#I can’t put commas here :(

[moraent-keys]

Why are people so judgy on the internet? I just saw a comment section filled with ppl ranting about how hazbin fans have no media literacy?? Because they made a very reasonable (possible) mistake with Alastor’s last name??

Genuinely what is wrong with people

[maccreadysbaby]

Writing Tips; Dialogue

Does your dialogue fall flat, or feel thin and strange? Does it feel like your characters are talking like robots? Do your conversations sound repetitive and monotone? We’ve all been there. It’s a very common occurrence amongst writers. Here are some of my favorite ways to avoid the monotone robot characters and add life and movement into your dialogue!

In this post, we’re going to have an example sentence that changes as I talk about different additions. Here it is in its naked, base form: “I know it’s real I saw it,” Nico said.

Now, let’s hop into making it lively, shall we?

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1) PUNCTUATION

Commas and punctuation are your best friends! Use them. Use the crap out of them. Many people will say commas can’t go here and they can’t go there, but I say, in dialogue, it doesn’t matter. If you want your character to pause but you don’t want to use an ellipsis because it feels too long, use a comma. Put them wherever you want. Wherever your character pauses. If your character is rambling or talking really fast, take them out. It’s your dialogue. Use any and all punctuation to bedazzle up your lines. There is never too many or too little of anything if you want it that way, folks.

Keep in mind, punctuation can change the whole feeling of your sentence and the way your readers imagine your character talking. For example, your punctuation should differ between an excited and a sad line.

Here is the example sentence, punctuated in two different ways. “I know it’s real, I saw it!” Nico said. “I know it’s real… I saw it,” Nico said.

Can you see how just the change in punctuation changes the way you imagine him saying it? Really hone in on how your character is speaking and punctuate it to show that. (Keep in mind that this is your story and your character. You don’t have to obey punctuation rules and writing stereotypes, your story obeys you.) Put whatever punctuation you want there. Use thirty commas in your sentence. Use an ellipsis after every word. If it makes your character sound how you want them to sound, go for it, friends!

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2) ITALICS

Some people hate reading over-italicized works, but that’s their own preference. Italics is a great way to add interest, movement, and a characters natural inflection into your dialogue. (I freaking love italics.) Italics helps readers understand what the character is focused on, and how they’re speaking. Again, people will say not to use it too much or only to use it so many times in a paragraph… but the key here is still to write it how you like it. Italics can make your sentences sound more human and more authentic.

Here is our pair of examples, now with punctuation and italics. “I know it’s real, I saw it!” Nico said. “I know it’s real… I saw it,” Nico said.

Take a minute and read through the example dialogue, imagining each word italicized one by one. Pay attention to the meaning and context it gives it. (For example, if the ‘I’ at the beginning is in italics — I know it’s real — that could imply that he’s talking to someone who doesn’t know or believe whatever he’s talking about is real.)

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3) DIALOGUE TAGS

Tags. Tags, tags, tags! Tags are so important! Tags are brilliant for clarifying and identifying exactly how your character is speaking and how they intend for the statement to come across. If you ignore every other tip in this post, don’t ignore the tag! There are so many different words you could use instead of said that give life and context to your lines. Muttered, mumbled, yelled, shouted, exclaimed, whined, groaned, whispered, and a ton ton ton more. Use these to your advantage, like an outline for your dialogue. The tag is undoubtedly the easiest way to make your lines come across the way you want them to.

Here’s the examples with different tags! “I know it’s real, I saw it!” Nico defended. “I know it’s real… I saw it,” Nico mumbled.

Don’t be afraid to move your tag around, either! Sometimes, in order to make your conversations less repetitive, moving your tags are nice. You can put them at the beginning, middle, or end! (Middle tags are my favorite, I use them a whole, whole lot…)

Here’s the example sentence with a tag at the beginning and middle. Nico growled: “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico muttered. “I saw it.”

Don’t forget, tags don’t always have to be how they’re speaking. It can also be what they’re doing or how they’re acting, which can be just as telling as other tags. (I use action tags sooooooo much. Action tags in the middle of dialogue is my jam.)

The example sentences with action tags: Nico crossed his arms, huffing deeply. “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico averted his gaze, staring down at his shoes instead. “I saw it.”

Or, you can mix them both! An action tag plus how they’re speaking for maximum impact and description.

Here’s the example sentence with both! Nico rolled his eyes, hissing: “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico uttered, poorly stifling a shudder. “I saw it.”

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4) DESCRIPTION

Describing the way your character looks, moves, speaks, etc etc before and after the line can further help your readers know how they feel about what they’re saying. This is especially important if the character is not the main character and doesn’t have internal dialogue. Body language can explain things voices can’t or won’t. You can explore putting these descriptions before the line, after the line, in the tag, or after the tag. Whatever you prefer!

Here’s the sentence with descriptive sentences with it. I did one before the line & tag and one in the middle! He was practically fuming, his eyebrows knitted so closely together they looked like a single strip of hair. His eyes were flicking between his friends like he was trying to determine if they were joking, blue irises blurred with a rage-fueled haze. Nico finally rolled his eyes, hissing: “I know it’s real, I saw it!” “I know it’s real…” Nico uttered, poorly stifling a shudder. His eyes never left the floor, and he looked smaller, younger as he spoke. His breaths weren’t exactly even, but they weren’t too quick, either. “I saw it.”

-

Look at those two very different scenarios we got out of the same base line! This is the power you hold, folks, the power to un-bland your dialogue and make it into something intense and memorable for your readers! The power to make it portray exactly what you want it to portray! No more worrying how your readers took that line, because you set in stone how it was presented.

Remember, making a paragraph like that for every line might get tiring or repetitive to read. Sometimes tags alone are good enough in fast-paced or long conversations, and sometimes, if the dialogue makes it clear who is speaking, the line can suffice by itself!

If you have any writing tip requests, drop them in my inbox!

[luveline]

Would you be willing to write a little blurb of Steve comforting reader who is in recovery from self harm? I know this is a very no no subject for some writers so I understand if this is a no!

fem!reader !! cw self harm (mention of the self injury, no active graphic imagery, but some details that could be evocative)

You’ve taken to curling up in whatever space he leaves. In bed, you sidle close to his side with your ear to his stomach. On the couch, you’re laying on his lap, every breath a press of ribs against his thighs. If Steve’s on a sun lounger in the backyard, you’re sitting on the ground next to him with an arm hooked over his leg and your cheek bitten by metal.  

It’s sort of odd to see your arms without red cuts and welts. Curled again, you and Steve are sitting on the porch watching the sun dropping lazily to the horizon, the sky a funny shade of blue. You’re actually turned away from the sun and toward the house, Steve to the sun, like inverted commas interlinked. Your hand is on his leg, and your arm is bare and starkly uninjured. 

That’s too generous, maybe. Evidence of a bad habit long to kick tracks the length of you, white and purple and red scars criss-crossed through your skin. 

He’s seen them thick with dried blood and sore to the touch. Your skin aflame. Not because you’ve ever showed him of your own volition, you wouldn’t. You’ve always likened your self-injury to a contagion. “I don’t wanna put thoughts in your head,” you whispered. 

It was a nice concern for you to have, but Steve isn’t at any risk of hurting himself (purposefully, at least). He has no urges. He didn’t even know people did stuff like that until he met you. Maybe that’s why it breaks his heart so much. You hurt so much. You feel terrible and you take it out on yourself and Steve just doesn’t get it, ‘cos you’re aces. 

He never shied away from it, even if he didn’t like that you were doing it. He still remembers the first time he realised what you were doing, his confusion, the immediate internal recoil. How could you do that to yourself? Why would you? You’ve always been prone to that awful persisting sadness under the skin, but Steve knows a lot of sad people. He knows what it’s like to wish vehemently that you were a better version of yourself, or somebody else, or just gone. 

But you’re doing better now. He resists the urge to kiss your hands whenever he sees you and you act like you aren’t doing a brave thing. 

Steve’s stupid but he’s not stupid. (Or, at least he feels that way.) He knows you’re finding it hard to stop, like an addict. It’s a habit. A behaviour that takes conscious effort to break until it doesn’t. The worst bit is that you never even asked for help. 

Your hand twitches on his leg. 

Steve curls a hand behind your neck, kissing you softly, the silky press of your lips to his. You inhale and cut the quiet buzz of cicadas, your breath surprised but not tight. 

“Sorry,” he says, “was that okay? I was just thinking about you.” 

“It’s fine.” You laugh against his lips and take a kiss, evening the score. “It’s always okay. Kiss me whenever you want.” 

“You looked mopey,” he says. Foot in mouth disease forever. 

“I’m not mopey, just distracted.” 

“I know, it’s offensive. You come over here to hang out and spend the last hour in deep thought.” He makes it clear he’s joking through his light tone and his smile, your eyes met, his hand sliding down your shoulder and your arm. He’s especially careful as his fingers run down your forearm. You watch the path of his hand as it falls, twining your fingers weakly with his. “You can tell me anything.” 

“I do tell you anything.” 

“Well, just telling you again.” He kisses your cheek, then, less gentle, your lips. 

You have this aversion to saying the worst part out loud. There’s always a metaphor or an omission. You can’t say cut, it’s too much, but you’ve said hurt. You’ll admit to self injury but not the action. “It’s fine,” you say now. 

“I think you’re doing a good job.” 

You laugh softly through your nose. “Thank you.” 

“I’m not kidding.” He blows a breath up his face. “Look, can I just be honest with you?” 

Your smile turns uneasy at his bluntness. “Um. Are you breaking up with me?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Never,” he says, pushing your sleeve up your arm slowly, and then faster when you don’t resist. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you without them.” He doesn’t say cuts either, mostly for your sake. 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head again. “For what? I’m just saying. You’ve had them this whole time and I’ve never– they’ve never stopped me from wanting to kiss your face off.” He probably shouldn’t make jokes. He backtracks. “I mean, they don’t make a difference to me, I like you even if you can’t, uh… Even if the impulse is too much. But I’m thrilled you’re, you know, not doing it.” 

“I know,” you murmur. 

“I love you.” 

“I know.” Your voice is nearly inaudible, “That’s why it’s easier now.” 

His heart swells with pride and love and an unfightable want to hug you. He slides his arms around you from under your armpits, forcing you to hug his neck, stealing a kiss to the cheek as he squeezes you forward. “I just want you to know that I get it. Like, how hard you’re working to not do it.”

“Steve,” you admonish quietly. 

“Sorry, I’ll stop talking about it if you want.” 

“I mean… It's kinda nice to talk about it. It’s not in my head.” 

“It’s not in your head.” 

“But it feels weird ‘cos it’s like, something I should be doing anyways. It’s like getting praise for washing your hands.” 

Steve thinks there’s a pretty big difference between wanting to hurt yourself but resisting it and washing your hands, but he knows what you’re saying. Doesn’t agree, but doesn’t want to invalidate you either. However you need to think about it to get through it is up to you. “I can praise you for washing your hands. I want to.” 

Steve encourages you to turn into the sunshine. You lay your cheek against his shoulder. “Love you,” you say, your hand on his leg. 

He stares right at the sun and blinks hurriedly. “I love you too.” 

[euphorajeon]

taste your whiskey kiss | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff (?) | college!au, boxer!jk

— word count: 1.2k

— warnings: long-haired, glasses-wearing jk, annoying jk, oc still wont admit that jk is hot, jk is supposed to be a cs student, making out, mention of oral sex (f. receiving), this is plotless honestly i just miss boxer!gguk T_T

— summary: long-haired jeongguk is a menace. long-haired, glasses-wearing jeongguk is even worse.

— author's note: boxer!gguk is back at last! sorry for the (again) weird summary though. i wrote this in one sitting after that YTC in Busan episode came out and jeongguk blessed us with him wearing glasses :))) anyways. hope you enjoy!

— tags: @dunixxd

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

“Glasses?”

You look up to accept the peck your boyfriend gives you as a greeting while he hums a confirmation, the object perched on his nose knocking against your nose lightly. It’s sled down his nose so much that he looks like a grandpa from your point of view.

“Since when do you wear glasses??”

“Since my mom decided that putting my eyes five centimeters from my computer screen is not good for my sight.” Jeongguk’s hand moves to his nose to adjust his glasses. “She said my codes would never work if I keep mistaking commas for periods.”

You let out a sigh as he takes a seat on his desk chair, his computer displaying lines upon lines of codes you’d never be able to understand.

“You could zoom in, you know, instead of doing a staring contest with the screen,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Jeongguk spins his chair around just to give you a one-eyebrow-raise.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

The playful smirk he sports afterwards makes you roll your eyes, not getting why your boyfriend enjoys flirting with danger like that.

“Besides, I can’t see the whole code if I zoom in. Hard to see where it went wrong.”

“Yeah, keep making excuses until you go blind,” you frown as you look at his eyes behind the round lenses. “I won’t help you if you run yourself into a pole.”

Jeongguk shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That’s harsh, babe.”

“That’s your reality if you keep damaging your eyes.”

“Why are you suddenly so hostile? It’s just a pair of glasses.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his long hair, visibly getting frustrated with your elevated emotions.

“I don’t know!” Oh, you do know. “Just— get back to your codes. We can talk about this later.”

“I have something else to do later,” your boyfriend bites back with just as much fervor. “But sure, I can spare some time to talk to you about my glasses.”

He turns back around in his chair and you’re left to stare at the black wavy hair that curls around his nape as he types away on the keyboard.

Despite your denial earlier, you know exactly what got you so worked up like this.

It’s the same thing you felt when Jeongguk first showed up on your doorstep with piercings and a tattoo sleeve, the same thing you felt when he provoked you in the gym, the same thing you felt when he dyed his hair to your favorite color.

You hide behind worrying for his wellbeing when all you want to do is scream how hot he is to his face.

It’s truly unfair how your boyfriend manages to look so hot even in something as simple as a pair of glasses. A pair of prescription glasses at that, too. That combined with the long hair that frames his handsome face perfectly might just be the death of you. It takes everything in you not to pull him away from his coding assignment to tug at his hair as you explore his mouth with your tongue.

Your mind is reeling thinking that all of this is just because one single pair of prescription glasses. And the hair too, you guess, but it’s not like you haven’t experienced what long-haired Jeongguk is like in bed. (He made sure you know that he was a menace a few weeks ago when his hair only reached a bit below his ears.)

By now, you should be immune to whatever shit he’s going to pull, yet here you are.

Half an hour pass before Jeongguk stops typing and lets out a sigh, turning his chair around to face you once again.

“I can’t focus when I know you’re upset with me.” His tone is curt, like you being upset is wasting his time. “So talk.”

“You’re the one who asked me to come, then you blame me when you can’t focus?” you scoff.

“Didn’t think you’d get upset over my fucking glasses.”

“You’re only wearing glasses because you’re too stupid to think that exposing your eyes to such short distance to your monitor is not gonna damage them! You’re the reason why I’m upset!”

“Oh really? Isn’t it because I look too hot in these glasses but you have too much pride to say it to my face?”

You force yourself to sound firm in your one-worded response. “No.”

“No? As in you don’t wanna make out with me right now and fog up my glasses?”

“N-no.”

You’re wavering. It’s over.

“Okay.” Jeongguk shrugs. “I want to make out with you.” The stare he gives you is piercing. “So climb onto my lap and let me take those feisty bites I know you’re dying to give.”

It doesn’t take a second for you to leap off the bed onto his lap, crashing your lips to his in a mess of teeth and tongue. Feels like dejavu when you tug at his lip ring hard enough to make him let out a whimper of pain.

“Why are you so annoying?” you manage to say in between kisses. “If you wanted to make out you could’ve just said so from the fucking start.”

Jeongguk hums, hands on your waist to pull you even closer to him. “You’re more fun when riled up.”

You grab a fistful of his hair and yank hard upon hearing his reason. “Say that again and I’ll withdraw any form of physical intimacy for a month.”

“See?” He grins. “Feisty.”

“Fuck, just kiss me.”

He does, biting your lips and licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue you can’t help but moan. It just fuels him even further to tighten his grip on your body and steal all the breath away from your lungs.

“Should I— fuck— put on the tongue piercing?” he asks when you roll your hips against his, creating a delicious friction between your bodies.

“No,” you pant. “That thing is— wait.” You pull away a fraction when you remember his words from earlier. “Didn’t you say you have to do something else?”

“Make out with you.”

His lips chase yours but you evade them, confused. “Huh?”

“My to-do-list. For today. Make out with you. Nothing else.”

You let him capture your bottom lip between his lips to suck and chew on like a kid would to a jelly while you contemplate the meaning behind his answer.

Once you understand, you deliver a harsh bite to his bottom lip, making him hiss (in pleasure or pain, you don’t care.)

“Yeah, babe, hurt me with your mouth,” he moans, but it doesn’t last long as he pulls away with another hiss.

“Ah, gotta take these off though, it’s digging into my nose.”

He slips the glasses off his nose, a faint red mark from where it pressed too hard on his skin. You move to place a soft kiss against the flesh, a stark contrast to how you’ve been kissing each other seconds ago.

“That’s what you get for being annoying.”

“Your kiss? Yes please.”

“Shut up.”

He dives back in for your lips, but barely a second pass when he pulls away again, making you groan impatiently. “For someone who wants to make out with me, you sure are pulling away a lot.”

“Just thinking,” he says. “How about I put on the tongue piercing and eat you out until you beg me to stop? Last time you only lasted three, let’s make it five this time, hm?”

You give him six.

a/n: i haven't written in 4 months so i apologize that this is bad hehe. thanks for reading! any feedbacks here will be appreciated :D

[late-to-the-party-81]

His little dolly

AN: Here we go, party-people. Here is the third part of my DBF Steve, officially making it a Series by the rules of Jen. This is actually based on the original idea by the lovely @krissy25 which started the whole thing off. It also actually adds some plot, which I was not expecting. It is, however, still absolute filth

Beta’d by @endlesstwanted, wrangler of commas

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

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@steverogersbingo  - C3 - Free Space

Master list | SRB Master list | Series Master list

Summary: You have to try and control yourself when your parents and you spend the day helping Steve building his new deck. The evening, however, is a different matter.

Relationship: DBF Steve x Inexperienced Reader

Word count: 4.3k

CW: AU: No Powers, Age difference (Steve 40s, Reader early 20’s), Soft Dark Steve, Power Imbalance, Secret relationship, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Unprotected PIV Sex (reader on BC), Pussy slapping, Breath-play, Under-negotiated kink, Mild Angst, Implied Somnophilia, Implied Cum eating, Steve Rogers Dirty Talk, Bimbo-fication.

This was going to be torture. You were going to be spending the whole day with Steve, which on the surface, sounded like a dream - you only usually spent snatched moments together. However, your parents were also going to be there this time. 

Your Dad had gleefully announced three days ago that you’d all be spending Saturday at Steve’s house, having a cook-out while he and Steve worked on renovating Steve’s deck. So here you were, in the backseat of your Dad’s car as he drove the couple of miles across town to get there. You’d be so near but so far, and you had no idea how you were going to keep it together, especially since you hadn’t seen him in a week and he was still in possession of your toy-box.

The car lurched as your Dad pulled up outside Steve’s house, braking a little too hard, and you could almost hear his eyes roll as your Mom clicked her tongue at him. As they both got out of the car you put your best game face on and joined them. 

It was a warm day, and determined not to be labelled as a ‘useless woman’ you’d eschewed your normal hot weather wardrobe of a sundress. Instead you’d put on sturdy sneakers, some denim shorts and a baggy sleeveless tee, intending to help out with Steve’s renovations. You hoped that if you were busy, you’d be able to distract yourself from being so close to what you wanted.

That plan went straight out the window almost immediately. The three of you walked up the path, but instead of heading to the front door your Dad veered off toward the gate that went directly into the back yard. He pushed it open, holding it for you and your Mom, and you followed her through it. 

You came to a grinding halt as all thoughts were driven from your head.

