#admittedly this is pretty out there BUT its fun to me

[starwarsanthropology]

Canon genders the clones, both individually and collectively, pretty aggressively. They're men, brothers, boys, sirs. Omega is notable for being the "female" clone, to the point where she's not recognized as a clone in a meaningful way.

But the clones grew up without gendered social groups! Despite how clones are gendered by external factors, gender is functionally a nonentity in their lives until they meet civilians, and civilians do a load of other weird shit anyway.

So why do they still use gendered language?

My argument is that feminine language isn't used as a gendered form of address, but as a form of address that reflects a specific kind of power dynamic and relationship between parties.

Given the structure of the clone army, the only people a vast majority of young clones interact with who could insist on being called ma'am are exclusively kaminoans.

The kaminoans view clones not as autonomous subjects, but as property. They have and expect complete control over their lives and actions. Incidentally, the female kaminoans we see (such as Nala Se) tend to demonstrate an even more proprietary perspectives on the clones.

You can question a sir, like your superiors or trainers, at your discretion, but you can't question a ma'am. A sir is someone who has power over you, but is somewhat responsible for you. The have personal accountability to you in some way. Sirs are responsible for men under them. A ma'am is someone whose power over you is absolute, an authority without accountability, who is not beholden to you but that you must obey. You are tool or a number to a ma'am.

And when you bring clones out into the wider galaxy, I'm not sure anyone would figure it out that quickly.

Say you're a new jedi general. You meet your men, and they address you as "ma'am". Maybe you correct and move on, figuring that they've grown up surrounded by thousands of identical men and aren't great at guessing genders based on social and appearance cues. Scuttlebutt has your forms of address spread through the men by the end of the day, and you don't think about it again.

The clones, on the other hand, take this correction as he/him jedi stating that they want to work with them and suppourt them despite having so much power over them, which fits with both what they know of the jedi and, most often, their leadership style.

She/her jedi (see Shaak Ti especially!), clones maybe treat a little more as absolute authorities. This gendered divide in behavior gets met with, "hm, maybe they're just not used to women." For many jedi, they eventually switch to calling them sir as well, especially as they build rapport.

For Shaak Ti specifically, she is an absolute authority as the representative of the Jedi on Kamino, not just as a figurehead but as a decision maker and educator. Even as the clones grow to trust and love her, she's a relatively distant and all-powered figure. She has near total authority over them, and clones might ask for help or suppourt, but there's no social obligation for those requests to be met, she's just kind. It's compassion, not duty.

Senators, there's a good mix of different factors that make it confusing. "Senator" is always an acceptable form of address if you're not sure how'd they react, even if they should be ma'ams by default, but they're either trying to build rapport for some reason or genuinely want to work with you when they say to call them sir, regardless of the actual power dynamic at play. The she/her senators that respect the clones are in the same boat as Shaak Ti: Padme Amidala may care about clone rights, but I am still just one of hundreds to her and she has no personal accountability to me. Her position is such that she should not and cannot owe me anything. Same with Riyo Chuchi, Mon Mothma, etc. etc.

And a civilian that insists on being called ma'am or sir is going to be an asshole either way, and they technically have power over clones without personal accountability or responsibility for them. It works.

Finally, Palpatine.

He's a slimy rat fuck who pretends to be affable and kind, so of course he's going to laugh and say, "Oh, no, call me Sir!" when you call him ma'am. He is not personally accountable to you, and he does not care about you, but it helps his image and it helps him manipulate people to pretend, so of course he's making you use sir to build false intimacy despite the fact that he's the ma'am of ma'ams, both in power gaps and lack of accountability for his treatment of clones.

So having clones using sir vs ma'am not as a reflection of gender but as a reflection of power? Yeah, I think it works.

[localwhiskeyuncle]

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[omarwolaeth]

Might be strange sounding, but the card reveals/banlists always come in 2 different perspectives for me, irrelevant of which banlist I'm playing under; because I write fics, I have to contend with the banlist at times (a majority of the time it's based on the sort of half-tcg, half-ocg Master Duel banlist with Anime Specific Additions.)

So when new cards come out I have to judge them not only by what I can figure out from their effects and traits (combined with what's currently meta, and if there's anything that wants to play the new cards, whilst being mindful of banlist differences), I also have the joy of internally discussing the value of a deck when its in a fictional setting.

I don't think anyone normally thinks about if a deck's theme is strong enough to tie a character to it, let alone if a deck's theme is too strong and tying a character to it is like Akihiko Sanada's obsession with protein in anything that isn't mainline persona (Like the Q games.)

Also makes engines less appealing.

[evandore]

i still havent finished this chapter of [REDACTED] despite saying i was gonna finish it last night. luckily i only have two more pages to get through but dear god. its nearly 6k which is a not a lot but considering the average length for every other chapter was 3.5k... and this one started at like 3.2k...😑 i wrote seven completely new scenes in the middle of it . btw

[whore-ibly-hot]

"What it takes to lead."

Yan!Dictator x Fem!Reader x Yan!Next in line.

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Non-con, mentions of violence, fascism, groping, p-in-v sex, sexism, questionable father son Dynamics, power dynamics, leather play.

AN: I recently began reading @yanderedrabbles works and they broke my brain, so when I saw they had a Yan!Dictator planned it inspired me. This is... meh.

You don't know how this could've happened.

It was supposed to be a routine visit. Your father was a well off oil baron, owning one of the largest refineries in America, not counting his export deals. You had gone with him, unaware of the tense political state of Dela Marina.

Admittedly, the American government was somewhat aware of the rulers less than conventional methods of maintaining control. Camps, strict surveillance, and a cutting off of outside media aside from those approved by the Dela Marina Media council, but for America's political interests, and more importantly your father's bank, the warnings signs went ignored.

It started off as just a nice, tropical vacation. White sand beaches, exotic meals, and a blaring tan from the sun. However, something soon seemed a bit off. The leader, El presidente Ramon Ballesteros, gave you chills. He said nice things, talked about his vision for Dela Marina, how he would shape the land and people to 'true culture'. It would be inspiring, if his faze didn't feel so dark, so imposing. It was as if hew was analyzing everything, every move you made.

Still, Féliz calmed you a bit. The son of Ramon, as close to a prince as you could be in this 'democracy'. He was nothing like his father. Quiet, more subdued, though just as analytical. His father takes thing in while he speaks, but Feliz stays behind, letting his father do the talking.

"Hello there, señorita." Feliz had approached you the night of the welcome dinner, a lavish affair with Del Marina's finest chefs on hand. "My father wanted me to welcome you personally, we are both youths, uh, leader of the future, he says. Your countries, and mine." He seems awkward repeating his father propaganda. Despite this, you like him. He's funny, he tells you about growing up in Del Marina, about the culture, the people. "You have to go to the beach with me, there all white sand. Is beautiful, and if we go early enough, we can see the starfish beach." You took him up on all his outings, you could tell he was deeply alone, at his core.

"Feliz?" You had asked once. "Do you... get out much? I mean, I'm one for decadence. Whole point of having a daddy with money is spending it." You laugh. You were privileged. You knew it, you embraced it. You had never had to worry about anything, never had a reason to loop beyond at the suffering of the others. Why focus on all that?

"No, I don't. It's tense, in Del Marina. Their are Terroristas, rebels. Mis padre would rather me be here, where its safer. Besides, partying isn't for me. I have to learn how to lead, to study and to help people. My people." He'd explained, fiddling with the white pressed uniform he so often wore, a less refined and adorned version of his fathers. "Loosen up." You had suggested. "We can have some fun, we're friends now, yeah? Let's go party!" Feliz had never wanted really to go to a club, to spend time with the privileged people while he knew others, those being exploitated, were suffering. But you were so, so pretty, and the only friend he felt he had. You made him feel special, not for bring the son of the president, or 'Del Marina's future'. You made him feel special for being him. He agreed.

He was terrified when you both snuck out, naturally it didn't take long for the guards to drag the both of you back to the palace, you kicked and yelled while he went quietly. He feared his father would turn his anger to you, he was ready to take the brunt of the anger. However, his father seems amused. You laugh along with his dad, not sensing the chilling undertone.

"Your son, and the american girl, Presidente." A guard said, bowing, hand over hid chest. "They were seen heading to a club on the north side."

"Ah, let them go." Ramon grins, waving a hand as the guards back off. "Kids, ey? Even at twenty, they still can't help.but wander off. It's good, independence. To think, to have fun. Kids behave this way, it's expected. Dismissed." The guards leave, and he steps down to you. "I ought to thank you, you know? No one has ever gotten my son quite so out of his shell. Feliz, I've tried to inspire that boldness in you, I suppose I didn't realize it would take such a lovely young lady to do so." Felix goes red, looking down. He knows this is a facade, and still can sense the danger in the room. Ramon takes your hand, kissing it. "But i should have known, he is his fathers son, and we are both red blooded men, yes?" He chuckles to himself.

"I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to have some fun. And I thought maybe Feliz needed a friend." You mumble, heels scuffing the floor awkwardly. Still; you aren't sorry. "He needed a break. To live."

The president goes silent, but then nods, laughing with his arms going. "Of course! Dis boy of mine, always with the working, he wants to be like his papa. It's honorable, but a young man still needs to let loose while he's young. Next time, all I ask is you take an escort. These terroristas planning Del Marina won't care about your intentions, just the message hurting you would send." His gaze grows serious, and you gulps.

"Ah, y-yeah. I'll keep that in mind." You look down, stepping away. "I'll probably go to bed, I've had enough fun. Goodnight, Presidente." He smiles, watching as you turn to Feliz. The tan boy looks through his dark locks, trying to hide his obvious flush from his father. You didn't need any reason to be made to stay here, and he knew his dad. "Night, Feliz." You call, and he just sends you a weak wave. Worried you upset him, you scurry off. The moment you slip out of the heavy wooden door of the presidente's office; his happy and jovial expression falls, mask melting away.

"Why this sudden change in you?" "Papa, please, I didn't mean anything by it, it was all my idea-" His fathers raised hand silences him. "Enough, Feliz." Ramon sighs, strolling to his desk cabinets, hand running across the mahogany surface as he opens up a velvet box, pulling out a bottle of scotch. "I didn’t lie to you, I'm not angry. I wish that your judgment had not been blinded and you had simply brought a guard-" He pours to crystal glasses, the brown liquid filling the clear, ornate glasses. "But I'm proud none the less. You made a choice, a bold one. Hm, we drink, you're becoming a man!"

Feliz winces at the glass sliding towards him, but knows his father won't take no gore an answer. "It was nothing, Papa. Just a quick outing, she was bored and I went with."

"Oh-ho, it was more than that, my son. It's okay, I'm older, but I'm still a man. I'm not immune to the charms of a woman. She is beautiful, no?" Ramon takes a sip, relishing in the burn of the drink. "This is the real infatuation you've had, isn't it."

"Its not an infatuation, she's a friend and-" His father glares, he knows he hates liars. "I... I like her, of course. But its nothing serious, no more than a crush."

"Even a crush is serious for a stoic, quiet man like you, Feliz." His dad leans forward to lift his chin up a bit. "I've never seen you take to anyone like this, that's what makes it serious." Harshly patting the young man's cheek, he leans back. "Her Father is a great ally, a man willing to buy the vast amount of oil our country has. It would be incredible for Del Marina to seal a deal like this, to lock something down. And Feliz, I know you want what's best for the country." Once again, hisbfather cold demeanor returns, shifting from joviality frighteningly fast. "So, I tell you to pursue it."

"I don't even know if she feels that way about me, a-and I couldn't ask her to stay in some foreign country!" Feliz is spouting every excuse he can think of, to push you away, push his fathers implications away, to keep you safe from the truth. The dangers of Del Marina, of his father government and more importantly, his father. Another withering look makes him nod. "I'll... ask her out. See if she'll accompany me to the press gala." He mumbles obediently.

"Good boy. Go, get some rest." He pats his sons shoulder. "And remember, Feliz,-" He chides, turning away and taking another sip, back to the future of Del Marina. "Ballesteros's take what they want."

Lying in bed, the grandness of his room feels imposing. As cold and lonely as ever, his own oil portrait staring back at him. He never liked the commissioned piece. It felt... fake. An image of his, posed by a map, in his uniform, looking like his father. Just. Like. His. Father. The sound of a creaking door makes him sit-up, and he only feels the discomfort in his stomach grow as he sees your form slipping into his room, clad only in pajamas that cling to you. Despite the terror he feels, the pulse of arousal in his gut is prominent too. He grabs his silk pillow, covering up a growing problem as he sees you approach.

"You can't be here, w-what are you doing?" He asks.

You just shake your head and laugh. "Please, it's fine. Your dad made it clear he likes me, and I wanted to check on you." You plop down unceremoniously, groaning at the feeling of the luxurious sheets on your body. "Shit, that's good."

"Go, you have to go-"

"Are you mad at me?" You ask, pouting as you turn to face him. Hes cute when he's nervous, brows furrowed and dark hair tousled. His hands grip the sheets. "Cmon. I'm sorry if I upset you, I just wanted to have fun!"

"I know, I know." he shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you, I was excited. It's just that you don't know my papa like I do. He always has a plan, a motive, for anything he does. And i don't want you getting caught up in something you shouldn't."

You frown, but ignore his warning. "Nah, he likes me, it's fine. I'm not scared of some politician, no different than my dad-"

"No." Hes dead serious, seeing the soft, sweet man so serious makes you pale, gulping. "You have no idea what he's like. What our country is really like, I-" He puts a fist over his mouth, rubbing at his face. "Please. Just try to keep your head down. Okay?" Nodding, and cold at the severity of his sudden change, you scoot closer.

"Okay, okay." You put your hands up in mock defense. "I'm sorry, I'll keep in line. I just wanted to check on you." I pat his arm. "Didn't want you mad at me."

He relaxes at the feeling of your slumped, warm weight against him. "No, I couldn't be mad at you, amiga. You're one of the... few friends I have, even in the short time I've known you. I just don't want you hurt."

"I like you too, Feliz." You murmur, and the simple admission is enough to make his heart palpitate. He grips the sheets, before slowly putting a hand on you. "Go, you should get back to your room. I'll see you tomorrow."

Watching as you pad across the floor, he coughs. "And... there's a gala, coming up. A media event for father and yours to be shown getting along. If you... if you wanted to go. With me."

"Who else would I go with, Feliz?" You tease, making him just look down, nodding.

So how did it end up as this? You're stuck up in the room given to you at the Presidente's estate, it had once felt so grand but now felt suffocatingly small. A deal had been struck, something went wrong when you had been seen at the gala. Media went wild, rumors flew about the pretty new girl spotted alongside Dela Marina's darling prince. And Ramon approached your father with an offer. You don't know what it was, or why he'd agree to it, but it culminated in your father jetting off; leaving you behind.

"Please, please- I don't understand-" You whine, hands shaking and skin slicked with nervous sweat as you see guards sealing up the doors of your room. Trapped. "Presidente Ramon-"

"Shh." His gloved hand pressing a finger to your lips silences you, eyes wide. It is now you are beginning to see the side of the Dela Marina presidente you had heard of. Calculated, cruel. "There's no need to panic, little American darling. It's not like your losing any luxuries you had back home, perhaps you are even gaining some. Both me and your father think this is best, a joining of powers. Now, he was hesitant." Ramon rolls his eyes. "But you are a fierce little thing, and I told him you'd get a bit more discipline here. I doubt he was strict enough in your upbringing. Not that a spark isn't amusing, señora. It's charming at times." His smirk is that of a lion looking over it pray.

"You see," he intertwines his fingers together as he sits down at the foot of the four poster bed beside you. "My son. He loves you. He'll say it's a crush, but a father knows his son. He's always been good, my boy. Never asked for things, never taken what he wanted like he should. This is a push in the right direction for him. To make him make a move. I expect you like him as much?"

"I mean, I don't, I don't know-" You're stammering, hands shaking. It's all crashing down, overwhelming. The feeling of absolution in his town, of finality, is bone chilling. "He's my friend?"

"Ah, well, that's only his own fault. He has trouble taking initiative, and I dont fault you either." He sits up straighter. "Im a traditionalist, like my father and his before him. Of course it should be the man who propositions the young lady, but my son-" he waves his hand. "Has this idea in his head, silly notions about the changing of culture. I am fine with most of it, but a wife and children? Being the man for your family, for your country. No, that I will never budge on."

"Papa!" The heavy door slams open, with a frantic Feliz standing in the now open doorway. "What are you doing, why is she here-"

"Ah, my boy. Come, sit. Me and your friends father had been talking, she'll be staying for a bit. Good news, ay? Now, I'm sure you've got something you'd like to say-"

"Y-you can't do this, she doesn't belong here, papa-" Feliz juts his hands forward to help you, to try and think of a way out of this. "Are you okay? Did your father leave-"

"Feliz!" Ramon's voice booms across the room, causing both of you to still like deers caught in headlights. "Calm yourself, I'm helping you along in making a decision you are unable to make yourself. You will be grateful, and apologize."

It's shocking to see how Feliz shrinks, to see how his dad treats him behind closed doors. "I- I'm sorry, Papa. I just didn't want her in distress. I didn't want her feeling confused." He mutters, head down like an obedient hound.

"Of course, and that's admirable, but you should put more trust in your father to know I’ve already explained the situation. Now come here, come." He waves his son over, and the pair stand near you on the bed. "Tell her. Of your feelings, take charge."

"I-" Theyoung man is trying not to hyperventilate, hands gripping his white uniform short like he's staving off a seizure. "I like you, you know this. I feel emotions for you that no one else had made me feel, and-and if you'd have me-" he sounds like he's ready from a script, eyes clenched shut.

"Not if. Be assertive." His father hisses. "Tell her she is to be yours. Tell her your feelings are strong enough you won't be denied. Tell her what you can provide given your status." He's glaring like a schoolteacher scolding a naughty pupil, and the shaking boy nods.

"When- when you decide I am right for you, I'll provide what you need. Our country has vast resources, and wealth for you to enjoy. You would want for nothing." Its monotone, like an audio book, like it's pre-recorded. Seeing his fathers fist clench, he moves to kiss you lightly. As he approaches, he whispers a soft "I'm so sorry-" as he places warm, slightly chapped lips onto yours. Shocked, but to afraid to not play along, you kiss back. It's soft, it would be intoxicating if the sense of impending doom didn't weigh so heavy, being moved like dolls in a dollhouse.

