#after conversing with my friend this is the answer

[sunsetmade]

Rumored Heartbreak

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After Ruthie makes her believe her relationship with Rafe was all a bet— she runs. But Rafe catches up.

She had only just started seeing Rafe—barely two weeks ago. It was new, a little strange, but in a way that kept her curious. Nice, even. Fun in a way she hadn’t expected from him of all people.

Because Rafe Cameron wasn’t exactly known for being soft. He had a reputation that stretched longer than his shadow—fights, flings, short tempers, and even shorter attachments. He was the kind of guy people whispered warnings about, especially to girls like her. Sweet girls. Trusting girls. The kind of girl who always tried to see the best in people, even when it was buried under layers of smoke and sharp edges.

But this version of Rafe was… different.

He stayed up with her at night, texting until their phones overheated and the sun started to rise. Not just surface-level stuff either—real conversations. He remembered things she told him. Asked follow-up questions the next day like he actually cared, like he wanted to know what made her nervous or excited or sad. And when she rambled—about books, or her favorite kind of music, or random childhood stories—he didn’t tune out. He listened. Really listened, eyes on her like she was saying something that mattered.

And maybe that was what caught her off guard the most.

Because people didn’t believe it. Not her friends. Not even strangers who’d overheard his name. They all said the same thing: Rafe Cameron didn’t do real feelings. He didn’t get attached. He partied, he played, and he left.

They didn’t believe the soft glances he gave her could mean anything. Told her he was probably bored or playing a game or waiting for her to fall first so he could disappear like he always did.

But when he pulled her in a little closer during their late-night talks, when he looked at her like she was something fragile he didn’t want to break—she believed him.

It felt real.

Seemed real.

And maybe that was reckless. But she didn’t question it. Not yet.

The sharp buzz of her phone cut through the quiet, pulling her from a light sleep. She blinked groggily at the screen, disoriented for a second, then fumbled to answer as it rang again.

“Hello?” she murmured, voice still laced with sleep as she brought the phone to her ear.

His voice came through, smooth and familiar. “Were you asleep?”

Her spine straightened instinctively, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. “No. Why?”

Rafe chuckled—low and amused. “Pretty sure you were. I called you twice and got ignored. Sounds like nap time to me, pretty girl.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a grin. “Okay, maybe I was. Barely. What’s it to you?”

“Just makin’ sure I’m not boring you already,” he said, clearly grinning on the other end.

She looked down at her hands, admiring the fresh paint on her nails, and tucked her feet under her on the couch. “You’re not. You’re just calling at the most inconvenient times.”

He made a thoughtful sound, the kind she’d already learned meant he was choosing his words carefully. “So what you’re saying is I should’ve come over instead of calling.”

Her laugh was soft. “You would’ve woken me up either way.”

A pause.

Then his tone shifted—still him, still confident, but a little more careful now. “Hey, uh… there’s this dinner thing tonight. At my house.”

She perked up slightly, surprised by the change in energy. “Dinner?”

“Yeah. Just some of the boys, their girls, nothing huge. My dad’s making a whole thing of it, I don’t know. But…” He exhaled, the faintest hint of hesitation in his voice. “I thought maybe you’d come.”

Her heart skipped. Not just because he was inviting her into his world, but because for a second—just a second—he sounded nervous. And Rafe Cameron didn’t get nervous.

“You want me to meet your friends?” she teased gently, but the blush was already creeping into her cheeks.

He scoffed, but it lacked his usual bite. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” she grinned.

“Like I’m soft or something.”

She let the moment breathe, heart fluttering. “I’d love to go, Rafe.”

Silence hung for a second, almost like he was caught off guard. Then he cleared his throat. “Cool. Yeah. I’ll pick you up around seven.”

“Cool,” she echoed, still smiling when the line went quiet.

And even after the call ended, she sat there for a moment—phone still in hand, nails still drying, butterflies doing laps in her stomach. Rafe Cameron wasn’t soft, not with most people. But maybe that was starting to change.

⸻

As Rafe’s truck eased into the long, winding driveway, her stomach twisted. The house—more like a statement piece perched on the edge of the island—was already lit up and buzzing with movement. Music thumped from somewhere inside, and the soft glow of string lights danced off the parked luxury cars lining the property.

People were already milling about the porch and spilling out onto the front lawn—men in stiff button-ups talking with glasses of bourbon, girls with glossy lips and fake laughs, and groups that clearly knew each other in a way that made her feel immediately out of place.

She inhaled slowly, trying to hide the nerves pulsing beneath her skin.