Steve had already started working, and he must have been at it for a while because he’d already discarded his shirt and had a sheen of sweat over his body.

Your mouth went dry and you barely noticed the way you pressed your thighs together, your clit already throbbing with arousal. He looked like a god come to life.

Yes, you’d seen him naked more than once, but you’d never seen him like this in the bright light of day, just looking so masculine. Was there a name for this kink? The urge to just lick the sweat from his pecs was almost overwhelming.

“Sweetie? Are you okay?” Your Mom’s voice pulled you back into reality.

“Umm, yeah. I - uuh - just got something in my eye.” You blinked rapidly and rubbed at your right eye to bring credence to your story, but it seemed that your Mom wasn’t fooled. She leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. 

“He is rather distracting, I’ll grant you.”

“Mom!” You felt your cheeks flame with embarrassment, and looked around to see if either your Dad, or god forbid Steve, had heard. “You can’t say things like that,” you hissed out.

Your Mom just gave you a wink. “Married, not dead, sweetie. Just don’t look at boys your own age like that - they might take it the wrong way and try to take advantage.”

You bit your tongue, desperately hoping she wouldn’t work out your secret just by looking at your face. Luckily you were saved by an unlikely ally when your Dad shouted out for your Mom’s attention as he tried to locate his tool belt. “I’m gonna go and get the cooler from the car,” you shouted, desperate for a few moments alone to compose yourself.

Spending all day with Steve was one thing, but spending it with him when he was topless, his skin kissed by the sun, and with him letting out little grunts of effort that reminded you too much of other noises? Well, you’d be lucky not to just orgasm on the spot and then the game would be up.

You jogged back down Steve’s front path to where your Dad’s car was parked at the curb. You popped the trunk, and were just leaning into it to lift out the cooler full of beer and meat for the cookout when a shadow fell over you.

You whirled around, coming straight into eye contact with the physique you’d just been admiring.

“Hey, Babydoll. You look a little warm. Something got you all flustered?” The way he teased you normally got you going, but given the current situation it just made you cross. You stepped away, needing space to breathe, and looked over at his smirking face. At least he’d thrown his shirt back over his shoulders, but it wasn’t buttoned and his chest was just there. 

“You’ve done this on purpose,” you ground out, trying not to raise your voice and catch your parents’ attention.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” Steve drawled mockingly, as he reached into the trunk and effortlessly picked up the cooler. “I just got a bit overheated while working and needed to strip off. Surely, you can understand that. And anyway, I’m just your Dad’s friend - not your type in any case.”

“Fuck you!” you whispered, full of both anger and arousal. 

Steve stepped back up onto the sidewalk heading back towards his house, but he paused as he passed you, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “Later, Babydoll. Later. And don’t go touching yourself when you go to the bathroom. I’ll know if you do…”

He walked away, and you gave yourself a few seconds to take in some deep breaths before following him back into his yard. He was already talking to your Mom when you got there, back to being the genial friend of the family.

“Thank you for bringing over the food and agreeing to come help out. I expected it to just be me and Twinkle-toes over there.” He jerked his head in your Dad’s direction, who pouted at the nickname, and your Mom threw back her head and laughed.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Steve. You’re like family. You know we think of you like a brother.”

Steve glanced over at you, and the look you saw in his eyes was in no way ‘uncle-like’. You shivered and tried not to think of all the things the two of you had done - things that would probably make your Mom faint and your Dad go apoplectic. 

There was only one way you were going to get through this day, so purposefully ignoring Steve you strode over to where your Dad was looking at the decking planks, a measuring tape in hand and a carpenter’s pencil between his teeth.

“How can I help?” you asked, and got stuck in.

Your plan worked to a certain extent. At least while you were helping your Dad measure and cut, or helping your Mom prepare the food for the grill. However, everytime you thought you had your equilibrium back on an even keel, Steve seemed to somehow know and would make a point of brushing past you or would stand in your eye line. He’d then tip his head back and drink from his beer, uncaring if any errant drops spilled from his mouth and trickled down his throat and chest. A few times you were tempted to disobey him - go to his bathroom and relieve the tension building in your core. You even wondered if you could sneak off to his bedroom and use his pillow to get yourself off, but you weren’t that brave.

The hours passed by fast despite each minute feeling like an eternity, and it was with a sense of pride that you realised that your assistance had actually been useful - Steve’s deck was almost complete. The railings on one side still needed to be put into place and the protective wood stain needed to be added, but all in all it was a success. 

Now you were all relaxing on loungers, having filled up on burgers, wieners and your Mom’s potato salad, sipping on the remaining beers. 

Your parents and Steve had been talking about local goings-on while you’d been daydreaming when Steve directed a question to you.

“So, d’you think you’ll have the energy to meet up with your girlfriends after all your efforts today?”

For a moment you were confused. You had no plans after this, let alone with any girlfriends, but then a lightbulb came on in your head. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ve just gotta check if they still wanna go out. They weren’t sure, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it,” you turned to your parents, hoping they found it plausible. Your Dad just waved his hand.

“You’re a grown up now, sweetie. You don’t need to account for your movements to us. We know you’re sensible. And it won’t be too long now before you spread your wings and leave the nest completely - get that job you’ve been dreaming of.”

“Oh,” said Steve with interest. “What job is that?”

“Hasn’t she told you?” Your Mom sat forward in her chair, full of excitement. “She’s got an interview for an internship at Walker Industries. Our baby’s on the up and up.”

“Mom,” you groaned. “It’s not that glamorous. It’s really just glorified data entry.”

“But it’s a big company,” your Mom argued back. “International. And you’re smart and ambitious. You’ll be working your way up in no time.”

Neither her or your Dad seemed to notice how quiet Steve had gone - how his now dark gaze was settled squarely on you -, but you did and you couldn’t work out what it meant. Then, with a smack of his hands on his thighs, Steve stood up.

“Well, it’s been a long day and I really do appreciate the help and the company, but if Little Miss Social Life here has something planned, I’d best let you go.”

Your Dad looked at his watch and gasped, making some comment about time flying, and then you were all caught up in a flurry of activity and goodbyes. Your Dad checked he had all his tools and your Mom made sure she had all her food containers, despite Steve’s insistence he should keep them to wash up and return at another point. Ten minutes later, you were all back in the car heading home.

Twenty minutes after that you were under the shower, washing the sweat and dirt of the day off yourself and trying to ignore how every nerve ending in your body was on fire from the anticipation of what was to come. In another forty minutes, you’d tried on and discarded various different outfits, trying to find just the right one. It was proving difficult because your parents thought you were going out with the girls, so your outfit had to reflect that, but at the same time Steve preferred a certain aesthetic on you - loving you in little sundresses and flirty skirts. However, having emptied most of your meagre wardrobe over your bed and your floor, you finally settled on something that you hoped would work - a hot pink dress with spaghetti straps and skirt that swirled when you moved. You slicked on some light make-up, again trying to strike the balance right, grabbed your purse and jogged down the stairs.

You shouted a hurried ‘good-bye’ to your parents, who were cuddled up on the couch sleepily watching one of their favourite police procedural dramas, and finally made your way out of the door. While walking down the darkening sidewalk, your jacket slung over your arm, you checked your phone. You’d sent Steve an estimate of when you’d be ready and hoped he’d be waiting for you at the end of the block. There was no response to the text you’d sent to the number saved under ‘Janice’, and you started to feel nervous until you turned the corner and saw the vehicle you’d been on the lookout for.

Feeling a bit giddy, you skipped over, opening the passenger door and sliding in beside Steve. You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his. He looked back at you, indulgently, and licked his lips.

“You look like a doll come to life, sweetheart.”

You preened under his praise. “I’m glad you like it,” you replied, smoothing the hot pink fabric over your legs.

“If I was less of a gentleman, I’d have my way with you here and now,” he growled, dramatically.

“And if you were more of a gentleman, I wouldn’t even be here,” you teased back.

“Brat,” he replied with a chuckle and a warning pinch to your thigh. “Behave.”

“Yes, Steve.” You pouted and batted your eyelids, and he chuckled again before putting his car in drive and peeling away from the curb. As he drove, you gave him sideways glances, studying his profile as you hummed to the music on the stereo and tapping your hands on your lap. The streetlights helped to highlight the streaks of grey at his temples, and you longed to run your fingers through it. You just had to be patient, though - it wouldn’t be long until Steve had you spread out on his bed and you’d have the chance to do just that.

Heat started to pool within you, the anticipation making you fidgety, and you let out a sigh of relief when Steve steered the car up his drive and into his garage. As soon as he killed the engine, he was making his way around your side of the car to open the door. He helped you out and then immediately took your face in his large hands, laying a demanding kiss on you. You squeaked briefly in surprise before leaning into it, your hands fisting his shirt for balance. You’d worn higher heels than normal and weren’t used to the change in your centre of gravity. 

Steve smiled against your lips, sliding his hands down your body until he grasped your ass and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up, and dug your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He walked across the garage but didn’t take you through the door into the main house, instead heading out into his backyard. He lowered you slowly, your bodies sliding against each other until your feet hit the new planks.

“Why are we out here, Steve? We spent all day on this damn thing.”

He smiled at you in the moonlight. “Exactly, Babydoll. You helped me build it, so now you have to help me christian it.”

You cocked your head at him, brows furrowed, and then realisation hit. “Oh!”

Steve pulled you back into his embrace. “Oh, indeed,” he said, and then he lowered his mouth to yours again, demanding entrance and acting as though he was going to devour you. You gave back as good as you got, feeling desperate for his touch. “Today was so hard,” he muttered against your lips. “Every time you bent over in those shorts, fuck. There were moments where I almost didn’t care that your parents were here. I wanted to rip them from you and take you right here.”

“‘Wasn’t any easier for me,” you murmured back. “My Mom saw me staring at you - I think she thinks I’ve got a crush on you. Warned me not to look at boys my age the way I look at you.”

“As if you’d dare,” came the jesting reply.

Steve’s hand skimmed down your side until it reached the hem of your dress. It made its way under, his palm sliding over your thigh working its way up to your hip where it stopped, and he pulled back from your kiss.

“Sweetheart, have you come out without any panties on?”

You peered up at him, coyly from under your lashes. “Maybe…” It was your turn to smirk.

“Fuck,” he barked and then dropped straight to his knees, his hands throwing up your skirt so he could grasp your naked ass and pull you onto his face. His tongue found its way, unerring, between your folds and straight to your clit, giving you no time to prepare yourself.

“Steve!” you screeched before biting down on your lip, and grabbing hold of his head as you tottered on your heels. “Oh god!”

He was like a man possessed, slurping lewdly at your sex and alternating between sucking on your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out of your spasming cunt. It was a vicious onslaught of pleasure that left you dizzy and out of breath. When he pressed two of his fingers inside of you without warning, you had to let go of him with one hand so you could bite down on the base of your thumb to stop from screaming in ecstasy. “Give it to me, Babydoll. I need you to make a mess.”

He stroked that special spot inside of you without pause, and sucked on your clit as your legs shook. There was a heavy feeling inside your core, like the building of an orgasm but different, as he kept up his pleasurable torture.

“Steve!” You gasped. “I…I’m gonna…what’s happening?”

He didn’t answer, just kept up what he was doing, driving you closer to the brink and also towards something unknown. When you came, it was with a massive release of pressure. Your body jerked in his hold, your eyes rolled up and you felt a wet flood between your legs. You heard Steve moan into your cunt, and then you heard the patter of liquid onto the wood between your feet. You felt like you were flying and sinking at the same time.

“What the fuck?” You slurred as Steve slowly rose back to his feet.

“You squirted, sweetheart. So fucking sexy.”

“I what?” You squeaked, unbelieving. “But isn’t that…” A feeling of shame started to wash over you, but Steve interrupted it, pressing one of his fingers to your lips.

“Yes, but also no. Don’t think too much about it, honey. It’s nothing to be ashamed of - it’s natural. Just means you were really turned on, and let me tell you, it’s quite the ego boost to do that to you. Made me even harder.”

His eyes narrowed and he took hold of your hand, so much smaller than his and placed it over the bulge in his jeans.

“It’s gonna make it a lot easier for me to slip inside that tight pussy of yours too. She’s so wet, ‘m gonna just slide right in. And fuck, it’s gonna make some beautiful sounds. Would you like that, Babydoll? Want me to stuff this fat cock into your hungry cunt? See if I can make you squirt again?”

His words hypnotised you and you groped at his cock, staring up at him with your mouth wide open and your eyes glazed with lust. Fuck, you could feel your cum running down your bare thighs. “Please,” you begged, your tone husky and full of need.

As if you were a rag doll, Steve steered you backwards until your back hit one of the completed portions of railing. He spun you to face it and then plastered himself against your back. The heat of him burned through your dress, and his breath tickled your ear. “I’m gonna take you right here and you’re gonna be good for me and take it. You’re gonna be quiet too - we don’t want Mrs Kennedy next door coming out to find out what’s going on.”

You heard the metallic snick of his fly being lowered and your eyes fluttered closed. Steve’s foot tapped yours and you widened your stance, taking hold of the railing for stability. Slowly, he pulled your skirt up above your hips and his cock nudged against your naked ass. Steve placed his left hand, fingers splayed over your stomach, holding you right where he wanted you as he guided his cock to the entrance of your cunt and then pressed in with one hard thrust.

You choked back your cry, your fingers tightening their grip on the wood in front of you.

“Good girl,” Steve praised, and he started to fuck into you with long, firm strokes. “Such a perfect little dolly, just for me.”

His right hand came up to the straps of your dress and bra, lowering them down your arms so he could free your breasts. The cool evening air blew across you, making your nipples peak, and you moaned low in your throat as Steve rolled each of them in turn, plucking and pulling at them in a way that was both painful and oh-so-good.

He fucked you languidly, building you up slowly. His left hand moved down and he drew lazy circles over your clit - enough to have you whimpering with need, but not enough to bring you to orgasm.

“I’m gonna fuck you just like this - slow and deep - until you feel like you’re gonna burst. I want you to come on me and fucking soak my cock like you did my hand. I want your cum to splatter all over this fucking deck. I want you to feel so much pleasure that you never want to look at another man.”

Your mind was hazy with lust, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. “Don’t want anyone but you, Steve. Make me feel so good.”

A small change in the angle of Steve’s thrusts had his cock rubbing over your g-spot the same way his fingers had earlier. The feeling of your orgasm building still felt strange, but at least you knew what to expect. You just didn’t know how you were going to stay silent, though.

He cruelly twisted one of your nipples just as he thrust forward and reedy warble left your throat. Steve responded by slapping your clit, and even as the sharp pain registered you heard the wet squelch as he did so, your squirt already starting to seep out of you as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“I said to stay quiet,” he hissed.

The pressure inside you was rising once more, and you knew you were close. “I don’t think I can,” you whined, and your body convulsed as he fucked into you. “I’m so close. Please, Steve. I… I…”

“Aawww, does my Babydoll need help?”

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to comprehend how he was going to do it. 

Steve took his left hand from your clit and trailed the back of his knuckles up your side, then settled it around the base of your throat. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled in your ear.

“Yes,” was your whispered response. You trusted him with your life.

“Then take over touching that pretty clit for me and just relax.”

You let go of the railing with your right hand and did as he asked, feeling how soaked you were as you started to play with your clit. As you started to crest higher, unable to hold back little pleasures squeaks, Steve resettled his left hand on your throat and began to lightly squeeze. Your noises stopped as your airway was constricted. Everything within you was concentrated on the feeling building in your cunt, and as black spots began to form in front of your eyes, your body began to tremble.

When Steve let go of your neck, your orgasm exploded out of you. His hand immediately clapped over your mouth, leaving you to breathe out your scream through your nose as you jerked on his cock like a puppet on a string. The gush of liquid that erupted from your cunt flooded over your hand and onto the deck like a waterfall.

“Fucking god,” Steve exclaimed, the movement of his hips finally speeding up as he chased his own release inside your spasming channel, adding his own cum to the sticky mess leaking from you. 

You collapsed against him, unsure how you were even still upright after that. Another whimper left you as Steve pulled himself from your body, but he immediately scooped you up in his arms and carried you inside, walked up the stairs, and placed your exhausted body on his bed. When he didn’t immediately lie down next to you, you blinked your eyes open. “Steve?”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart,” he assured, and you watched as he pushed down his jeans and briefs. Your eyes widened when you realised they were sodden.

“Oh my god! Did I do that?”

Steve grinned as he climbed naked onto the bed and crawled over you. “You did and don’t you dare apologise. Whenever I wear them from now on I’ll think of you and how fucking sexy you are. Now you rest for a bit. I have more plans for you, and I need to make sure you get home at a plausible time.”

You pouted as you took in his words. This was the thing you really hated about your relationship - if you could call it that -, you couldn’t just curl up next to him and stay the night the way you wanted to. Would you ever be able to be open about your relationship, or was it doomed from the start?

However, your body was totally wrung out from Steve’s ministrations, and it wasn’t long until you fell into a doze, your body pressed up against his.

Steve looked down at you as you took your rest. You looked so innocent - so young - as you slept. He shouldn’t want you this much, but he did, even if he’d go to hell for it. He’d burn the world for you. 

When your mother had announced you were hoping to work for Walker Inc, it had taken all of his self control not to stand up and forbid it. Who was he to do so? Besides, it wasn’t your fault that Walker was a grade A ass-hole. 

Steve had no doubt that you’d ace the interview, so he’d just have to hope that the CEO didn’t notice you. If he did, the sleazeball would have no qualms about trying to take advantage of you. A little voice inside his head pointed out that he’d already done just that. He batted it aside. The difference was that he cared for you. Walker cared about nothing but himself.

You let out a sleepy little noise as you snuggled into his side and he turned back to you. He’d give you another half an hour, and then he was planning to feast on your messy pussy. That should wake you up with a smile. Then he’d watch you bounce on his cock, like the little dolly you were.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989

[svtdarlingbby]

"He's just a fuck-boy-frat-bro" Fratboy!Bang Chan x fem!Reader

pairing: Frat boy! Bang Chan x fem!Reader; featuring stray kids, '97 liners in Kpop, TXT genre: college au - enemies to lovers - slight angst but mostly fun! warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, reader is kinda mean but so is Chan, one mention of blood, slightly suggestive word count: 8904

Y/N's POV

Whoever declared the false dichotomy that studying English was “easy” did not know the amount of work that went into it. Sure, writing has always been one of my favorite hobbies, but perhaps analyzing the arguments that came into play when it comes to creating effective writing is where my passion lies. 

“You know, it would be more effective if you cut out some of the background information. No one wants to read all of that.”

Speaking of arguments.

“Chan, can you just shut the fuck up and finish the peer review?” I rolled my eyes. Workshop days were usually pretty helpful especially since I tend to procrastinate while being a perfectionist about my writing. However, the professor just had to assign us pairs today and of course, she paired me with Christopher Bahng. Or as he liked to call himself, Bang Chan. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but he’s such a fuck boy. He’s a part of some frat, a string of Greek letters I don’t care to remember. He’s always out partying too with his group of friends. They were so loud when I had the displeasure of meeting them when they sat near me at the library during undergrad as I was trying to write a paper. Let’s just say that I didn’t stay in that area for too long. To put it simply, I did not like Chan, nor did he like me. 

“I’m just saying” he began in a sing-songy voice, “Can’t you just assume your audience understands the background context?” 

He knew how to get on my nerves. “First of all Chan, yes. You’re right. The audience is academic so they probably know what I’m talking about,” I began as he smirked. “However, I only included that much background info to strengthen my credibility. That’s called appealing to ethos. Remember that?”

Chan rolled his eyes as the smirk that was plastered on his chiseled face vanished, “Yeah, whatever,” he groaned as he started to read the rest of my paper. 

I suppressed my laughter and looked back at my laptop screen, which displayed the work Chan had for peer review day. As expected, he came in with only an outline for his paper. Probably couldn’t get anything down because he was out with the boys, I thought as I began to scan his outline.