"That was nice, Feliz." You can think only to reassure him, hand landlord on his neatly pressed shirt. "Very nice, I like you too, of course." You tuck his hair behind his ear, seeing the way his lip wobbles, his eyes water. He's so guilty, he never should have spoken to you.

"Wonderful." His body is jolted by a slap to the back, his father laughing. "Good man, now, shall I leave you kids alone? I'm sure you'll want time to yourself. Son, you understand what a man must take from his woman, yes?"

"I... our relationship is new, papa. I can't. I-I-" He pauses. "I won't, I won't do it. I can't, I wouldn't know how and I dont want her to do anything she doesn't want."

Ramon scoffs. "She's agreed to be yours son, go on! Of course she wants it, don't you, pequeña?" Ramon gestures to where you're laid, looking at you expectantly. When you say nothing, he raises his brows in suprise. "Unbelievable. I set the two of you up for every opportunity and you can't do that. Son," he grabs Feliz's shoulder roughly. "We are men. Conquerors, rulers. We take what we want, lions from lambs. How can you expect to lead, to protect this great country from terroristas if you cannot ask your woman for what all hot-blooded men desire!" He's growing angry, truly mad, his usual cool annoyance heating up. "You have to learn if you don't take what you want, someone else will. Your land, your power, your woman."

"Papa, please-"

"No. I have to do everything my self with you. I'm going to show you what happens if you don't take the first step." He changes his eyes to you, your cowering form. "Strip, girl." You're eyes widen, head shaking on instincts.

"What, no, no, I'm not going to-"

"The choice is not yours. I've got guards outside, you're in my country. In my home." He comes to the bedside, leaning down so he's practically nose to nose with you, dark brown eyes feel like a pool you're drowning in, swallowed whole. "The only thing you are in control of now is how gentle I am, sí?" You're still frozen, just shaking your head over and over again, resulting in him sighing. It's a minor annoyance to him, like he's not violating you but rather just dealing with a disobedient pup. "Everything by myself." He repeats.

Gloved hands brush across your collarbone, cool leather causing a trail of goosebumps to blossom on your skin. He jerks his hand back, tearing the buttons on your dress. The front pops open, buttons clattering to the floor with a 'tink-tink'. Feliz winces, hand to his mouth in horror.

"Papa, please, please don't..." He begs, voice as soft and light as he can make it. He was a good father when he was little. Doting, he'd comfort him when he cried, take him on little outings. A part of Feliz hopes that softer voice would remind him of the boy he once was, that he'd give in.

"This is what happens son, you don't take initiative, someone gets there before you." Ramon feels you squirm a bit and tightens the grip he's got on your left arm, gaze never leaving his son as he warns you. "Don't squirm, girl." He warns. "You're a lady, not some groveling worm, hold still, I'll get to you in a moment."

"Can I talk her through it?" Feliz asks. "Let me be by her side, or at least... I don't know!" He begs. Ramon tilts his head, then nods. "Alright. Second best option is getting in where you can. Rising through the ranks, get over here." Feliz scrambles to get to your other side. "Now, let's get this off." Ramon grabs the blade he keeps on his waistband at his side, pressing the cold still to your pretty skin while he cuts the lace straps of your bra off. "Aw, beautiful. Shame to hide such beautiful breasts away, without a man to reveal them." He coos. Rough lips place a kiss to your left nipple, making you whimper. "Just beautiful. Feliz, take it in. Your first woman."

Feliz is staring, both horrified at his biological reaction and awe struck at the sight of your newly revealed breasts. He'd stared many a time when they were covered, to see them exposed in front of him was a new feelings entirely. He reaches out, letting a breath he didn't know he was holding escape as he gropes your left tit.

"There we go, it's good, yeah? A woman's body is a miraculous thing." Groaning, he leans down and kisses up and down softly the nape of your neck. "Don't stay quiet, let me hear those pretty noises, girl." He whispers

"I don't, this can't happen, presidente. I don't want this." You whisper, and he just chuckles, looking up at you from his place on your chest. "Ah, amor, but you will."

A sudden pressure on your ass makes you squeak, his hands groping the meat of your ass firmly, sure to leave bruises. "Don't speak back to me, ey? Lay back and enjoy what a man in power can offer you, girl. And call me Ramone." He grins. "There's no need for formalities when I'm going to have you speared on my cock."

Feliz grimaces at the way your eyes water, so afraid. But not only can he not help, he's so horrendously turned on. Your heaving breasts, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You're a picture of eroticism, and the hardening in his shorts is a clear sign that the part of him desiring you is winning him over. He watches his father roll you over, gloved fist kneading the cheeks of your ass.

"Just a short reminder to not talk back. To behave."

A sharp pain makes you yelps, a harsh slap to your ass. Immediately after delivering the blow, his gloved hand massages to red mark. "See? Even when in the throws of sex, you should exercise your control, my boy. Let her know you are in charge, regardless of their pleasure she is providing you." He scoots aside, petting half while looking at Feliz. Feliz swallows harshly, but hovers his hand lightly over your plump rear. Another squeak, as he delivers a softer, albeit still harsh spank. "Make sure she's okay now. A firm hand, not a cruel one."

Feliz shaky hand gently rubs the mark, mimicking Ramon's actions, and he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not too much, right? It wasn't too much? You-" He's trying to justify himself, why he feels so aroused by all this, by you. "You liked it, right?"

You're shocked, but as you shake your head no, another slap. The gentle kneading afterwards does little to relieve the pain. You know not to protest. "It's fine." You whisper.

Feliz wouldn't normally believe you, he'd hear the pain in your voice, the tremble. He'd want to sooth you, but he was so unbelievably needy in those moment, for for relief and to believe you were happy with him. That this was a good, intimate moment between the two of you, without his fathers direction, without force. Thid was the moment he trusted himself, his virginity to you. He just smiles weakly at your statement that it's okay.

"So pretty, let's get these off of you, huh?" You can feel the gloves leather, once cool, now hot against your skin he snaps your pantie strap against your hip, making you flinch. "Hm, I bet you've had plenty of men. A rich privileged American girl, spending your papas money. Does he know, know that your a slut, or is he too busy?"

"I've only been with a few guys..." you weakly protest. "From... club and stuff."

"A few too many. If any proper man had had you, he'd be sure you only ever took his cock, allowed him inside of you." Once again grabbing that knife, he slides the blade across the strap he had previously snapped, the fabric tearing and loosening. "Beautiful..." he runs his finger over the lips of your pussy, puffy from arousal. He lets you feel each wrinkle in the leather of his gloves, before spreading your lips apart, strings of slick snapping.

Feliz feels his mouth is watering, your mouth watering, your most bare part vulnerable for him. He can't stop himself from cupping your mound, letting his fingers curiously trail up to your clit. You let out a reluctant moan at the feeling; and he just leans down to kiss your cheek. "You're so pretty. A-and you're doing so well..." Making sure his father is distracted, he whispers in your ear. "Im sorry our first time together had to be like this, but... its still nice, right?" He's still in denial about the horrors of his actions. "You still get to feel good, and you get to be with me. This... this is what we both want..."

"Feliz..." You whimper, but he just shakes his head. "No, don't tell me it's not. I can't handle that right now." Despite his good nature, Feliz has always been given what he wanted. He cant help but feel selfish, ask you not to hurt his feelings or overwhelm him while your the one being violated. He'll reflect on that later. His lips, slightly chapped, press hot against yours, once, then twice. "That was my first." He admits. "Wouldn't want it to be anyone but you."

Suddenly, his father grabs his collar, pulling me back a bit. "Come now, boy. Clear out, I need my time now."

Feliz pales. "Papa?" He's visibly confused. "You said... take what I want, be a leader, not a follower. I thought you'd be giving her to me, that I'd be having sex with her! You said a man should let his woman be only with him from the moment he decides he wants her?" His tan hands are shaking, flushed face a mix of embarrassment and frustration. All he wants is to tenderly relieve the pressure in his shorts with you, and as he sees his father let out a 'tsk', his frustration increases.

"But that doesn't apply, does it? She's had other men before, and she's not a true, proper woman of our country. If nothing else, it's better I be sure she's even worth it. It's not simply sex, this could be the woman you choose to lead alongside, boy." His father cold glare makes him shrink back, sliding off the bed.

"But, isn't it a test of my leadership that I take her first-"

"You wouldn't question your papa?" Ramom hisses, and Feliz wilts. He can't make eye contact with you as he leaves the room. When it's him violating you, he can at least pretend you feel safer because it's him, that you like it. But its his father, a ruthless dictator, and stranger. As he leaves and makes his way down the hall, he's determined to be ready to cater for you when it's all over.

Back in the room, you remain a trembling mess, watching the much older man removing his belt with a practiced speed. "Please don't, sir-" You ask. "I don't feel comfortable, I don't-"

"You should feel grateful." He reminds. "To have both the attentions of a leader and his son. I understand it might be frightening, you know the kind of man I am. How i stay in power, I've tricked your father but I've no doubt that boy of mine has admitted some things to you." As he removes white dress pants and dispenses of his gloves on the nightstand, he grips your chin with now-bare fingers. Calloused; from years of clawing his way to the top. "You aren't stupid. That's one of the things I admire about you, girl. Smart, if a bit spoiled. That's fine, respect can be taught, a place can be taught. Natural intelligence can be harder to develop."

"Why me?" You blurt. "Why are you forcing me into this, you could have any woman, I'm not even close to your age, a-and Feliz, Feliz likes me!" You hope to garner even a bit of sympathy for his son in this moment, hoping it would prevent him going all the way.

"He does not 'like' you, he loves you." He says matter-of-factly. "Which is precisely why this has to be done. You will be in the public eye, the first lady of this great country. I need to know you can be submissive, can provide as a wife should. But... I also need to know you can be taught, can take orders. My boy, he is-" Ramon shakes his head. "Meeker than I would like, despite my efforts. I need to know even with his less than firm hand that he can ensure you behave. And ones true colors come out in the bedroom, I find."

He pounces, baring down rather suddenly, grip on your jaw near crushing as his free hand strokes once, then twice over his cock; brown with a curve to it and a purple tip. "But, I am also not a liar. I admit the idea of having a beautiful young woman around my manhood isn't-" he nips are your ear, breath hot yet making you feel frigid with fear. "Intoxicating."

"It's been a long time." You whisper, and he feigns a caring pout. "Ah, I'm sure. Don't worry, I won't let you hurt. But remember, this is about taking orders. First, take me in your hands. I doubt you're inexperienced in this, so don't feign naivety." His voice is low, threatening. Despite the churning feeling of sickness, you take his length in one shaky hand, wrapping round the erect shaft, and refusing to meet his gaze.

"Good. Go on now, kiss it, just the tip. I want to see you practice restraint, just because you don't want this doesn't mean I will rush." He warns. Your plush lips gently press the bulbous tip, you can feel a shiver run up him as you do. Testing the waters and desperate to get it over with, you slowly slip in the tip, tongue pressing against the vein under his cock. He doesn't thrust, not allowing you to take hin in fully; but the clenching in his jaw shows the effect it's having.

"Wonderful..." He groans. "Very good, take a little more, yes? I know you can, shit-" He rolls his hips, the salty flavor of skin filling your mouth further as you take him in deeper. "Good, suckle. Suck the cock of El presidente-" He's beginning to get a bit lost in his praise of himself more than you.

Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears, eyes screwed shut as a few tears slip from them. Ramon grunts, whispering another moan of pleasure before noticing and sighing. He wipes some tears with his thumb, licking up the salty water to your shock. "Don't cry, cariño. I'm not being cruel. I'm being rather gentle with your pretty mouth; no damaged goods here." He reminds. You can hear his grunts increasing in frequency, his cock twitching in your mouth, when he roughly threads his fingers in your hair and yanks you off his cock.

"Hands and knees, face away." He demands. "Don't make me wait." Your knees dig into the silk of the bed, assuming an easily mountable position. Once again, you make a final plea. "Please-" Your voice sounds as though it could shatter. "Don't hurt me."

To your suprise, you can feel him freezing behind you, and hear a deep sigh. You scre your eyes tight as you feel him assume position behind you, leaky cock pressing against your folds as his chest, still clad in his white dress shirt, presses against your bare spine. One hand holds himself up, while the other takes your chin from behind, gentler than his initially grip. He places a few small kisses mixed with nibbles against the flushed shell of your ear.

"Being a leader-" he begins, "Is not easy. Being the wife of one, even more so. There is danger, societal expectations, and constant decisions that must be made. But know this, my touch is not something you need to fear, cariño." He's uncharacteristically tender now, and that frightens you more.

He finishes his speech with a kiss to the back of your neck, before sighing as he eases his tip into your wet folds.

"Ah-" You whine, it's thick, but it doesn't fully hurt. He's tender, he kept his promise. "Feel that? The stretch of a true Dela Marinan man?" He asks, working his way in a bit deeper. His balls, heavy, slowly crawl closer to the lips of your cunt as he further enters, groaning.

"Beautiful. Mmph, you don't have the makings of a first lady." He firstly pulls out, before sheathing fully again. "You're practically sucking me in, girl. You were made to take a Dela Marinan man, god-" His pace increases, gripping your hips as the thrusts.

"Are you close?" He asks. "Can you feel that coil of pleasure within you? Go on, release. Cum when the man controlling you demands."

Letting out a final mewl mixed with a sob, you can feel yourself beginning to spasm, walls twitching as a gush of fluids coats his cock. In a display of impressive control, though not surprising for the cold blooded president, he removes his angry cock without finishing. Quickly tucking himself away, back into his boxers, he towels the sweat from his brows as he appraises your fucked-out form. "You have the makings of a good wife. There is more to teach certainly, but there will be time for that. Though-" He tilts his head as if in deep contemplation, before leaning down to press a rather full kiss to your sweat-soaked form. It's passionate, surprisingly so, and he had held back from something that intimate so far. "As much as I love that boy of mine, I wonder if he is man enough to deserve a woman like you." He whispers, before pulling away and rather curtly leaving.

You can hear what sounds like voices in the hall, and soon two female attendants come to wipe you up. You're took sore to protest, and as they scurry out, the hurried footsteps of Feliz replace the noise they made. A look of worry fades slowly when he sees you, looking tired but mostly unharmed. He's got a glass of water in hand, a piece of chocolate, and other random medicine cabinet items. It's clear he was unsure what a woman would need for aftercare, and just took everything.

"I'm here, it's okay now." You can't even bring yourself to tale comfort in the words of your friend. You wanted him to have saved you, yet the most emotion he showed during the ordeal was learning he couldn't have you first. You just lay silent, still. He lays down beside you, fully clothed, curling into your side like a child seeking their mother's comfort. He pulls the sheets over you, kissing your forehead before closing his eyes.

"It'll be better next time." He promises. "It'll be me." That hardly soothes the pain.

[lostalioth]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

→ premise: all logan wanted after a hard and long day was his girl and if he has to chase her around the house a little. even better.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, unprotected sex, primal kink [sort of?], logan chase’s reader, free use, nicknames [my girl, baby, sweet girl], daddy kink, logan calls himself daddy [and old man once], bathroom sex

→ a/n: kinktober 14

Logan was a simple man all he needed was his girl after a long hard day. It was an ache deep in his adamantium bones that he couldn't explain. An ache that seeing your pretty face beaming at him the second he pushes open the front door melted from his abused body.

You however decided that today for a little extra fun, you wanted to be a brat and run from Logan instead of greeting him at the door like his good girl. “C’mon you're really gonna make ya’ old man chase you sweet girl?” He groans, barely using any strength or energy as he slowly follows you as you bounce around the house. He was exhausted and yet he couldn't deny that thrill that shot down to his cock as his jeans thighted when he thought of catching you, he knew he could. Admittedly yes he had a large advantage over you, he was a mutant and you weren't. The idea that you couldn't get away even if you tried sent an ache to your core that made you push his buttons further.

“Afraid you won’t catch up to me daddy?” You giggle and tilt your head in his direction as you made the mistake of standing still.

A boardline primal growl leans his lips causing your eyes to widen, your heart thumping harder and faster in your chest. “Ya’ asked for it baby” he chuckles darkly sending shivers down your spine as he rushes forward in a sudden burst of effort. A squeal leaves your lips in surprise as your instincts kick in as fast as humanly is possible and you spin on your heel running away from your beast of a boyfriend.

“Lo!!” You squeak out, a heat spreading through your body in a mixture of fear and arousal as you try your hardest not to get caught just yet. After a few minutes of manganing to practically run from Logan in circles around the house, on impulse you make a wrong turn and run into your shared bedroom and the attached ensuite bathroom. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” you curse out as you come to a halt suddenly at a dead end.

”Aww you got ya’ self trapped now sweet girl” Logan’s deep voice filled the echoing bathroom, making it feel like he was surrounding you as he creeped up behind you. Right as you spin your body around to face him, he’s on you in a flash pressing you back against the cold counter. “Did you really think you could outrun me baby? Or did the idea of daddy catching you excite ya’? Huh?” He taunts, his large calloused hands encircling your hips as he pushes his body against you further pinning you in place against the bathroom counter. You let out a short pathetic whine when his thumb runs along the band of your skirt toying with it. “Well? Daddy’s waiting on an answer” he presses with his thumbs against your hip bones before one hand travels up and makes its way under your shirt, working at undoing your bra.

“I wanted daddy to catch me” you gasp out when he pops open your bra under your shirt, pushing the straps off your shoulder and letting it fall to the tile floor. Warm rough hand palming over your now exposed breasts.

”Such a bad girl, making me chase ya’ just for some excitement” he tsks as his hand leaves your chest and he turns his attention towards unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down his thighs alongside his boxers to free his aching cock. His cock slaps against his stomach, the tip red and leaking down his thick shaft. “Specially’ when ya’ know all daddy wants to come home to is his girl all ready for him to use” he lightly shakes his head, both of his hands now pulling down your skirt revealing the fact you weren't wearing any panties. A rush of cold air hits your exposed bare cunt making you squirm in his hold, your eyes glazing over as you look at the proud look that now over takes Logan's face.