Rafe stepped out first, rounding the truck to her side and opening the door with ease. Always smooth. Always collected. That signature half-smile was already plastered on his face—his “showtime” look, the one he wore when he had to be the version of himself people expected.

He reached for her hand, linking their fingers casually as if to anchor her as they walked in.

The house smelled like cologne, catered food, and money. Laughter echoed through the open rooms. There were faces she recognized from magazines, from news articles, from whispered gossip—but none she knew.

She stayed close behind Rafe as he navigated the crowd effortlessly, greeting people with nods and sharp grins, tossing a quick joke here and there. She could feel the eyes on her. Curious. Judgmental. Measuring. She wasn’t wearing anything special—just a simple dress and her best attempt at looking polished—but she suddenly felt like a fish out of water.

Then she spotted her—Ruthie.

Leaning against the wall, red cup in hand, that smug grin already pulling at her mouth the moment she laid eyes on them.

It wasn’t friendly.

It wasn’t welcoming.

It was the kind of grin that made her pulse tick up—like she knew something she didn’t.

Her fingers tightened slightly around Rafe’s, but he didn’t notice. Or if he did, he didn’t show it.

He led her into the living room, where a few people were lounging with drinks and music played low in the background. With a gentle tug, he gestured for her to sit on the edge of the deep leather couch.

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, alright?” he said, voice low, like it was just for her. His thumb brushed against the back of her hand before slipping away.

“Stay here?”

She nodded, even though her stomach gave a little dip at the idea of being left alone in a room full of strangers.

“Be right back,” Rafe promised, flashing her one last grin before disappearing into the crowd like he belonged there—because he did.

She exhaled slowly, running her hands down the front of her thighs as if trying to shake off the nerves. Her eyes flicked around the room, scanning for a familiar face. There was none.

The cushion beside her shifted slightly, dipping under someone’s weight. She barely registered it at first, still trying to settle the nerves in her stomach, until a voice broke the silence beside her.

“Hey,” the girl said casually. “You’re Rafe’s… well, you’re with Rafe, right?”

She blinked and turned her head, offering a hesitant smile when she realized it was Ruthie. Topper’s girlfriend. Always perfectly dressed, always perfectly smug.

“Uh—yeah,” she replied, unsure where the conversation was headed. “I came with him.”

Ruthie tilted her head, her glossy lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was sweet, but too sweet—like candy laced with something bitter.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, her voice light but laced with something she couldn’t quite place. “So how’s that going? What’s it been—like, a month?”

She shifted uncomfortably, brushing invisible lint off her dress to keep her hands busy. “It’s going good. Almost a month, yeah.”

She tried to sound friendly—open, even. Maybe this was Ruthie’s way of being nice. Maybe she just wanted to talk. Might as well make some friends while she’s here.

But Ruthie just gave a soft, humming laugh and leaned back against the couch like she’d just been let in on a private joke.

“If I didn’t already know about the game him and Topper have going on…” Ruthie paused, eyes scanning her face like she was watching for a reaction, “I would’ve thought he was, like, head over heels for you.”

Ruthie laughed again, but this time it was low and chilling—like she was amused by something only she could see.

The words didn’t make sense at first. They hung in the air for a second too long, sticky and cold, like a drink spilled down her back. Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head, trying to make sense of Ruthie’s strange tone.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice laced with confusion. “I—I don’t know what you mean?”

Her eyes searched Ruthie’s face, hoping for a smile, a laugh, something to suggest it was a misunderstanding. But Ruthie just looked back at her with that same unreadable expression—half amused, half pitying. Something about it made her stomach twist.

Ruthie smiled, but it wasn’t kind. It was sharp at the edges, like she enjoyed watching her squirm. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, tone light like they were discussing something casual—harmless. But the words that followed hit anything but soft.

“You know…” Ruthie began, drawing it out like she was savoring it. “The bet that the two of them have going on? Rafe and Topper?”

She blinked, not following.

Ruthie tilted her head, eyebrows raised like she was surprised she had to explain. “To see how many girls Rafe can get to fall in love with him.”

Silence.

For a moment, the noise of the party faded. The music, the laughter, the crackle of the fire—all of it turned into a distant hum in the background. Her heart was suddenly loud in her ears.

Ruthie shrugged one shoulder, like it was no big deal. “I mean, I’m honestly surprised you haven’t told him you know yet. Most girls figure out it’s not worth their time.”

Her chest tightened. She blinked again, but this time it was slower, like she was trying to reset reality. “Wait… what?” she whispered, her throat tightening. “What are you talking about?”