I hate to admit it, but as I read further through Chan’s outline, the more I began to see his vision. He was researching the shift in attitude toward mental health in the 21st century and the language behind that, and honestly, it was a great idea for his thesis. The thing about Chan is that he is intelligent. Despite his annoying attitude and lifestyle, he knows how to write a pretty damn good paper about something he’s passionate about. Maybe that’s why he also found himself in grad school for English with me. I was hoping that he’d go to another university after undergrad, but like me, he stayed for grad school. Just my luck. It didn’t help that we were one of the few students who stayed at our school for grad school with the rest of the cohort coming from other universities. Essentially, I was the only person he was familiar with so Chan always found his way to sit near or even next to me in all four classes we shared. Even during our training sessions, he found his way near me. I just couldn’t get rid of this guy, but at least I can get somewhat authentic writing advice from him.

“Hey Y/N,” said Chan, a suspicious smile growing on his face.

“What?” I said, trying to keep my eyes on my laptop.

“You forgot a comma here,” he said and began to giggle.

I swear if my eyes weren’t permanently rolled into the back of my head by now. “Ha-ha, very funny Chan. Ever take a look at Bean’s hierarchy like we did in training?”

“Yeah, that’s the joke. Or was that too advanced for someone as uptight as you?” he retorted, the smirk back on his face. 

“Uptight? I can take a joke,” I said, trying to sound confident. 

“Yes, you’re uptight. I’ve never seen you at a party before. You should come with me this weekend,” he said, trying to act suave.

“Now why would I want to go to a party with you?” I said, fully looking Chan into his eyes. 

“Everyone in this room knows that you have an ass, why not put it to good use?” he spoke lowly and smirked, not breaking the eye contact as I began to feel myself blush. 

“What is fucking wrong with you?” I said, trying to sound angry but it came out more flustered and whiny. I won’t admit it to Chan but wow, does my ass look that good?

“I’m just kidding, we all know I’ve got more ass than you,” he laughed as he went back to reading my paper. 

“You know damn well that’s a lie,” I blurted out, still staring at him rather than my laptop.

“Oh? Would you like to prove it to me?” replied Chan, almost a little too quickly. He seemed almost taken aback by how quickly he responded yet still smirked. 

“I-” Before I could respond, I was interrupted by a notification from my phone. It was a text from my friend Rosé, who swears Chan and I are soulmates because she thinks we are so similar. Thankfully Chan notices me get distracted by my phone and uses that as an excuse to drop his absurd question and continue reading my paper. I couldn’t wait to tell Rosé about what Chan just said.

Rosé: ok i know we’re both not into frat parties and stuff but Jaehyun is being dragged to that frat party on saturday by jungkook and mingyu and he wants me to come. You don’t have to but do you think you could come with me?

Oh god, she had to be referring to the party Chan mentioned earlier. I thought about it. The worst thing that could happen is Jaehyun getting caught up with his friends and losing Rosé, which I doubt. Jaehyun was truly a gentleman and he was also a part of the English program with Rosé and me. He wouldn’t do that to her. But at the same time, these frat parties were unpredictable and what kind of friend would I be to leave my friend in that kind of situation? 

Y/N: yeah i heard about that party. Don’t worry, I’ll come with. But you’re promising me that we are avoiding frat guys especially Chan

Rosé: of course! We’ll just stay with Jaehyun who would prob want to leave early anyway.  

Rosé: but

Rosé: it’ll be hard to avoid frat guys especially Chan with your ass 🤭

Rosé: and his ass honestly. You guys are both hot so…

Y/N: Rosé i swear I’m not going to the party now

Rosé: NO i was jk. But fr ur hot

Y/N: thank you 😇send me the details of the party when you get them. Also what you’re gonna be wearing!

Y/N: OMG speaking of, guess what Chan said

Rosé: omg what

Y/N: he was trying to invite me to the party actually and he said something about me having an ass yet his was still bigger and so I called him out on that statement and he basically asked me to prove to him that my ass was fatter 🤢

Rosé: HELP OMG now why would he say that 😭

Y/N: cuz he’s a typical fuck boi

I put my phone down because I suddenly remembered I had to finish up Chan’s peer review. Just as I was about to focus my attention back to my laptop, Chan’s annoying voice spoke up.

“Who were you texting?” he asked, so nosy. 

“None of your business,” I responded, still looking at my screen.

“Is it a guy?” he asked, before looking up. “I saw the way you were smiling.”

“Oh my god, it was just Rosé. Why are you so concerned?” I snapped, regaining eye contact with Chan who smirked once again. 

Chan’s POV:

My plan is working, thank god Rosé’s dragging Y/N along to that party. God, she’s so fucking hot when she’s mad, especially at me. She’s so funny, all of my friends, her friends, and even everyone in our cohort know that she finds me attractive yet chooses to hate me. It’s crazy, she’s the smartest girl I know but she’s so stupid, denying her feelings. I just pretend to hate her to keep the game going, and it’s been going on since like freshman year. I feel like if she truly hated me, she probably would’ve reported me or something. Not that I’d do anything creepy, no, I have boundaries. I just love to mess with her. And perhaps I might also love her. 

I don’t know why I ever admitted that. The boys made fun of me so much. 

“Wait, I know you love to mess with her, but you think you love her?” laughed Changbin among the boys. 

“Well, I-” I stammered, before being interrupted. 

“Bro, how? She hates your guts!” laughed Jeongin.

“Okay but-”

“I don’t think Y/N hates him. She would’ve blocked and maybe gotten his ass kicked out of here by now if she truly hated him,” said Minho, a matter of factly. 

“And even though neither of them would admit it, they seem like friends. I mean, they’ve had classes together for five years now. And I’ve seen Y/N willingly sit next to Chan all the time. They’ve even had lunch together a few times! If she hated him, she would’ve moved seats and ignored him all these years,” added Felix optimistically. 

“Oh my god, are you saying Y/N probably loves Chan?” asked Seungmin, wide-eyed. 

“YES! I’ve known it all these years. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, all that tension from denying her true feelings. This confused girl loves you!” mused Jisung. 

“Yeah, honestly, if she wasn’t in the grad program, I might not have pursued grad school. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is,” I admitted, feeling flustered in front of the guys. 

“Okay, so how are you going to tell her?” interrogated Jisung. Of course, he wants me to do something about it. 

“I really don’t know. I never really planned on it honestly,” I revealed, earning a few dramatic gasps from my friends. 

“How about at the party on Saturday?” asked Hyunjin.

“No, she hates frat parties. But I’ve also heard from Rosé that Y/N can party so I don’t know,” I answered, feeling almost hopeless. 

“Wait, Chan,” began Minho, a smirk arising on his features, “What if we make Y/N go to that party?”

“Dude, no. As much as I like messing with her, I won’t force her to go somewhere she’s uncomfortable,” I replied somewhat urgently. 

“No, not like that. You know Rosé, right? Those two are like best friends. She’s dating Jaehyun, right? He’s in the frat and I know his buddies Jungkook and Mingyu are going to drag his ass there,” explained Minho. “So how about we use Rosé to bring Y/N to the party?”

“Damn Minho, why do you have this elaborate plan?” chuckled Hyunjin.

“I still haven’t gotten back at her for that one time she went out with Jisung,” spoke Minho lowly, “If this plan doesn’t work, at least she gets to see me all up on Jisung.”

“Whoa calm down Minho, it was one date remember? Before we were a thing? I ghosted her after that!” laughed Jisung. 

God, I remember that. I was so angry when I found out Jisung’s Bumble date all those years ago was Y/N. Granted, that was freshman year, but still! I shouldn’t be jealous, but Jisung’s one of my bros even though he has clearly moved on. I’m sure Y/N has moved on, God, I hope so. 

“Anyways,” I began, “What exactly is going to happen at the party once she’s there?”

“OH! Rosé should totally abandon her! And then you can swoop in and not act like a pretentious asshole for once!” chirped Hyunjin. “And you’ll be surrounded by all the frat guys, who are going to be acting like that and maybe she’ll see that you’re different than the rest!”

The room erupted in agreement from the guys and I began to feel myself warm up to their elaborate plan. “You know what, I think you guys are onto something,” I nodded in agreement as the guys cheered. “I’m going to text Rosé, I know she’d love to set her bestie up.”

Chan: Sup Rosé

Rosé; oh god what do you want

Chan: ok I’m being fr rn. But I have feelings for Y/N

Rosé: that’s the big news? 😭come on, we all knew that. 

Rosé: I mean, everyone but Y/N she thinks she hates you but we all know that’s a lie

Chan: wait-

Chan: what do you mean???

Rosé: oh um

Rosé: Y/N is literally going to murder me but

Rosé: at our last girls party, I don’t know what she was on but she admitted that she finds you hot 😭

Wait. What. Y/N thinks I’m hot? Oh my god!

“GUYS Y/N THINKS I’M HOT!” I blurted out to the guys who all cheered in response.

“YES CHAN’S GONNA GET IT!” screamed Changbin as he smacked my back rather harshly. 

“OUCH!”

“Sorry bro, the gains, you know?”

I ended up telling Rosé the plan and surprisingly she agreed on the condition that nothing bad happens to Y/N and that she won’t stop her from leaving if she gets uncomfortable. Okay, fair. And I know Y/N. She’s super loyal to her friends so she’ll be at that party either way. God, I’m so excited but nervous. She’s going to look so hot too, I wonder what she looks like outside of her school clothes. 

Y/N’s POV

Thank god class was almost over, but why was Chan so concerned with who I was texting? I brushed him off and finished peer-reviewing his outline. Surprisingly, I left a lot of positive feedback but made sure to sneak in some snarky comments. And I corrected his grammar just to be petty. How are you in grad school but can’t differentiate between a dependent and independent clause? 

“Here, damn,” I groaned as I hit send on the email where the peer-review was attached. 

“Aw, you liked my outline!” rejoiced Chan in that annoying voice of his as he opened the attachment. 

“You should be lucky that you’re receiving my feedback. I’m the only one here that would tell you that you suck to your face,” I said as I began to pack up my laptop into my bag. 

“Well honey, from the looks of it, you found a lot more positive things about my outline than negative,” laughed Chan. 

“Whatever,” I groaned, “Have you even finished peer-reviewing my draft by the way?”

“Almost done, I’ll send it to you in a bit,” he said as he started typing once again. 

“Thanks, I guess,” I muttered as I left the classroom. 

What I didn’t know was that my half-hearted “thanks” caused Chan’s heart to skip a beat. 

The day of the frat party came by faster than expected. Honestly, this whole week was a whirlwind. Thanks to Chan’s surprisingly helpful feedback, I was able to finish the essay before the weekend. I usually don’t drink, but, even being around alcohol can get hungover somehow and I wasn’t going to let a stupid frat party be the demise of my grade. Plus, I had to drive back home. 

Usually, I partied with my close friends and attended quite a few parties during my college career. I wonder how it’s going to be to go to a “real” college party, especially as a grad student no less. Maybe Chan was right. Maybe I am uptight. Whatever. I know his dumbass is going to be at that party. I might as well show him what “uptight” is. 

With that, I had a fun time choosing my outfit! I’ll admit, it was kinda low-cut. Okay, it was really low-cut but it flattered my good in every way. I haven’t worn it in a while but the black blouse was flirty and fun, with the dotted fabric of the arms sheer and the cropped nature of the shirt sitting right at my waist. I’d pair it with some nice jeans that flattered me. The outfit was far from uptight. And I could tell it would be a real crowd-pleaser based on Rosé’s enthusiastic reaction.

Rosé: WAIT DAMNNN OKAY

Rosé: CAN CHAN FIGHT????

Y/N: LMAO thanks but prob not!! 

Y/N: I’d rather be all yours anyways 🙄

Rosé: awww

Rosé: I wonder if Chan’s fave color is black 🤭

Y/N: OH GOD why would you say that 😭 i hope not 🤢

Rosé: LMAO I’m kidding lol butttt he is gonna see you like that just saying

Y/N: okay and? Not my problem

Rosé: yeah sureeee anyways are you almost at my apartment so we could head on over?

Y/N: Yeah, just found a parking spot. Heading over!

Flipping my hair out of my face, I headed toward Rosé’s apartment. Honestly, I was feeling kind of nervous going to this party. What if something bad happens? 

Outside the apartment building, I saw none other than Rosé accompanied by her boyfriend Jaehyun. Ugh, they looked perfect together, hand in hand and conversing about something they both could only hear. Until I interrupted.

“Rosé!” I yelled, quickening my pace.

“Y/N! You’re here!” she exclaimed, letting go of Jaehyun’s hand as we hugged each other and flooded one another with compliments of how we looked. 

“Damn Rosé, that ass of yours in those jeans?” I swooned, fanning myself. 

“Ahem.”

“Oh! Hey Jaehyun!” I exclaimed, caught off guard by Rosé’s quiet boyfriend.

“Hey Y/N!” he laughed as Rosé joined him, presumably at my flustered state.

“Listen! I wasn’t trying to take Rosé away from you! I would never!” I tried to explain, “Even though she was my friend first,” I mumbled that last part under my breath.

“It’s all good! Should we head over now?” asked Rosé as we began to walk toward the frat houses. 

The walk over to the frat house was longer than we thought it would be, but thankfully we all wore sneakers. The chill of the fall air blew as Jaehyun draped his sweater over Rosé’s shoulders. God, they were so cute. I can’t believe someone like Jaehyun was technically a frat dude. Come to think of it, Rosé was also in a sorority. I’m sure they knew their way around these parties. 

We opened the door just to be met with some frat bro who I quickly recognized as one of Chan’s friends. 

“Sup Jaehyun, I see you’re in ratio” he smirked as he let us in.

“Thanks, Hyunjin” laughed Jaehyun as he fist-bumped his brother as Rosé and I followed him inside. 

“Ratio?” I asked, perplexed. 

“Oh some frats have this thing where a guy should bring two girls with him to be let into a party,” Rosé explained as I quickly understood despite an even more confused expression gracing my features. I chose not to dwell on it as I took in my surroundings. Of course, red solo cups are in the hands of every attendee. Some of Chan’s friends were setting up some music. Sports were playing on the flatscreen TV. So far, so good.

“Hey, Jaehyun!” yelled Jungkook, who seemingly popped out of nowhere.

“Jaehyun!” yelled Mingyu, following behind the older one. God, Kim Mingyu and Jeon Jungkook. I’ve always thought they were so hot; I couldn’t help but feel a little shy as I scooted closer to Rosé.

Jaehyun greeted his friends as they all clapped hands, hugged each other, and made small talk. I felt kind of awkward just watching them honestly, so I turned to Rosé.

“I’m not drinking tonight, but did you wanna get a drink?” I asked.

“Sure, why not? Oh my god you know what I just realized?” she said, eyes brightening.

“What?” I asked, ever amused by her.

“You might actually see me drunk in person instead of over text!” she laughed.

“Wait, oh my gosh that’s so true!” I exclaimed with excitement as she grabbed a drink, making our way back to Jaehyun and his handsome friends. 

“Oh there you are,” said Jaehyun as he turned around, his eyes lighting up when he saw his girlfriend. 

Before any of us could respond, the house suddenly boomed with music and a certain boisterous voice made himself apparent.

“HELLO ABΩ! IT’S YOUR BOY BANG CHAN HERE!” 

Oh no. I expected him to be here but outside of school, he’s going to be ten times more annoying. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I sipped on some water. 

“The party is just getting started, my boy Jeongin made this fire playlist. Let loose, enjoy yourself, and remember, tag me and follow me on Instagram @gnabnahc!” he smiled into the microphone. All the frat guys began to cheer, encouraging him. I exhaled, just staring at how ridiculous Chan looked, with his white tee shirt, fitted so perfectly against his sculpted muscles. And his black jeans, emphasizing that dumptruck of his. Of course, he was wearing a cap too.   “Let’s have a great night! And-” Suddenly he stopped, creating an awkward silence despite the booming music. 

And then I realized. He was staring right into my eyes. I blinked a few times before looking away, feeling Rosé nudge me as she stifled a laugh. 

“I lost my train of thought!” Chan laughed, shifting the mood back to the energetic one he had created mere seconds before. “Anyways play some beer pong, dance, have fun!” And once again, all of the frat bros cheered as the party began.

I still felt flustered and annoyed, but also powerful at the same time. Did me just standing there make the cocky and confident Bang Chan flustered to the point of freezing up in front of the boys at a party no less? I smirked, though my cheeks still felt warm as I saw Changbin laughing and smacking Chan’s shoulder. 

“Y/N! Did you hear me? Or were you too busy staring back at Chan?” smirked Rosé as she waved her hand in front of my face. 

“Wait what?” I blinked as she and Jaehyun began to laugh. 

“I was saying you and Chan had a little moment right there! Locking eyes, the world disappearing around you two?” laughed Rosé.

“Very Jane Austen” added Jaehyun in agreement.

“Jane Austen would never write about a frat guy at a frat party no less,” I scoffed, crossing my arms as the couple in front of me shared knowing glances. 

Chan’s POV

I will never hear the end of this. Changbin is still smacking my shoulder with his sheer strength and keeps laughing at how I got distracted. 

“Oh my god, my abs. I’m not gonna have to train them anymore because of you!” laughed Changbin.

“Will you quit?” I rolled my eyes at his antics. “Very funny, I got distracted.”

“It’s not even that you got distracted! It’s who made you distracted! Tell me, what was it about Y/N that made you practically drool in front of everyone? Was it her hair? Maybe her eyes? Or was it her tits- OW!” 

“Not now Changbin,” I muttered after I smacked him. God, I need a beer. I left Changbin behind to find Minho handling the drinks. 

“We all saw that, dude,” said Minho somewhat apologetically as he handed me a drink. 

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, drinking from the cup rather quickly.

“So, the plan?” asked Minho expectantly. 

Right. The elaborate plan of the night. Initially, it seemed easy enough but I didn’t realize just how flustered by Y/N I would be. God, how does she get hotter every time I see her? 

“I was gonna wait a little later into the night to tell Rosé to abandon Y/N,” I explained to Minho who nodded. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and break the ice with Y/N? I think you acknowledging her early on will show her you have some decency,” suggested Minho. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” I replied as I glanced over at Y/N across the crowd before making my way toward her. 

Y/N’s POV:

Rosé was too busy talking to Jaehyun as I took in my surroundings once again. The party was beginning to get lively with more people dancing, especially Hyunjin, who was already surrounded by several guys and girls alike. Dancing would be fun honestly, but it would be awkward going up there and not knowing anyone. Just as I took my eyes off the dance floor, I met the gaze of none other than Chan. 

“Oh god, what do you want,” I muttered unenthusiastically as he walked toward me. 

“So, you made it? I knew you weren’t as uptight as you let on,” smirked Chan as he leaned against the wall, drink in hand.

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” I asked, trying not to take in how attractive he looked at that moment. Maybe all that alcohol around me was starting to intoxicate me somehow. He never looks good.

“Well someone provided me with some extra good feedback on my outline the other day,” he began, smiling, “Let’s just say that was an easy paper to write.”

I scoffed, “No way you wrote twenty-five pages in two days, weekdays no less.”

“Oh, but I did. I know you think I’m just a typical frat bro but I do care about the mental health movement,” he said, cocking an eyebrow up as his gaze bore into my soul. 

“Whatever,” I said, breaking eye contact and feeling a bit flustered. 

“Anyways,” began Chan, “It’s nice seeing you here. Nice to see you outside of class, I mean,” he stumbled as his eyes scanned my outfit. 

It was my turn to make him flustered. “Are you talking about me, or my tits?” I smirked, standing up straighter as he shuffled. 

“Well, I-” he began, before regaining his composure, “I expected to see your ass, not your tits today.”

“CHAN!” I yelled as he laughed, “Well, at least mine are bigger than yours!”

“That I can agree with,” Chan laughed, causing me to chuckle and playfully smack his arm. 