“Oh fuck.. you were ready huh baby? My girls s’sweet to me, not wearing any panties while she’s waiting f’me to get home fuck” he growls out, his tactic of going slow flying out the window now. He quickly pushes your skirt all the way down your legs letting you step out of the puddle of your combined clothes on the floor. Grabbing a hold of your plush ass he is quick to lift you up, sitting you down on the cold marble countertop and wrapping your legs around his wide hips. “Daddy!” You let out a short gasp as he smacks his throbbing tip against your clit before lining it up at your entrance and pushing all the way inside with one sharp and hard thrust.

“S’good for me sweet girl, love my little free use girl” he mumbled out in a slurred together mess, the stress of his long day leaving his body as his hips pull back and snap forward to meet yours, pounding his cock deep inside you. His cock already hitting the spot that makes you see stars repeatedly with every hard thrust into you. “Fuck! Lo~” you cry out, your eyes screwing shut as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his neck.

“Thought bout’ this sweet pussy all day baby, just wanted to come home to my sweet baby s’bad” he growls out, his balls tightening the more your cunt clenches down on his cock. Gripping onto the back of your neck he pulls your face away from his shoulder to crash his lips against yours to muffle the groans that slip past his lips in pleasure. Logan never used to be this vocal in bed, not a real big fan of talking during sex but he can't help the sounds and dirty words that fall from his mouth when he is buried to the hilt inside your cunt.

“Daddy m’gonna cum, pleasee let me cum” you plead into his lips in a broken moan as the band in your stomach tightens more and more with each slap of his balls against your ass. “Cum f’me sweet girl” he coos pulling away to rub his thumb over your check watching as his favorite sweet blissed out look spreads across your face when the band snaps.

With a wonton cry of Logan's name and mumbles of ‘thank you’ fill the bathroom you gush all over his cock when your orgasm washes over you. Your cum creates a creamy ring at the base of his cock, his hips not flattering in their thrusting making you let out a whimper as the stimulation steadily becomes too much, his tip abusing your g spot countiually even after your climax ends. “Lo…daddy, cant take no more” you whine out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and the pleasure mixes with slight pain from overstimulation.

“M’sorry sweet girl, daddy isn't done with his girl yet, it’s okay baby just let daddy use ya’ a little more okay?” He grunts out, his fingers digging into your hips as his head falls against your chest, pants and groans tumbling from his mouth mixed in with praise and moans of your name. Logan desperately needed this moment to last just a bit longer before that ache settled into his body again.

→ a/n: i didnt proofread this, im in to much of a rush to get this out today as well as start on the two fics i need to post to to get on track with kinktober

[posh--bee]

i'm losing it (all i get is jealousy, jealousy) || Aaron Hotchner

pairing → Aaron Hotchner x Reader

summary → You're out on a Friday night, sitting around a table in a cozy bar, enjoying your fruity drink and the presence of your newfound friends in the form of your father's team. But then Derek just has to open his mouth and ruin your night when he mentions her.

warnings → fem!reader, rossi!reader, reader has rossi's last name, (unspecified) age gap, reader being pretty self-deprecating here oopsieee (anxiety, keep on tryin' me…), Spencer and Beth mentioned as romantic interests for reader and Aaron, jealousy jealousy~, misunderstandings, they're still head over heels for each other, but don't talk about it, Spencer being an absolute sweetheart, no y/n used

author's note → This part started out as a kind of prelude to my actual idea for part 2—the gala. But then this scene just developed a life of its own and I decided to just make the cut to really be able to focus on the gala in the next part. A huge thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged and commented on the first part!! 💕 I appreciate each and every single interaction so much and it's such a huge motivation to keep me writing because I simply cannot operate on internal motivation alone. That being said, I had so much fun writing this part so let me know what you think about it!^^ I hope you like it <3 (Title, obviously, from "jealousy, jealousy" by Olivia Rodrigo.)

word count → 4.6k

masterlist(s)

series masterlist || part 1 - ⋆part 2⋆ - part 3 coming soon-ish :3

It's a busy Friday night in November for the little bar tucked away in a corner of the city's Downtown district, the bell above the front door tinkling gently every other minute as people exit and enter the cozy but slightly stuffy establishment.

The soft sound of the melting ice cubes clinking against the glass of your drink is almost drowned out by the buzzing atmosphere of the bar as you absentmindedly stir the watered-down remainder of your once fruity and colorful cocktail. You hear the sound of car tires rolling over the wet pavement outside as the door opens again and it seamlessly blends with the ambiance of the bar—music playing over ancient speakers hidden in the corners of the room, people talking and laughing loudly, cheerfully, glasses clinking faintly and chairs scraping over the already worn floor.

Your cheeks are not only warm and glowing from the temperature inside the bar, bravely fighting off the chill from beyond the old brick walls, but also from the alcohol in your system that makes you feel pleasantly buzzed and relaxed. You make yourself even more comfortable on the—admittedly pretty hard and bum-numbing—bench you're sitting on, accidentally nudging Emily next to you who immediately retaliates by playfully shoving you back, a huge grin on her face.

You stick your tongue out at her, giggling at the betrayed face she makes as her hands fly up to her heart—but the rest of her dramatic display is immediately lost on you when you catch sight of Aaron from across the table, listening to something Spencer is animatedly explaining to him, and your stomach does a lovesick little flip.

Tonight, instead of his usual suits and button-downs he's dressed in a black polo shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, and when he walked through the bar's door earlier this evening you spontaneously forgot how to breathe. It's embarrassing how something as simple as casual clothes can make your heart stutter in your chest when it comes to him, but you can't help it. Especially when his strong arms usually hidden by long-sleeved shirts and suit jackets are shamelessly on display for your viewing pleasure, his forearms casually resting on the table with his fingers interlocked loosely, drawing your eyes to them like a desperate moth to a forbidden flame.

The dim light of the bar only accentuates his handsome and sharp features, the smile lines at the corners of his mouth and the crow's feet around his eyes a beautiful constant of his face at the moment. If you're not careful you could probably drown in the gentle warmth of his brown irises.

Of course, as it was bound to happen eventually, Aaron catches you staring at him so openly, his kind eyes suddenly locked with your startled ones and you quickly duck your head in mortification, heat crawling up your neck, your cheeks and ears already on fire.

It's been four months since the pool incident, the I almost kissed my father's friend and boss I only just met after making him fall in the pool with me incident, and since then these completely inconvenient and utterly inappropriate feelings you caught for Aaron that very day haunt you relentlessly, persistently, only getting stronger with each and every time you see him again.

You cringe inwardly, the whole day burned into your mind forever, the memory of it all still painfully vivid, especially of your inexcusable and humiliating behavior, and the urge to just slip underneath the table and hide there until the end of time gets overwhelming for a moment. You hope your face doesn't show the embarrassment and regret welling up inside of you as the memories from that day replay in your mind for the millionth time, as if you didn't already spend these last few months obsessing over what had happened—dissecting every single word spoken between the two of you, analyzing and weighing even the slightest change of Aaron's expressions and tone until it's the middle of the night and you're half delirious with the lack of sleep.

You're not sure what your overthinking mind tries to archive with this, except torture you during your waking hours and curse you with anxious insomnia at nighttime, making you embarrass yourself in front of Aaron again and again whenever you see him now, stumbling over your words and acting like a lovesick school girl with a cute but laughable little crush.

It would be almost adorable if it weren't so ridiculously sad.

Because, in the end, all you'll ever be to him is that—his friend's daughter who caught completely inappropriate feelings for him and doesn't know how to deal with them like an adult.

You're too young for him, too inexperienced, too immature. Anxious and naive, plain and uninteresting, book-smart at best with no experience of how the real world actually works.

Spoiled and never had to work for all the nice and expensive things in life that you experience and own, not with a father as well off as yours.

Your doctorate a pretty little achievement to show off now and then but amounting to nothing in the grand scheme of things, in the world outside your fancy lab and brilliantly white lab coat. You hide behind your microscopes day in, day out, behind your Petri dishes and test tubes, behind your statistics and test results, comfortably able to overlook the fact that in the end, you're dealing with death, the oftentimes brutal loss of human life—the life of a real person—while there are people like Aaron and your father and the rest of their team out there, risking their lives, their mental well-being to bring peace to the bereaved, haunting these monsters that stole the rest of their entire lives from their victims. These agents work tirelessly, traveling all over the country at a moment's notice, spending their days and nights away from home solving cases no one else but them could, one more dangerous and complex than the next, and not stopping before they do, without complaining, without expecting anything in return.

But you? You simply come home after a day of work to your cozy and spacious apartment that you only found and are able to afford because of your father, slipping on mismatched fuzzy socks and a shirt and pajama pants whose patterns clash mercilessly, eating frozen pre-made meals or take-out food more often than not while turning off your brain in front of the TV or your laptop screen, drinking the expensive wine your dad bought out of mugs because your dishwasher is broken and you didn't have the energy to wash the dishes for multiple days in a row.

It's painfully obvious that Aaron and you live in completely different worlds, your lives ridiculously incompatible, so it doesn't come as a surprise that all your overthinking and obsessing and dissecting only ever leads to one final conclusion—

You will never be good enough for Aaron Hotchner.

As much as it hurts to admit this, your heart clenches painfully whenever you have to remind yourself of this inescapable fact—when the wishful thinking and the juvenile daydreaming become a little too self-indulgent—you know it's the truth.

And the sooner you and your hopelessly romantic little heart can make peace with it the better. Because whatever you thought he saw in you or felt for you that perfect summer day was only an illusion, a trick your overactive mind played on you so cruelly. Someone like Aaron Hotchner could never reciprocate your silly feelings for him, the spark you imagined igniting between the two of you back then was merely a sad one-sided, and completely inappropriate infatuation. You probably didn't look entirely unappealing in your skimpy little bikini that clung to your wet and glowing skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination, so at least you didn't make up everything you thought happened that day, the brief flicker of attraction in his eyes as they roamed over your naked skin flattering and enough to send your heart into a frenzy, but ultimately meaningless, an involuntary and wholly physical reaction of his. And you know better than to let it go to your head; your reflection—plain and boring and strikingly average—setting you right when it pointedly stares back at you in the mirror as you study it on any normal day.

It really comes as no surprise then that after the whole pool incident, Aaron kept a deliberate distance from you whenever the two of you would meet afterwards, still smiling at you cordially, asking about your new job, your new apartment, your research, but never talking to you on your own, only ever when other people are part of the conversation too. And you're not delusional enough to not be aware of the fact that he's simply entertaining you out of politeness, a courtesy he's only showing you because you're the daughter of a friend.

Anxiety presses heavily against your chest when you think about how uncomfortable you must make him with your poorly hidden infatuation for him, how painful it must be for him to see you act like a pathetic fool in front of him, and all of a sudden your heart is thudding painfully against your ribcage, your pulse ringing in your ears, your breath leaving you in short little gasps—

"Hey, are you okay?"

Your eyes snap up to meet Spencer's kind ones, slightly widened with worry, but not like you expected from across the table where he sat when you last looked up. Instead, he's beside you, sliding next to you onto the bench, his face twisted into a frown and his brown eyes searching yours intensely. For a long moment, all you can do is stare back at him, wondering, with burning ears, just how long you spaced out for.

"Do you need to go outside for a moment? I could go with you if you want."

His words effortlessly pull you out of your anxious spiral and after briefly and earnestly considering his offer you shake your head, exhaling a shaky breath that thankfully eases some of the thightness in your chest.

You flash him a grateful little smile before answering, "No, it's okay. Thank you, though."

You unlatch your stiff and cold fingers from where they are still gripping your cocktail glass like a lifeline, wiping off the condensation that's left behind on your palms on your jeans. "My mind just… went a little crazy there for a moment, you know?"

The silly jazz hands that accompany your explanation catch Spencer off guard and he lets out a spluttered laugh that makes you grin in return. You feel yourself relax further just by having him sit beside you, and even more so when he regains enough composure to softly tell you, "I get it. Just take your time."

You're glad the others are all too absorbed in their own conversations as you glance around the table. It allows you to simply concentrate on taking calm and deep breaths as you listen to Spencer launch into a detailed analysis of the last episode of Doctor Who he watched, his expressive hands a worthy rival of your jazz hands.

(Too absorbed by all of this, you don't notice how Aaron is watching you and Spencer from across the table with narrowed eyes, or how Garcia urgently and repeatedly slaps Morgan's arm who's sitting next to her, gleefully nodding her head in the direction of the two of you, not even trying to be subtle about showing off her delightful discovery, or the slow smirk forming on the other man's lips at the incredibly intimate sight of you and your fellow young doctor completely absorbed by your own little nerdy conversation.)

With Spencer jumping from topic to topic, one more fascinating but obscure than the previous, your heart rate slowly lowers from the level of a prey animal being hunted for sport to that of the young woman enjoying a carefree Friday night with a group of friends that you are, happily piping up with your own contributions and fun facts when the genius next to you runs out of air during his endearing ramblings.

When you first moved back to DC after finishing your doctorate you were nauseous with nerves about meeting new people and making friends, worried that you would spend every weekend at your father's place, sipping his fancy wine from a glass while perched on the cold marble of his kitchen countertops, just watching him cook an elaborate dinner from his mother's collection of family recipes, asking if he wants any help with it and being pointedly reminded of what happened last time you were in his kitchen unsupervised. That's not to say that you don't love spending time with your dad—because you really, really do and you're more than happy to be living in the same city as him again, to be able to just hop into your car and drive to his house (sorry, mansion) whenever you feel like seeing him—but you would prefer if your entire social life didn't only revolve around him and your new place of work.

But when your father introduced you to his team during a dinner he hosted and you were immediately integrated into their little work family, every single one of them talking to you like they've known you for years—which it probably feels like to them considering how much your dad talks (brags) about you and your achievements—you felt silly about wasting so much time worrying about nothing at all. Not when there were all these wonderful people just eagerly waiting to meet and get to know you in person. You've never received such a warm and heartfelt welcome ever before in your life and for a few minutes you even completely forgot to agonize over the fact that during that dinner you were also seeing Aaron again for the first time since you fell for him—after literally making him fall in the pool with you.

And now, some months later, summer is only a faint memory anymore and even autumn slowly but surely making way for winter, the team happily invited you to their little end-of-another-crazy-week-catching-serial-killers get-together just like you've always been part of their group—and despite your father not even being with you at the moment.

(Because dear ol' dad ditched you in favor of a reservation at some fancy and exclusive restaurant uptown where he's currently busy working on stepmom number 3—or was it 4?)

(Honestly? You lost count.)

(You didn't. You just love to tease him with it.)

You glance around the table, looking at the happy faces of these wonderful people you're privileged to call your friends, a content smile forming on your face and a pleasantly warm feeling blooming at the very center of your chest. You can't believe how lucky you are to have been welcomed into their tight-knit group readily and with open arms, making uprooting the only life that you've known for the past ten years to move halfway across the country to a city you're not familiar with anymore so much less daunting, helping you to settle in immediately by inviting you to literally anything that they do outside of work.

(Aaron being an integral part of the group makes these casual and carefree meetups decidedly not as casual and carefree for you as you'd like, constantly putting your foot in your mouth around him or figuratively (and sometimes even literally) curling up into a pathetic ball of anxiety when he so much as looks at you. But you're working on that, you really are, learning to come to terms with your unrequited feelings for him which is not exactly going great—if tonight is any indicator of that—but eventually, you'll be able to act like the totally well-adjusted young woman you aspire to be around him.)

(… at least you hope you do.)

You're especially grateful to have met Spencer through the BAU team because if any person out there can be described as your platonic soulmate, it's him. In just four months the young genius has become one of the best friends you've ever made in your life—the two of you just immediately clicking after he refused to shake your hand when your father introduced you to him. You're close in age and if your passionate involvement in academics didn't make you connect instantly your shared interest in everything nerdy and niche definitely did.

You're even more grateful to have him by your side whenever you're confronted with your walking kryptonite that is Aaron Hotchner. You can count on Spencer to sense whenever you get too lost in your own head and to always bring you back to reality, even though he doesn't know that his boss is the cause of most of your anxiety-induced breakdowns—thankfully.

(Ordering food at a place you've never been to before is a strong second contender for that title, by the way.)

You smile at Spencer when he leans closer to you, his voice dropping to a soft whisper so only you can hear him when he gently asks, "Are you feeling any better now?"

In a playful display of your gratitude you nudge his shoulder with yours before nodding your head, answering truthfully, "I am. Thank you, Spence," and letting your hand fall to his arm and gently squeeze it through the soft fabric of his cardigan.

You don't notice how, from across the table, Aaron is so fixated on this simple, purely platonic gesture that he visibly flinches when Morgan scoots over to him on the bench and slings a heavy arm around his shoulder, a wide smirk that's all teeth and mischief splitting his face in half as he addresses his superior. He knows he only gets away with his cheeky nonchalance because of the laid-back and moderately tipsy state all of you are currently in—and isn't above shamelessly exploiting this.

"Hotch, my man. So about that fancy gala next week—"

That fancy gala Morgan so casually refers to is the FBI Agents Association—FBIAA for short—Gala that is hosted once a year on a random Thursday in November in the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center in downtown Washington. It's a fundraising event for the Association's charities, one of them being a fund that would've paid your college tuition if your father had—you feel sick even thinking about it—died while employed by the Bureau, and the whole BAU team, and you as their honorary member, have unanimously decided to attend it together.

And although you were pretty excited about it when Garcia brought the gala up, delighted by the opportunity to dress up for one evening and sip champagne out of crystal flutes while watching the different speakers up on the stage but actually listening to the BAU team's gossip about each and every one of them, the mention of it now makes your stomach drop abruptly.

Your grip on Spencer's arm tightens involuntarily because you know what the next words coming out of Morgan's stupid grinning mouth will be, you were dreading them since setting foot in this bar, were hoping against all hope that at least tonight you would be spared from hearing about her.

"—you didn't happen to run into that triathlon lady—"

"Beth," Garcia helpfully pipes up while casually fishing for the straw of her drink and taking a sip from the most blindingly colorful cocktail you've ever seen in your life.

"—Beth—again, did you? Because a little birdie told me that she would love to be your date for that evening if you just asked her."

Your stomach twists into several painful knots and you quickly reach for your own glass to drown the rest of your cocktail-flavored cold water, hoping it'll wash down the ugly and burning jealousy rising like bile in your throat.