The word bet echoed in her mind, over and over, like it didn’t belong there. Like it had no place near the version of Rafe she knew—the one who rubbed circles into her back when she was nervous, who whispered compliments just loud enough for her to hear, who kissed the inside of her wrist like it meant something.

Ruthie leaned in a little, voice lower now. “You really didn’t know?” she said, with a glint of something cruel in her eye. “Rafe made this whole thing with Topper, like… months ago. Some stupid game to prove he could get any girl to fall for him. Doesn’t matter who she is. How sweet she is. How real she thinks it all feels.”

Her stomach dropped. Cold swept over her skin. “That’s not—” she started, but her voice cracked before she could finish.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Ruthie went on, like she was doing her a favor. “You’re the longest one yet. So, props for that. I think you might actually be winning him the whole thing.”

Ruthie was still talking, but her voice had become a distant hum—background noise to the way her world suddenly tilted. The living room seemed to blur around her, the laughter and music muffled beneath the roar of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

A bet?

Her mind reeled. Every look Rafe had given her. Every lingering touch. The way he whispered her name like it meant something. Like she meant something.

All of it… fake?

A tightness gripped her chest as realization hit. None of it had been real. Not the quiet drives, not the way he tucked her hair behind her ear, not the way he smiled when she laughed. It was all part of some sick game—another round in whatever twisted competition he and Topper were playing.

Money. Pride. Ego.

Not her.

Not them.

“I—I’m sorry,” she breathed, voice trembling as she rose to her feet, legs unsteady beneath her. “I need to leave.”

She didn’t wait for a response. The room spun as she pushed through the crowd, her hands trembling, eyes burning. She didn’t even realize she’d started crying until the cool night air hit her skin and tears slipped down her cheeks.

The front yard was dimly lit, but she welcomed the quiet. The heavy bass of the party dulled behind her as the door shut, leaving her alone with the crashing weight of betrayal.

Her hand instinctively reached for her phone, desperate for comfort—something familiar, something safe. But when the screen stayed black, her stomach dropped. Dead.

Of course.

She cursed under her breath, pressing her fingers to her eyes for a moment to hold herself together. She’d ridden here with Rafe. The one person she couldn’t face right now. The one person she’d trusted.

She scanned the street, thinking quickly. Her friend lived in a neighborhood not far from here—ten minutes by foot, maybe less if she walked fast.

Heels dangling from her fingers, she padded barefoot down the driveway, gravel biting into her skin with each step. She didn’t care. Not about the dirt on her dress or the chill in the air or the tears still falling.

She just had to get away.

From the house.

From the party.

From him.

From the lie she’d been living without even knowing.

⸻

Rafe weaved through the crowd, careful not to spill the two drinks balanced in his hands. The music thumped around him, bodies brushing past as people danced and talked, but his mind was somewhere else—on her.

A soft smile tugged at his lips, rare and unguarded. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light, this grounded. She was different. She didn’t flinch at his past or look at him like a ticking bomb. She laughed with him. Talked to him like he mattered. For once, it felt like he didn’t have to perform.

He stepped into the living room, expecting to see her curled up where he’d left her on the couch, maybe talking with someone or scanning the room with that quiet curiosity he found so damn adorable. But the spot was empty.

Rafe’s smile slowly faded.

He blinked, shifting the cups in his hands, then turned, scanning the room. Maybe she got up to use the bathroom. Maybe she ran into someone she knew. But a strange knot started to form in his chest as he checked the kitchen, then the hallway, then the stairwell. No sign of her.

His pace quickened, shoes thudding softly against the hardwood as he made his way through the house.

He pushed open the sliding door to the back porch and spotted Kelce and Topper standing in a cluster near the railing, beers in hand, talking with Ruthie. He walked over, the red Solo cups still in his grasp.

“Hey,” Rafe called, voice steady but clipped. “Have you guys seen her? She was just—” He glanced back at the house. “She was just inside.”

Kelce shook his head. “Haven’t seen her, bro.”

Topper mirrored him. “Nah, she dipped?”

But Ruthie let out a quiet, smug little laugh that made the hairs on the back of Rafe’s neck stand up.

“Oh, she left,” she said casually, swirling her drink. “Guess she finally figured it out.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Figured what out?”

Ruthie shrugged like it was obvious. “The bet, Rafe. The one you idiots made? To see how many girls you could get to fall for you? You know—the one you’re winning.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was sharp now, the drinks in his hands suddenly feeling like dead weight.