“We can finally agree on something,” I admitted as I playfully rolled my eyes and he nodded in response. 

“I’d say we’re finally on the same level of debate,” Chan winked as he referenced our TA curriculum. 

“Yeah, I would say that we passed conjecture so we’re definitely on definition right now,” I said as I dramatically furrowed my brows, pretending to be a teacher. 

“God, I’m so glad we’re actually applying what we’ve learned to the real world!” Chan exclaimed, dramatically opening his arms and gesturing to the “real world” that was the frat party before him. I hate to admit it, but Chan was actually funny. He knew how to appeal to my sense of humor. As hard as grad school is, these little jokes make me feel like I’m not alone. As we were laughing, I could just feel the stares of several people burning through the bubble Chan and I created. He could feel it too. In the corner of my eye, I could see Rosé giggling at us. Oh god, she probably took some pictures too. I also felt the knowing stares of Chan’s friends, even Hyunjin who was surrounded by guys and girls had his gaze fixated on Chan and me. Also, did I see Jisung, that one guy I had that awkward date with freshman year, stop making out with Chan’s other friend Minho just for them to look in our direction? What was going on?

Chan’s POV

I’m glad Y/N is warming up to me, she’s honestly not uptight at all! As awkward as my first glance, well, stare, at her today was, I’m so glad she didn’t bring that up. Speaking of staring, what is wrong with me? She saw me staring at her tits god I want to die. I mean, she didn’t murder me! That’s a good sign, right? As fun and lighthearted as our conversation was, how come the guys and Rosé had to be so fucking obvious? I thought this plan was supposed to be low-key, not “everyone-stare-at-Chan-to-see-if-he-finally-asks-Y/N-out.” I think Y/N is catching on, I mean, I practically feel everyone’s staring at us. I need to find a distraction, quickly. 

“Ahem” I cleared my throat, “Do you want another drink?” 

“Oh, um, yeah sure,” she replied as I snapped her out of her thoughts as we made our way to the drink table. 

I don’t know why I was reacting so quickly but as Y/N reached for a water bottle, something in me told me to grab it for her. It wasn’t until our hands met on the same water bottle that I snapped out of my actions.

“Oh-”

“Sorry!”

“Here, I’ll grab it for you,” I said, handing her the water bottle.

“Thanks,” she replied, looking down. Oh god, am I screwing this up? Did I make it awkward? From the corner of my eye, Felix gave me an apologetic smile as I wearily shook my head. I had to fix this. 

“So, you’re not drinking tonight?” I asked, breaking the ice. 

“Nope. I’ve gotta drive home but being drunk would be fun,” chuckled Y/N before taking a sip. “Yeah? How’s ‘drunk’ Y/N?” I asked using air quotations.

“I don’t remember,” laughed Y/N, “The videos I’ve seen of me in that state are hilarious though. I get cocky, witty, and flirty, so kind of like you on a regular basis. So yeah, I turn into a fuck boy.”

“That does sound like me,” I chuckled as we sat down on the couch. “We’re pretty similar, don’t you think?”

Y/N grimaced. “Rosé thinks so.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, and it’s so far from the truth!” she exclaimed dramatically, “Rosé, come here!” she yelled over the couch for her friend. Ugh. Just when I thought I could get her alone without Rosé having to completely abandon her friend. 

“Yes?” asked Rosé, another drink in hand.

“Come on, sit down and tell Chan about your delusions. About how you think we’re the same person,” said Y/N who scooted away from me, gesturing for Rosé to sit between her and me. I swear if Rosé cockblocks me…

Fortunately for me, Rosé takes a seat on Y/N’s other side. “You two are so similar oh my god, Chan you don’t even know the full extent,” giggled Rosé as she leaned into Y/N. Ugh. That should be me. 

“Yeah? How are we so similar?” I said glancing between the two women expectedly. 

“You both are studying English!,” laughed Rosé.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t know that!” scoffed Y/N sarcastically as I chuckled.

“Oh, oh! Your zodiac signs are compatible!” Rosé smirked as she raised her eyebrows. 

“Oh yeah, you’re a Libra right? October 3rd?” asked Y/N expectantly and I nodded. She knows my birthday?! I don’t know why my heart began to race at this fact. (A/N- guys for the sake of the story let’s pretend every zodiac sign is compatible with Libra lol!)

“Oh- and don’t forget, your MBTIs are super compatible too!” exclaimed Rosé.

“I’m an ENFJ, what are you?” I asked as Y/N looked away and replied (your MBTI). Oh my gosh, ENFJ and (your MBTI) are like, supposed to be soulmates. (A/N- guys for the sake of the story let’s pretend every MBTI is compatible with ENFJ lol)

“Oh- and also! Remember the blood drive for the frats and sororities? You’re type O Chan!” chimed Rosé.

“How did you remember that?” I chuckled looking between the clearly intoxicated Rosé and Y/N. 

“I’ll let Y/N explain that one!” exclaimed Rosé as she darted her eyes between Y/N and I. 

“Ugh, unfortunately, that means your blood type can be accepted by any other blood type, Chan. So your blood would be accepted by mine,” gagged Y/N, “I’d rather die at that point,” she deadpanned, causing both Rosé and I to laugh. 

“Really? You’d rather die than receive my thick, juicy, red blood from these veins?” I asked, making a fist so the veins on my arms would appear. Y/N bit her lip and exhaled as Rosé laughed even harder. 

“Yeah Y/N, I thought you had an arm kink?” blurted out Rosé, who was probably drunk by now.

“Rosé!” yelled Y/N, getting more flustered and looking away from me. I only laughed harder and felt my ego rise exponentially. She’s an arm girl? Noted. I’ll have to wear tank tops more often. 

“Like what you see?” I whispered to Y/N, flexing my biceps. She didn’t respond, but I saw the way her eyes lingered. 

“Yeah Y/N! You should feel his muscles” laughed Rosé as she grabbed Y/N’s hand suddenly and placed it on top of my bicep

“Rosé!” yelled Y/N as her hand retracted quickly from my bicep. God, if only she knew how flustered I was feeling right now. Before I knew it, I blurted out “I don’t bite. Go for it.” 

“Oh, um. Okay,” replied Y/N as she leaned over and felt my muscles. I tried not to act flustered as she leaned toward me, that blouse of her’s making it hard to focus on her hand on my arm. I swear her skin on mine was something I had been craving for years. “Neat,” she said, retracting her arm but I could see the redness gathering on her cheeks. 

“Whoa, save some room for Jesus!” blurted out a boy with long, dark brown hair. Behind him was a taller boy who looked somewhat flustered.

“Beomgyu? Soobin? What are you guys doing here?” Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly at the sight of them. I could feel my blood begin to boil but I had to maintain my composure. I can’t let something like jealousy ruin the plan. 

“You guys aren’t even in this frat!” laughed Rosé, causing the two guys to chuckle. 

“Yeah and? We’re here for a good time, right Soob?” laughed Beomgyu as he smacked Soobin in the chest.

“Oh- Uh, yeah! How are you, Y/N?” asked Soobin shyly. Why was he asking about her specifically? I kept my mouth shut as I glanced at Y/N, who looked somewhat flustered herself. 

“I didn’t think I’d be here but this one dragged me here,” explained Y/N as she glanced over at Rosé. 

“Okay and? You’re having a good time?” stated Rosé like it was the most obvious thing. 

Everyone chuckled but me, but I tried to play it cool and forced myself to smile at their small talk. Ugh, I just wish these cockblockers would go away!

“Oh my god, they’re playing Rodeo! Soobin, you like that song don’t you?” boomed Beomgyu as he gestured toward Soobin. “Let’s get up there!” he exclaimed as he gestured toward Y/N and pulled her from the couch.

“Wait this song is so funny!” laughed Y/N as she enthusiastically made her way to the dance floor with Soobin and Beomgyu. 

And just like that, my jaw was on the floor. How did these two random guys, who aren’t even in my frat by the way, just snatch Y/N away from me like that? 

“Ouch,” muttered Rosé as I stared at the dance floor in disbelief. 

“Bro did that just actually happen?” I heard Seungmin say as he took Y/N’s vacant spot.

“Man, I’m sorry,” I heard Felix’s deep voice behind the couch as he leaned over to pat my shoulder comfortingly. 

“How- She just- I just-” I stammered, still in disbelief at what just happened. 

“So um, Beomgyu and Soobin know Y/N from biology class during undergrad,” explained Rosé, trying to help me make sense of this. “Soobin was her lab partner.” Honestly, that didn’t really help as I just sighed in response. To be honest, I knew getting Y/N wasn’t going to be this easy. If I have competition, so be it. 

“Give me a minute,” I muttered as I stood up to get another drink. I felt their apologetic stares burn into my back as I made my way to the drinks. I glanced at the dance floor, and of course, Y/N was having the time of her life. God, she looked so hot dancing. Putting that ass to good use like I had said earlier. Just as I was about to look away, an unsightly scene unfolded before me on the dance floor. Why were Soobin and Y/N practically grinding on one another like that? My blood was already boiling, but now it was evaporated by how angry and jealous I felt. I know my face showed that as I made eye contact with Y/N as she smirked. 

Y/N’s POV

Ah Soobin, my old lab partner. My old crush. It didn’t end up working out between us back in undergrad, Soobin claiming that while he did like me, he just couldn’t devote enough time to a relationship. He was a part of many biology related clubs and even president of one. He also had a job on top of all that. Honestly, that was understandable and I quickly moved past those feelings. However, for Soobin I could definitely tell those feelings never went away. Maybe it’s a good thing Soobin studied biology; he couldn’t analyze situations like I could. Let’s face it, Chan was being extra good and not annoying today. That’s really suspicious, and frankly, I don’t know how to react to his good behavior. Admittedly, yes, I was flustered by our interactions throughout today. But he’s just a fuck boy frat bro. He’s always going to be flirting around, probably in hopes of getting laid. I don’t want to be just another one of those girls he fucks for the sake of it. I thought he knew that by now that I’m not into hookup culture. When Beomgyu and Soobin appeared, it was a perfect opportunity to test out my hypothesis: if Bang Chan wasn’t attracted to me like that, then he’d have no problem seeing me dance with another guy. I also just wanted to dance really badly. 

Also, “Rodeo” by Lah Pat and Flo Milli? The song used in every fuck boy thirst trap and slutty TikTok edits? How could I pass the opportunity to not make Chan jealous with such an explicit song about fucking?

“I wanna feel your body on top of mine!” I sang, eyeing Soobin while swaying my hips as some girls hyped me up on the dance floor. 

“Go Y/N!” cheered Beomgyu as he pulled out some smooth moves. 

It seemed like Soobin was getting out of his shell as he suddenly busted out some killer dance moves, slowly closing the distance between us. “Like a rodeo babe!” he winked. I forgot how fun it was to dance, especially with such a supportive crowd. I wonder if someone was watching. I could practically feel Soobin’s warmth behind me as we danced when I locked eyes with Chan who was heading toward the drinks. I could tell he was fuming as his gaze bore into mine. 

“I wanna feel your body on top of mine!” I sang again, trying to be as seductive as possible in the way I moved, never breaking eye contact with Chan. I don’t know where this surge of confidence came from, but god I felt powerful. Maybe this is how Chan usually feels.

Chan blinked back, seemingly flustered and even angry as he looked away and got another drink. He walked out of the front door dejectedly. I laughed as Beomgyu shot me a confused glance but I just waved him off as he continued dancing. As I was dancing with Soobin though, I began to feel guilty. Why the hell did I feel bad for Chan? He didn’t own me, in fact, he always went out of his way to make me angry and annoyed. Okay, he never went this far but still. And I practically just used Soobin to make Chan jealous knowing that Soobin still probably had feelings for me. I’ve always chided Chan for being a fuck boy, but here I was playing with his feelings and even bringing another guy into this mess by using him. Maybe I’m the fuck boy. 

The next song began to play, and I knew I needed to make things right before they got worse. 

“Hey, Soobin?” I asked over the blaring music as I gestured for him to follow me away from the dance floor.

“Yes, Y/N?” replied Soobin as he leaned down to my height so he could hear me. 

“Thank you for the dance, but sorry. I didn’t mean to get all up on you. I don’t want to lead you on, because I’ve moved on since undergrad. I should’ve considered your feelings before I did that, I’m sorry,” I rambled my apology, not really knowing what to say and hoping the damage wasn’t already done. 

“Oh,” paused Soobin as he looked down, “It’s okay, I just… I just wish I hadn’t been a coward and made excuses back then.”

“What are you talking about Soobin?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, you clearly moved on. I always see you with Chan especially since you started grad school. Even at this party, you were with him when I walked in. Beomgyu just tried to convince me to take a chance and try to get you back, but I can see I missed my chance,” smiled Soobin wistfully. “I could tell you were trying to make Chan jealous when you danced with me.”

Well, maybe I was wrong. Soobin read my plan like a book. Why wasn’t he in the English program?

“Was I that obvious,” I muttered, looking away from Soobin as he chuckled. 

“I knew it was too good to be true when you were moving like that. Like you had a point to prove,” chuckled Soobin. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry Soobin,” I apologized once again.

“It’s okay, I know you’re an asshole now,” he laughed dryly before gesturing to the door, “Now go get Chan. I’ll be okay. I’ve gotta take care of Beomgyu.”

I glanced at the dance floor and Beomgyu was clearly very drunk and happily dancing. Soobin gave me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks Soob. Take care,” I smiled back before making my way out of the frat house through the door Chan left from. 

Chan’s POV:

I shivered as the cool autumn breeze hit me, the hand holding my drink becoming disproportionately colder than the rest of my body as a result of the sudden temperature change. God, why did Y/N dancing with another guy bother me so much? Everything was going perfectly until Soobin showed up. I know she’s not technically mine but why does the thought of her being with someone who isn’t me hurt so much? I get so angry when things don’t go my way. What should I do!? I blinked back a few tears as I paced along the sidewalk near the building. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and saw the concerned texts from some of the guys in our group chat. 

Felix: hey Chan, are you okay? I’m here if you need anything

Jeongin: what happened to Chan?

Hyunjin: his genius plan isn’t working *insert video of Y/N and Soobin on the dance floor*

Minho: oh my god that bitch

Jisung: okay maybe I was right to ghost her!

Seungmin: yeahhh it was pitiful 

Changbin: damn I’m sorry bro

I sighed, not bothering to reply. I just needed some space to process the fact that Y/N is probably going to leave the party with another guy. Someone who isn’t me. Maybe I shouldn’t have messed with her as much as I did. I’m sure it must have gotten old pretty quickly. I should’ve just been honest with her from the beginning. But no, I just had to maintain my frat boy image. I don’t know why, or how, I could be this stupid. I just fucked up my chances of being with the prettiest, funniest, and smartest girl I know. Just as I reached to wipe my tears, I heard a familiar voice. 

“Chan!”

I turned around and was faced with none other than Y/N. Concern and regret painted her features as she gazed into my teary eyes. 

“Chan,” she spoke softly, inching closer to me. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have left you like that just to make you jealous on purpose. I’m really sorry.”

I quickly blinked back any tears that remained and wiped the rest off my face. “Y/N, you came to find me?”

Y/N blinked a few times before replying, “Of course. I wanted to mess with you but I could tell that you were hurt. I couldn’t just leave you alone.”

I swallowed before speaking, gently taking ahold of her hand. “Y/N, I need to come clean. I like, no, I love you. I have loved you for a long time. Since like, freshman year. I only pretended to hate you just to mess with you. I don’t know why, I’m so stupid, I just, I thought that was just how a frat guy should act. Clearly not, I just annoyed you and I don’t blame you if you don’t return my feelings. I’ve been an asshole to you for a long time, and I’m sorry,” I rambled, feeling her grip on my hand tighten as I felt myself begin to shake. 

“Chan…” muttered Y/N as she looked into my eyes. God, I’m so embarrassed. 

Y/N’s POV:

I just felt so guilty, and I’m glad I apologized. It’s the least I could do. I know Chan loves to mess with me but he has never gone out of his way to hurt me like I just did to him. However, he really did just drop a bomb out of nowhere. Chan loves me? 

“Chan,” I said, squeezing his hand once again to get him to look at me. It works. “I honestly didn’t realize you felt that way. Wow,”

“Listen, I don’t want to pressure you at all to say yes. I just think you deserve to know how I truly feel,” admitted Chan. 

“No, it’s not that. I just think that you helped me describe what I’ve been feeling,” I admitted. “I always thought I hated you, but I’ve always been drawn to you. It’s not the same if you’re away. And I’m actually kind of glad you didn’t go away for grad school because you’re such a constant in my life. Like, I couldn’t imagine not going to school with you.”

Chan began to laugh. “What’s so funny?” I asked, bracing myself for Chan to probably admit this was a whole prank or something.

“It’s just, I only chose to go to grad school in the first place because you were doing it. And you just so happened to be staying here so I followed you,” laughed Chan, squeezing my hand gingerly. 

My eyes widened, “Well this is news to me!”

“When I told the guys this, they insisted I asked you out. So we made this whole elaborate plan to get you to this party but the plan didn’t really go as planned,” confessed Chan.

“Oh Chan,” I laughed, “Did you guys think you could really fool me?”

“Yeah. So did Rosé,” smirked Chan.

“She what?” I asked, shocked that Rosé was plotting with Chan.

“She’s gonna kill me for telling you but yes, I asked her to bring you here.”

“Oh my god, that’s why her text about the party conveniently came during peer review!” everything began to click as Chan smiled. “I mean, that explains everyone staring at us this whole night.”

“There’s the smart Y/N I know,” laughed Chan, staring at me with adoration which made me flustered. 

“I should’ve known,” I laughed dryly, “But Chan, seriously, I did have a great time with you tonight. And I don’t want that to end so, yes, I’ll be your girlfriend I guess.”

“You what!?” Chan’s jaw dropped as his eyes brightened.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I rolled my eyes as I pulled him into a kiss. His plush lips I used to despise returned the kiss as he fought back a smile, putting his hands on my waist to draw me closer. We pulled back from one another because we couldn’t stop smiling. 

“God, Y/N. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” mused Chan as a genuine smile graced his features as he put an arm around my waist. 

“Yeah it took you long enough,” I rolled my eyes playfully and leaned into his embrace. “Now do you wanna go back inside to party?”

“I’m happy wherever you are, Y/N.”

Chan’s POV

YESSSS I DID IT!!! Y/N IS MINE NOW! Oh my god, oh my god. All it took was for me to word-vomit everything I had felt about her with a pinch of jealousy to make her my girlfriend. I don’t even remember the initial plan because this outcome is so much better. I smiled at the girl in my arms, the one I spent years annoying because I couldn’t communicate my feelings. This is what bliss is. 

Suddenly, my phone began to vibrate like crazy once again. 

“Hold on, I think the guys are texting me,” I tell Y/N as I bring out my phone. I gasp as my eyes widen.

Felix: So uh, I went outside to find Chan and this is what I saw 😳 *insert pic of Chan and Y/N kissing*

Hyunjin: omg how the turns have tabled

Jisung: WHAT!! The switch up is crazyyyyy

Jeongin: oh god my eyesssss (nice job Chan)

Seungmin: phew Chan is okay lol

A message was deleted by Minho

Minho: Aw finally! (I didn’t call Y/N a bitch earlier nooo)

Changbin: CHAN’S GETTING IT AYYY

“What’s wrong Chan?” asked Y/N as she fished out her phone which was also buzzing with notifications. 

“Just check your phone,” I muttered in disbelief, but I couldn’t help but hold back a smile. 

Y/N’s POV

I took Chan’s advice and checked my phone. Maybe something had happened at the party while we were gone? Instead, I found like a hundred notifications from Rosé.

Rosé: AHFEWFEJ WHAT JUST HAPPENED

Rosé: I know you liked Soobin at one point but like

Rosé: omg Chan is actually sad

Rosé: check your phoneee even Jaehyun agrees

Rosé: wait omg

Rosé: *insert pic of Chan and Y/N kissing*

Rosé: care to explain? 🤭

“Oh my god Rosé!” I yelled.