But it doesn't, and you're stuck listening to a conversation you desperately don't want to be a part of, that awful green-eyed monster sinking its sharp claws mercilessly into your tender skin all the while.

Derek's smug grin only grows wider at the unimpressed stare his nosiness earns him from his supervisor, which gives sweet Garcia enough time to voice her enthusiastic agreement, her artfully manicured nails tapping giddily against the tall glass in front of her.

"You should really ask her, you know!"

She's not brave enough to add the well-meaning but meddlesome "You need to get out some more, have some fun and meet more people instead of wasting away in your office every day and night!" that is on the tip of her usually so ungovernable and free-spirited tongue. And even less so the "Getting laid once in a while would probably do you some good, help you relax!" that her brain unpromptedly and unsolicitedly supplied her with one day and has lived rent-free in her head since then.

And before Derek has the chance to actually say these words out loud (and give you the chance to volunteer yourself as a very willing and tragically desperate tribute), you simply stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom, cowardly but effectively fleeing the scene of the crime.

But you're too hasty, stumbling over Spencer's stupidly long legs in your hurry to get away from this excruciating conversation, too impatient to just wait for him to get up and let you out. The young genius mirrors your noise of surprise but unlike yourself he is quick enough to catch you, thankfully saving you from falling flat on your face (or landing on his lap) in front of the whole BAU team and the rest of the packed bar by urgently grabbing onto your waist to stabilize you.

You lock wide eyes with him, stunned into silence and stillness for a moment before the two of you let out matching awkward little giggles, Spencer immediately pulling his hands back and shoving them between his knees while mumbling an apology that you quickly and equally mumbled dismiss before briskly making your exit to the safe haven that is the ladies' restroom without looking back.

(You can't know that you and your little stunt just saved Aarom from even having to consider how to reply to Morgan's and Garcia's intrusive curiosity as the two peas in a pod immediately stick their nosy noses right into Spencer's alleged love life.

"And you, pretty boy, should really hurry up and ask our dear Doctor Rossi out."

Derek grins smugly from across the table at the clueless young genius who whips his head around, startled by suddenly being forced into the center of attention of their group, his voice rising in panic.

"What? Why?"

"Why?" Penelope parrots back at Spencer, looking at him like he just asked her if fezzes are cool or why people have been shipping Captain James T. Kirk and his First Officer S'chn T'gai Spock since the 60s. "Because you're literally so perfect for each other? You like the same geeky stuff, you're both young geniuses and doctors, you're always talking about some obscure studies and how little creepy-crawlies can help us and our friends in forensics catch the bad guys, and you're literally solving crossword puzzles in the newspaper together like an old married couple?"

She uses her fingers to list and illustrate her arguments, her fierce gaze boring into Spencer's round eyes who uneasily shifts in his seat, his mouth opening and closing in silent protest.

"Should I go on? I can go on," she challenges, not even waiting for anyone to disagree or agree with her. "She instantly remembered how you like your coffee, you were comfortable with letting her touch you immediately and you also—"

"What Garcia is trying to say," Derek gently interrupts his friend so she doesn't run out of air completely while squeezing her shoulder, "is that the two of you are made for each other and that the gala is the perfect opportunity to ask her on a date, boy genius."

Spencer splutters helplessly, looking around the table for support, a spontaneous change of the topic, a family emergency, anything, but the other three agents stay silent. JJ just smiles at him in amused sympathy, decidedly not disagreeing with anything that was said while Emily shrugs her shoulders with a Cheshire cat's grin on her lips, simply enjoying the chaos unfolding in front of her.

Hotch's face on the other hand is completely devoid of emotion, not giving away any thoughts or feelings he may have about the current topic of conversation and gentle teasing.

(But if any of these usually so oberservant profilers had given him and his strained passive face a closer look they would've noticed that his jaw is clenched tightly enough to literally break it if he's not careful.)

"That's not—! That doesn't mean anything. We're just friends!" Spencer squeaks as his last, very weak resort. And he actually means it, knowing that it's simply the truth, that everything between you and him is purely platonic and that the both of you are happily in agreement about it, but his pleas fall on deaf ears.

"Sure you are," Derek hums while raising his beer bottle to his lips as Penelope next to him cheerfully sing-songs, "Doctor Reid and Doctor Rossi sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n—"

They don't pay Hotch any mind when he stands up and excuses himself as well.)

They also miss when you exit the ladies' room at the other end of the large room at the same time, your head ducked with the remnants of your earlier jealousy still simmering uncomfortably in your stomach.

You wince when the unfiltered noise of the bar and all of its mostly tipsy patrons hit you all at once, trying your hardest not to get too close to these countless strangers when you push your way back to the table near the entrance where your friends set up camp at the beginning of the night.

You keep your eyes on the wooden floor, cringing as the soles of your shoes come in contact with an especially sticky spot when a solid body collides with you without warning.

A startled yelp escapes you, the impact enough to make you stumble, but for the second time tonight you don't land on the floor thanks to someone catching you just in time, a big and warm hand closing firmly around yours and pulling you closer to his warm and solid chest.

The slurred apology of the man who bumped into you promptly fades into the background, just like the rest of the noisy bar, as your gaze snaps up to where you see Aaron already looking down at you, his brown eyes unreadable, his lips set into a thin line.

Immediately, your cheeks go up in flames, the butterfly wings in your stomach transforming into an all-consuming hurricane, and you can't do anything except stare into his eyes with barely hidden longing and quietly stammer your thanks while your hand is still held protectively in his bigger one, your body still pressed closely to his chest.

But Aaron doesn't say anything in reply, his eyes simply fixed on yours while your heart slams against your ribcage traitorously.

Overwhelmed, you have to avert your gaze from Aaron's and that's when he abruptly lets go of you and walks away without a word, leaving you standing in the middle of the crowded room, his comforting warmth disappearing as suddenly as he did.

(You're too busy blinking in bewildered surprise to see the rigid line of his broad shoulders or the pained expression on his face as he forces himself not to turn around and look back at you.

Or the way his hand that just moments before held yours flexes by his side.)

series masterlist || part 1 - ⋆part 2⋆ - part 3 coming soon-ish :3

Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Feel free to hop into my inbox if you have a fic request or just want to talk ✨

dividers by @/cafekitsune

Tags <3

@iyskgd, @johnp0rk1988, @baddyg, @gfksz, @little-jana, @khxna, @kcch-ns, @softestqueeen, @chenellearose, @chaosofmanyfandoms

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Walk The Line.

Carmen gets a little jealous. You don’t mind in the slightest.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. semi public antics.

word count - 2.5k

authors note - ask and you shall receive 😌. i’ll never get enough of roommate!carmy. i’ll be writing him forever. <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

He’s a little out of his depth, admittedly.

The invitation had been slid under your front door, pretty handwriting on creamy paper.

“A… party?”

“Does it say party, Carmen?”

“No, it says ‘mixer.’ What the fuck is a mixer?”

You laugh, scrubbing a mark off the final dish in the sink before placing it down in the drying rack. Carmy is sat on the counter across the kitchen, reading the invite over and over.

“Seriously, babe. The fuck does mixer mean? So it isn’t a party?”

You dry your hands and make your way over to take the paper from him, eyes scanning over it carefully.

“A mixer is like… a get to know each other thing. It’s sort of like a party, I guess, but not really. Just a casual gathering type situation.”

“Sounds fucking stupid,” he grumbles.

You smack his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

“Lighten up, asshole. It could be fun.”

“Fun? You think having a mixer with all the neighbours from our building on a Friday night is gonna be fun?”

“I think it sounds like an incredible time. My ideal evening. I can’t wait.”

You can’t even pretend not to laugh, grabbing onto his thigh to keep yourself balanced. He puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to look serious, but the grin fighting its way up his cheeks gives him away.

“You really wanna go?”

“Carm, if it’s terrible, we’ll just lie and say we’ve got plans elsewhere. We’ll run away screaming if we need to. It might be good for us though, to meet our neighbours properly. It’s good to get to know them, just in case we ever need anything.”

“What, like a cup of sugar? What is this, the thirties?”

“When you’re testing recipes and fucking them all up, you might be grateful to be able to nip next door and borrow a cup of sugar.”

“I don’t fuck recipes up.”

“No? Then why were you yelling at a lavender and oat crème brûlée last week?”

“It was mocking me,” he grumbles under his breath, hanging his head.

You can’t help but laugh, moving closer to stand between his manspread legs where he still sits on the counter. You brush a piece of hair back from his forehead, tracing your index finger in a featherlight touch down the bridge of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes glued to yours.

“I know for a fact you don’t have anything else planned on Friday,” you whisper.

He rolls his eyes but leans into your touch anyway, where you’re still tracing along the features of his face.

“You promise we can leave if it’s terrible?”

“We literally live in this building. We can just walk up the stairs and be home.”

He huffs, but relents.

“Fine. But please don’t leave me alone with all of the middle aged moms. They love me.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you giggle, leaning in to rest your head on his chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you as close as he can.

Is this scene too intimate for roommates? Without a doubt.

Do either of you care? Not in the slightest.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s not as bad as he thought it’d be.

The middle aged moms have pulled through, actually. The lobby is decorated with fairy lights, tables covered in alcohol set up against the walls. Everyone has a drink in their hand, chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

You and Carmen walk downstairs a little late. He’d finished his shift and run home to shower and make himself look semi presentable before facing the neighbours.

“We need a signal,” he says suddenly, right as you reach the staircase. “In case of emergencies.”

“Pat your head.”

“Real subtle.”

“It doesn’t need to be subtle, it needs to be noticeable for me.”

“Fine,” he mutters, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Don’t leave me alone with that Erica lady. She scares me.”

“Yes sir,” you mock salute, slipping your hand into his momentarily. “You’ll be fine, Carmen. Like I said, we’ll just leave if it’s awful.”

It’s not awful, actually. It’s quite fun.

It’s nice to get to know the people in your building, seeing as you have lived there for a couple of years now. Carmen has been there even longer.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?”

You turn around to be met with an old lady, leaning carefully on her cane.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m Dorothy. I live in 2B, and I just had to tell you that you look beautiful in your dress.”

You smile, pulling out a chair for her, which she takes gladly. You sit down next to her, spotting Carmy chatting with a couple of guys across the room.

“Thank you so much!”

You introduce yourself, telling her your name and apartment number.

“Ah yes,” she hums in recognition. “You live with your boyfriend who has all the tattoos.”

You almost choke on your drink.

“We’re just roommates,” you say eventually. “But yes, that’s him.”

“Oh, my apologies. I just assumed.”

You’re curious, suddenly. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help yourself.

“Can I ask? Why you… thought we were dating?”

She chuckles knowingly before placing a hand on your knee.

“Honey, he’s got a hand on you at all times. He looks at you like you are the sun. Every time you walk past my window, you’re both laughing. Sounds like love to me.”

Her bluntness is refreshing, if not a little intimidating. No one will say it how it is more than a little old lady who can’t mind her business.

“We, uh… we’re close. He’s a good roommate. A good friend.”

She doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, chuckling as she pats your leg.

“Uh huh. That’s what I said about my husband - real good friend. We’ve been married 58 years.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“Is he here with you?”

“He’s upstairs. He can’t really leave the apartment, these days.”

“You know, if you ever need anything, me and Carmen would be happy to help.”

“No, sweetheart, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“-you’re not asking me, I’m offering. Carmen is an award winning chef at one of the best restaurants in this city. He’d be more than happy to make a meal or two when needed. And I can pick you guys up stuff from the grocery store when I go, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, grabbing your hand in her frail one. “You’re good kids, you two.”

You grin at her, squeezing her hand gently.

“You know where I am, if you need me.”

She nods, standing up carefully.

“I’m going to go see if that handsome Jeremy will come and fix my shower for me. He did promise.”

You laugh, watching as she makes a beeline for one of the dads stood in a huddle. You catch eyes with Carmy, who’s still chatting away with a few of the younger guys. He winks at you, all cheeky and carefree, and you can’t help but flush, heat prickling across your skin. You shake your head, smiling, winking back.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your bicep. You spin sideways, to be met with the sight of a very handsome man. Dark hair, big brown eyes, tall - he looks slightly like a movie star you can’t quite remember the name of. You crane your neck to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

He holds out his hand to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Daniel.”

You tell him your name, trying to ignore how his hand engulfs yours.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Have you lived here long? Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Now he shakes his head.

“A month, maybe. I live in 6C. I’ve been working a lot, so haven’t had any time for introductions.”

“Ah. What do you do?”

“I’m a model.”

Of course he is.

“What do you do?”

As you start to tell him, his eyes fix on yours, not leaving for a moment. He listens carefully, both of you blocking out the noise and focusing on each other.

Turns out, Daniel is good company. The two of you find a spot in the corner, away from the noise and the wine drunk moms. The two of you laugh, joke, and talk about Chicago as if you’re old friends. Time slips away from you easily, conversation flowing with minimal effort.

“I don’t want to leave, trust me… but I have a super early call time tomorrow. If you wanted, we could grab a drink sometime, somewhere that’s not our buildings lobby?”

You laugh, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that. It was nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“You too. Here,” he says, handing you a small business card with his number on, “text me.”

“I might do just that,” you tease as he walks away grinning.

You’re on your way to grab another drink when a hand slinks around your wrist.

“Hi, Carmen.”

You don’t even have to turn to know who it is, recognising the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft skin.

“Where’s your friend gone?” he all but grumbles.

“He’s gone home, got to be up early for work.”

“Haven’t we all.”

“Ooo, okay Mr Attitude. You’re not having a good night? You didn’t give me the signal.”

“Would you have noticed if I did?”

You spin around to face him properly now.

“Yes, I would have. Because we’re in a tiny fucking lobby and not a football stadium, Carmen.”

He huffs.

“Didn’t think you’d notice if the building fell down, the way you were lost in his eyes.”

“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Carmen, but eye contact is actually a very important part of conversation. Try it some time.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Wanna show you something.”

He practically drags you up the stairs, and up some more, and up some more. Eventually, you reach the roof.

The sun is just setting, casting the city in a warm orange glow. Everything is so calm, so peaceful, so serene. It’s beautiful.

You’re admiring the view when suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Carmy has you over his shoulder, carrying you across the rooftop to the brick wall.

“The fuck are you doing?” you cry as he finally puts you down.

He smashes his lips to yours, choosing to shut you up rather than answer you. You kiss back eagerly, confused but not disappointed at the turn in events. Slipping your hands into his hair, you tug him into you, groaning as he grabs at your ass.

“Carmen,” you breathe, “why don’t we just go home?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. When he bites down, you smack his shoulder.

“No marks, asshole. The fuck is up with you?”

Again, he says nothing, just slips his hand under your dress to run his fingers over your underwear. You part your legs instantly, leaning back into the wall to steady yourself.

“Carmen, someone’s gonna see if they come up here.”

“Well then you better come quickly.”

He slips your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat. You keen, knees buckling already.

“Oh baby,” he chuckles. “This all for Daniel?”

It all clicks for you suddenly.

“That’s what-” you choke as he slides a finger into you. “That’s what - fuck - has you so riled up? Daniel?”

“Don’t say his name when I’m knuckle deep, baby. It’s rude.”

You attempt to scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan when he presses his thumb to your clit, circling carefully.

“Am I not giving you what you need, honey? Is that it? Greedy girl just wants more, so she looks elsewhere to get it?”

“No,” you justify quickly. “You know that’s not true.”

“If you can still form sentences, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

He slips a second finger in, curling them exactly the way he knows you like.

“Carm.”

“He couldn’t make you feel like this, babe. You and I both know it.”

You’re nodding, fingers gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re scared he’s going to walk away. His lips press into your neck again, nipping along the expanse of skin.

“Say it.”

“Hmm?”

You’re dazed, mind hazy with Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen.

“Say. It.”

He punctuates his words by curling his fingers harshly. You’re seeing stars, legs giving out.

“He - he… fuck, Carmen, please.”

“So close, honey. Try again.”

You know he won’t relent. He never does, when he’s in a mood. You have to just give him what he wants.

“He couldn’t make me feel this good, Carm. It’s all for you, only you.”

“Good girl. Knew you could do it.”

With that, he speeds up his fingers, his other arm snaking around your back to keep you standing upright.

“Give it to me, baby. Know you want to. That’s it, atta girl.”

“Come for me, there we go. Can feel you.”

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. So pretty like this.”

You fall over the edge, clenching like a vice around his fingers as you throw your head back. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin, chest heaving with every breath you take. Your vision goes white for a second, gripping onto Carmy’s biceps for dear life.

You rest your forehead against his chest, panting as you try to recover.

“Jealous Carmen is kinda mean,” you mumble into his shirt.

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right? You’re free to date whoever you want. You could do a lot worse than Daniel the hot supermodel.”

You pull back, looking at him carefully.

“I know. I just… I don’t know if I’ll go. Seems a bit unfair to date him when my mind is on someone else.”

You both know exactly who you mean. You both also know that tipsy on a rooftop is not the place to have that conversation.

“Did you ever master the lavender crème brûlée?”

He chuckles, not expecting the sudden change in subject.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do we have any left?”

“We don’t. But I did make chocolate soufflé this afternoon, if that’ll satisfy your sweet tooth.”

“Fuck, yes,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

“I’ll make you a crème brûlée in work tomorrow. Promise.”

“Will you make two extras?”

He quirks a brow in confusion, so you continue.

“We’ve got two elderly neighbours. They’re not very mobile, so I said we’d drop stuff off every now and again.”

He smiles at you, all soft and melted.

“Of course. That heart of yours is too big for your chest, you know.”

You take hold of his hand, placing it there.

“Only sometimes.”

He kisses you again before throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“Let’s go eat chocolate soufflés and drink the rest of that wine you bought.”

“You’re a mind reader,” you laugh, making your way downstairs.

Maybe he is, you think later. You don’t mind in the slightest.

[streamsofmoon]

okay i’m imagining famous!vi x randomgirl!reader !! childhood friends who grew up in the suburbs and vi got famous for her music- now she’s one of the biggest pop stars in the world

reader is SOOO unused to the public attention. she’s always staying out of the public eye, private social media accounts, covers her face in paparazzi photos, etc etc.

giggling and kicking my feet just imagining them hard launching at like the grammys or something!!!!!