She rolled her eyes, tone airy. “Don’t play dumb. She knows. I might’ve mentioned it. Oops.”

For a second, Rafe just stared at Ruthie, expression unreadable, like he couldn’t quite process what she’d just said. Then, slowly, he turned to Topper—his eyes narrowing when he saw the guilty look already plastered across his friend’s face.

“What is she talking about?” Rafe asked, voice low but laced with sharp agitation. “What bet?”

Topper sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, visibly squirming. “Look, man—don’t freak out, alright? But I… I might’ve told Ruthie that me and you had this bet going. To see who could pull the most girls.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he took a step back, his grip on the solo cups tightening until the plastic crinkled. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

Topper rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Rafe’s eyes. “So she’d start going out with me,” he mumbled. “Dude, she wasn’t taking me seriously. I thought if she thought we were playing around, maybe she’d let her guard down.”

Rafe stayed silent for a couple of seconds, letting Toppers words register. His chest heaved as the weight of it sank in. The girl he’d been falling for—hell, maybe even in love with—had left his house tonight thinking she was just another name on some imaginary scoreboard. All because Topper wanted to impress someone.

“You better pray she lets me explain,” Rafe muttered under his breath, eyes still locked on the front door. “Because if she doesn’t…I swear to God, man…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

Without another word, he shoved the untouched drinks into Topper’s hands and stormed off through the house, heart pounding, desperately hoping it wasn’t too late.

⸻

Her feet throbbed with every step, the unforgiving pavement digging into her soles. She hadn’t realized just how long the walk would be—or how painful. Blisters had already started to form, and she hadn’t even made it out of the neighborhood. Her heels dangled uselessly from her fingers, no match for the jagged road beneath her, and every breath came out shakier than the last.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, hot and silent. She didn’t bother wiping them away. Embarrassment burned in her chest, tangled up with anger and something even heavier—shame. Everyone had warned her. Everyone. And she hadn’t listened. She had wanted to believe he was different. That Rafe was different.

A sudden, cold drop landed on her shoulder. She froze, tilting her head up to the sky just in time for another to splatter across her cheek. Then another. And another. Within seconds, a soft rain had started to fall, peppering her skin, her arms, her bare, aching feet.

She let out a disbelieving huff, the sound breaking halfway into a sob. Of course. Because somehow, heartbreak wasn’t enough—it had to rain, too. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shield against the chill, but it was no use. The tears kept coming, blending with the rain, soaking into her hair and slipping down her neck.

She felt stupid. Used. And worst of all, completely alone.

Cars zoomed past her, their headlights blinding and cruel in the rain, casting fleeting shadows across her soaked frame. Her steps had slowed to a miserable shuffle, the pavement digging into her her blistered feet. Every part of her ached—physically, emotionally. All she wanted now was to disappear, or at the very least, be home. Be with him.

But that wasn’t an option anymore. Not after everything.

Another engine grew louder behind her, creeping closer than the rest. She instinctively shifted to the very edge of the road, expecting it to pass like the others. But it didn’t.

The car came to an abrupt stop, tires hissing on the wet asphalt.

The door flew open with force and slammed shut again almost immediately. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she turned, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.

It was him.

He was storming toward her, his strides long and urgent, a mixture of panic and sorrow carved into every angle of his face. His jaw was tight, clenched so hard it looked like it hurt, and his suit jacket—once perfectly tailored and dry—was now completely soaked, clinging to his frame as the rain poured harder.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he barked, not with anger, but with fear—fear layered beneath his voice like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What the hell are you thinking, walking out here like this?”

Before she could answer, his hands were already on her, pulling her into his chest like he couldn’t stand the space between them for even a second longer. His grip was tight, too tight, but she didn’t move. Not yet. Not when it felt so good to be wrapped up in him—even if it was just for a moment.

And then the moment broke.

She started to cry again, shoulders shaking, her sobs barely muffled against his shirt. The pain in her chest swelled because she knew this—this—wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

With trembling hands, she shoved against him, creating space where warmth had just been.

“Don’t do that,” she choked out. “Don’t pretend, Rafe. Don’t pretend you care about me.”

The words hit him like a slap, and he staggered back half a step, blinking through the rain that streamed down his face. He looked at her like she’d just taken the air out of his lungs.

“Don’t pretend?” he echoed, breathless. “You think I’m pretending?”

His voice cracked, just slightly, as he stepped closer again, slower this time—like he was afraid she’d disappear if he moved too fast.