Chan POV:

“Actually it was Felix who took that pic,” I laughed at her flustered state. Honestly, I love that the picture exists. My first kiss with Y/N. How precious!  

“Wanna go kill them?” asked Y/N, rolling up her sleeves. God she’s so hot when she’s mad, even hotter when she’s mad at other people. 

“Gladly, but first, you never answered my question,” I began, smirking at her once again. 

“What question?” She replied, tilting her head in confusion. 

“Can you prove to me that your ass is actually bigger than mine?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow as I eyed her behind and began to laugh at her further flustered state. She paused before suddenly moving closer to me.

“After I get finished with them,” she muttered, gesturing to our friends in the frat house, “Is when I’ll get started with this.” I yelped from the sudden smack on my butt as Y/N eyed me dangerously, smirking. 

“Oh I can’t wait!”

Epilogue:

Y/N’s POV

Even though I hadn’t had a sip of alcohol, I still woke up hungover the next morning in my bed. I groaned at the slew of notifications that had woken me up from my slumber. I can’t believe that I woke up as the girlfriend of Bang Chan, the frat guy who had a notorious reputation for also being a fuck boy. I blinked a few times as I opened Instagram only to find the picture of me kissing Bang Chan to be the first post I saw. 

@gnabnahc last night was crazyyy 🥶💯😳

Comments: 

@yong.lixx: photo creds? 📸 jk so happy for you man

@i.2.n.8: mommy & daddy 😳

@miniverse.__: lookin gr8 bro 

@jutdwae: Ayyyy bro is hard launching rn!

@hynjinnnn: now this is art

@minho_knows: you’re welcome

@han_jisung: yeah she’s much better with you 🤭

@roses_are_rosie: so the plan worked! 😁

@page.soobin: congrats 🥲

⎿ @bamgyuuuu: it’s ok u tried bro 😤

Ok this was my first ever attempt at writing a stray kids fic! I hope you enjoyed! I had a lot of fun writing this! I know Chan would never be a fuck boy irl but as you can see it would be fun to imagine what that might look like!

[st4r-wh0r3]

Punkflower ⭐

Inspired by @roughscribs on here 🫶🏾

High school AU

ignore any grammar mistakes pls i dont understand commas 😭

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“But why not!? He’s so obviously obsessed with you!”

Miles looked at Gwen with the coldest side eye he could muster at the moment. Walking towards his desk chair he slumped down and sighed frustrated. How could she be so sure of something that wasn’t even remotely simple!? I wasn’t like this was a crush on some random girl in his class. This was a crush on Hobie. Fucking. Brown. The coolest guy he knows!

Miles spins his chair away from her,“No! Nope! Absolutely not!”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you dude!” Gwen spins him back around to face her. “Hobie looks at you like you're the sun, moon, and all the stars. Hobie looks at you like he prays to you every night.” Miles just shakes his head and forces himself back around.

“If what you're saying was even close to the truth-”

“It is.”

“IF it was what makes you think writing him a fucking love letter would be a good idea?” Gwen dramatically flops on the bed, hand landing on her forehead, eyes closing. “Imagine, you put the most heartfelt, tooth rotting, stomach turning letter on his desk and after school he runs up to you and kisses you like you are the oxygen he so desperately needs.” She turns to face him and is met with the most disgusted and disappointed face she's ever seen.

She can’t help but start barking out a laugh, gripping her stomach as she rolls around his bed. Miles rolls his eyes and kicks her. “See! Even you think it’s dumb!”

“No I swear I really do think it's good!” She proclaims sitting up quickly.

“Even if it’s a little corny and cliche I’m sure Hobie will love it dude!” Gwen looks at him with true sincerity. Miles looks back at her looking for any indication that she’s messing with him. Once he finds none he sighs, glancing at his notebook.

“Do you really think he would like it? I mean what if he doesn’t like me like that?”

“I promise you he will.”

Miles pauses and thinks about his options here. He could 1.) write Hobie some romantic ass letter to confess his feelings, or 2.) don’t say anything and live with the knowledge that Hobie would never truly know how he felt. Either way he would be beyond stressed.

He eventually huffs for the thousandth time and slowly nods his head.

“You’re gonna do it!?” Gwen jumps off of the bed filled with pure joy. He looks back to her slightly laughing at her excitement. She grabs Miles' shoulders and shakes him harshly. “This is so amazing! I thought you were never gonna tell him!”

“Well if I’m gonna be stressed I might as well be stressed and have my feelings be out there.”

She snickers and releases the others shoulders, staring him down, “I’m really really glad you decided to tell him how you feel.” Miles slightly shoves her in response.

“You're only saying that because you’re tired of hearing about him.”

Gwen chuckles and shoves him back. “No! I’m genuinely happy that you can get this off your chest. I think this will be really good for you.”

He smiles up at Gwen and pulls her down into a hug. “Thank you Gwen.”, he whispers to her. All she does is hold him tighter. They stayed like that until Gwen glanced at her watch and saw the time.

“Oh shoot, I have to go! I have a study session with Margo in like ten minutes!” Gwen quickly goes to retrieve her bag, rushing to get out the door.

“Bye Miles! Tell me how the letter goes!”, and with that she was gone.

He shakes his head at his friend. That girl could never be on time.

Slowly he looks back at his notebook. He can already feel the anxiety creeping its way up into his stomach. So much could go wrong with this and the worst one would be getting rejected.

Miles and Hobie had been friends since freshman year when Gwen introduced them. It was almost an immediate connection between the two, even though they were so different. They would be clinging to each other everyday, hanging out in Mile’s dorm when Ganke wasn’t around, tagging abandoned buildings, going out to dinner, ect. So Gwen wasn’t surprised when Miles told her he liked Hobie.

Coincidentally around that same time Hobie started to be more excessive with touching Miles (not that he minded). A constant arm around his shoulders became a normal thing very quickly. Soon followed by random shoulder messages, hand holding, and other passing touches. It drove Miles insane knowing that Hobie was just doing this as his friend. He wanted it to mean more so bad.

Hopefully he would achieve that with writing this letter (even though he wasn’t very hopeful).

Dragging a hand down his face he picks up the pen and notebook, moving them to the middle of the desk. He cannot believe he’s actually doing this, Uncle Aaron would be so disappointed. Miles was gonna have to text him about this later.

Shaking his thoughts away he finally picks up the pen and starts writing.

—--------------Next Day—-----------

To say he was nervous is an understatement.

Miles was shaking so much he could barely hold his extra notebooks. Including a graffitied envelope with Hobie’s name on it on top of the stack.

Walking to his first period class Miles tried to take deep breaths to slow down his mind. It wasn’t like he was putting his relationship with one of his closest friends on the line or anything.

……….

Oh he was gonna pass out at least once today.

How could he possibly have agreed to this!? There was no way that this was gonna end well. Knowing Hobie even if he didn’t like him back nothing would change but, Miles would have to live with the fact that his feelings weren’t mutual.

That thought alone made the pit in his stomach grow even wider.

Being too wrapped up in his thoughts Miles forgot that today was Thursday, meaning his first period was with Hobie. He also failed to acknowledge that Hobie was walking towards him, a mischievous smirk resting on his face.

“Oi! Miles!”

He quickly glanced up at his name. His eyes immediately met the others.

“Heyyyy Hobie….”, Miles winced at the shake in his voice.

Once Hobie had reached him he wrapped his arm around Mile’s shoulder looking down at the other’s anxious face. He couldn’t help but notice how shaky the boy was.

“You doin’ okay there? You looked really zoned out jus’ now”, he commented raising his eyebrow.

“Yeahhhhh I’m just nervous for…”, Miles’ mind couldn’t even think of a good excuse as it was too focused on the arm wrapped around him. “..For…..yeah.”, He decided that his silence was better than making up some obvious lie.

Hobie’s eyebrow raised even more at the silence. He looked over the boy again looking for a real answer. In his search he noticed the graffitied letter. This just made him even more confused that he already was.

“Watchu got there Miles?”, Hobie asked with genuine curiosity.

Miles froze in his spot, eyes going wide. Hobie looked back at the boy, noticing his sudden stillness. He glanced back down at the letter, his head reeling in what it could possibly be.

Then it clicked.

His face suddenly broke out into a grin. He removed his hand from his pocket and reached to grab the letter.

Miles finally breaking out of his trance, noticed the movement and snatched it hiding it behind his back. He nervously smiled up at Hobie, deciding that he probably couldn’t get a coherent sentence out even if he tried.

Undeterred, Hobie smiled back and moved his face closer to Miles. His arm that was previously wrapped around his shoulder sliding down to meet Miles' chin pulling his head up even more. “Is that a love letter?”, He teased. Smiling like a mad man.

Miles thought he was actually going to pass out. His face felt like an oven and he could already feel the shaking intensifying ten fold.

“No!”, He said with a shakier voice than he would’ve liked. “This is just- umm- a homework assignment that I need to turn in today!”

He mentally rolled his eyes at his own excuse. Homework? Really?

Hobie just chuckled at the blatant lie, releasing the other from his grasp. Turning to continue to their class before they were late. Still in shock Miles took a moment to follow the other.

The two continued to walk in silence together, taking glances at each other when they could. When they finally arrived at their class Hobie stepped in front of the door blocking Miles from getting in.

“What are you doing man?” Confusion seeping its way onto Miles face.

Hobie ignored his question, instead opting to lean into the others' space just as he did earlier. Looking him dead in the eye as he began to speak.

“When you want to give me that letter….” He paused to admire the panic wash over the shorter’s features.

“You can just leave it in my locker.”

With that Hobie walked into the classroom, leaving Miles at the door to process what the fuck just happened.

[neowinestainedress]

miss ma'am villain jeno is driving me crazy so can you write a drabble for jeno with rough sex? anal? as long as it's him, anything is okay. go wild.

w!: villain jeno + rough anal sex (size difference, manhandling, two seconds of oral sex (f), full nelson, standing sex, kinda implied ‘‘‘‘enemies’’’’ with benefits???)

a/n: feel you he’s looking a little too hot and he’s a little too good at what he does ugh. so let’s not be surprised that this is longer than it should’ve been. enjoy!!

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say when you see Jeno stand there in front of you after turning around from the counter. Black hair pulled back in a comma hairstyle, thick silver necklace around his neck, white shirt covered with a blue jacket, black jeans and gloves that signalled you he passed by with his motorbike. 

Jeno scoffs, sitting on the stool in front of you. “Your shift is over in ten, came by to give you a ride. And no, no need to thank me.” 

You huff, turning around to put back in place the last glasses you finished cleaning. “I didn’t ask you.” 

“No, you didn’t,” he replies, resting his elbow on the desk. “You’re too busy listening to what people have to say about me.” 

Jeno is known for being a bad influence. He has a bad reputation, and you always knew it. Just like you knew you should’ve kept your distance from him. But you’re not really good at it. 

“Wait outside,” is the only answer you give him, walking to the storage room of the club to get changed and finally get home. 

The drive to your place is quiet, you hold onto his waist afraid to fall, letting the wind blow over you. And when you reach your door you think he will leave, but he doesn’t. He follows you, as if it’s normal, as if his feet know exactly where to drag him. 

“Thank you,” you say, turning around — big mistake — hoping he will get the message and leave.

“Thank you?” He repeats, raising a brow. “You have been avoiding me for a month straight, and the only thing you can say is thank you?” 

You sigh, looking at your feet because you can’t keep up with him. “Do you even know what people say about you?” 

Jeno scoffs, shaking his head. “So what? Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m a bad guy. Maybe I’m the villain. And maybe I like it?” The smirk forming on his face makes you shiver, but not from fear. You can feel the excitement rise on your skin and down between your legs. 

“And you, baby?” He asks, leaning down, soft lips brushing against your earlobe. “It didn’t seem like you cared about those voices about me when I had you screaming and moaning underneath me.” 

That’s all it takes for your fake walls to come crashing down. You know it’s useless to even try to put them up in the first place, but damn, you went on for a whole month without him, so how is it so easy for him to crash back into you as if nothing happened? 

“Come inside,” you tell him after opening the door and in a second, not only Jeno is inside the walls of your place, but he’s all over you. 

He’s kissing you hard and rough, hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid you’ll leave him, again. 

You know that when you run away from each other, there’s nothing that can save you when you come back. Jeno might be an asshole to everybody else, but he needs you, and you need him too. But you run away, you play cat and mouse and he doesn’t like it. 

“Jeno, fuck,” you moan when his thigh presses between your legs, rubbing your clit from your clothes. 

“What, baby? Now you want me?” 

You glare at him, afraid he might give you a taste of your own medicine and leave you high and dry. And he thought about it before, but Jeno can’t let you go. 

So he lifts you up, making you yelp in surprise, walking to your bedroom as if it is his place. 

“Need you so badly,” he almost groans, roughly taking off his clothes, almost ripping them at the strength he’s applying, before he crawls to you on the bed, intense gaze piercing your soul, your thighs squeezing together to hide the effect he has on you. 

“Don’t hide it,” Jeno whispers, spreading your legs with force. “I know you want this. I know you can’t get enough of me.” 

You groan when he roughly takes your clothes off, leaving you bare to his gaze before he dives between your legs, nose rubbing against your clit before he starts sucking avidly. 

You try to enjoy the pleasure but it doesn’t last long because Jeno can’t keep it in anymore. He ran after you for so long, trying to get a taste of you again but you always avoided him, disappearing before he could reach you and he needs to make up for the lost time. 

So he’s all over you again, hands fast at taking off your shirt and bra and hips rolling against you, making you feel how hard he is, how much he aches for you. And in a second he turns you over. Sometimes you forget how strong he is, how easy it is for him to manhandle you however he likes, however he wants you. 

“Jeno, please,” you can only moan when he presses your face down against the pillow and slaps your ass. 

“Please, what?” 

“Fu-fuck me, please,” you plead, looking back at him from your shoulders. 

“Keep begging while I look for something,” he says, an evil smirk on his face that makes you shiver for a second. 

But you do as he says, begging him over and over again, trying to make up for the entire weeks you spent avoiding him because you were too busy listening to what other people had to say about him. 

You groan when you feel a cold liquid drip between your ass and his finger slip inside you, surprising you. That wasn’t the first time doing anal but you weren’t expecting he wanted it now. You thought he was eager to have you again. 

“Surprised?” He chuckles, inserting another finger. 

You shake your head, not really having the strength to give him an explanation. And after a while, you get why he wants to fuck you there. Jeno doesn’t wait, his fingers are out of you quickly and you can feel his cock prod against you.

You’re not as afraid as you should be because you know you can take him, as big as he is, it’s like you were made just for him. So your body is relaxed enough for his lubricated cock to slip into you with ease, making the both of you moan. 

“I knew it, always so good for me,” he groans before his hands wrap around your waist and he starts moving in and out of you. “I’m gonna fuck your pretty ass rough and deep — fuck — just how you like it.” 

“Yes, please,” you beg, shoulders dropping against the mattress and hands clenching around the sheets as you can feel him hit deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” he groans when his eyes look where he’s thrusting fast and rough inside you. He knows you don’t let anybody else fuck you like that. He knows you can beg anybody else to fuck your pussy but nobody gets your ass. You only trust him. You only let him ruin you like this. 

And that thought makes something snap in him. 

“What are —” 

You don’t have time to ask why he pulled out of you out of nowhere because he flips you around again, grabbing you by an ankle and dragging you to the edge of the bed before he lifts you up.

“Sink down,” he orders and you do, sitting on his lap, wobbly legs trying to find balance as you let his cock fill you up again. 

“Want — want me to ride you?” You ask innocently, turning to stare at him, dark eyes looking at you with a teasing gaze. 

“Oh, no, baby,” he whispers before his arms slip behind your knees, holding them up with his elbow, and locking you in place with his fingers behind your neck. 

“Fuck,” you moan when he stands up and start slamming you on his cock, the position forcing you to look down and see how your pussy is dripping on the floor and how his cock he’s stretching you out.

“You love this, don’t you?” He grins, throwing his head back before he focuses on you again. “Squeezing my cock so tight, I can — fuck — barely thrust out of you.” 

“You feel so good.”

“Always so ready for me,” he teases you, fucking you up and down, moving you so easily as if you’re nothing but a fleshlight. “You — fuck — only try to fight me in front of the world but then you — nggh — crawl to me. Beg for my cock to ruin you.” 

You whine when he lifts you up and turns you around, this time walking to the closest wall and pressing you against it. 

Jeno’s breathing heavily as he stares at your wrecked face and wet pleading eyes telling him to keep fucking you and make you come. 

“Silly girl,” he whispers before kissing you hard, grabbing your wrist with one hand and holding you up once his dick is inside you again, hips pressing you against the hard surface behind you. “Silly little girl thinking that anybody — fuck — else could make her feel as good as I do.” 

“No, I know, nobody’s like you,” you reply, rolling your head back because you can feel him so deeply it’s like he’s fucking your brain out. 

“I know you know,” he coos. “But it’s better to listen to voices from the streets, isn’t it?” He growls, staring at you intensely, so much that your eyes close but he forces them open by cupping your cheeks. “Look at me,” he orders. “Could’ve — fuck — could’ve had this all this time but you had to run away from me. Maybe you like the rush, don’t you? Love knowing I’m somewhere going crazy over you, looking for you everywhere.” 

Your head nods lazily, eyes blinking repeatedly to focus on him, but the tears are making it hard to do it. 

“So pretty when you cry,” he whispers, kissing you again, squeezing your wrists harder, the rhythm of his hips shifting, telling you he was close. “So pretty when you moan for me.” 

Your body shakes, the knot in your stomach getting incredibly tighter and you don’t have time to warn him when you come, ass clenching around his cock, sucking him and pussy squeezing around nothing. Your chest presses against his, while his body twists closer to you, keeping you pressed between his broad chest and the wall as he comes inside you, filling you until he’s sure there’s nothing more he can give you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, chest panting heavily and forehead resting against your shoulder for a few seconds as you both come down from the high. 

When he lifts his head again you can swear his eyes are slightly glossy, looking into yours with a soft gaze, while his hand caresses your cheek. 

“Please, don’t believe what people say about me,” he whispers. “I know I’m not a saint, but I would never hurt you.” 

“I know,” you reply. Because it’s true, whatever bad people he was getting mixed up with had nothing to do with you. 

“Promise you won’t leave me like this again?” He asks, walking you to the bed again. 

“Only if you pick me up with your motorbike every night.” 

“Mmh,” Jeno pretends to think about it. “I don’t know, can I fuck you like this every time we come back home?”