NEED a famous!vi x unrenowned!reader!!

vi x f!reader | modern day, famous!vi

synopsis: an editorial about vi hard launching at the grammys.

a/n: i wanted to try another perspective angle. it was a lot of fun! thank you, nonny, for the idea! <3

vi's hard launch at the grammys! (no one saw it coming)

by stephanie williams

last night, i had the gracious honour of being an interviewer on the red carpet. it had always been a dream of mine; to see the celebrities whose songs dominate the charts, be able to actually approach them and ask questions.

it was a whirlwind experience from start to finish. every little thing left me speechless, from the musicians' arrivals to the elegance of the venue. talking had nearly escaped and i almost forgot my own name!

everything was wonderful and perfect—but the evening did have a highlight.

i got to witness something very spectacular.

anyone who doesn't live under a rock knows who vi is. anyone who's anyone knows her music and is aware of its influence. you can't hear a vi song and not want to dance to it. her tunes are electrifying. they, quite frankly, make you want to shake your butt.

i've been a fan ever since she appeared on the scene, and this was before she made her big break. i'm talking about when she was on soundcloud, dropping teasers and singles for a few hundred people. her beginnings were humble, and so was she. she still is, to this very day, and to see her skyrocket after years in the dark was so gratifying to see.

so when i saw her strolling down the red carpet, i freaked a little (a lot).

i was aware that i'd meet her, but the awareness was no match for my nerves. meeting someone you've admired for years was and will never be a simple thing to experience.

plus, it didn't help that vi looked even more beautiful in person. all dressed in a designer black suit with no shirt beneath her two button blazer. her silvery jewelry, a brilliant match against her tanned skin and pink hair flawlessly slicked back. she was absolutely stunning.

but what specifically caught my eye was the person by her side. also immaculately gorgeous in a beautiful silk evening grown that flowed to the floor. her hair all done up and pristine; everything about her was just enchanting.

she was devastingly beautiful.

something in me immediately knew who she was. not personally, but as in who she was to vi. because of the way vi walked with her with an arm wrapped around her waist. how she'd look at her often, the softest smile gracing her lips with her eyes shimmering like stars.

i didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was pretty obvious to me as well as everyone.

vi walked down the red carpet with her guest in tow. she stopped for one or two small interviews before making her way towards me. during that time, her guest was escorted into the venue by vi's manager, leaving vi to handle what she needed to.

with, admittedly, shaking hands, i politely introduced myself to vi. she was charming, friendly, and hilarious. she made me snort-laugh too many times to count. but as the interview drew to a close, i found myself shooting my shot.

"so," i said slowly, testing the waters. "if you don't mind me asking—?"

vi grinned, like she knew where i was going. she didn't stop me, allowing me to ask my question.

"how long?" was all i said, and vi instantly knew. it was definitely not the most professional question i had asked, but vi didn't seem to mind.

"i've loved her since we were kids," vi confessed fondly, hands stuffed in her pockets. "and she isn't used to this world, so we decided to keep it quiet. anything to protect and maintain her peace. i'd do anything for her, and the only reason why she's here is because she wants to be here to celebrate with me."

there were butterflies in my stomach, violently flapping butterflies.

"she's one lucky girl," i said, smiling and vi shook her head.

"nah, i'm the lucky one," she said and soon she was waving goodbye as her manager came to get her.

vi went on to win 3 awards that night and in the pictures of her holding the awards, she's beaming ear to ear as she holds her girlfriend in her free arm. her girlfriend is also beaming just as hard, brilliant as the sun.

now i did not get to meet vi's girlfriend and maybe i never will.

but if someone is able to make vi that happy, to make a love so strong it lasts for years?

then she must be an angel.

stephanie williams

editor

[ichorai]

chiropterology — silver kitties.

drabble synopsis ; all in the name of science. warnings ; slightly sexually suggestive, batmom has questionable morals when it comes to her experiments LMAO

series masterlist.

Aside from the diamond ring on your finger, you tended not to wear jewelry very often—dangly bits of metal were probably never a good idea to have on in your lab. It’s part of the reason why you frequently warned the kids to leave their weapons outside. 

However, since Bruce was now (hesitantly) allowing you to accompany him to next week’s charity gala after a rather compelling presentation you put together, you figured you would go shopping for something fancy and bejeweled to put around your neck for the event. That’s it—no ulterior motives. None at all. 

Save for your latest little gizmo you were planning to install into the necklace—once someone made direct eye contact with the pendant, a pulse signal would be sent back to your lab computer and you would later be able to replicate a frame of their thoughts into a printed image. It was a pretty cool concept that you thought up once Dick had dramatically sighed, “Eyes are the window to the soul!” to Jason, who had promptly told him to shut up. 

And Bruce would never know! You just had to make sure he didn’t stare too intently at your décolletage. Besides… it’s not like it would harm anyone—just maybe, sort of, kind of a slight breach of privacy, but it was something you were solemnly willing to sacrifice in the name of science. It was, however, untested, so the possibility of it completely frying someone’s synapses admittedly was not beyond the realm of possibility. Best not to think about it.

The problem was now picking out a necklace that had a pendant large enough to fit your device whilst simultaneously being fashionable enough for a gala. Damn. You should’ve brought Steph along to help pick something for you. Though, knowing her, she’d likely just pick the most purple gemstone they had and tell you to go with that one.

You browsed through the glass displays, wondering why there weren’t any workers behind the counters hovering over you, eager to make a sale. Maybe they were all on lunch break and you’d just have to come back in an hour or so…

Before you could turn around, and walk out, the bell above the door jingled with a newcomer’s arrival.

“Mrs. Wayne,” purred a voice, silky and ever so familiar. You felt a smile grace the corner of your mouth as you turned to face her.

“Kitty,” you replied with a coltish tone. It didn’t take you long to realize that she was likely the reason behind the strange lack of employees in a jewelry store. “Nice to see you back in your natural habitat.” 

Catwoman flexed her spindly hands, covered with clawed leather gloves. “Typically I would pull out my gun to scare off any customers during a robbery. But I won’t have to worry about you screaming, will I?” She circled you twice, like a shark would its kill, before sauntering behind the counters. She began to pick the tiny locks of the glass display cases. 

“Depends on the situation,” you replied, watching her work with a curious smile. She was just as pretty as the last time you saw her. 

She glanced over her shoulder to shoot you a flirtatious look. “You’re a married woman, you know. Shouldn’t be talking to me that way, given our… history.”

“Oh, please. Bruce and I were broken up back then. Just because you came to me for help and we ended up sleeping together once a long time ago does not make it history.” Your hands lifted to put air quotes around the last word. “And besides, it’s not like Bruce hasn’t had his fun with you, either.”

Selina hummed. It had only been a handful of seconds, but she already managed to get the lock loose, carefully shifting the glass panel beneath her palms until it gave way. Her movements were precise and calculated—it was clear she’d done this many times before. She began to pick the silver threads off the displays like fruits from a tree. “I dunno, baby. It was quite a night we had. But don’t worry… I’m not looking to get in between the most famous couple in Gotham. I am curious, though… did you tell Bruce about all the ways I made you—”

“Okay!” you squeaked, cheeks aflush with heat. Selina always managed to get you flustered beyond relief. “Where have you been?” you asked after a brief pause, deciding to steer the topic of conversation elsewhere. “Ever since the Riddler flooded the city, I’ve hardly seen you.”

Selina lifted a clawed finger to rest upon her lips. “I’m a bit preoccupied robbing this store for idle chit-chat. Here, hold this.”

She pushed an armful of chains and gems into your hands over the counter. With a sigh, you did as she said and began to rifle through the jewelry

“Paws off,” Selina snapped, returning to you with a bag she found somewhere in the back inventory to stuff all the remaining necklaces. They made a light, clinking sound as they tumbled into each other within the bag. “Those are mine.”

“Come on, Kitty,” you told her. “One necklace, and I won’t tell Bruce you were robbing this store.”

“Try again,” she said, unimpressed. “Bruce isn’t nearly as fast as me.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Okay. I’ll tell Orphan and Red Robin you were robbing this store.”

This made her pause in thought. “Fair play. Your children are terrifying little creatures.” She pointed to the bounty you were clutching. “One. Just one.” 

“Greedy, greedy,” you muttered under your breath with a little grin. Though, when she trailed a suggestive hand over your shoulder while passing by you to get to the front of the store and collect whatever was left there, you quickly said, “I mean—yes, ma’am.”

Finally, after many minutes of indecisive staring at thirty different pendants, you eenie-meenie-minie-moed between the glittering options and snagged whichever one your finger landed on. You could work with what you got when you returned to your lab.

When she made her way back to you, she scrutinized the one you set aside for yourself with keen eyes. It was an elegant silver chain with a crescent-shaped pendant that shone a pearlescent hue. “Good choice. The bigger, the better, right?” 

“It’s for this experiment I’m—” You abruptly halted your words with a wince, shooting her a lame smile. Better not to give Selina any blackmailing leverage over you. The kids already had enough of that for you to worry about. “I mean—it’s for one of my daughters.”

“Right,” she said, clearly not believing you, but not bothering to press any further. She was quite familiar with your many inventions and doohickeys, and was, frankly, not interested in listening to you ramble about physics for the next ten minutes. She swept the rest of the jewelry away from you and into the tinkering bag. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

With that, she tipped one of the perked ears on her mask like one would with a hat, leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek, and dashed away, completely silent despite all the leather she was wearing, leaving behind only a trace of her patchouli perfume. You blinked at the spot she was just standing in owlishly. Then, you glanced upward to look for security cameras. Two in the front of the store, and three behind the counters—all with cut wires. Of course, Selina wouldn’t let anything jeopardize her piracy. 

You shook your head with a downturned smile, and pulled out your wallet to write out an anonymous check. After a quick calculation off the top of your head, you surmised that a clean two million dollars would be more than enough to reimburse all the empty display cases. You just hoped that the employees who were meant to be on shift wouldn’t get fired over this.

By the time you returned to the manor, still rather dazed from the interaction, the sun was just beginning to set. You slunk down into the batcave, making a bee-line for your lab. Bruce, who was just about to leave for an evening patrol, paused mid-conversation with Damian to look at you hurrying off. Initially, he thought that you had blood on your face, feeling his heart jump at the thought of you hurt. Upon further scrutiny, he saw that it was not blood but… a lipstick mark on your cheek? Who would—

Of course. Selina. Who else would be bold enough to do such a thing? His eyes squinted into suspicious slits. He might’ve let her slide with stealing a few necklaces here and there, but he drew the line at stealing kisses from his wife!

“Change of plans, Robin,” he said, voice suddenly an octave deeper, instantly switching into Batman mode. “There’s a dangerous thief roaming the streets of Gotham. She often targets jewelry stores and empty mansions. Your mother has already fallen victim. The aim of this patrol is to find her and put a stop to it.”

Damian’s brows drew together, insulted on your behalf. Without feeling the need to ask further questions, he immediately said, “Understood, Father. Mother shall be avenged.”

[mossangelll]

oh my lord my kingdom for yandere vander hcs plz all i can picture is him being this firm gentle giant -- "i'm doing this for your own good" kinda shit

Gentle Giant - Yandere!Vander x Reader

a/n: this was super fun, tysm for the request! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this but uni has been a LOT and i’m adjusting to not having as much free time as i did before. you guys don’t get how wonderful it was for me to write something again - especially a yandere fic hehe >:)

cw: yandere behaviour, physical abuse, kidnapping, suggested noncon, pretty sure reader is gn but there might be slip ups

Laughter.

Shouting.

The screech of rickety chairs, of glass tankards shattering into a million pieces, of drunken regulars getting into yet another fight over who knows what.

All served as excruciatingly painful reminders of the life that was snatched away from you the second he laid eyes on you; the sad part is, you didn’t even know it was all gone until it was too late.

But you’ve spent too many sleepless nights pondering over what could’ve been, sick to your stomach over what he planned for you and now you’re left to stew in your rage at what he’s made you become - a living ghost forced to sit on the sidelines as everyone else gets to live.

You let out a sigh and shut your book closed - after all, you hadn’t really been reading it, your eyes scanning over the same line again and again and again. You hop up from your bed, admittedly the cosiest thing you’ve felt though you’d hate to admit it to Vander’s face, and let your restless feet pace across the wooden floor as your mind clouded over with plans to escape.

You look over your shoulder to the door at the top of the stairs and found no shadows from where the light slipped under the crack of the door. Slowly, you creep over to the section of the floorboards covered in a threadbare carpet which hid your biggest secret.

Your escape tunnel.

Well, more like the startings of an escape tunnel. You knew from overhearing one of Vander’s conversations that there was a sewage system right underneath your feet and with enough patience you would be able to carve an opening and make your escape.

You whipped out the poorly made shiv from beneath your shirt and got to sawing at the planks of wood - you’d made a lot of progress in a short amount of time and your heart swelled with hope at the idea of freedom. Time flew by as you worked on hands and knees on your secret “project” with fervour, not even paying attention to what was going on in your surroundings.

“Love, what are you doing?”

Vander. Fuck.

What was he doing back so soon? He’s already checked up on you for the night and he should be busy tending to the patrons of the bar, not down here!

You crane your head to him so slowly you feel that you’ll never face him, but when you do you feel your stomach drop and the acidic burn of bile claw up your throat.

Vander, in all his tall glory, was looming over you with his burly arms crossed and his face contorted in a terrifying mix of anger and disappointment, his brow furrowed and the frown lines by his mouth becoming more pronounced by the second.

The shiv in your hand clatters when it hits the floor, your shaking hands unable to keep a steady grip on it, and your mouth goes dry as you both look to the source of the noise.

You try to scramble for an explanation, anything to take his attention away from you but it’s useless, that you both know. He shakes his head in silent fury and crouches down to your level, eyes brimming with outrage as his heavy hand grips onto your shoulder, effectively stopping your dumb rambling in its tracks.

You gasp as you feel his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“I thought we were over this, Love. Seems like you never learn.” His rough voice sounded cold and detached in a way you’d never heard it before and it frightened you to your core.

He drags you across the floor, rough wood splintering into your knees, and sets himself down on your chair. Vander doesn’t even give you a moment to gather your bearings before he manhandles you once again, this time his arms scooping around your midsection and pulling you head down onto his lap. You struggle against him and try desperately to free himself but it’s as if the man is a brick wall.

Vander grunts as his large hand pulls your pants down from your still-squirming legs with no regards to the anxiety and indignation flowing from you.

W-what is he doing? He said he would never do anything like this to you even if you thought that one day it migh-

SMACK.

You immediately still under his iron hold and it doesn’t take long before you’re reduced to a sniffling mess, smearing tears and snot into his clothed thigh yet thankful that at least your cries were muffled. As if this wasn’t humiliating enough.

“Oh, Love. I’m doing this for your own good, you of all people should know better - that it’s my duty to steer you on the right path, hmm?” He tutted at you in such a soft way you would think he was calming you after a bad day, not punishing you for your “insolence”.

But he was right. You did know better and only you knew what a depraved and corrupt soul lingered behind his gentle veneer.

It sickened you to the core at how remorseful he sounded - how dare he?! As if he was forced to treat you like a prisoner and strip you of your human rights when this was entirely of his own doing?

It feels like it goes on forever, the way he alternates between spanking you with all his might and then placating you with honey-coated whispers. Your sniffles turn to wails and those wails turn to screams and all you can think is how impossible it should be that absolutely no one in the tavern above can hear your cries.

Vander doesn’t let the punishment go on for long though, flipping you over so you’re forced to stare into his steel blue eyes which were marred with worry lines.

“I’m sorry, love, but I did this for us. In fact, I would say it’s brought us closer, wouldn’t you think?” The rough timbre of his voice and his salt and pepper hair warmed you up from the inside against the voice in your head screaming against it. You scrunch your eyes closed to block out the intrusive thoughts that make your head sway.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’re floating away to some distant place far, far away from the terror of your prison.

He lets out a weary sigh when you stay silent and picks you up as if you were nothing but a sheet of paper, taking you to your bed on the other side of the small room. He lays you face down, lower half still uncovered, and his steps fade away.

Eventually he comes back, it could have been a few seconds or even an hour; you’re too far gone to keep a solid grasp on reality. You jump as you feel his warm hands caress the raw skin he abused, a cooling salve being massaged into the tender flesh. He hums as he works to take away the sting he left behind and once he views his work satisfactory, he leans in closer to snuggle your hapless body.

You don’t dare protest or inch away after what you just endured - you would be crazy to try anything ever again.

So you lay face down and pretend to be asleep as you let him continue to snuggle into your body, not making a single noise when his chapped lips kiss your neck with no intention of stopping, barely shuddering when his large hands, the same hands capable of such pain, gently stroke the crown of your head as if you’re the most precious thing to him.

It’s only when a particularly loud bang resonates from upstairs that he actually lets up and you feel yourself let out a sigh of relief you didn’t even know you were holding in so tightly.

“G’night, love.” You hear him blow out the lamps by your bed as his steps echo then fade into nothingness as they’re carried away by the cacophony of noise from the bar and you’re shrouded in darkness.

Finally, you’re alone.

masterlist

[sungiescheotluv]

am i the asshole? ⭑.ᐟ lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, meet not-so-cute turned cute, (excessive) swearing, crack (if you squint - or read any of my fics really 😭)

summary: things are looking up for you - a promotion at work propels you into a new, more extravagant apartment that has all you need and more. too bad you forget to look down.

notes: hi hi, i'm back with a new fic! it's been really fun to crank out all these fics in such a short amount of time :) i usually spend a stupid amount of hours mulling over word choice and reading too much into things, which i've tried to abandon with this blog and just write whatever inspires me and makes me laugh honestly. i'm not sure if this is funny for you guys, but i enjoyed the care-free time i had writing this and hope you enjoy it the same reading it! wishing you all the best and thank you, THANK YOU for all the love on my fics! it means so so much to me 🥹💗

also, this fic wouldn't exist this prompt list from @corvase so big big thank you to them! much love! <3

If there is one word to describe Jeno, it’s doting. 

Ever since the moment you two met, you’ve been living a life of luxury. Not necessarily in terms of monetary means (except for the very pretty promise ring Jeno got you a few months back), but in more valuable, sentimental places. Someone by your side that treasures the ground you walk on, someone that makes the effort whoever big or small, someone who’s totally and utterly obsessed with you. For so long, you thought you had your head in the clouds, imagining such a love as an abstract, fictional thing. Like it could never materialise beyond the limits of your mind and yet, there it is. Three years ago, the love you’d wished for on many stars, many birthday candles - right in front of you. 