“I care about you,” he said, low and rough. “I care about you so fucking much it makes me feel insane sometimes. And whatever Ruthie said—whatever bullshit about some bet or game—it’s not true. It was never true.”

His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for her again, but didn’t know if he was allowed to anymore. His eyes searched her face with quiet desperation.

“I would never do that to you,” he said, voice breaking. “Not you.”

She shook her head, backing away from him, the cold rain soaking her clothes and hair until she was trembling. “I heard her, Rafe. I heard everything,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t have to lie.”

But Rafe didn’t flinch. He stepped toward her again, hands out like he was scared she’d disappear if he moved too fast. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, breaths shallow like he’d been running. Maybe he had. “You didn’t hear me,” he said, softer now. “You heard Ruthie twist shit like she always does. But you didn’t hear me say it, because I didn’t. I never said anything like that.”

She looked down, arms still crossed tightly over her chest. Her lip quivered and the ache in her throat grew heavier. “Why would she say it then? Why would she—why would anyone think it was a joke? That I was a joke?”

Rafe looked like he was in pain—like the words themselves had hit him. His jaw clenched again, but not in anger this time. In guilt. “Because people suck,” he said, almost brokenly. “Because I never should’ve brought you around them. I should’ve known better. I should’ve protected you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, tears still streaking down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.

His face twisted like he wanted to argue but couldn’t. He dragged a hand down his face, pushing wet hair off his forehead. “You have no idea how much I care about you,” he said again, more desperate now. “You think I’d chase you down in the middle of a storm if this was a game to me?”

She chewed on her lip looking down. His hand landing on her waist pulling her closer.

“And if I had—if I had heard her say that shit to your face, I swear to God I would’ve lost it. I would’ve. You know me.”

She blinked, hesitating. She did know him. She knew that flash in his eyes. She knew the unfiltered honesty in his voice when he was like this—raw, heart on his sleeve, drenched in rain but still more focused on her than anything else.

“I don’t care about Ruthie,” he said, stepping even closer now, gently wrapping his hands around her arms. “I care about you. I’ve never brought anyone into my world the way I brought you in, and maybe that’s why they didn’t take it seriously. But I did. I do. I fucked up not noticing sooner, but don’t tell me I don’t care. Because I do. So much that I can’t even think straight when you’re not okay.”

She looked up at him through soaked lashes, her heart pounding, unsure if it was from anger or sadness or the overwhelming relief threatening to crack through her.

He exhaled shakily, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. “Please don’t walk away from me like this.”

She sniffled, her lip trembling as fresh tears welled in her eyes, and before she could talk herself out of it, she threw her arms around his neck and held him like she never wanted to let go. Like he was home.

Rafe didn’t hesitate—his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her into him with a desperation that matched her own. His suit jacket was soaked through, rain clinging to every inch of them, but he didn’t seem to care. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her through the storm. She still smelled like something soft and warm—like comfort—even in the middle of all this mess.

“I’m not walking away from you,” she whispered after a long, shaky moment, her breath brushing his ear.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face, and she rested both hands gently on either side of his jaw. Her palms were cold, but her touch was tender, grounding him. Her thumbs brushed along his cheeks as she looked up at him, eyes wide and sincere.

“I believe you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry… for running. For not asking you. I should’ve talked to you—”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut her off gently, shaking his head as his hands slid to the small of her back. “You were hurt. I should’ve protected you from all of that before it even got to you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His voice was hoarse, low and rough from the lump in his throat. The space between them buzzed with everything unsaid. Her fingers tightened slightly on his face, eyes flicking from his to his lips—just once, just enough to make his heart stutter.

And then he leaned in.

Slow at first, like he was giving her the chance to pull away. But she didn’t—she only leaned up to meet him halfway, her breath catching as his mouth finally pressed to hers.

It wasn’t rushed. It was gentle, aching, full of emotion that neither of them had been able to put into words. Her hands slid into his damp hair, and his grip on her tightened like he was afraid she’d disappear again.

There, in the middle of the rain-soaked road, under the gray sky and headlights of his still-running car, they kissed like they meant it. Like it wasn’t fake. Like it had never been a question.

And now it never would be.