[moonshynecybin]

#prince of a small country addressing the nation concerning his recent marriage to italian motogp superstar valentino rossi <- oh. OH !!!!! genuinely i need more….. how did they meet…. is marc giving up his title to marry vale….. much to think abt…..

i love this one it’s about marc like. putting down the pr mask and realizing he can have something for himself…

so! much like our marc, in his youth he was a tiny adrenaline junkie obsessed with motorcycles, valentino rossi, and valentino rossi’s y2k bisexual swag. unlike our marc, he was not allowed to continue racing past a certain age bc he is the crown prince of a nation and it was considered too dangerous for him. he rides too hard, he doesn’t want to put that on alex if anything happens to him, etc

but our brave marc is not a complainer! ever! even when he absolutely should be! so he grits his teeth buckles down and does his duty. for his family. for his country. for his brother. for years. but he still keeps tabs on vale, allows himself that small joy. catches races whenever he can—watching them on his phone in airports and the back of cars all over the world. instagram stalking him like a weirdo. trying to covertly attend races with alex in silly disguises SURROUNDED by security, hat pulled low… a wistful thrill in his stomach as he hears the bikes roar past… eyes on valentino the whole way

and then they meet! marc is in his early twenties and they’re at some party marc hates but he’s keeping the big smile on his face as he greets people and vale (here for sponsorship obligation comma bored) notices him across the room and goes hey. that guys hot and looks equally bored! so he goes up, does a silly bit, and is immediately confronted with a full frontal assault of marc’s big dumb smile and shining eyes <3 also realizes he is a fan IMMEDIATELY even though marc is trying to keep it on the DL which he reallyyyyy enjoys so they spend the whole night snickering in their own little world…

whirlwind romance ensues!! and they have history’s least carbon neutral affair over the next few months with the amount of plane rides they charter anshshsgg… truly marc learning to love life and ignore some of his responsibilities for once… insane sex in expensive hotels bc vale wants to show him a good time… extravagant rich people gifts…. personalized helmet tribute only the two of them get… lots of references to marc in interviews that only marc and him understand. like FULLY inside jokes with themselves excluding the press so the other will smile when they watch the interview later when they’re apart… and the CROWN JEWEL PUN NOT INTENDED: ranch visittttttttt where they have a BLAST. vale gets to excercise his clear love of teaching and praise marc, be impressed with his raw talent on the bike. and marc is. SO happy. looks valentino dead in the eye at the end of the day vale’s big hands on either side of his face and tells him this is the best day of his life… and he looks at vale and loves him SO much but feels so trapped by the monarchy (his advisors know this and have been quietly maneuvering the nation towards democracy… marc does not know this) and something cracks in him and he’s just like. i don’t think i can do this anymore. and vale’s face DROPS and marc’s like. do you want to get married. bc he’s insane <3 and it’s the only way he can think to bind vale to him permanently in a way the monarchy/his duty can’t interfere with… like no one can argue with a royal wedding!

SO THEY ELOPE!!! scandal of the century!!! and then marc’s advisors (everyone say thank you to his fictional advisors who create democracy in a nation not bc it is a better form of government but for pure love of the yaoi game) pass the resolution to change the government and marc is FREE to follow vale around the world and get really good on the bike again and learn that it is OKAY to love things and not sacrifice your whole self at the alter of duty :)

[drewstarkeysbitchh]

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x female! Kook-ish! Reader.

Summary: you were a waitress at the country club and Rafe and his friends have been coming every Friday just to annoy the shit out you.

Warnings: Girly being a funny ass bad fucking bitch. Also the tiniest itty bitty smut at the end. But I don’t write it because it makes me uncomfy.♡♡

A/n: this is like my first ever post. I always just kept to myself because I thought I was too good for you all. No I’m kidding, but I’m a lil nervy. Also I’m no fucking English scholar, so if you see anything that’s not supposed to be there, pretend it’s not there. I put commas where I feel like it, ok bitches?? Btw the I put this song because it’s on repeat rn so you don’t have to listen to it but I do…

You looked up from the table you were serving when you heard a group of guys fucking around. It was the too better for everyone kookiest of kooks. Kelce, Topper, and Rafe. I rolled my eyes because this was the fourth Friday in a row that they decided to eat here.

I wrote down the last kids order and went into the back. I went over to the big group in the back with Alyssa, my best friend. We both wanted to work together, so we got jobs together.

“Their here again.” I say talking about the three group of boys that come here almost every Friday. I jump onto the counter.

“If I keep having to serve them, I think I’m gonna shoot myself.” I say making the group all laugh.

“Well I can’t.” Alyssa says. “Me neither.” “Sorry.” I groan.

“Jesus Christ.” I mumble hopping down. I flip them all off in annoyance.

I walk out and over to the group of ignorant assholes.

“Hello what can I do for you three today!” I say sarcastically.

“What a joyful mood.” Topper laughs making me fake smile.

“Always!” I state.

“Can I just get water.” Topper says.

“Me too.” Kelce adds.

I write it down or else I’ll forget. “And what about you, Princess?” I ask.

“Can I just get water too?” He says not really even asking just stating.

“Of course. Anything for my favorite piece of shit!” I say. He rolls his eyes. He had a fling with one my friends over the summer and totally fucked her over. He knew I hated him.

I walk over to get their waters. I carefully to walk back to their tables and give them each their cups.

“Ok now what do you all want to eat I don’t have all fucking day.” I state.

“Where’d the sweet Stevie go?” Topper says. I laugh not at his joke but at myself, because I think I’m so funny. They all smile with me.

“Can I get some wings?” Topper asks. I nod my head.

“I just want a cheeseburger with fries.” Kelce says. I write it down and look over at Rafe.

“I don’t want anything.” He says. I raise my eyebrows.

“You came to a restaurant and you’re not getting any food?” I laugh.

“I just don’t want to put my sweet little cupcake to work.” He laughs.

“It’s not like I make the food.” I state.

“I’m not hungry.” He says. I stare at him for a second just confused.

“Alright.” I say walking to the back to put their orders in the line. I look back at the table and Alyssa isn’t there. She’s probably doing her job for the first fucking time in her life. I walk over and jump onto the counter.

“Hank, who’s the meanest person you’ve ever met?” I ask the chef, my favorite man in the world.

“My wife.” He laughs making me laugh with him.

“Well I think it’s Rafe Cameron.” I say. “He just so narcissistic and in love with himself. He thinks he can’t do anything wrong and it’s so annoying.”

“Stevie you’re table won’t shut up about wanting you.” Alyssa walks in and says to me.

“What?” I sigh.

“They want you like now.” She says. I groan and jump off the counter.

I walk over to their table. “Oh there she is.” Kelce says.

“What do you assholes want now?” I laugh.

“I want your friend’s number.” Rafe smirks.

“Ok I have shit to do.” I say walking away.

“Please Stevie, I’ll treat her so well I promise.” He smiles even bigger.

“Why don’t you just ask her yourself, dumbass? Why’d you call me all the way over here?” I groan.

“She isn’t over here.” He says.

“She was just here. She said you guys wouldn’t shut the fuck up.” I say.

“She said that?” He smirks.

“Yeah she did. Look either you get it yourself or don’t get it at all. It’s not my problem.” I say.

“Are you jealous Stevie?” He smiles.

I look at him with disgust. “God you’re so conceited. You think everyone is so in love with you.” I roll my eyes.

“You should be a little nicer to me, Stevie. I can get you fired.” He says. I roll my eyes.

“Go ahead. Then you wouldn’t be able to keep fucking up my Friday’s.” I say walking away.

I walk to the front and ask Steve if I can leave early. I make up a fake story. He lets me go. I genuinely don’t think my anger issues could’ve handled anymore of that.

“Alyssa their your problem now.” I say grabbing my keys. She furrows her eyebrows.

“I can’t deal with them anymore. I’m going home.” I say.

I walk out the door and walk home. My house is close enough, there’s no point in even driving. It’s still a ways to walk, though.

After 5 minutes of walking, I see headlights. It’s a truck. A big ass truck. It comes up closer to me. They roll down their window.

“Did I piss you off too much, sweetheart?” It’s Rafe. I roll my eyes as soon as I hear his voice.

“You just don’t know how to fucking quit.” I say.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.” He says. I scoff.

“Hell no.” I say.

“Stevie don’t be such a determined fucking bitch and get in the car.” He says.

“You know when you call me a bitch it just makes me want to hop in you’re truck so much more.” I say.

“Stevie, I know you don’t want to walk all the way home.” He says. I sigh and walk over to the passenger seat. He was right I didn’t want to walk all the way home.

“You’re still an asshole.” I say. He laughs.

“What even happened? We used to be friends.” He asks.

“Well you cheated on Lily. I mean there’s so many reasons why I fucking hate you, but that’s a big one.” I say.

“Alright I didn’t cheat on her.” He says making me mentally orbit around the fucking moon.

“Oh right you just slept with someone that wasn’t Lily, sorry I don’t know what I was thinking.” I say.

“That’s what she told you?” He scoffs.

“Yeah?” I say.

“I didn’t cheat on her.” He says.

“Well then what did you do Rafe?” I ask.

“I just stopped liking her I don’t know. I tried to tell her in a nice way, but she went fucking psycho on me.” He says.

“You just stopped liking her? How do you just stop liking her?” I ask.

“I don’t know like how you stopped liking Joe.” He says, bringing up my ex.

“Ok that’s different. We both agreed we didn’t feel anything anymore.” I say.

“I stopped liking Lily, because I started liking her friend.” He says looking at me for a second.

“That’s not fucked up at all.” I say. He rolls his eyes.

“Who was it? Alyssa??” I ask.

“No it wasn’t Alyssa.” He says.

“Then why did you want her number?” I ask. He pauses. The car gets really quiet.

“I wanted to see how you’d react.” He says.

“See how I’d react? Why would you care what I thought?” I ask. We sit there for a minute in complete silence.

“It was you, Stevie. Jesus Christ, you were the friend that I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about. Every time you’d come over with you’re stupid little boyfriend, I was never looking at Lily, I was always watching you. I couldn’t do anything because you had a boyfriend and I was dating Lily.” He says making me audibly gasp. Ok not literally but I was in pure shock.

“No fucking shit.” I laugh. He scoffs.

“Fuck off.” He says making me laugh.

“I used to like you too. I was like in love with you in 8th grade.” I say. “It was when I met Sarah and came over to you’re house everyday. To be honest, I only went over there to see you.”

He laughs. “Shut up.” I scoff. “It’s weird we both used to like each other.” He looks at me.

“I never stopped, Stevie.” He says.

“What?” My voice shakes.

“I never stopped liking you.” He says making me gulp really loudly. I stare at him. I’m so nervous right now I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. He starts to lean in and my heart starts beating faster.

I don’t pull away so this has to mean I feel the same. He puts his hand on my face. Our lips finally touch and I realize I like it. He picks up my thighs and sets me on top of him.

I can’t believe of all things that could’ve happened today, I’m in Rafe Cameron’s car about to fuck.

[tensionpoints]

Anyway, let’s ask questions & make note of things!

(It's a strange letter. It's more or less completely illegible…)

“Strange letter” there’s various ways to interpret this— is it strange for a vday card? Or strange for other reasons? It’s very long, for certain. and it disappears! Why else could this be ‘strange?’

“Completely illegible” is this bad handwriting, or is this wingdings? Or a secret 3rd thing?

(But, if you squint your eyes, and, you squint your heart… For some reason, you feel you could understand it)

“Squinting your eyes and heart” is a very strange sentiment, and I feel it’s too easily brushed over. Heart, obviously could refer to the SOUL, but what gets me the most about this is the grammatical structure of the sentence.

1. “But,” starting a sentence with a coordinating conjunction is, for the most part, frowned upon. Why separarte this from the first sentence, starting another?

2. “But, if you squint your eyes, and, you squint your heart… For some reason, you feel you could understand it” let’s start by sorting this into clauses.

“But, [if you squint your eyes], and, [you squint your heart…] For some reason, [you feel] [you could understand it]”

Time for some questions! Why put a comma after “and?” I could be misremembering, but a comma AFTER “and” is very awkward-sounding.

Also. It’s inconsistent? Why write it as “But, if you squint your eyes, and, you squint your heart…“ when it would be more consistent to have “But, if you squint your eyes, and if you squint your heart…” or “But, if you squint your eyes and (your) heart…” why repeat the verb? how many “you”s is the sender talking about?

3. Squinting your eyes is common to try to read illegible text, as you focus more on the finer details. What could squinting a HEART do? what would squinting a heart be LIKE.?

All in all for this section, the narration feels different to me than the usual narration in UTDR, but I can’t quite place why.

WELL,

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

OR, WAS IT THE OLD YEAR.

1. First impression I’m getting here is “does this person experience time linearly?”

2. Second thing I’m noticing: a question ending with a period rather than a question mark.

3. Thirdly, the sender seems, at best, unaware, or, at worse, confused.

WELL,

IN ANY CASE, HOW IS DELTA RUNE?

1. Why are you asking US, sender?

2. What is MEANT by “delta rune?” the game? The symbol? What are we talking about?

AS YOU ARE WAITING

PATIENTLY, THE TIME IS GOING AROUND.

THERE WAS EVEN A RUMOR OF "VALENTINE'S DAY".

HOW ABSURD.

EVERY DAY IS A DAY OF LOVE,

IF ONLY YOU BELIEVE IT SO.

DO YOU BELIEVE IT SO?

…

1. What are we waiting for? The next release, or something else?

2. “The time is going around” feels like it’s worded this way deliberately. What does this mean?

3. “There was even a rumor of “valentine’s day” is this world building? There are lightners AND darkners with valentines. Why does this idea sound foreign to the sender to the point that the day is a “rumor?” Where are you from, sender?

4. “How absurd. Every day is a day of love, if only you believe it so. Do you believe it so?” What do we mean by “love?”

SO, THE PURPOSE OF THE MESSAGE.

I WANT TO HELP!

YES, THERE WAS SOMEONE I WANTED TO HELP

…

1. Given the last section, this creates an interesting vibe imo? This is a letter of “I want to contribute” and not “be mine 💘” which makes this feel even MORE out of place. Are you supposed to be here???

I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN WHO..

YES, IT'S QUITE IRONIC, BUT I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN.

WAS IT MYSELF? NO.

WELL, PERHAPS.

1. What, exactly, makes this ironic? In general for deltarune, or is there something about you that makes this something very odd?

2. “Was it myself? No. Well, perhaps.” What is a self, sender? How could it be that “no” and “perhaps” are both answers that are viable?

REGARDLESS, WHEN I SEE THEM, I'M CERTAIN I WILL KNOW IT STRAIGHT AWAY.

I NEVER FORGET SOMEONE I DON'T REMEMBER.

WILL YOU HELP ME?

…

…

1. “I’m certain I will know” will this be true for us as well? Are you a new character, or are you a character we’ve seen before?

2. “I never forget someone I don’t remember” also feels VERY deliberately worded. Something about this line is important, I think.

3. What do you need help with? I thought you were helping someone else?

4. The two lines of “…” next to each other strike me as odd. What does this mean?

YOU ARE VERY ODD, RESPONDING OUT LOUD TO A LETTER.

BUT, YOU SEEM RELIABLE.

I WILL BE COUNTING ON YOU.

1. This gives more of an in-game vibe than the rest of the letter, acting as though we have turned this into a dialogue.

2. What makes us reliable?

3. Counting on us for WHAT?

4. I feel like there’s some kind of joke lying in wait here over “letter” juxtaposed with “counting”

NOW, PUT ON YOUR COAT AND WASH YOUR FACE!

OR, PUT ON YOUR FACE AND WASH YOUR COAT.

NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER.

OR, IN ANY ORDER AT ALL.

1. This general section really has me curious as to who the sender is. After all, this is a very strange manner of speaking here. Love the silliness. Very unsure of what this means on a larger scale.

2. Why are we being told to do this?

GOOD BY!

1. I’ve seen SOOOOOO many people mention the spelling here. Curious if it means anything, or if it genuinely is just a mistake.

(There was a sound like something walking away

And, the letter was gone.)

1. Again, the narration seems odd with the grammar here?

2. This is SO funny when we consider this letter was replaced with a blank. Toby why did you do this it’s hilarious.

3. I wonder if inanimate object (letter) with legs and the cup Toby asked us to look at are connected.

Verdict: probably Not gaster, but Deffo suspicious. Cant count anything out yet imo.

[rxgirlie]

The Girl Next Door part VII

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: dubious content, affairs, sexual content, alcohol consumption, my improper use of commas, JFK references (a warning within itself)

A/N: I can’t remember who posted that photo up there^ but BLESS! Up until this point, this entire fic has been a slow burn. I hope everyone had fun while it lasted because it’s finally about to kick off. Big thanks to @vivalafae for talking me off the ledge multiple times while writing this chapter and @runningwiththefoxes for being the love of my life. Also, there’s a cutesy little playlist I made for this entire shit show, if anyone is interested in it, lemme know.

WC: 2539

I became more delusional the further we drove. Each mile marker was an omen, a declaration of how removed I was from real life. Our premeditation personified when he insisted I leave my car parked at the university after class on Friday.

“It’ll look weird if we leave together with multiple bags,” He told me. He was right, after all, but the notion still didn’t put me at ease.

The more secretive he became about our destination, the antsier I became.

“I don’t like surprises,” I told him as I gazed out the passenger’s window.

“Lighten up, Olive,” his hand on my inner thigh squeezed reassuringly, bunching my dress up even further under his fingertips, “just trust me.”

Trusting him was also easier said than done, but I did it with the type of ease that made me feel gullible, diminutive. Like I had folded myself up into delicate pieces to fit into the intricate, hollow spaces containing all the lies I had told and would tell in his name.

Nevertheless, he drove on, and so too did my desire for him, stretching endlessly like the highway laid out before us.

By the time we arrived in town, four whole hours later, I was content to continue spinning the web.

A fly does not struggle in a web in which its very wish was to get caught.

“I used to come here every summer with my parents before they divorced,” I told him, my wide eyes reflecting back to me through the window as I realized we were in Cape Cod.

“We’re going to Hyannis,” he said, squeezing my thigh as he continued to drive.

“To live out your Kennedy fantasy?”

“Which one are you referring to?” He glanced over at me with an impish grin, “The one where my brains are blown out of my skull or the one where I veer off this bridge up here and land in the pond?”

He jerked the wheel to the right, his car veering dangerously close to the edge of the road before realigning the wheel, crossing a small bridge as I grabbed onto his forearm, my mouth agape in a silent scream.

“You’re a fucking asshole!” I dug my nails into the tender flesh of his forearm to solidify my point.

“Can you swim, Olive?”

_________________________________________

“It’s beautiful.”

Settled on a bank directly overlooking the sea with unfiltered access to the beach, I stood back and took the house in with all its charm. Snowball hydrangeas teetered in the breeze, accenting the yard and picket fences, adding softness to the gray cedar siding. In typical New England fashion, the house was weather worn, but warm and inviting nonetheless. White adirondack chairs formed around a dining table on the concrete patio, only a few feet away from the entryway of the house.

“I used to think this place was a mansion when I was a kid.” He said as he came over to unlock the door.

He opened it, inviting me inside.

The house was swathed in navy blue linens, neutral shades, and pale pastels throughout, giving it a pop of warmth amongst the white planked walls. The living room and adjoining kitchen was bathed in natural light from the surrounding colonial style windows, spilling onto the natural wood floor, shining blindingly into my eyes as I made a right down a long hallway.

“Last door on the left,” He said from his place behind me, but I kept walking, stopping long enough to run my hands across the markings on the first door frame I passed.

‘JM’ and ‘JA’ had been etched in pencil along the door’s frame ranging from midway up my thigh, spanning to above my eyeline. A simple two digit year was beside every entry.

“Are you JM or JA?” I turned back to look at him as he made his way up to inspect the markings.

“JM.”

“Jeryd Motherfucker,” I joked and he looked at me with a grin.

“It’s French.”

I only nodded in response, running my fingertips along the scattered pieces of driftwood that hung along the hall’s narrow walls as I sought out the bedroom I would be sleeping in.

The bedroom was functional and simple, its shaker furniture characteristic of the quintessential New England style. A four poster bed sat against the far right wall under a bare window, a bookshelf directly across it on the opposing wall, with a dresser nestled into an alcove beside the windows leading out to a stunning view of the coastline.

“What a view,” I mused as my fingertips danced across the windowpane.

“Yeah,” He walked up to join at my side, never taking his eyes off mine, “What a view.”

_________________________________________

The rest of the day was spent in town, perusing the little shops that littered Main Street, fighting through tourist sludge, and a quick trip to a local market to pick up non-perishable necessities. It felt normal and fun doing such casual things with him. For a while I was oblivious to anything but the pleasure of being with him.

He chose Pain D'Avignon for dinner. We drank Belgian beer on the intimate patio, people watching, until my Dutch courage kicked in, willing my curious nature to take the lead.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Here, to the restaurant,” He asked, stopping long enough to take a pull from his pint, “or to Hyannis?”

“Hyannis.”

“Don’t question my motives, Olive,” he lowered his eyes at me, “Can we have dinner without an interrogation?”

