It wasn't until the end of the night, when a few too many patrons had indulged a bit too much, that you and your colleague found yourselves staying later than planned. You've had to help some of them out the door, calling their emergency contacts to make sure they'd get home safely. On your way back, the thought crosses your mind that it must feel nice to have someone to always rely on. Since moving to Japan, your roommate has always been your one constant, your anchor. You'd taken care of each other, navigating the chaos of life side by side. That’s why Yuji and Choso’s concern earlier today has left you with an unexpected feeling. It was nice to be cared for, even if it felt … strange.

As you walk home, you suddenly remember the promise you made to them today about letting them know you'll make it back safely tonight. But how could you do that now? It's already 3am and you are barely crawling back to the building, exhausted, your mind blurry. They are probably asleep by now anyways, and you certainly don't want to wake them up for something so trivial. What if they had even forgotten about it? This could also be a possibility...The idea of barging into their apartment looking like you had just fought a zombie apocalypse, just to say, "Hey, just wanted to tell you I made it home safe," is mortifying. You never quite knew how to handle attention like that. It always felt… uncomfortable.

You sigh as the elevator doors open. Stepping inside, you lean against the cool metal, the reflection in the mirror showing just how tired you are. Dark circles under your eyes—could they rival Choso’s? You wonder if he works nights too, that would explain why he's never around during the day… The impactful sight of your disheveled hair and smudged makeup makes you cringe. There's no way you are going to run into anyone in this state

...

Meanwhile, Choso has been pacing the living room for more than an hour, glancing at the clock every few minutes. 2:00 a.m. 2:30. 2:45. Where were you? Shouldn’t any bar be closed by now? Why weren't you home yet?

Yuji went to sleep hours ago, and the silence of the apartment, only broken by the occasional tick of the clock, fuels his anxiety. What if something had happened to you? What if someone had gotten too close at the bar, or worse, if you’d run into trouble on your walk home? He's already regretting not insisting on walking you home. He had let his guard down, and now he can't shake the thought of you being out there alone.

He stops pacing for a moment, realizing how absurd his thoughts must sound. But he can't help it—once Yuji had pulled him into your orbit just this afternoon, he couldn’t shake the sense of responsibility he felt for you. Protectiveness has always come naturally to him. And you were Yuji’s friend, which meant you were officially under his care too.

Then, his mind drifts back to earlier today, to how small and fragile you looked under his gaze in the kitchen, huddled in that oversized leather jacket as if you were trying to hide from the world…. A feeling he knows quite well. Guilt stirs in his chest, maybe you two aren't that different… He didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Maybe that's why he couldn’t stop thinking about you, why he cared so much.

Cling. His thoughts are interrupted by the familiar chime of the elevator. He freezes. Could it be you?

The doors slide open and you tiptoe down the dim hallway, trying to avoid making a sound. You are certain Yuji and Choso have forgotten about you anyway, and you have already concocted a half-baked excuse in case they haven't. Reaching your door, you find your lovely roommate has locked you out again. "Damn, 'Zuru," you mutter through gritted teeth, rolling your eyes as you fumble for your keys in the chaotic abyss of your bag.

Too preoccupied with not making noise, you fail to notice the figure standing behind you until it is too late: Choso stands there, watching you struggle with your keys, his nostrils flaring as his eyes sweep over you. The sight of you in your uniform—tight T-shirt clinging to your curves, legs exposed in that breathtaking miniskirt, the ‘Queen of the Night’ logo teasingly placed just above your neckline—stirred something dark in him…how could this be defined as a work uniform?

“You’re back.” His voice is dry, sharp, and it makes you jump, the keys slipping from your hands and clattering to the ground.

"Shit…it's you, Choso," you mutter, heart racing. His hard expression makes it instantly clear that you've just made a mistake. "You scared me."

On the spot,he wants nothing more than to snap something sarcastic about how you should be more afraid of wandering the streets at 3 a.m. than of him, but he bites his tongue. He is too angry, too frustrated.

“Why didn’t you let us know you made it home safely? You've promised…” His tone is harsh, the words coming out faster than he intended.

Touché- your heart sinks at the reminder of your earlier promise. You can't stand the fact that he'd probably think low of you now, even more than he did before if possible.

“I... I thought you and Yuji had probably forgotten about it,” you stammer, the excuses falling from your lips before you can stop them. “I didn’t want to bother you, especially at this hour.” Your words ring hollow even to you, but you can't help but wonder why he was so upset for something that didn't involve him or Yuji directly.

Choso’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. “If we didn’t want to be bothered, we wouldn’t have asked you to let us know in the first place. I spent the evening waiting for you to come home.” His gaze pinns you, as if daring you to look away.

The realization hits you—Choso, the cold guy everyone is afraid of is worried…for you? You blink, surprised by the raw intensity in his eyes. “Wait…did you actually… wait up for me?”

His face softens for a split second before hardening again. "I did."

The hallway falls silent for a moment. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know. It’s my fault,” you murmur looking at the ground, still unable to hold his gaze, when your raging guilt finally subsides.