[kandyscorner]

You know what super sweet to think about, Jason getting his first cheek kiss by someone he likes🥺 I know I said I'd submit something for Dick or Tim to break up all the Jason Todd on the dash, but ugh can you blame me?? Like maybe it's a first date or a second, and he's nervous, like she can tell even though he's hiding it pretty well. Maybe he does something sweet, hold the door open for her, pull her seat out, give her his jacket, something chivalrous that just comes naturally from being around Alfred for so long, and she thanks him with a sweet kiss to the cheek. I imagine he short circuits completely, couldn't recover in time even if he tried, and believe me, he tried. Red blush, starting from his chest all the way to his ears, eye brows shooting up involuntarily like he didn't know a cheek kiss could exist, and he's just frozen in time. You look at him and giggle, and that sound breaks him out of it, and he's just a fumbling mess the rest of the night, but secretly he's just trying to earn another one of those. Ugh, I love him your honor

@herodedicatedblog

Publishing this request to try and summon @herodedicatedblog. I miss my friends crazy commentary. I got lost in the sauce of this, I think, but I still think it works out pretty good. Flustered Jason is the best! I love him!!

_____

“Trivia? You're taking me to trivia?” Jason gives you a very judgey face and it makes you wrinkle your nose.

“Don't say it like that. I thought long and hard about this.” This being the first time Jason was letting you plan a date.

“So that's where the smell of smoke was from.” Jason retorts. You step slowly into his space, hands behind your back and you grin at him innocently. 

He eyes you but doesn't step away from you, if anything leans just a bit closer. It gives you ample opportunity to flick his cheek.

“Don't be mean to me,” you tell him with a pout. He grabs the hand that flickered him, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. 

“Alright, I'm sorry, okay?” You can see the sincerity in his eyes but you flounder anyway.

“Do you really not like trivia?” You ask quietly, eyes downcast. He tips your chin with his free hand to make you look up at him again.

“I like anything you plan. I didn't mean to rag on you, sweetheart. Just wasn't expecting trivia is all.” 

“It's at the library,” you start, feeling more confident and hoping to explain why you had chosen trivia for the date, “and it's specifically on classic literature.” 

You tug him down the sidewalk where you two halted for your conversation. Your jittering nerves enough to finally answer him after he asked what you had planned for the third time. 

“The library?” He asks, letting you pull him slightly. 

“Yeah, you mentioned how you spent a lot of time at the library when you were younger and how you try to support them as much as possible. I figured we could hit two birds with one stone. A date and support the library by participating in their activities.” You suck in a breath at the end of your words. 

“Anyone ever tell you you're perfect, sweetheart, cause you are.” The compliment has you flustering a little but you find relief when the library comes into view.

You pause to look at it. The buildings in Gotham never ceased to amaze you, the architecture always so detailed. Jason stands beside you as you admire the building and then offers you an elbow.

“I think we have a fun trivia night to get to.” He says and you take his arm letting him lead you this time.

“You called it fun,” you say in almost a tease.

“I never said otherwise,” he lightly chides as you climb the steps. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes and reach for the door but Jason beats you to it and pulls the door open. 

“Thank you, handsome,” you say as you walk through the open door. When you turn to wait for him you find a light red dusting across his cheeks and find yourself pleased with getting him to blush. 

The past three date's you had been on you had felt like a total fool. It's why you asked if you could plan the next one, for some semblance of control when it came to being around Jason. 

You check in for trivia and settle in. A small crowd, mostly families and a few couples and friends. Trivia goes by easily or as easily as being tested on old books could be. 

Jason kept looking at you and smiling. You could tell he was trying to make up for his teasing from before, telling you periodically how he was enjoying this and that it was fun. 

The trivia was set up like March madness. You would go up against one team and whoever won would move onto the next round. 

Jason was good, like really good and so were you. You had lightly studied up on classic literature beforehand. It wasn't to show off but you didn't want to look like a total idiot during the date. As the game went on the questions got harder and more specific.

You were in the second to last round. You just had to beat this one and you would be in the finals. You were actually excited, a quiet adrenaline thrumming through your veins. You had one last question in this round.

“Shakespeare wrote over 150 works in his lifetime. Which of these works ends in the death of the noble Trojan Hector?”

You find your competitors turn to each other in a panic. You don't think about it and don’t listen to the question thoroughly as you turn to Jason, “It's the Iliad, right?”

Jason blinks at you apparently startled, he already has the mark uncapped and pressed to the white board. His face turns into a grimace like he’s about to tell you some bad news.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently and makes you smile at his placating attempts, “that's not Shakespeare.”

“I know,” you nod slowly with pinched brows. He gives you a look and you turn to where they have the question posted, “Oh sorry. I wasn't listening to the first part.” you fluster. He reaches over and gives your hand a squeeze. 

“You would've been right without,” he lets go of your hand and picks the mark back up. You lean over his shoulder to watch his answer.