“Sure,” I sat back in my seat and nodded, “Whatever you want.”

His eyes sparkled like crystalline snow, more gray than blue at that particular moment, possibly due to the beam of sun that had broken through a small sliver between two buildings across the street. I surmised, though, they reacted to my giving him the reins to do whatever he pleased.

At some point, after a hearty serving of Wellfleet oysters, I lost all interest in questioning his motives.

We both watched curiously as a small boy, no more than three, picked up a glob of cotton candy pink ice cream from its cone, lobbing it directly at his mother as they crossed the street away from us.

“We used to be able to sit and enjoy each other , too.” His mother looked over at Jeryd and I, laughing sarcastically as she combed her fingers through the sticky concoction leaking from her blonde curls. She grabbed the ice cream cone, now covered in fingerprints, and tossed it in the garbage can a few feet from us. All the while her kid screamed bloody murder as he was dragged away by, what I assumed, were his older siblings.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.” She offered us a genuine smile and rejoined her clan.

“I don’t know if I’m fit for that type of nightmare,” he laughed, tossing his napkin on the table.

“Kids are gross,” I laughed out and he nodded in agreement.

“And codependent,” He added.

“I guess that’s why I’m an only child.”

“Surely you couldn’t have been that awful of a child, Liv.”

“There was no real reason for them to try for perfection a second time when they got so close the first time around.” I flashed him a big smile, and he reached across the table, dragging the palm of his hand down my forehead, slender fingers down the bridge of my nose, gripping my chin with a delicate squeeze.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a good dad,” I offered, obviously on my way to being drunk because why else would I have said something so out of pocket?

“You don’t know that much about me.” He eyed me over the rim of his glass as he finished his beer.

“I guess I don’t.”

I realized then and there that it would never just be dinner with him. My internal monologue would always fire on all cylinders, leaving me musing to myself about a future with him, his past, and everything between where we sat now and where we would go in the future. His mother’s words fueled my delusions even further, nowhere was safe, every place leading back to what she had said days prior. It was never just dinner. Every place led back to his arms, to his grasp. Him still virtually a stranger throughout, where I stood, open and transparent, ready to be sought out and read, cover to cover. Oftentimes I found myself desiring to be the painter instead of the muse. Thus, it was easy to see a future with him. To imagine things far beyond my scope. But it’s always easier to not see the forest for the trees, isn’t it?

“Where’d you go just then?” He asked, bringing me plummeting back down to earth.

He reached across the table, seeking out my balled up fist.

I hesitated, eventually unfurling my palm to him.

“Why are you so scared to touch me, Olive?”

His fingers danced across my palm, his nails following the trails of the deeply etched lines.

“I’m not scared to touch you.” A lie if I had ever told one. All I did was lie. But it came so easily when I was looking at him. That in itself should’ve scared me away. But it didn’t. It never did. Never would.

“What do you want from me?” I asked him.

He angled his head to the side, an inquisitorial look painting his features as his lips pulled into a smile.

“What do you want to give me?”

“You say that as if I have a choice in the matter,” I laughed dryly, pulling my hand back from him like a scolded child.

_________________________________________

A subdued energy overtook me once we were back in the cottage and I walked on eggshells contemplating what would come next.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth like I normally would that time of night, alone with myself and my thoughts just long enough to realize the gravity of the situation and let it all come crashing back down on me. Nothing like looking in the mirror and seeing the problem staring back at you.

When I exited the bathroom, he trapped me between his body and the wall, looking down at me like prey caught in a trap.

“You have a choice,” He grasped at the halter strap tied intricately at my neck, unwrapping me like a gift from the neck down.

“Do I?” I wriggled to accommodate him as he slid the dress down my stomach and over my hips.

He nodded down at me, grasping my jaw to tilt my head up to him.

“Everyone has a choice.” He worked my mouth open with his, enough for his tongue to find solace as it tangled with mine.

He broke away long enough to speak with his tinged sarcasm, “What’s your excuse going to be tomorrow?” He asked, “‘I was drunk.’” Parroting back the words I had said to him the night I embarrassingly apologized for kissing him in his car.

“I’m not sorry.” I looked up at him, reaching down to grasp onto his collar. “I wasn’t sorry then and I’m not sorry now.”

“Maybe I’ll be sorry tomorrow,” I shook my head and looked down, feeling transparent and small under his gaze, “Maybe I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life, I don’t know.”

He grasped my chin, pulling my face back up to look at him. We were still for a brief second, staring at one another as if we could read each other’s minds.

He was quick to hoist me up by the back of my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist, and we bounced around the hallway, my fingers combing through the hair at the nape of his neck as we did a dance of sorts through the narrow hall and into the bedroom.

When he laid me out on the bed, I leaned up towards him, practically tearing him out of his clothes. He took his time undressing me, exploring every inch of my body as he removed the remnants of my dress. Each time I’d rise off the bed to touch him, to graze my hand across his chest, he would press me back into the mattress with a smirk. He went down and pulled off my panties as he kissed around my navel and teased my inner thighs with his lean fingers. Just when I least expected it, he dipped his head low, licking a stripe through my folds, never taking his eyes off mine.

I took a deep breath and laced my fingers into his while he worked his tongue, exploring places I had never imagined him. My other hand raked through his scalp, pressing him further into my cunt.

He came up for air as I felt myself on the precipice of an orgasm, crawling his way up my body to hover over me. When he kissed me, I tasted myself mixed with a flavor that was unmistakably him.

I wrapped my legs around him, letting my body follow his lead as he pressed himself into me. Usually he was quick and relentless upon entry, but that night, he took his time filling in gaps, touching places he had never been before, places he had never seen.

A sort of unfettered pleasure transpired between us. One born from pure, unbridled lust between two people who knew right from wrong, but chose the latter because burning out simply felt better than fading away.

He moved his hands over my lower back and ass, grasping for purchase, driving himself further and further into me. I laid there, clinging to him for dear life, as I plummeted into an intense orgasm. For a while, it was hard to discern where one began and the other ended. We melted together, and each time his face would end up in the crook of my neck, moaning and groaning into the sensitive skin, I would nod along, pressing chaste kisses to the side of his head and into his hairline.

That night, I would lose all sense of fear in regards to him. I would, instead, get lost in his sea blue eyes, the light freckles that littered his cheeks and chest, the scar on his chin. I would watch closely as his shoulders flexed with each thrust, my hands roaming over his flesh with amazement as his body worked its way into mine. The tiny part of me that longed for normalcy, a foundation in which I could build from, got tucked away when he pulled back to look at me with his icy blues. The intensity was there, it would never fade, but a longing that I finally understood and felt deeply myself, shone through then.

He drug the palm of his hand down my forehead, pointer finger down the bridge of my nose, crescendoing with a tender kiss on my lips.

I fell in love at the tender age of twenty-two, in Hyannis, at a cottage by the sea, under the weight of a married man. It was simultaneously one of the best and worst things that I would ever do in my entire life.

Tag list: @aurorag98

[callsign-hexen]

Barn Lights and Haylofts

Summary: After being away on a trip out of state, you find yourself going to the Abbott ranch to visit on your way home. Little did you know that you were about to walk into something would make you wish you just drove off...

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: cursing, sexual tension, the character death of an asshole, descriptions of a dead body (my hyper fixation on the stages of death really starts showing in this), hiding said body, possible grammar mistakes, an insane amount of commas (Seriously, you could take a shot every time you see one and be completely hammered by the end of this), if I miss any let me know!

Author’s note: I finally wrote something! The editing is slim to none, I was too excited!

tag list: @beacheybabes97

You watch as the headlights of your truck light up the road. The moon lights the rest of the way as you drive through the fields of Wabang, Wyoming.

You’ve been out of town for nearly a month at craft festival down south. As much as it feels great to be outside of state lines, you can’t help but feel homesick, so you take a few stops as possible on your way back. You’ve been driving for half a day in the beaten old truck.

You’ve lived in Wabang for as long as you can remember, you were born there, and you can see yourself buried there with the rest of your lineage. Your family worked in wood crafts. For generations, your family has hand carved many items throughout the town. Instead of playing with dolls, you grew up learning to carve. The business was run by you, your mother, and your father. That was, until your mother passed when you were 14, and your father just three years ago. It was all yours now. The old house, the workshop, and a small plot of land that a few cows and other animals that have made their home there.

The shop was where you met Rhett.

When you were 12, Royal brought Rhett with him into town to run some errands, one of which being to pick up an order he had placed. It was a simple wooden plaque with Abbott name burned into it to sit on the front porch. Your family ran the business in the workshop across from your house. Your days were spent waking up early, making sure the cows are taken care of, go to school, and come home to learn about wood working. When the Abbotts came by you were sitting on the workshop bench whittling your next little project, a carving of a little wolf howling at the sky. You turn around as you hear them come in.

Royal and the younger Abbott boy stopped at the entrance as they noticed it was just you. Royal greeted you with a call of your name, “Is your dad around?” he asked. You nod your head, hopping off the bench. “Yes sir, he’s over yonder in the pasture. One of our calves started wondering off so he went to make sure she’s alright. Are you here to pick up, Mr. Abbott?” you answered him, shifting your eyes over to the boy next to him. Rhett was in your grade, but the two of you never shared a word to each other, barely even a glance at one another. You sat on the opposite sides of the room and never got near enough to touch.

Now that you stand just a couple of feet from him, you almost feel like you can’t move anymore. Frozen in place until you finally snap yourself out of it before he thinks you’re as weird as everyone else does. You were always the loner everyone picked at.

“Right you are, does your father normally leave you alone at the shop?” Royal asked as you went to pick up his plaque off the shelf on the wall of the workshop. You take it over to him and placed it on the table for him to observe it. “Yeah, but only if it’s either an emergency or if he’ll only be gone for a few minutes. He should be back soon, the calve didn’t wander too far today,” you said. Royal picked up the plaque, admiring the work your father put into it, with a little bit of your help here and there.

“Damn fine work, Cecelia is gonna love this hanging up on the porch,” Royal gestures to Rhett as he looks at the woodwork. “This is my son, Rhett. I understand y’all go to school together.” Rhett shifts his gaze from the projects laying around the shop to you, his height is about the same as yours, his blue eyes looking into yours. He nods his head as a way of acknowledgment, you nod back. No words were said, you didn’t think you could for them in regard to him. You couldn’t tell at the time, but it might have been a schoolgirl crush.

The older Abbott paid for his plaque and the two made their leave. Before hopping into the truck, Rhett looked over to you one more time to see you whipping your head the other direction, trying not to let him see you looking at him back. You continued to see more of the Abbotts bit by bit since that day. You two didn’t get closer until your mothers passing, Cecelia would invite you and your father over for dinner every once in a while, when things got tough. Since then, Rhett began to play the role of some type of bodyguard. He was your only friend. When people would pick on you, they had Rhett to deal with. He would walk you home from school and drive you once the two of you were older. You would work together on his ranch, and he would help around your field if it was needed or keep you company in the shop when you were alone. As the years go on, the schoolgirl crush didn’t go away, but may have worsened. You couldn’t tell him, especially when the two of you were 16 when he caught his eye on Maria Olivares. You never felt like you could match up to her, the prettiest girl in school that every guy fawned over. It wasn’t too bad, at least Rhett was still by your side in one way.

Now the two of you are in your 20s. You’ve attended every rodeo, watched him fall off of every bull and was there to patch him up after every bar fight. After the first few months of your fathers passing, the roles were reversed for a while. You would drink a bit more, and all it took was for one buckle bunny to make a snide remark and her face would meet your fist in a timed record. Rhett dragged you out from the bar one night and drove you home. As he patched you up in the low light at your kitchen table, you would never forget what he said to you.

“Listen, I know this is hard. I know I don’t completely know how you feel, and I won’t for a long time. But it’s not just you still. You have me, and I will always be here. You have Mom, Dad, Perry, and Rebecca. Amy looks up to you and even calls you her aunt. We’re always gonna be here for you, and we don’t want to see you dig yourself into a grave. Let us help you, please.”

You stopped drinking so much that night, and you cried in his arms that night when you finally accepted your grief. He went as far as to sleep over at your house a couple of nights so that you wouldn’t be alone in your childhood home.

You’ve managed to keep the business running well and good. It’s been tough with it being just you, but you’ve been able to keep up with all your father has taught you through the years. You were even able to keep things well enough to go to the craft festival like you and your father did every year. The two of you would spend months preparing all of the little trinkets and projects to sell, and you would sell damn near all of them. You’ve been successful enough to pull it off the past three years.

This is what lands you to where you are now. In the late hours of the night, you were finally made your way back.

It feels like forever, but the Abbott ranch finally makes way into your line of site. You don’t see Rhett’s old, blue GMC in the lot. He doesn’t seem to be home, but with seeing the other cars, everyone else is. You wonder where he could be, it’s later than usual for him to be at the Handsome Gambler. The lights in the house are off except for the faint light from window in the kitchen. You were feeling guilty about possibly waking everyone up, but you feel better knowing that at least someone is still awake at an ungodly hour. Turning off the lights to the truck, you cut the engine and step out. You make your way over to the door leading to the kitchen and gently knock a few times, alerting whoever was inside of your presence. It takes a couple of moments, almost enough to where you think of going ahead and heading home, turning in for the night and catching up on some of the rest you have lost from the drive. As you’re about to turn around, the door finally opens to reveal Royal. He lets out a breath and nods to you, “Well look who it is, when’d you get back in town?”

“Just now actually,” you said with a small laugh and a smile, “thought I would come by and see you guys on my way home, make sure I wasn’t forgotten.” Royal laughs at the statement and gives you a pat on the shoulder. “I doubt that could ever happen, Amy’s been asking when you’d be back almost since you left,” he said.

You both gave a laugh as you thought of Rhett’s niece. You were both 15 when she was born. He was unsure of the arrival of a new child in the house, but the second he held her he knew he would protect her the best he could. He’d take care of anyone who messes with her the same he did with you. Amy follows you almost everywhere you go. When she’s not in school, she’d come with you to the shop with Rhett and watch you work, and you’d teach her how to make a few small things if she begged you enough. “I’m sure she’ll be excited I’m back. I’d go say ‘hi’ to her now, but I don’t want to cause a bother waking her up,” you said. You were about to ask if it was okay to come in and chat a minute, let him know how business was at the festival and how proud you were this year when a noise came up behind him.

You look passed him as Rhett came downstairs, catching your eye in a hoodie sporting a split lip and a bruise on his cheek. He stops and turns in your direction, you lock eyes from across the kitchen as he halts in his place, almost startled at your arrival. “What are you doing here?” he asks you. You chuckle, looking him up and down, “Well that’s something to say after not seeing me for almost a damn month,” you respond. You smoothly walked past Royal, making your way to him to inspect his injuries. You gently take his chin to move his head side to side, he makes a low noise and lazily moves your hand away. “Jesus,” you playfully scold him, “I leave for a while and you get yourself into shit, I really should keep you on a leash, shouldn’t I? Who’d you fight this time, one of the Tillerson boys?” Your comment makes his eyes widen; you see something that you can’t make out in his eyes. Not quite startled, but more of a bit of fear and uncertainty. Within your time together as you got him out of fights here and there, he grew to have a tiny bit of fear over being on the wrong side of your temper. “I guess you can say that,” he says almost as a whisper. You laugh again, glancing back at Royal, “like I said, leash.”

You look back to Rhett, nudging him in the chest, “Seriously, you gotta let me give Luke and Trevor, or whichever one you got into it with, a piece of my mind next time I see them”

Rhett cleared his throat and shifted his stance on his feet. You narrowed your eyes at him a bit, stepping back to completely look at him. You’ve always been able to tell if there was something wrong, or if he was lying. And you can tell now, the stench of lies goes up to high heaven. “You doin’ alright Rhett?” You asked him. He nodded his head a couple of times, “Yeah yeah, my minds just a little fuzzy from the drinks and fightin’ tonight” he said, avoiding your eyes. You nodded your head “mm-hmm” you hummed. You looked back at Royal again, he was looking out the window, as if he was expecting someone. You looked back at Rhett; he still doesn’t meet your eyes. “What did you do?” you asked in a lowered tone.

He finally looks at you, a little more alarmed, “Nothing” he said a little more rushed than he meant to. You stared him down hard, “Nothing” you repeated to him. “So why do you seem so…. jumpy tonight?” He holds your stare, he can tell you have something on him, and he’ll be able to break soon. He was never that good at lying to you or able to keep things from you. “Like I said, drinkin’ and fightin’ cloudin’ my head” he says.

“Rhett” you hear Royal say from behind you. You both look to him; he nods his head to outside in a “hurry up” notion. Rhett seems to understand what his father is trying to say to him and he looks back to you, “Look, it’s gettin’ late, and you drove a good while. You need to go get some sleep. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow, okay? I’ll walk you the truck” he says, motioning you to walk with him. You still stand there, not completely trusting the situation. “Rhett,” you say, “Whatever it is, you might as well say now. I know that you know I can tell when you’re hiding something, and if you want me to still talk to you tomorrow, you’d say it right now.” Rhett almost feels like a child getting in trouble, hell he might as well be. He looks to Royal, who thinks for a second and then sighs, motioning the two of you to go with him. Rhett turns back to you as you await your answer.

“Come on” ……………………………………………………………….. They walk you to the barn across from the house, the moon lights your way as you walk behind Rhett’s towering figure. Your mind is racing, trying to think of any of the possible, stupid situation that Rhett could get himself into, and what it could have been to be hidden in the barn. And how severe could it be for him to try to hide it from you, his closest and only actual friend. When you reach the barn doors, Royal turns around to you.

“Before we show you, you have to swear that anything that you see here must not leave this property. You do not say anything to anyone, especially not to Amy,” he says to you, lowering his voice to where only the three of you can hear. After a moment of contemplation, your mind still soaring over the different situations that this can lead to, you nod your head at him. Royal opens the barn doors, the lights almost burning your eyes as they adjusted to the brightness as dim as they were. When you were finally able to see right, you see that Rhett’s truck is inside rather than where it’s normally parked outside, answering your question from earlier. You shift your attention to Rhett himself; he puts a hand on your back, gently pushing you forward. As you walk closer, you start to see something laying closer to the back. You get a chill running through your spine as you begin to realize what was lying motionless in the back of Rhett’s truck.

Trevor Tillerson was lying in the truck bed, face covered in blood and looking as if he were sleeping. But you have a terrible feeling he’s not. You walk over to him, looking over his pale complexion.

“Him and Perry got into it behind the bar. I wasn’t there when it happened but know Perry’s temper, I’m sure he said something he shouldn’t have while Perry was in the state he was in,” you hear Rhett say behind you. “I left to bring the truck around, he was on the ground when I got back.”

You swallow the lump in your thought that began to rise as you looked at the body. Reaching down to put your fingers to find a pulse point, only to find nothing as you touch his cold skin. You hear Rhett say your name, you can tell he is getting worried at your silence. Your shift your hand to his face, lifting his eyelid, his eyes have already become cloudy just slightly. A sign that this night isn’t gonna end for a long time. You’ve seen death before, all of you have, it’s hard to run a ranch without seeing it. But there’s a hard difference between livestock and a person.

“What are you gonna do now?” you said after what felt like eternity. “What?” Rhett asked. You turn around to the two men behind you. “Rigor mortis sets in within a couple of hours after death. Unless you want to walk up to the police station with a stiff body, I have feeling you guys are gonna try to hide him instead. So you might want to make your plan before we sit here all night staring at a dead body, especially of you don’t want his brothers coming around looking for him.” Rhett looked at you as if you had two heads, walking towards you as he tried to think of what to say to get you out of this. “As far as anyone is concerned, you’re still out of town. If anything, you need to go home before anyone knows you’re here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m standing here, I’m looking at him, this makes me part of it by just being here!” you try to reason with him. They’re gonna need help and they know it; if anyone asks where they were, Rhett could say that he was with you on your first night back as an alibi. Rhett can feel himself starting to get aggravated, he wants you far from here. He wishes he could take you home, or anywhere else as long as it wasn’t the Abbott ranch. “No, your DNA isn’t on anything, you can still go and try to forget this, you need to go before something else happens,” he says. You’re about to defend your case before Royal interrupts you both, “both of you shut up and listen!”