Choso sighs at the scene, leaning against the doorframe. His arms cross over his broad chest, and you can tell he's still trying to control his emotions. “It’s okay." Those three words are enough to make you release the breath you didn't know you were holding. "Just… keep it in mind from now on: you can always call us if you're in trouble. No matter the time.” he says, his eyes now boring into yours as if seeking the reassurance you'd grasped the concept.

You smile at his awkward attempt to ease the tension… something suggested you that his rough façade was nothing but a bluff already this afternoon, and the embarrassed expression etched on his face right now as he tries to maintain a stern tone confirms that you weren't wrong. “Can I ask you something?” you speak, guilt now replaced by a playful mischief that takes Choso aback.

"Uh? Yeah… What’s up?” he asks, desperately trying to sound casual, though inside, he is already panicking about what you might ask.

Your grin grows as you mirror his posture, leaning against your door and crossing your arms. “Is your door about to fall off or something?”

His eyes widen in confusion, before turning and checking for the stability of his entrance door. “No, it’s still pretty sturdy… Why?”

You have to suppress a laugh at the panic in his voice... Is it always that easy to make him nervous?. “Just seemed like you always lean on it like it’s your life mission or something.” you tease him, remembering how he displayed his signature 'alpha-pose' already this afternoon.

Choso’s face flushes, and he quickly looks away, trying to salvage his tough guy image. “It’s none of your business,” he mutters, putting on an adorable child-like frown, but even in the dim light, it is obvious he is flustered by your teasing.

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, okay…” The air around you feels less tense now, almost intimate, with just the two of you awake in the whole building. “Is Yuji sleeping?” you whisper, interrupting the peaceful silence of the night.

“Yeah, he’s been asleep for a while now…” The change in Choso’s posture as you mention his brother is noticeable: his deep voice softens, his eyes fill with a sparkle as his thoughts seem to wander to Yuji. “He really wanted to stay up and wait for you, but I convinced him I’d handle it.”

You laugh quietly. “Aww so thoughtful of him! But he’s got school tomorrow. He definitely needs to save some energy for chemistry class… your brother is such an angel…you know," you confess, opening up to him about the struggles of getting used to your new surroundings "he has always been one of the few friendly faces when I moved here...I'll forever be thankful for meeting him”

Choso chuckles along with you, his lips finally curling up in a faint smile, though his mind seems to slip far away. “He’s special… too pure for this world.”

The moment is quiet, comfortable even, until you break the silence again, thinking it's time for both of you to take some sleep. “Thanks for what you did tonight… Goodnight, Choso.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to leave, but there is something more—something that makes him hesitate. “Hey," he stammers without thinking, as if he's subconsciously trying to extend the longest conversation he has had with someone other than Yuji in a while "Can I ask you one more thing before you go?”

You pauses,as if surprised by his own boldness. “Yeah? Of course you can...” you turn to face him once again and Choso realizes it's too late to take back his words now..His heart hammers in his chest, the words hanging on the edge of his tongue. “I’ve been wondering... " He swallows, finding the right words to express what has been wandering around his head all night "did anyone cause you any trouble at the pub tonight? In any way...” he stammers.

His gaze is intense, unwavering even, and for a moment, you see something darker behind his eyes, something akin to the danger everyone associates with him. His question catches you off guard, but you quickly reassure him, putting on a warm smile “No, it was a pretty easy night actually… Just had to kick out a couple of drunk patrons, nothing serious.” you try to alleviate the tension.

In this moment you can clearly see his attention drift away again, that distant look of this afternoon resurfacing on his features. He lets out a low hum, his posture stiffening again as he unexpectedly turns his back on you. "Good. Goodnight,then" he mutters, his tone final.

You blink, awkwardly standing in the hallway for a moment longer after his sudden departure, unsure of what had just happened. What had you said wrong? Where does he go in his mind when he gets lost in those mysterious thoughts of his?

You finally reach out for the keys, still laying on the ground and enter your apartment, wishing you could shut the doubts outside with him as you close the door behind you with a soft click, your mind still racing with confusion. Choso…you were right about his name: there is more to him than meets the eye, and the more you see of him, the more you feel drawn to uncover the secrets behind his rough demeanor.

On the other side of the wall, Choso lays awake in bed, his fists clenched, a tangle of emotions storming through him. Why did you have to be so careless? Why couldn’t you see the danger in the way you were acting? The thought of other men ogling over you in that uniform somehow made his blood boil, and yet, he can't tear his mind away from the image of you bathed in the moonlight seeping through the windows in the hallway, so vulnerable and unaware of the way your carelessness affected him. What's so special about clubs anyways? What's the use of being looked at like nothing but a piece of meat by a bunch of drunk assholes? How could you be fine with that?

And as the darkness of the night envelops him, he can't shake the pull he feels toward you—that undeniable need to protect you, from the whole world, including yourself, even if he doesn't fully understand the reasons behind it. You are beautiful, yes….and so damn reckless…

Thanks for reading! Comments, reblogs and interactions are appreciated

©Dreamingkitsunewrites. Do not copy my works.