“I never knew Shakespeare wrote anything about the Trojan War.” you whisper into his ear and you swear Jason shudders. He turns his head to meet your eye once he’s done writing.

“It's not very popular. People find it confusing and the name is deceptive.”

“You're actually pretty positive about this, aren’t you?” you question.

“It's why you brought me.” he says with a cocky grin which makes you laugh because it's something you'd expect from a man winning a sport not classic literature trivia.

“Times up, Ladies and Gentlemen, please show us your answers.”

The other team flips the board first, Timon of Athens. Despite the written answer they still seem entirely unsure of it.

“”While Timon of Athens is a tragedy, it is not the tragedy of Troy. Unfortunately that is incorrect. And our second team?”

You give Jason a reassuring nod and he flips the board. Troilus and Cressida

“It seems we have our first contestants for the final round.” the host rambles on more information that you entirely ignore because you made it to the final round! You and Jason stand to swap out  seats with the next group. You shuffle over to the “Audience” seating and sit down suddenly aware of the tight grip you have on Jason’s hand. He doesn't complain, doesn't say anything. 

It's only once the next round starts that you can't contain your excitement anymore. You shake Jason’s hand and turn in your seat, lean up and press an excited kiss to his cheek, “We won.” you whisper, still vibrating with glee.

As you pull back, Jason turns his head slowly to stare at you. He blinks and stares and blinks again. The apples of his cheeks turn red first. It creeps up to his ears and down his neck disappearing under the collar of his shirt. Your glee shifts from excitement about winning to excitement over how fluster Jason suddenly is.

“What’s wrong, handsome? Need another victory kiss?” you swear he turns redder at your teasing.

“No, that's okay. Is it hot in here?” he mumbles and you laugh, loud enough to earn a glare from the people around you. You couldn't care less about the trivia night anymore, enamored by how Jason blushes. 

You leave Jason alone other than periodically staring at him. His blush settles mostly, though it resides on his cheeks indefinitely. He fidgets in his seat clearly no longer paying attention to the trivia game in front of you. 

You want to kiss him on the cheek again then kiss him on the mouth and sit back and watch that blush grow. You want to do it when his shirt is off so you can press kisses to his reddened neck and hopefully follow it as far down as it goes. Maybe go lower to see if the red would follow.

You blink at the poking at your shoulder, a woman behind you gesturing to the trivia contest. It was time for the final round. Apparently, neither you or Jason were paying attention because you have to tug him out of his seat to get him to come along.

You settle in your seat, markers at the ready. The host explains that there will only be one question this round and that was it. You glance at Jason, cheeks still red and you're not entirely sure he’s even listening which would have bothered you if you even cared about the trivia game anymore.

“The final round, the winner takes it all, all being this small trophy we found on Amazon and this bag of candy.” The host presents the prize and a ripple of laughter moves through the group with a small child yelling out, “there was candy!?”

“Are you ready contestants?” the host asks and you nod only slightly hoping Jason will come back to the moment.

“How often does Mr Darcy call Elizabeth by her first name in Jane Austen's book Pride and Prejudice? Time starts now.”

You gingerly set the marker down. This question was so not meant for you. Jason had teased you about not having read it at least once. It wasn't a requirement at your school. 

You turn in your seat and find him still looking a little dazed and decide you're probably not going to be winning this.

“Jason,” you whisper to him and gain no reaction, “Jason!” You poke at his rib and his eyes snap to you.

“What?” You press your hand to your mouth to keep from laughing.

“I can't answer this question.”

“What question?”

“Jason,” you chide and gesture to the posted question and the time you were running out of fast.

“Oh, shit,” his brows raise in surprise and you stifle another laugh.

“Jason, there's children here.”

“Sorry,” he doesn't sound very sorry, “I don't know the answer.” 

That he does sound sorry about. You give him what you hope is a calm smile.

“That's okay. Take your best guess.” 

“But we're so close, sweetheart.” He insists even though there's nothing he can do.

“I know, handsome but we're out of time,” you gesture back to the clock now in seconds. He hurries with the marker and writes down his answer, once.

“I think it's when he proposed, but there may have been another time.I can't remember.” He leans to whisper to you, cheeks a slightly redder than before.

“And our answers are once and twice. I'm so sorry but the answer is twice!” The little girl on the competing team bounces out of her mom's lap and nearly dives at the host for the candy. 

You finally let out your ill contained laughter, hand grabbing Jason’s and intertwining your fingers. Partially so he won't think you're mad about the loss, mostly because you're about to kiss his cheek again and you're definitely going to make him stay there so you can watch him turn red again.