You both turn your attention to the elder man. “Rhett, you help me get him out of the truck, after that I want the both of you to burn the shirt and clean out the back of the truck. I’ll take care of the body,” Rhett was about to say something before his father shot him a look. “We can’t stand here all night arguing, we need to hide the body before his brothers realize something happened.”

After they get Trevor out and wrapped up, you help them get his body strapped to the horse, Tillie. While you strap him in, the lights start flickering. But not in a fuse shortening way, but like they were being manually flipped on and off. You all share a look, “Perry” Royal said. You run over to the door and peak through, “shit!” you say as you see the Tillerson’s at the house. You look back to the men, “The Tillerson’s are here, we gotta hurry.” Royal nods as he mounts Tillie, Rhett going to open the back door. After Royal rides out, you and Rhett quickly throw some bales of hay into the truck bed. You look up at each other as you start to hear voices coming closer by the second. Rhett looks behind you, “Hayloft, up the ladder. They won’t be able to see us under the hay.” You both start that way as the door starts banging against the lock. You both rush up the ladder as fast as you can, falling into the hay just in the nick of time. The Tillerson brothers, along with Perry, walk in only to find an empty stable with a truck full of hay. Not looking up to see the two of you as you cover yourselves.

Rhett holds you close to him as you both hide in the stash of hay. Your bodies flush against one another. You won’t lie and say that you never dreamed of being in this position, except those dreams didn’t involve covering up an accidental murder case.

Rhett’s trying to keep his breathing low, all while trying to catch it. It almost feels like the past two hours have been a blur. With the rush of adrenaline caused by the fucked situation mixed with seeing you after so long, he feels like he could pass out right now with you in his arms like he’s been wanting to for years. The both of you can feel yourselves warming up from the body heat as you lay low in the hay, but not to where you’re suffocating.

After they finally leave, you both keep still as you finally allow yourselves to breath once again. Your body relaxing against Rhett as you calm down from the rush. You can feel his breath against your cheek. His arms tighten around you, almost like he thought you could slip from his fingers. You look over to him, your nose brushing his with how close you were. You shift your body to completely face him, his arms still around you as you two begin to look like lovers in a warm embrace. How you wish that were true. You look at each other, nose to nose, all it could take was a slight movement and you could brush your lips against his. Rhett can feel his heartbeat in his ears, his eyes leaving yours only to look at your lips and back up. You do the same, staring into his bright blue eyes.

You don’t know what makes you pull away slightly. Maybe it’s the fear of rejection, maybe it’s the feeling that it’s the wrong place for this, or maybe you don’t want to ruin how things are between you two. You pull away only an inch from him, still close to feel his body against you, but enough to cool off a bit. “What do you think is gonna happen, Rhett?” you whisper. He looks at you with uncertainty. “I’m not sure,” he says so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear him. “All I know is that it’s not gonna be good.” He tucks your head into his neck as you both lay there in the hayloft. He wishes you could both lay there forever, or at least until sunrise.

As you shut your eyes, you wrap your arms around him. You two try to make the most of this calm moment in between chaos. None of you know of what’s to come, but until then, you both rest.

[duckiemimi]

this was submitted as a submission! i kept their username hidden just in case they wanted their privacy! also, a heads up—i’ll be talking about death and ideation here.

what is a punishment for a monster?

this’ll be a little soft and embarrassing, but who am i if not soft and embarrassing? i think that’s a good thing. i hope you think so, too.

“punishment for a monster” is a very personal story to me. to this day, i’m not quite sure what prompted me to write it. i can’t really pinpoint a specific event in my life that inspired the structure and the story, but i do know that it felt like a long, overdue hug. it felt it was waiting for me, too.

you ask how i came up with the concept.

if i could pick out a more concrete moment of inspiration, it would be after watching Mike Flanagan’s “Haunting of Hill House”! i won’t spoil you too much,

***(skip this part if you’d rather watch it first!)***

but there’s a character in the show who goes around talking to his dead wife on an every day basis, like she’s there but not really there. at first, we’re led to believe that it’s a classic case of a haunting, like the title implies. by the end of the story, it becomes less clear, more murky. it seemed to me like he kept holding onto the memories of her, like he’d built a moving image of his late wife with every moment of her he could remember. so, yeah: she was there, but not really there. memories are building blocks, i think.

***(spoiler over; you’re good!)***

i’ve always had an interest in death and the afterlife, what it means for the people who keep going and what it means for the people who rest. it’s not particularly religious in nature; hell, i’d consider myself far from religious. i don’t know. i guess i wanted to know why some circles close and why circles don’t. why does the pen stop moving?

my cousin died earlier during the pandemic, and it was also during the time i was put on watch. actually, i think i wanted to go before she actually went. i’m older than her, but i guess that didn’t really mean anything in the end. i’ll always be older. and anyway, it’s selfish to want to go when someone’s already on their way, isn’t it?

in my culture, when people die, sometimes they come back as dreams. they’d come back one last time to say goodbye, and that’s when you know they’re happier. i never saw my cousin in my dreams. i guess i wouldn’t call us close. i hope she visited my sister, though. she wouldn’t tell me, but i don’t pry. it’s something between them only.

you ask about the title.

i’ll be honest, i didn’t really know what to title the story. pinterest is a treasure trove of ideas. all i knew was that it had to be a quote about “punishment.”

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms—and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

that’s the full quote from a book titled “The Wrath and the Dawn” by Renee Ahdieh. i’ve never read the book before. i’m sure it’s beautiful, and i know that even by this one line. maybe i’ll read it some day.

it’s a sweet irony, i think, to title a story about healing and second chances “punishment for a monster”, to title a story about forgiveness and metamorphosis something so punitive and cruel. but i guess it works in both geto and gojo’s cases. who is the monster here? who is being punished? but i think people can change. i think love transmutes.

you ask if i was as broken as you as you read it.

well, maybe. i tend to realize things in hindsight. at the time, i was only focused on geto and gojo, where to put my commas and spaces, what words to use to talk about loss. i only realized later on that i’ve typed up most of me into it, too. but isn’t that all art? isn’t art just a giant portrait of who we are at the time? i’m rewriting “honesty corner” and i considered rewriting “punishment for a monster”, but i think i want to keep that picture of me from then. if i ever muster up the courage to read it again, it’ll be like looking through a photo album.

i would write more of how i conceptualized geto and gojo in the story, but i think we’ve connected well enough for you to know what i meant. i read every single comment and so many of you have such personal tethers to the story. i won’t get in your way; you deserve to mourn the way you want, too. and anyway, grief is never-ending. it’s a lifetime thing and it isn’t always linear, and though you carry it for life, it doesn’t define you. love defines you.

(though you could say grief is an extension of love. how’s that poem go again? grief is love in a heavy coat?)

thank you so much for liking a story i wrote of my two favorite characters. i don’t think life is made up of straight lines. one day, when we’re both ready, let’s have some clementines at the table.

[spurgie-cousin]

Part of me thinks it’s Jill’s 1980s/90s cosmetology schooling that makes her do this to her daughters (I just looked up 1980s makeup and the thin comma brows definitely show up) because that’s all she knows how to do, but also there’s a small part of me that’s beginning to agree with the snarkers that think she fucks up her daughters’ appearances on purpose because she wants to be the most beautiful one in the house and can’t let her daughters outshine her.

I know that’s a common theory with probably no solid proof, but Jill’s phone is with her all the time, there’s no way she doesn’t see any current makeup and hair trends online. Or even in real life. They travel enough that surely Jill and the girls have seen that very few people are doing their hair and makeup that way anymore? Unless they believe it makes them stand out? But that doesn’t mesh with their alleged beliefs on modesty and being humble.

Jill is a hornet's nest of contradictions tbh, especially in the modesty department. I think Jill would've finished up home/high school in the 90s, if she was born in '78 and got her cosmetology license at at least 18 or 19, that puts her in '96ish at the earliest? which makes her choices even more baffling tbh bc that's closer to Y2K than the mid 80s.

I think, like with her religious beliefs, Jill decides something is true and then that's that, she's incapable of evolving past it for the most part lol. She'll change little things here and there, like the eyebrows I pointed out, but the basics start pretty much the same: dark lipstick, dark bottom eyeliner, big, dyed hair. She probably learned her basics from her mom in the 80s (who also loves her a big 70s/80s hairdo) and then just locked that in for the rest of her life.

Just based on the clothes/makeup/hair Jill has put on herself, I'm not sure if I'm totally in on the theory that she's trying to make her daughters uglier, esp considering the fact that she believes that looking good is second only to motherhood as far as what makes you a good biblical woman (again, hornet's nest of contradiction). I think she wants her daughters to be hot, her idea of hot is just kind of clownish and outdated. I think just like Jill, a lot of the girls just locked in the beauty basics she taught them and threw away the key. For Nurie though I think it's also possible that years of over-plucking really fucked up her brows ability to grow back (I did that shit to myself in the early 2000s too) and she just doesn't know what else to do with them besides trace over what's there.

Also what you said about standing out, I do think that's true for their clothing choices at least. Jill has said herself that when it comes to modesty, she almost over does it to make sure everyone who sees her family knows they're being modest on purpose. Like when we see the girls in otherwise modest dresses that still have a tshirt underneath, or the boys in jeans in 100 degree weather at the beach, that's on purpose according to Jill.

[kittttycakes]

this was originally something I sent in a couple asks to @poppy-metal on anon about (since this is a sideblog boo) but I’m just having a lot of thoughts I gotta flesh out and feelings about princess!reader, knight!steve, and highwayman!eddie and I’ve gotta get them all out

contents: fem!princess reader, knight!steve, highwayman!eddie, eventual steve x reader x eddie, implied fantasy levels of peril that does not end up playing out, fantasy renaissance setting (think Ever After or honestly any fantasy media you like that maybe doesn’t pay too much attention to historical accuracy in the name of having fun and having good vibes), frankly alarming use of commas and parenthesis, pining

a/n: 2.4K because this ballooned wildly out of control, part one of maybe more?

a/n 2.0: part two is here!

you’ve known steve your whole life, almost, he’s always been your most loyal knight, and you’ve always handpicked him as part of your guard any time you have to travel because he’s the one you trust the most to keep you safe

(he’s been in love with you since the day you met. once you gave him your favor at a tournament and he’s kept it with him ever since, after he won. he would risk it all to be with you but can’t imagine putting you in a position to refuse him, and so he puts all of that love into keeping you safe, and hopes you can feel it when you press your hand to his as he helps you in to your litter)

{you know. you have always known and you would run away with him if he asked but you have also always known who you are: an expendable princess to a kingdom with too many heirs and not enough land that will, someday soon, no longer exist, once the kingdoms nearest to yours realize how easy it would be to take, but that’s not your story. this is}

you’re traveling as quietly and as carefully as you can, because there are rumors of highwaymen in this wood, because you are unmarried, because the other (dwindling) guard and the other larger carriages have been diverted to the other heirs closer to the throne, and so it is only you, and your most loyal {most beloved} knight on horseback and the driver of your carriage and the nurse turned companion you’ve had since childhood who has a tendency to doze off the moment the wheels begin turning, meaning that you can, if you are quiet, talk with steve through the window as he rides alongside you

(and he can pretend that his heart isn’t breaking, because this may be the last time he can be with you like this, because this isn’t the travel of moving houses in the summer, this isn’t traveling to a foreign court to strengthen an alliance, this is something else. you are going to meet a prince, and maybe he will marry you, and then…and then he can’t think about it any more)

{and you can pretend that your heart isn’t breaking, either, because you have been privately assured that this is the last chance, if this man you have never met does not want to marry you, then you’ll be sent away to a crumbling nunnery at the edges of the kingdom because you are quickly becoming more of a liability than an asset and you can’t decide which is worse, to lose steve and to lose this closeness because a man you have never met before comes between you, or to lose steve at the gates of a nunnery and spend the rest of your days in quiet contemplation, thinking about what could have been if you had been born to any other station}

but it is a beautiful day and the woods are quiet and you have this moment now, with steve, almost perfect, almost alone, until he stops, abruptly, and holds up his hand for the driver to stop as well, and when you start to ask him why, he starts to tell you to wait a moment, which is all the warning you get before an arrow embeds itself in the top of your carriage

and maybe - maybe if steve loved you less it wouldn’t have happened the way that it did, but he is so focused on the threat from above in the trees and from the men coming down the road towards you that he does not think to check the road behind or beside you

you don’t even have time to scream when a pair of strong hands pull you out of the carriage and down to the road. you stumble, just a little, because all your life you’ve been treated as if you’re made of glass, all gentle touches and hovering hands and the concern in your lady’s maid’s eyes when she thinks she may have stuck you with a pin. but this is different - there is care here, this person doesn’t want to hurt you, but they do want you to move quickly and get down

the driver has already made a run for it into the trees and no one makes a move to stop him, because by the time he reaches the nearest town, it will be far too late. your companion, who has only now woken up, is screaming inside the carriage, but that isn’t important now

what is important is the man behind you, with one hand on your waist and the other over your mouth, the press of his heavy rings against your lips, not enough to hurt but enough to feel, and a soft gasp as you realize that this is the first time any man has touched you so intimately

what is also important is that steve, for all of his skill as a knight and for all of his love for you, is horribly outnumbered, with enough men to spare to unload your trunks and even one to suggest to your companion that, perhaps, she might like to try running back down the road until she reaches the town before or a kinder traveling band, whichever comes first

you can see it in steve’s eyes, when you’re walked around to his side of the road, your own eyes wide with panic but not fear, not yet, because it’s all happened too fast for you to be afraid. until, that is, you hear the man holding you [“that’s a good girl, darling, keep walking this way”] and you remember every story you have ever heard about highwaymen and beautiful young women. but you can see it, how much steve loves you and how angry he is at the men that have surrounded the both of you and how deeply, deeply he feels like he has failed you and you try to show him that you don’t blame him, not for this, as he’s forced to lay down his sword

“you can take whatever you’d like. just let us go,” steve is using that tone of voice that you recognize as his most reasonable but barely restrained at the same time, just the barest hint of a threat underneath the veneer of reasonableness and courtly politeness drilled into him since birth, and you still want to scream but maybe just a bit less now, because even when he’s outnumbered six to one, he’s still steve

the voice that comes from behind you sounds just as reasonable as you feel it rumble against your back, but there’s a humor there, as if he’s barely stopping himself from laughing at a joke that only he knows - “I did think about it. I’d planned on it, really, but then—”

and he takes his hand away from your mouth to hold out to one of his men, adjusting automatically to bring his whole arm across your waist, so you can’t run to steve like every cell in your body is screaming for you to do, pulling you more firmly against him.

“I saw this. and I’m pretty good with maps, like knowing whose territory I’m in, I suppose, so imagine my surprise when I saw this lovely royal seal on this message to your hosts.”

and he holds it out in front of you, the parchment unsealed, the crest imprinted in the wax split down the middle, the details of your kingdom and your dowry and how advantageous an alliance would be. and your blood runs cold

you didn’t realize you intended to say anything before you started talking. “you can have all of it. the jewelry—there’s a false bottom to the trunk, under my dresses. you can have—here—“ and here you start to pull the pearl tipped pins from your hair, the careful construction of your maid tumbling down piece by piece as you try to push them into his hand, the one holding the parchment still, as steve’s eyes beg you to stop talking

“I’m not—we didn’t want—the roads are dangerous, so we…so I don’t have…much of my jewelry on me, but you can have it all, I don’t want it, just let him go.” steve’s face is still composed but his eyes—his eyes are horrified as the last words leave your mouth, but you don’t think you’re leaving the woods anymore, and you’d rather he go than see what might happen

but you’re surprised, nearly shocked, when the voice behind you drops the parchment and presses the pins back into your hand and says, with just a tinge of the horror you see reflected in steve’s eyes, “I think you’d better stop that, princess. this isn’t exactly the place. we can discuss this like [and here he looks at steve] like gentlemen, somewhere more private. I’m sure if your father can afford such a generous dowry, he can afford to pay just a little ransom for his daughter and her knight.”

it’s only after - after the trunks have been carried away, after the man with his arm around you instructs the men to clear everything away, after the horses are given over to his men - that you see his face for the first time, and get his name

he’s still holding on to you as his men finish pushing the carriage into the undergrowth of the forest, the road looking as undisturbed as it did when you first arrived, as casually as if he does it all the time {maybe he does}, that he says, breath brushing against your ear and making a shiver run down your spine - “I’m trusting you not to do anything foolish if I let go of you. I can do that, right, princess?” and it feels mocking, the way he says your title, but not unpleasantly so, and you shove this feeling down and push it away—

“I won’t do anything, I promise. you have my word.”

and he lets you go. you aren’t expecting it, after having him solidly behind you for what felt like an hour but was probably barely ten minutes, so you stumble, just slightly, and steve is immediately there to catch you, hands catching yours and pulling you straight, eyes searching yours as the man behind you strolls over to face you both as if he hasn’t a care in the world

dark hair, dark eyes, and that smile—

he’s looking between you and steve, looking at your hands, and smiling as if this is a gift, the brightest jewel in your collection, the shining point of the circlet hidden in the top of your trunk

“I hate to tear the two of you apart but I’m not sure I can trust this one—“ he nods at steve “not to do something heroic and probably stupid if I let the two of you stay together for our brief journey to our next stop.”

and while he isn’t wrong, you’re just a bit offended that he doesn’t seem to consider that you might do something just as stupid and heroic as well

“I’m not leaving her,” steve replies immediately, voice like ice, like the sharpest his sword has ever been

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” the other man replies easily, and this is when you hear his name for the first time, when two of the men carrying a trunk pass by and one starts to ask “eddie, should we—“ and he replies by swearing first and then “what did I tell you about the names?” to which the other man does have the grace to look shamefaced and apologize before abandoning his question and moving on

you tuck this information away for later, not knowing why it seems important

“she’ll ride with me,” steve continues, as if he is still in charge, and you know that this is not going to happen as soon as the words leave his mouth because you know steve and you can see in his eyes that even without a weapon, with you on his horse with him, he would make a run for it with you

“she’ll ride with me, actually,” eddie replies smoothly. “collateral, if I need it, and an easy way to keep you attached to our little party. no offense meant, princess.”

you’re looking between the two of them, eyes unable to settle on either, some of the fear you felt earlier finally disappearing because if he means to ransom you, you’ll be unharmed, but steve—

“absolutely not. if you think i’d allow my lady to ride with a complete stranger who has already attacked us once—“

“an attack in which no one was harmed,” eddie adds in what is no doubt meant to be a helpful and reassuring tone, if it weren’t for the undercurrent of amusement

and you can see it before steve even replies, you know that, at best, you’ll be here listening to the both of them argue for as long as they have breath, or, at worst, steve will put himself in real and present danger by saying something without really thinking it through, and so you surprise yourself by cutting in

“I’ll ride with you, on one condition.” you draw yourself up to your full height and try to look as commanding as your mother could be on her better days, even as you try to ignore the fact that you aren’t currently in a position to demand anything of the man planning to hold you for ransom

“she speaks!” eddie looks positively delighted, although you can’t imagine why “if that condition is in my power to give, you’ll have it, my lady,” and he looks at steve again, at the last, words an echo of his own, although you can’t say he’s nearly as reverent [not yet]

“I want your word, as a—as a gentleman, that no harm will come to myself, or to sir harrington, while we travel with you, and in return, I will ride with you.”

his smile, when it comes, is disarming - real, genuine amusement as he looks you in the eyes and says “it’s been a long time since anyone called me a gentleman, but for what it’s worth, you have my word.”

and - god help you - you believe him