You meet in a rather…unconventional way. Nothing shady or anything, but it’s a bit of a blunder in comparison with the wholesomeness of your relationship. You’d just moved into your new apartment building, your new promotion uplifting you as the future brims bright. You’d seen it in person before getting the keys and your jaw dropped every time. Admittedly, the office assisted with most of the expenses to keep you in close vicinity of the main building, explaining the lavish skyscraper of a building. Marble floors, polished elevators, key-pad locks. To you, someone who didn’t come from much, this was the high life. A merit your family let you know you deserved for all your efforts over the years, whether it was in academic ventures or familial affairs. Either way, as you are driving through the front gate, the security guard tipping his hat at you, you’re beaming with glee - nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, could ruin your day. 

Except this.

For someone so accommodating, you lacked understanding (and patience) for what you, in a flare of anger, called ‘stupidity.’ Unfortunately for you, this is one of those moments. Pulling up to your assigned parking space (underground, might you add), your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you. There’s a car in front of you making an awkward turn, almost as if they don’t know where they’re going. Maybe they’re new like you, you reason. Your understanding drains from there, as the car goes back and forth, turning its wheels and frankly, looking like a hot mess. You try not to be an asshole, because drivers deserve some grace, especially Learners judging by the large ‘L’ on the back of their car, but just as you’re about to offer some help, you squeal.

The learner attempts to manoeuvre out the tight space it’s wedged itself into, having to reverse generously due to the sheer size of the car and in doing so, it nearly rear-ends you. If you hadn’t had the sense to put more distance between the two of you, the front of your car would’ve been mangled. This time, you honk, a slam of the hand on the steering wheel as you yell, “The fuck are you doing!”

The driver offers an apologetic hand out their window, somehow managing to squeeze into the parking spot they’d been trying very hard to get into. As grateful as you are for the stupid ordeal to be over, a pout forms on your lips as you squint at the parking spot the driver’s parked into. 

Your parking spot.

You’re out of your car before your brain registers, the slam of the car door accompanying the echo of your loud voice as you say, “That’s my parking space.” 

The driver hoops out of their car, a large grey hoodie shrouding their face as they step into view. Under the fluorescent lights of the barren car park, the stranger reveals their face, shadows enveloping the sharp edges of his high cheekbones and jawline. You nearly lurch back, because what the hell? Why is the driver you’d nearly had an aneurysm over unbelievably hot? Handsome? Cute?

At this point, you’d throw a whole dictionary full of words to describe how attractive he is, his pink lips folding into an apologetic grin, bowing to you deeply. “Is your car ok? I’m so sorry. It’s my first time driving this big ole thing - it’s the only car I could fit all my belongings in.”

Then, you see it. Items, belongings cluttering the pick-up truck, and if you really look, you’re pretty sure a pillow’s obstructing his sight from his rearview mirror. 

You exhale, a wave of sympathy drowning the fires of your annoyance. “It's fine, thanks. Just a word of advice, you shouldn’t be driving with something blocking your rearview mirror.”

Why did you have to tell him this? If he's a learner, surely he 1) knew this and 2) had someone in the car with him.

Just then, the passenger front seat opens, another figure in an oversized black hoodie coming round the vehicle. Were they-?

“Jeno, you forgot your dog treats in the-” the passenger cuts themselves off at your presence, lowering their hood to reveal another handsome face. What is this? A traveling circus of hotties? How many more were hidden in there? “Oh, hottie alert.”

Instantly no. 

In the face of a man also sculpted by the Gods, with his big brown eyes and irresistible smile, you scowl. Maybe even vomit a little in your mouth because did he just say ‘hottie alert’ about you…in front of you? 

Nevermind you calling him that first.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” the stranger - Jeno, you’re assuming - looks even more embarrassed, shuffling to shield the glaring ogling his friend does. “He’s got no filter. No sense either, now that I think about it.”

“Since when did the samoyed become the owner?” you make out his friend say, in a headlock that he forces himself out of with a bite through Jeno’s sleeve. 

Samoyed? Owner?

The longer you watch their bickering, the more confused and honestly, more annoyed you grow. A promotion and new apartment, what is meant to be an upgrade from your previously cramped but friendly neighbourhood, only to find yourself caught in the middle of a quarrel. With some themes of petplay, too, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that you’ve got a long day ahead of you, and they’re prolonging it by snatching your parking space. 

“Sorry to interrupt but,” their heads turn at the sound of your voice, having the decency to look embarrassed as you continue. “You’re parked in my space. I’m D7. So, in case there’s been a mix-up-”

“Thing is, sweetie,” Jeno’s friend addresses you, the latter hanging his head in shame. “Unfortunately, someone’s parked in our sweet Jeno’s place. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, and your space was the only one avail-”

A car honk makes you jump, your head on a swivel, mortified to find a car behind yours, luckily trying to exit the underground space.

Now you look like the asshole.

You huff, exhausted already. “I’m gonna let this car through, and we’re going to solve this, alright?” 

They both nod, the enthusiasm that Jeno nods with earning a fond smile from his friend, Jeno’s sleazy partner ruffling his head of long black hair.

In the end, when you’ve circled back, the person parked in Jeno’s space comes out and profusely apologizes for the inconvenience, citing an emergency they had to take care of and since Jeno’s space was free and close to the building, they snagged it. So, you get your parking space back, a small victory. Jeno’s friend, who notices you’re moving in too - Jaemin is his name - offers his help, to which you politely deny, catching the pure apologetic nature in Jeno’s shiny eyes. 

Minor blunder. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, nothing worth losing your mind over.

Except when you’ve managed to heave your first few belongings to your apartment, the door next to yours opens, Jaemin’s bright smile greeting you as he says, “Oh, I’m definitely coming over to yours more often.”

So, yeah. Not that romantic - your first meeting.

Heck, even your second and third meeting isn’t too great because on one exceptional morning where you’re running late, you collide into Jeno on your way out, your possessions and fingernail flying in the air. You’re lucky your nail-bed remains unscathed, but not so lucky the days following that when you’re walking in the open courtyard of your apartment building, out for some fresh air, time to decompress for the mounting work you’re quickly submerging in.

You’ve got your headphones on, noise-cancelling ones you got for Christmas - how nice. What isn’t nice is that you miss the yell behind you, and the strange texture you step onto. Your body freezes, nose twitching from a foul smell that wafts upwards and when you gaze down to your shoe, you find the worst. The absolute worst.

Shit. Huge, putrid clumps of shit.

It’s so shocking that you slip your headphone off down to your neck, deciding between screaming or crying. Your decision is cut off by a familiar voice, yet again so apologetic.

“I forgot her bags upstairs. I didn’t think anyone would…” Jeno cuts himself off, eyebrows pinched together like he may cry. “Can I-can I do anything for you? Wash your shoe? Scream? Disappear into oblivion?”

“All of the above.”

He chuckles, the furry friend he’s accompanied by nudging their wet snout against your hand, smiling at you like there are no thoughts behind their eyes. Your eyes flicker between the dog and Jeno, the white samoyed eerily similar to his owner.

Was this what Jaemin was referring to when you first met?

“Don’t worry about her, she’s harmless,” he comments, the ghost of a grin appearing against his face. “Except when she takes a dump.”

You have to laugh. Otherwise you’ll cry. “Too soon?”

“No, no - I needed that actually,” you sigh after your fit of chuckles. “Today’s been…well, shit.”

“You don’t say,” Jeno muses, handing over the leash his dog is on. “Do you mind?”

You take it without a word, securing his furry friend as he slips off one of his shoes, bending down near the scene of the crime. Without a peep, he cleans around as best as he can, undoing your shoe and casting it aside, slipping his one on your foot.

“Well, I can’t scream because it’s non social hours,” he leads, wrapping your shoe in one of the bags. “And as much as I’d love to disappear into oblivion, I’ve got a shoe to wash.”

He then hesitates, parts his lips like he wants to say something. There’s something adorable about his loss for words, how his gaze is downturned, flicking side to side in indecision. God, all these awful run-ins robbed you of remembering how cute he is. 

“Did you want to come back to mine?” he finally asks, meeting your eyes. “So, we don’t have to drop each other’s shoes off like some fairytale.” 

“It is almost midnight,” your quick wit earns a chuckle from him, eyes moon crescent and you can’t believe your own. How tragically pitiful and handsome he is. “Why not? I’ve got no ball to be at.”

So, instead of spending your night wallowing in the darkness of your apartment, you’re next door, laughing at the failed attempts of Jaemin’s ‘flirting’ Jeno tells you with his samoyed, Ari, cuddled into your side. Once your shoe dries, that’s when you say you’ll leave - what you infamously tell yourself, picking up the bone-dry shoe hours later, belly full of Jeno’s special bowl of noodles and heart full of infatuation for your neighbour. 

Again, not so romantic. But your following run-ins prove to be a turning point, the close relationship you develop unveiling a world of romance you thought were reserved only for movies and books. Somewhere along the line, your elevator talks stretch into rambling dinner dates, rotating between your place and his depending on the meal since Ari once stole a whole steak off your plate once. You take Ari on your nightly walks Jeno accompanies you for, you meet his friends and he meets yours. You make space for each other, carving out time to spend binging the latest season of your favourite dating show or over a bowl of kimchi stew you reward him with for getting the spider out your apartment. 

It’s like your puzzle pieces come together, initially ill-matched but now, the perfect fit for one another. And even if Jaemin jokes you were a bit ‘rough around the edges’ (code for an asshole) when you’d first met, Jeno kisses the denial out of you, making sure you know how much better his (and Ari’s) life is with you in it. 

[astralis-ortus]

care for you

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— to keep you safe is my priority.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff warning → reader addressed as baby and love♡ a.n → based on this request! this was really sweet, even writing this made me feel safe and warmㅠ♡ ⋆ see masterlist

originally, your plan was to have a short date night with your boyfriend. just some dinner somewhere near his studio, maybe take short walk after, and he’ll wait with you until your usual bus—after skipping at least one or two—arrives and take you away from his grasp. that’s all, nothing much, just to recharge your love batteries until the next time you could see each other again.

that was your plan—but it seems like seoul’s early summer weather has its own plan against you.

dinner was great. you and chan decided to try out the new sushi place located somewhere in between his apartment and studio instead. his teammates have all gone, and you’re pretty sure the only reason why he hasn’t been there was to keep it as an option for your date nights. you appreciate the effort, of course; you could kind of imagine the teasing your boyfriend had to sit through when he decided to pass on their little team dinner—all the ‘ew you’re so lovesick’ and ‘wow so now we’re no longer your priority?’ kind of joke, so you made sure dinner was as fun as it could be.

it was during your walk, however, when things started to go south.

with your hand in his warm ones, you arrived at one of the smaller parks near chan’s apartment. the weather was nice, albeit admittedly rather chilly for a summer night. you didn’t pay much attention to it though—afterall, the weather forecast said that the day will end without any rain at sight, and more often than not, the weather forecast is rather accurate.

well, apparently that wasn’t the case today.

not even 5 minutes since you stepped within the park’s perimeters, the wind started to pick up its strength and blew everything within its vicinity. the drops of water then started shortly after, and what felt like nature’s warning soon developed into a full-blown thunderstorm. bringing you home was nothing short of chan’s instinct to keep you safe.

as soon as you arrived at chan’s shared apartment with 3 of his teammates—which fortunately was still out doing their own schedules and plans, chan immediately ushered you inside his bathroom for a warm shower while he put your (and his) drenched clothes in the washer, pulling out one of his hoodie and sweats for you to change into before taking his turn while you dry your now chan-scented hair.

you weren’t planning on staying the night—you’ve never stayed the night whenever you visited chan’s apartment, and neither did chan when he visited yours. it’s not that you didn’t want to—but for chan’s sake, you two decided it’s better not to. when the thunderstorms weren’t dying down as hours passed by, however, chan couldn’t in his right mind allow to you to even think about stepping out of his clothes.

so here you are, laying wide awake at 1 in the morning on chan’s bed, enveloped in chan’s scent, trying to think more about the fact that you’ll be spending your first ever night over at chan’s place rather than the roaring thunder outside the window.

chan, however, was nowhere near you.

after tucking you to bed around an hour ago, right around the time where his 3 teammates arrived home with his laptop on hand—all more surprised about the fact that chan left his laptop in his studio than how you’re all cozied up in their shared space, chan simply wished you a good night before he slipped outside, walking right into whatever hushed commotion between the 4 young men. you really wished he hadn’t, though.

a sudden loud thunder caught you off guard, allowing a rather loud yelp to slip past your lips before you could even stop yourself. it didn’t even take a second before you heard a crack from the direction of the door, soon followed by a dip on the mattress on your right as a hand gently patted your shoulder.

“i’m here, baby—are you okay?” chan’s voice were soft, trying his best not to sound too worried as you peeked from under his beige duvet, eyes glossy with a little pout. the weak shake of your head made him feel a little guilty—chan was just trying to make you feel comfortable since it’s your first time staying at his place, and he didn’t want to push you too far by sleeping right next to you.

maybe that wasn’t the right decision after all.

“i don’t like thunderstorms,” you quietly admitted, a little embarrassed about the fact. thunderstorms always scare you, but you never really found the need to tell anyone since you usually would just pop a melatonin gummy should these sorts of nights come around and sleep before the thunders rage. tonight, however, was something you never thought would ever happen to you—at least not any time soon.

“can you accompany me tonight?” your question came out more of a whisper—but for chan, it sounded a thousand times louder than any of the thunders he had heard tonight.

“of course, baby,” his lips formed into a smile as chan brought his lips on to your forehead, “give me 5 minutes, yeah? i’ll clean up my set up and join you in bed.”

as soon as you confirmed with a nod, chan was out the door, hurriedly packing up his emergency set up—much to han and changbin’s confusion, but he got no time to entertain the younger two’s questions. he was as speedy as he could be, and in less than 2 minutes, he’s already all cozied up under the duvet next to you, engulfing you in his warmth.

“all better, love?” he hummed, fingers tracing patterns on your back over your—his, hoodie. “i’m sorry, i thought you would be more comfortable if you slept alone. i had no idea you hated thunderstorms.”

“it’s okay, i didn’t think it would be this bad too,” you mumbled, burying your face into his clothed chest and contently sighed upon listening to his steady heartbeat—which unfortunately wasn’t much of a help when you flinched over another loud thunder.

chan, however, was quick to your rescue as he gently started humming to tenerife sea, drowning any remaining sounds outside while pulling you impossibly closer to him. as the song ends, he then swiftly started to another, slowly inviting sleep over your now heavy eyelids.

“thank you, channie. i love you,” you forced a mumble, allowing your legs to tangle with chan’s before you finally succumbed to sleep, all comfortable in your boyfriend’s embrace—and when chan was finally entirely sure your breathing had come into a steady exhale, only then his hums came to a halt, lips pressed onto your forehead as he drifted to sleep.

“sweet dreams, baby. i love you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[corvidae-00]

Joost Klein x drunk!reader in the club🎉🎉🥳 (but she’s like messy drunk and probably needs to be cut off)

A/n: MY FIRST REQUEST 😭😭 THANK YOU ANON! I had tons of fun writing this for you! I hope you like it 😭

CW: weed, drinking, throwing up, swearing, clubbing, LET ME KNOW IF I MISS ANYTHING!!!!!

Word count: 1,297

Getting drunk was something that wasn't the norm for you, not that you didn't drink but you always were lenient at getting DRUNK. But it was a good night, Your boyfriend and his group had just finished a concert that went super well and with adrenaline and energy still high everyone decided the night club was a good location to let loose and enjoy the rest of the night while its young. You of course decided to let loose a little- just a little tonight seeing as your boyfriend Joost was so ecstatic and you had so much energy from being in the crowd who was loud and very very expressive tonight. The club was surprisingly packed and that just added to the excitement even more. “We are going to have a good night, yes?’ your boyfriend whispered into your ear leaning down and kissing your cheek with a smile “of course” you reach back to run your fingers through his hair that was still damp from the many water bottles he had poured over himself to cool down. He shudders and sighs into your ear before standing up and stretching a little looking over at his friends and back over at you sliding you his card from his wallet “Get yourself something to drink- i might lay off the alcohol tonight-” he thinks to himself deciding a few cigarettes and maybe a joint or two sounded a lot better than getting drunk and dealing with a hangover ontop of exhaustion the next morning “then come meet us over there-” he points over at a little less crowded part of the club “maybe me and you can test the dance floor” Joost winks leaning down to kiss both your cheeks which you accepted before catching his lips in a quick kiss “Ill be over in a second” You hummed “Save me a seat-” you requested stepping back towards the crowded bar. Joost smirks and pats his thigh with a wink “you always have one if you ask” He purrs and you can feel your face flush before waving him off “go sit down” You chuckle before turning on your heel going towards the bar ignoring the cat call your boyfriend sends your way but you cant ignore the small smile and a laugh making its way up your throat.

You dont actually know what happened. One drink turned into two before you could stop and then three- you knew you were supposed to go back to meet up with Joost and your friend but the drink you randomly picked out was just- so good- and before you could even step away you had finished the glass and got another. Clearly the alcohol in the drink was a lot stronger than what you were used too as you began to get fuzzy and eager for the next drink- the bartender not realizing how quickly your tolerance was dwindling- and you were also admittedly not aware of how quickly your once steady standing turned unsteady and how quickly vomiting sounded pretty nice, on your 8th glass you ended up leaning on the counter to support yourself drunkenly singing along to the fast paced dutch song blasting out of the stereos at the head of the club- the people around you joining in on your own little concert you didn't even realize was pretty loud. Ordering another drink unable to even lift your arm without feeling tingly or nauseous you felt a hand grab your shoulder “I have a boyfriend you fuck-” You whip your head around and look at the chest that greets you “Ugh men-” You slur and look up at concerned blue eyes “ shit schat- your fucking hammered” Joost mutters smelling the sweet alcoholic drink on your breath “How much did you have?” he questions a little worried as you blink and then giggle a little “You are so hot-” you mutter falling into his arms a little “how did i bag a beauty like youuuu~” you giggle running your fingers over his shoulders and Joost wraps his arms around your waist to support your unsteady weight “so warm” You flutter your eyelashes at him closing your eyes and humming in content “You are drunk” Joost hums smiling down at you a little “How did you get so drunk- i leave you alone for a few minutes” He raises a brow not an ounce of anger or disappointment in his voice- if anything he is amused- you dont ever get drunk so what was different today? Joost reaches behind you grabbing your half drank beverage and taking a swig surprised at the intensity of the Alcohol count “Holy shit-” He blinks and looks down at you “i didnt know you were that hardcore” He laughs dodging your hands which are now trying to touch his face in sheer admiration “it’s nuuthing” you giggle out running your fingers through his hair “mmsoft” you chuckle letting Joost gently pull you away from the bar after confirming with the tender the bill was payed not worried about the expenses. Joost tugs you along letting you drag your feet every now and again not too worried about how heavy you were as you werent heavy at all to him, just a cute bundle of drunken mumblings and yelling at women who even look at Joost- threatening to fight them outside even if you couldnt stand by yourself- your threats or reasonings for being mad not even making sense and thus causing your blonde boyfriend to sheepishly wave and look down at you with slight amusement. Once outside Joost lets you get some fresh air, the club too stuffy and heavy to even think straight let alone feel better after getting hammered. “I dont feel good” you finally slur out hanging your head in defeat “i dont doubt it mijn liefje” he whispers to you rubbing your back before quickly pulling your hair up letting you throw up the insane amount of alcohol in your body. Joost winces and rubs your back with his free hand. You blink slowly once you are able to stand up straight, “Ugh” you groan out holding your head and Joost takes out some napkins he had in his back pocket to wipe your mouth and shake his head “we should get you back to the apartment” Joost offers and you pout “But the night is still younggg” you whine and joost takes your arm wrapping it over his shoulders careful to lean down so he doesnt hurt or stretch your arm out “theres always another night” He hums to you and starts leading you away towards your shared home careful and slow listening to your slurred complaints and compliments mixed in always something about how wonderful his hair looks or how special he is to her.

When they get home Joost is quick to lay you down in the bed and get your shoes off and changing your flimsy drunk figure into a pair of soft pajamas. He kisses your cheek and laughs softly “you are so cute” He admits standing up straight “No you are” You retaliate looking up at him and giggling. Joost quickly leaves the room and comes back with a glass of cold water and sets it down on the night stand before climbing into bed with you discarding his shirt and scooping you towards him. “Feeling any better?” he questions running his fingers through your hair “jus a lil” you mumble snuggling yourself into him the room spinning slightly “Thats okay, ill take care of you tomorrow” Joost hums leaning over and turning the lamp off “Just take it easy” He kisses your forehead “and next time there is alcohol im monitoring you” He jokes laughing at your groans of disagreement

Dutch meaning: schat- babe. Mijn liefje- my darling

A/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY FIRST JOOST FIC!!! Keep the requests coming!!! I love writing for this man

[kiththecat]

this is going to sound so ubnoxious, but i saw a lifesteal confession and immediately realised that im probably guilty of the exact thing it was talking about (people mostly caring about branzy when it comes to lifesteal and clownzy). but after a minute of thinking (🤔<- like this) i could kiiiinda pinpoint why and i thought it'd be interesting enough to vocalise, at least.

in my head, there's a very clear line between "the guy whose vidoes i watch while eating lunch" and "the guy i make fanworks of." even though its technically the same guy. i love watching branzy's videos. he's extremely entertaining and talented. but i also have a separate version of him that's based on the character he plays. the guy who in many cases has a story that ends up being very tied to clowns. being the most important person to the deadliest guy is a compelling character and i find that very fun to explore in writing. admittedly the bit they've got going on where they flirt unprompted is still kinda peak and that is definitely something i'd want to see more of.  very chill about it though. *wink*

however, and this is where i wholeheartedly agree with everything in the confession. i really dislike it when the comment section on branzy's videos mention clown in a video clown's barely in. cc!branzy could spend five hundred hours working on a minecraft project and if clownpierce happens to be eluded to, then that's what a lot of the comments will be about. now i LOVE clownzy crumbs because i'm a pathetic individual, but there are so many other things to talk about in branzy's non-lifesteal content than the gay bit he did two years ago. 

anyway here are some elements of branzy's character that i really appriciate bout him

he is like a jack of all trades. sure he's not the very very best in any field, but he's a great builder, great redstoner, great at survival things, great at the game in general. i think his strongest trait is just how dedicated he is to whatever he decides to do. he loves a challenge, he loves overkill and theatrics, he needs mental stimulation and work or else he dies.

in after hours smp he commited so many crimes... so many. one thing i loved is that for that video he had to research these crimes and come up with a minecraft equivalent. he's extremely creative and his brain works in weird, sort of morbid and somehow also cutesy ways.

or in the video where he's building a computer in minecraft with rek. one moment he doesn't get what's happening and he asks rek to "explain it to me like im a puppy" or something. and it's such a silly little moment but i like that he just found no shame in asking. in general he's just very down to earth and shameless.

he is not in any way morally upstanding. if he saw a big read button that said "press this to kill one hundred random children" he'd not hesitate. if the button was protected with top security measures he'd do whatever it takes to get past them. he does not care about good and bad. please never give him morals.

his love language is killing his friends for fun

okay here's a personal preference but he needs to have some wacky job. if you're writing this man he needs to be money laundering. or running a pyramid scheme. why would anyone put him in a school, or a cafe. he's a palm reader who sucks but takes money before readings and runs away. he's running a sweatshop and all the worker uniforms are weird costumes. he's a janitor but he uses special access to steal things. he has one hundred different identities. why am i describing stanley pines.

moving on.

there is so much love in him. he loves the craft (insert trademark mark here), he loves the people around him, he finds joy in pretty flowers, he finds joy in setting pretty flowers on fire.

many more things to say but the gist is. bramzycraft....

he's a dad now and i think that's beautiful. buuuuuuuuut the baby doesnt have anything to do with toxic yaoi (that we know of... 👁️👁️) so how important is it REALLY.

clownzy jesus out.

[badaboomx]

Did I mention... (Bada Lee x Reader)

PAIRING: G!P Bada Lee x Fem!Reader.  SETTING: Underground dancer Bada Lee is quite the popular girl in town and way out of your league. Or so you think. WORDS: 6k PART: 1 of 3

ⓘ  No smut for this part, only delicious build up! Some risque insinuation towards the end.

“Here,” a tall, cool dancer said to you in a low tone, holding a piece of chocolate and offering it to you.

Playfully, you shook your head with a big grin to boot. A nice offer you would take with no hesitation any time, but tonight you felt all kinds of playful after the adventures for the night. 

“Oh?” said the dancer, approaching you and getting so close that you could only back up against the wall now. With chocolate still in hand, she grabbed you from under your jaw with the other. “Open,” she commanded, lowly, that playful smirk still plastered on her face. “Be a good girl and open up.”

It was like butterflies blooming everywhere on your body, tickling skin and making the hairs of your body perk up and sway at the tension. Body against body, the idle sounds of the busy world around you an accompanying piece. Your lips parted, opening for her, and you just watched as she slowly and carefully placed that piece of chocolate in your mouth, but before she could remove her hand you cheekily wrapped your lips around her fingers and sucked them, pulling them out of you, just to watch her expression. Just to hear that reaction from her.

And I bet you wonder how you got here.

Well, let’s go back a few.

Let’s start with the fact that you were so bored you felt you could dislocate your shoulders and have an infinitely better time.  Drunken bodies pushed past you stumbling, making you spill the drink you have not touched since you got it; wild frat boys dared each other to drink more and more with weirder contraptions while a good chunk of the attendees kept within their groups or kept themselves busy with their phones. Or making out with their dates or one-night stands, if not outright fucking but you weren’t here to confirm that. You just… wanted some fun, but that was nowhere to be seen in the sea of students that you cared little for. The music didn’t even blare bombastically from the speakers, a low and chill (but admittedly lame) mix of the most generic copyright free beats found on youtube and it seemed to never end in your perspective. Succinctly put, this party sucked pretty bad. You had been standing there on the corner effectively for two hours and all conversation you tried to have failed immensely for a variety of reasons we don’t even have time to recount. 

What a way to kick off your exciting new life, huh?

The first party you’ve gotten invited to and it has turned out to be a waste of time – and a waste of a good outfit. Being new in town had its drawbacks, and they seemed to outweigh the pros of getting to meet new people and starting over fresh. What a damn shame. At one point, you just left that cup half full and slithered away before any drunk dude tried to talk you into staying in the party. Surprisingly, slipping out felt not only like you were a lame party pooper, but like you suddenly had the spotlight with several people pointing out that you were leaving and even asking what’s up. What a goddamn nightmare.

“I have never seen more dead people in a party,” you said jokingly to your roommate, Lee Seoyoung, who was dressing up for a party of her own and was willing to listen to you vent before she went out.

“I warned you,” she tutted. “Those people are only entertained by booze and you don’t even like alcohol all that much.”

With a sigh, you plopped down on the couch, still dressed to the nines. “Is my new life here going to be a bore just like at home?”

“No,” Seoyoung began. “I told you that you can tag along with me tonight, you idiot,” she said so casually as she was putting on her shoes.  

You sighed, sitting back up. The idea seemed good, more fun than whatever the fuck was the party you just escaped. Still, you had your doubts. “It just doesn’t feel like my scene, I don’t wanna stick out and be bothersome for you.”

“You’re just scared to check it out,” Seoyoung poked, teasing you. 

And you couldn't really deny that. It did intimidate you a bit. Mostly because Seoyoung explained before that this party was some sort of underground party. Music, dancing, live performances and battles, all unlike the frat boy disaster. It didn’t seem like your scene, you know? As described by Seoyoung (Or, well, Lusher as she was called in her dancer circle), these people were pretty cool, sounded tough as nails and – somewhere in your irrational part of your brain – sounded like they would tease you out of the place. To boot, this party was only attended by those who were IN and knew it was happening. That alone sounds exclusive, like you have to earn your way in.

But you technically had, you just lucked out in working for it as much.

Seoyoung – er, Lusher – stood up and grabbed you by the wrist and pulled. “Up, we’re going.”

“But Luuuushh–.”

“Just check it out for today, then if you don’t really like it you can just not go, deal?” Lusher insisted with a pout of her own.

And you couldn’t say no to your roommate that has been nothing but an angel to you as a new arrival. So, you accepted, letting Lusher drag you out of your cocoon and open an exciting world to you.

The guy guarding the front door was intimidating at first glance, but upon seeing you and Lusher approach his demeanor changed to an enthusiastic and friendly one. Lusher greeted him and told him you were tagging along with her for the night. 

“She’s new in town,” Lusher patted your back.

“She looks like it,” the guy teased, pointing at your eyes. “She looks like a scared puppy.”

And he was not wrong, but once it was brought up, you tried your best not to look like it. With encouragement from Lusher and the guy, he let you both in. A well lit hallway with some party goers chilling away from the crowded party and the music to perhaps chat more calmly, yet it was as intimidating as anything. You felt as if they discreetly stared at you, judgmentally, when in reality they only looked curiously and moved on. It was hard to get out of that headspace, so new to something like this in an already new town. 

Walking down the hall with Lusher was equally nerve wrecking, feeling the muffled music grow a little louder with every step. Turning the corner, walking down another hall, the music now engulfing you with its catchy rhythm, the door opening to you and revealing a very vibrant, moved party with great music coming off proper speakers. An actual crowd of people danced, while another chunk of the crowd hung out, either standing or sitting elsewhere. It felt and looked different, even the atmosphere was different. No fancy lightings, no fancy decorations or structure – just a repurposed warehouse with plenty of space that has been cleverly remodeled with little budget. It looked and felt like one of those underground party places in movies and music videos.

“Cool, right?” Lusher said loudly, making herself clear atop the chatting crowd and the dance music. 

You were almost overwhelmed, looking at her still looking like a lost puppy.

“C’mon, it’s less intimidating than it looks,” Lusher insisted and tugged you along, making both of your ways deeper into the heart of the party. 

You weren’t sure if Lusher was just saying this to make you feel better or if it was truly as she said. Either way, you stuck close to her and nearly clung to her hand for dear life as you traversed through the confusing mass of bodies. Some people even greeted her, acknowledging her with a cool tilt of their head, an enthusiastic shout, or a secret handshake. A fascinating world where everyone was familiar with one another to some extent at least, you surely felt like you stuck out. 

“Yo, Lusher!” one of the party goers greeted. “Bringing a girlfriend along at last, huh?”

Lusher laughed and shook her head. “Nah, not this time. She’s my new roomie.”

“Sweet!” the stranger said, looking at you up and down. “She looks like a scared puppy–.”

“Yeah, I’m breaking her in,” Lusher quickly rebutted, trying not to dwell on you lest you become more scared. “Hey, where are my girls?”

“Ah, I’ve only seen Bada and Tatter,” they looked around and pointed towards the corner of the warehouse – a place filled with booths and other seats. “There they are.”

“Thanks,” Lusher and the stranger did a handshake that you have no idea how was possible and bid farewell, heading towards the elusive location. 

En route to meet the so-called ‘girls’ you heard someone pick up the mic and start talking, getting the crowd to holler and shout. It was so overwhelming, passing through masses of people you didn’t recognize and listening to whatever the person was trying to say while clinging to Lusher’s hand. God, maybe this wasn’t your scene after all.

Then, you saw them.

“Ah, there they are,” Lusher shouted, pointing at them for you to see them. And you have never felt more nervous. “That’s Tatter,” Lusher pointed to a girl in blonde with a resting bitch face who was casually chatting up to… 

“And that’s Bada,” Lusher pointed to a woman whose aura was imposing and intimidating. It took you a second to truly take in who you were observing, even while Lusher was dragging you up to meet them.

Bada, whoever that woman was, looked as intimidating as the word itself. A brunette – wait, two-toned, brunette with blonde streaks – donning a black beanie, matching black baggy pants, and a gray hoodie with a cool design down the arms. Even when talking to someone she seemed to know she exuded an air of coolness you could only describe as imposing. By presence alone, you couldn’t tell if she was a rapper or a dancer but you were certain that she was a performer, as if you could feel that she was born to be on stage.

It made you nervous.

Especially when she turned to watch you and Lusher fast approaching, tapping Tatter and pointing to watch. Tatter jumped off her seat first and Bada slowly followed, a lot more relaxed than Tatter who seemed to be anxious to talk to Lusher. In comparison to Tatter and Lusher, Bada was a giant too. Broad shouldered, lanky and tall. All the makings for a menacing person who could devour you in a second. Yet, upon greeting Lusher with a hug, she smiled ever so slightly.

Now you didn’t know exactly how to feel.

“Glad to see you made it,” Bada said, patting Lusher’s head.

“I can’t just miss a party,” Lusher pulled away and looked back at you, pulling you in closer. “Here’s my new roomie, you remember I told you about her?”

Bada looked at you for a moment that seemed to stretch on and on. Confusing feelings bubbled in your gut, waiting for Bada to do or say something – anything – as you stood there like a fish out of water. Finally, while Lusher was giving Tatter a hug, Bada stretched out her hand to you. “You’re the new face, right?”

You nodded, then tentatively gave her hand a shake.

“You look like a scared puppy, you know that?” Bada said, a subtle smirk coming to her lip. 

“Yeah…” And for some reason, hearing it from her made… your heart flutter. 

Tatter and Lusher quickly got engulfed in a conversation of their own, gossip taking the wheels above manners really, and Bada – having noted this – got closer to you.  

“Never been to a party like this before, have you?” 

“Is it too obvious?” You looked up at Bada, who kept eyeing you curiously, like you were someone from a different planet. Yet, it wasn’t ever rude, just boldly inquisitive. “Yeah, we didn’t have these in my town, I think.”

“That you knew of,” Bada shrugged, slipping her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. “We don’t bite though, baby. You’ll be fine.”

Baby…? Ah, something like that was not something you heard often. You would generally find it condescending or patronizing, but coming out of Bada? It was almost heavenly, and you didn’t even want to feel that way! You can’t just get nervous and charmed this easily. You sighed out and scratched your head. “I don’t know, you people here look pretty tough,” you paused, looking at her. “And hungry.”

A soft chuckle came out with a smirk, Bada looked around at the crowd around all of you. “Half of these people are mushy for the right things, don’t worry about it.”

That made you curious. Even if you hesitated in the question, you let it out anyways. “Are you like that, too?”

Bada kept quiet for a second, the ghostly essence of a smirk still there on her lips as she shrugged. So cool, like she was tacitly telling you that you wouldn’t know – and you would only find out if she wanted you to. That silence was far from awkward, it was rather refreshing, like Bada wasn’t afraid of silence (or, well, silence between the two of you, considering there was a whole party going on behind you). And she wasn’t afraid of looking at you in the eye as she let the silence flow. Warmth started to spread on your cheeks, painting your face a shade of pink and tell-taling how you were feeling about Bada staring at you like that.  

“Bada?” 

You and Bada turned to see Lusher and Tatter. 

“I need to talk to Tatter alone for a second, can you watch over my roomie?” 

You stood up straight the second you heard that. Was she really just going to leave you like that? 

Bada nodded. “I’ll take care of her, you do what you need to do,” she said like she was a leader, concisely and firmly – like she was a reliable person and could take care of it. Perhaps it was a bit of a late connection, but it had dawned on you then as Lusher and Tatter walked away that you were standing in front of Lusher’s dance crew leader, and her mentor.

The tall woman looked at them walk away, just to know where they were heading off, while you looked up at Bada with this brand new perspective. And you were getting a little more nervous. 

Lusher had spoken to you briefly about her dance team and her leader, but not by name. What you knew about this elusive leader was that she was quite the popular lady among the dancer and rapper circle. A once-rapper that fell in love with dancing and switched specialties, now fully a dancer that battles occasionally and competes with others in tournaments. She’s considered quite a competent battler and a very talented dancer (and choreographer) and quite the ladies magnet. You didn’t quite know why for that last one, but it made you nervous.

“Yo,” Bada said, pulling you out of your own thoughts with a snap close to your eyes. 

You looked up at her again, gulping and hoping she didn’t hear or notice that.

“You okay over there?” She merely asked.

You cleared your throat and tried so hard to play it cool. “Y-yeah!”

Bada looked at you in silence, face completely impassive before she chuckled a little. “C’mon, sit down.”

You went to do just that, trying to hide the fact that you felt your knees weak enough to give in at any second. But you soon sat down, facing the big moving crowd full of life. Bada had taken her seat near you but at an arm’s length, grabbing a bottle from the table before placing her feet on it casually. You can hear your parents saying that’s a rude gesture, but you can’t help but to find it very… familiar, casual, even cool. 

Then silence, at least between the two of you. You couldn’t really be as comfortable as Bada seemed to be, and you felt your palms sweating already, and you could tell Bada was staring at you. As if she was waiting to see how long it’ll be until you said something to break up the ice. Amused by you, perhaps, or maybe secretly getting a kick out of making you just a bit nervous. 

“So,” you broke first, pouting a bit. If you were going to be stuck with her for the time being, might as well try to get to know her, right? You thought to ask her something about herself, and so you began.

 “You…” 

But you trailed off, looking at Bada. 

That woman was just… staring at you, patiently waiting for you to continue but you couldn’t really keep your mind away from getting distracted as you saw the woman upon closer inspection. Her wide, full lips donning a strikingly pink tone, almost beckoning for you to touch them or to feel them on your body; her nose lovingly sculpted in harmony with her eyes. The way she looked at you, with her facial expression still neutral, made you wonder what she was thinking at that moment. By the time she spoke, nothing in her face changed. Just a blink of her eyes.

“I…?” Bada prodded, trying to get you to say what you wanted.

“Uhh,” you nervously rubbed your neck. What was it that you were gonna ask her? Damn it, you couldn’t remember. 

Bada chuckled a bit. “We got time before they come back, don’t worry.”

The levity made you smile shyly at her. “Sorry.”

Bada shrugged, taking a sip from her drink before she spoke again. “I don’t mind. At least you’re not pretending to be above us or cool.”

“P-people do that a lot?” You stammered out against your better judgment, but genuinely curious about it.

“Oh yeah. Especially to me,” Bada instantly replied. “You’re doing good so far.”

That made you feel better, and a little less nervous.

But before the silence could sit, Bada up and asked you a question herself. “What brings you here if this isn’t your scene?”

You shrugged. “I was at a frat party before this. It sucked.”

“Yeah,” Bada laughed, leaning back and resting her arm on the top of the booth’s cushion. So laid back, comfortable, but still keeping her distance. “Lusher told me those guys over there don’t know how to party at all.”

Her laugh was nice, you wanted to hear it again. Not realizing it, you scooted closer to her as you spoke, feeling somehow magnetically pulled now. “It’s not the first time?”

Bada shook her head. “Nah, it’s been something Lusher learned real quick when she enrolled there.”

“Guess I learned too,” you said, glancing at her and noticing that she’s… eyeing you. Up and down, like she’s analyzing you now that she’s close enough. You tried not to let that get to your nerves. “I-I just wanted to have a fun night, meet the place I’m gonna live in for a while, make friends, you know?”

Well, you stammered a little but you finished the sentence.

Bada nodded, sympathetic but not saying anything for a second.

“And this isn’t my scene, b-but Lusher insisted and I think she’s so cool. You guys are cool too, but you people scare me, you just seem so tough and–.”

Bada chuckled then, putting her hand up to stop you from speaking more. “Calm down, puppy. I got you.”

You blushed in embarrassment, tightly pressing your lips together as if to stop you from screwing this up more somehow. 

Bada just looked at you though, an unmistakable glimpse of fondness so palpable in her eyes at the way she looked at you. “Do I scare you?” Emphasis on the I.

Yes. Yes. Oh my god, yes. She scared you in a way that was so exciting you couldn’t even put it into words. She fascinated you so much, like a brand new story unraveling before you. Lips parted, you were ready to say something. 

But words weren’t coming out.

Bada was willing to wait patiently, seriously curious, but a tapping on her shoulder brought her out of the conversation. You could almost sense a vague annoyance in her eyes before she turned to see who it was.

“You busy, Bada?” A stranger, someone who barely acknowledged you.

“I’m totally free right now,” Bada said firmly, but you could tell there was a twinge of sarcasm sprinkled on top of it. “What is it?”

“We need you to take the stage for a second, the guys playing after the DJ are caught on some fucking traffic, can you believe it?”

Bada nodded slowly, like she barely cared. “Crazy,” she slowly looked over to you. “Traffic on a Saturday night, can you believe it?”

You had to stop yourself from smiling and giggling at Bada’s reaction to this sudden request.

“We already got someone but we also–.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bada waved her hand and stood up, getting the guy to be quiet. “Explain it to me on the way there,” she then looked at you, leaning in so she doesn’t have to shout over the music. “I’ll be back in a snappy, you be a good girl and wait here.”

That sent shivers down your spine. It was a direct command, full with a nickname to get your legs turning into jelly. You could only look at her and nod rapidly, hypnotized, probably looking like a scared little puppy. 

With that, Bada walked away with the guy. Confident, chin tilted up, leading the way for the guy who kept yapping. Just by watching her walk away you felt so insecure, and it didn’t take long for you to notice it. Like suddenly the support beam that was Bada (and by extension Lusher) was ripped out from under you. So, you remained seated like the good girl you were.

To distract yourself, you wondered what exactly was Bada going to do on stage. Curiosity built up more and more, considering Bada was the leading lady of a dance crew and if Bada was so popular, she had to be good right?

The DJ finished his set and bid farewell for the night, introducing two last-minute hosts to fill the stage (and stretch the time) and entertain the already hyped crowd. The crowd welcomed Bada and an equally tough looking lady with warm applause and cheers. Soon enough, you understood what was that magnetism that Bada seemed to have on people. Her charismatic presence was palpable even on stage; from the way she held the microphone, the way she walked around on stage like she was born on it and owned it, to the way she interacted with the other host and the audience. So smoothly, like there was no one watching. 

Her true power came on when both hosts decided to host a little impromptu battle against each other. Lyrically and physically. By physical I mean dancing, this isn’t a fight club. Though you were sure that Bada knew of an underground fight club somewhere. First, they both duked it out on a freestyle rap. Frankly, you couldn’t even hear what they were saying, observing the crowd gather closer and cheer for the punchlines that both girls were throwing out there. You were just in awe watching Bada’s passion for this art form, the way she spoke to the microphone and the attractive vein on her already attractive neck, the gestures she made like it was second nature to her–.

Oh you looked like an idiot didn’t you? Jaw dropped, leaning in, absolutely enwrapped in the spectacle.

The crowd decided and after a neck and neck battle Bada lost this part of the battle. The face-off wasn’t over, though. Soon enough, a hard hitting instrumental blasted through the speakers, its rhythm instantly infecting both girls on stage immediately. The winner of the last round went first, and you were impressed by the way they could even move their body. Hell, you didn’t even know half of that was possible. But then, Bada was up.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lusher said, coming out from wherever her and Tatter went. However, she took one good look at your flabbergasted face and looked at the stage. Then, she just nodded and sat beside you, observing Bada tear up the stage.

And tear it up she did. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, able to be smooth and rough, fast or slow – even go from intimidating and hard hitting to sensual and flirty. The way she moved her hips was so exquisite, full of vigor and flavor and you couldn’t help a tiny little gasp coming out of you; the way she had such a control over her body and how her popping looked so powerful and like it could break the floor. So easy flowing, so confident… No wonder there was such a craze for this woman. It even explained Lusher’s pride on having a dance crew with her, like she was the cool mentor figure you want on your side for battles.

The crowd went wild, the other dancer even had to laugh at the ingenuity of some of Bada’s moves, so this round was unmistakably Bada’s win in the bag. Just in time, too, seeing as the next performer had arrived and was ready to take the stage themselves. Bada and her impromptu co-host both came off the stage and your eyes couldn’t stop following Bada – who was quickly swarmed by people congratulating her, greeting her, and you could even notice some girls come up to her to… well, you didn’t know. All you knew is that even from afar, you could tell some of them wanted to stick around Bada for the rest of the night, and you thought for a second that Bada would ditch you to stick around people who seemed to be more confident and cooler. Yet, Bada excused herself politely and moosey’d on over to where you and the girls were sitting.

Wait, you and the girls?

You woke up from your little trance and looked at Lusher and Tatter who were gossiping and giggling like you weren’t there. It wasn’t until the brunette noticed you that she smacked the blonde on the leg and both exaggeratedly pretended to look innocently at you. 

“What are you guys doing?” you asked, leaning and trying to tune out the music and the talking coming from the stage.

“Oh nothing,” Tatter began, fixing her hair.

“Just talking about how you look like you’ve never seen people dance,” Lusher said boldly, earning a gasp from Tatter who smacked her in return. “What? It’s the truth.”

“S-shut up–. I was just watching Bada dance!” You replied defensively, as if hoping they hadn’t watched you gobsmacked for the entire battle.

In response, both Lusher and Tatter opted to imitate how you looked – and at the sheer timing of them doing it perfectly in sync, bursted out laughing together, complete with claps and smacking each other.

You just had to sit there and take it, even if it was making you blush with embarrassment. Internally you panicked a little, seeing Bada bid farewell to the people who were walking with her and walking up towards you. She looked at you and in that moment it felt like everything was in slow motion. And that made you blush harder. 

“Hey girls,” Bada said, looking at Lusher and Tatter still recovering from their laughing fit. “C’mon, my dancing wasn’t that bad,” she jumped in, jokingly.

“No, no, no, it’s not that,” Lusher and Tatter said in unison, shaking their heads and hands.

Bada looked at you, pointing at the two dopeys with her head. “What are they laughing about then?”

“At me, watching you,” you said honestly, not daring to look at her.

Bada didn’t question that, as if she already knew what had happened. You didn’t notice or know, but she was staring at you, eyes squinting a little bit and discerning that faint pink on your cheeks. Either way, she sat nearest to you. “I’m sorry, duty called.”

You bravely looked at her and shook your head. “I-It’s okay. I a-actually wanted to see you dance.”

At that, Bada looked like she wanted to ask something, but opted out of it. Maybe it was to reiterate the question of whether or not you were scared of her. Instead, the question that came out was.

“How was it then? Did you like it?”

Are you scared of me?

“It was really cool,” you said.

And yes you were scared of how much this woman rocked your world.

Oh, she was rocking your world and you could feel your knees about to give in at any moment. But if your knees gave out now, you would only fall against Bada’s moving body. It was inevitable that at one point the girls would get up and go dance, but you didn’t expect them to not only drag you, but to drag Bada along to dance with you.

“Guys, I don’t know how to dance–.”

But Lusher didn’t seem to care, and Bada seemed to care even less.

You, fish out of water that can barely dance, paired with the smoke bomb that was Bada. A cruel joke, you felt, but Bada didn’t seem to have troubles with leading you and teaching you. With the patience of a saint, Bada leads you into what should really be a sensual dance together. Yet, it was filled with shy smiles from you and encouraging smiles from her. When your confidence in it grew, you moved with intent and Bada noticed. 

At this, she directly spoke to your ear. “See, you have it in you,” it was soft encouragement, a hand carefully placed on your tummy as she got into it as well. You could understand then why the girls enjoyed doing this, just drifting to the music was fun, being this close to someone attractive made you feel so much more confident and excited. With the way Bada looked at you here and there, you found yourself intoxicated by her presence like many of the other girls who were crushing madly on her. Ah, you could understand them, you could understand the desperate need to make a move.

But you couldn’t. Not when you felt something interesting when grinding against Bada, your hands instinctively landing on Bada’s thighs upon feeling it. A surprise, for sure, but a very… fascinating one.

You almost second guessed whether or not you felt it and wanted to check again, but when Bada slowed down to a halt it became clear. Clarified further by that groan to your ear coming from Bada. “Fuck,” like she didn’t expect that herself.

But before any of you both could do anything, the music came to an end. The person holding the microphone babbled away while Lusher approached you and Bada, taking advantage of the moment to talk to you both.

“Yo, we should get going. It’s getting a bit too late.”

You were a little flabbergasted, it showed a little on your face when you looked back at Bada. But Bada looked at you with that same composed look, yet she softly apologized. 

“Sorry about that,” and it was just for you to hear. But loudly and firmly, she responded to Lusher. “Let me drive you home.”

The sea of meaningless words kept clashing into each other and creating nonsense as you kept reading. God, studying was no use right now. In your mind there was only something running around endlessly and that was Bada. 

You couldn’t stop thinking of the ride back home from yesterday. Bada cooly driving everyone, unfazed by what had just happened between the two of you. You were on the passenger seat, looking at her discreetly and noting – at least in the beginning –  that subtle, tell-tale bulge. A bulge that soon enough dissipated, as if Bada put it under control. It fascinated you, seeing as you hadn’t noticed before that moment, but above all what fascinated you was how casual she was about it. And how she seemed to notice you staring every now and then. Responsibly, of course, she didn’t keep her eyes off the road when the car was moving even for an inch, but when slowing down to a stop to drop off Tatter, Bada looked at you and noticed you already were staring. Against your better judgment, you didn’t look away, instead you locked gazes with her while Tatter gathered her things to hop off. And in that brief moment you both looked at each other, she… smirked. 

Like she knew why you were staring at her for starters, like she was going to talk to you about it at one point. Just not that night.

But you couldn’t feel the same certainty and confidence you felt then. Not after waking up the next morning and realizing you were probably way out of her league, the bits of liquid confidence that tasted like hellish alcohol dissipating from your system.

Now, studying was impossible and your mind was restless. 

Lusher was also sprawled across her bed, the book just covering her face. She was exhausted by the night before and struggling to study for different reasons. But she was more confused as to why YOU were struggling. You had been a studious kind of reader, a better student than her in the short amount of time you were her roomie. So, she grabbed the book, closed it and found enjoyment somewhere else.

Poking your brain for a second, figuring you out.

“Can’t study either, huh?” She asked first, her voice breaking the heavy silence. 

“Nope,” you replied, forehead to textbook now. “Not at all.”

“Last night wasn’t THAT wild though,” Lusher said. “I thought you avoided drinking that much for the same reason.”

You sighed and opted to lay face up, closing the book. “It’s not the drinking.”

Lusher looked confused. “Then, what is it?”

You really had no idea how to even begin explaining it, or if you should even tell your roommate that the leader of her dance crew was the one thing consistently on your mind. “I… I don’t know.”

Lusher squinted, her brain starting to function. “I thought you had fun, you look like you’re hungover more than anything.”

“No, believe me. I had a lot of fun, it was great! But…”

Is it too corny to say you were hungover from the rapid growth of a crush? A crush who you danced with and had in your space all night? Definitely felt like you were yearning for her to start with, like you needed to be near her to survive. Ugh! Stupid feeling, you hated it and its very silly side effects. You truly couldn’t word this to Lusher in a way that was logical or anything, so you gave yourself the moment of silence to try to come up with something.

That silence was more than enough for Lusher to click things together. She may not be good for studying, but gossip is her Ph.D and life. It dawned on her and while she was still piecing things together, she gasped out. “Oh my god,” she excitedly slid to the edge of her bed. “It’s Bada, isn’t it?”

Your eyes shut open wide and looked at her. “N-no?”

“Oh you’re lying,” Lusher pointed at you, breaking out into laughter.

You were blushing all over again, grabbing your pillow and covering it – almost as if to smother yourself to get away from embarrassment. 

“Aw, c’mon, I don’t blame you!” Lusher insisted, skipping over to the edge of your bed. “Don’t be embarrassed, Bada is quite the looker.”

You groaned into the pillow and Lusher grabbed it away from you, giggling. “She’s… so pretty.”

“Yeah,” Lusher nodded. “She’s also really hot, isn’t she?”

“Lusher, she’s your leader.” “So? I can find my friends hot,” Lusher shrugged. “Like Tatter is hot. And Bada IS hot, you can’t deny it.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but to smile at that. “Yes.”

“Aha!” Lusher snapped her fingers. “Then wait,” she calmed down a bit. “Why were you so dejected just now? Aren’t you supposed to be like… giddy about it?”

You shook your head. “I am, but… Y’know. I talked to her a lot and she was so fascinating to me, like there’s a lot to learn about her. And we even danced and all but… Bada is out of my league.”

Lusher wanted to slap you and you could tell. “She spent the entire night with you, you idiot.”

“Which her heartbreaker type can do,” you reasoned, raising a finger matter of factly. 

Lusher was about to retort, but thought it through for a second. “She used to, not so much anymore.”

“See?”

“Okay but,” Lusher insisted, trying to defend her leader now. “She doesn’t do that and I think she respects that we’re roommates to even try that, okay?”

You couldn’t give a rebuttal to that.

Lusher adjusted in her seat. “Besides, when she was done dancing with you she looked like she needed some fresh air. Like you rocke–.” Lusher stopped abruptly and gasped, hitting your arm playfully. “Tatter was right!”

You were trying to get away from her smacks. “Wh-what, stop that!”

“Oh my god,” Lusher giggled, trying to lower her voice a bit. “Tatter mentioned that when she saw Bada take us to her car, she saw Bada a little flustered, trying to hide her–.” Lusher looked around, then whispered away. “Her hard on.”

You gulped, looking at the ceiling and not daring to keep eye contact with your roommate. 

“Listen, Bada doesn’t get hard-ons like that ever,” Lusher insisted, hitting the mattress repeatedly. “Ne-ver. I’ve seen her dance with so many people! She has been grinded on plenty of times, and believe me even I danced with her once. I have never seen her have a hard-on. Which, I will admit, did wound my ego just a bit,” dramatic pause for Lusher to place her hand on her chest. “But Bada has never gotten hard.”

You rubbed your arm. “M-maybe Tatter misunderstood–.”

“That girl has 20/20 vision and can see ants running on the ground, I doubt she would not notice,” Lusher said way too excited. “This is good gossip, oh my god.”

You covered your face. “Stoooop, it still doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it does. It means you affected her a little, enough to catch her off guard. Bada doesn’t just get flustered like that, not in all the while I’ve known her,” Lusher insisted, as hopeful as you should be. “I don’t care if she’s out of your league or whatever, if you like her and she likes you back, give it a try. You already got her once, right?”

Lusher does have a point. What gives if Bada is out of your league? Why not just try it and see where it goes? Why not just chase after the woman who already seems to pay particular attention to you?

Why not?