_____

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[acrosstheujiverse]

About Last Night…

【📂】 summary: every time you drink with choi seungcheol, you ask the same question—“what do you think of me?”—and every time, he laughs it off with a smile and calls you his precious friend. you pretend it doesn’t hurt. but after one blurry night that you can’t quite remember, everything starts to shift. he looks at you differently. lingers longer. and maybe, just maybe, he’s been waiting for you to ask him the same question—sober. 【🖇️】 pairing: oblivious!seungcheol x flustered!reader. 【💿】 genre: friends to lovers, slow burn, FLUFF (with emotional tension). 【🧺】 tags: mutual pining; drinking; drunken confessions; drunken kiss; teasing; soft angst; idiots in love; DIMPLES; (slight) jealousy. 【📦】 w/c: 2.4k+

📬 — author’s note ！i wrote this back in 2022 (11.05) and i'm FINALLY releasing it. °՞(ᗒ╭╮ᗕ)՞°

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“earth to (y/n)~” 

you were staring again.

“if you stare any harder, he might catch on fire.”

hands cupped around your face, elbows resting on the cafeteria table, gaze glued to the boy sitting across from you.

“is this some kind of psychic courtship ritual?”

choi seungcheol.

your crush. your classmate. your friend. the worst combination of all three.

he was lazily spinning his drink bottle between his hands, distracted, and completely unaware that your brain was currently running a highlight reel of all the ways you had accidentally—but very much wholeheartedly—fallen in love with him.

he was good at everything: basketball, speeches, essays, leading your class like it was second nature. he was sharp, reliable, annoyingly handsome, and then, to balance it all out, he also whined like a toddler when he was hungry and sulked when someone beat him at cards.

he was so full of contradictions, so good at getting under your skin, and so stupidly oblivious to your feelings.

... or maybe he wasn’t. maybe he knew. but if he did, he sure as hell never acted on it.

“i swear, the way you look at him... if he doesn’t get the hint soon, i will start drawing hearts in his notebook for you.”

“shht–! don’t jinx it, jeonghan!” 

jeonghan’s words finally pulled you out of your trance.

you blinked, cheeks warming, and sat up straighter.

he chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you, then let out a long, dramatic sigh. “why do i feel like i’m the third wheel here?”

you always picked him first for group projects. always sat beside him at lunch.

always ended up next to him during class outings, festivals, dinners, parties.

it wasn’t even a conscious choice anymore. it just happened.

people had started teasing you about it. you always brushed it off with a laugh—blaming familiarity, comfort, convenience. anything but the truth.

but the truth followed you anyway—especially when you drank.

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your hangout tradition with seungcheol was sacred. casual, cozy, and dangerously routine. cheap drinks, shared snacks, music humming low in the background, conversations that dipped in and out of serious and silly.

and every time you drank together, the same thing happened.

“cheol,” you slurred, cheeks warm, breath just a little too quick, “what do you think of me? do you... have feelings for me?”

you always asked that question. like clockwork.

and he always answered the same way. voice syrupy-sweet, tipsy grin stretching across his face.

“my (y/n)-ieee~ you’re a very precious friend of mine. i like you sooo much. my friend~ hehe.”

you wanted to scream.

friend. precious, sure. but friend.

you groaned, dropping your head onto the table. he flashed you those dimples — his signature, unfair, heart-ruining dimples.

those damn dimples. i should’ve brought shades so i wouldn’t have to see them, you thought, bitter and foggy.

“ugh. again?” jeonghan’s voice filtered in, dry and unsurprised.

he dropped into the seat beside you with all the ease of someone flipping open a well-worn book. he didn’t even bother pretending to be surprised anymore.

“jeonghaaan,” you mumbled, half-whine, half-sob. “i’m losing my mind…”

“you’re losing your liver first,” he said, plucking the drink from your hand like a babysitter. “and for what? the same damn heartbreak on loop?”

“well. i’m not gonna argue with a drunk person,” he added, patting your head like a tired cat. “but honestly, (y/n)... you do this every time.”

you turned your face slightly to glare up at him with bleary eyes. “’s not like i plan it…”

“but you do it,” he said, gently. “like muscle memory.”

you blinked slowly, words swimming. “maybe if he knew… maybe… maybe then…”

“what? he’d suddenly realize he loves you back?” jeonghan asked, not unkindly.

you winced. “that’s mean…”

“it’s honest,” he said. “and i’m saying it now while you’re too drunk to remember how mad it made you.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the door opened.

familiar laughter. light, effortless.

your body stiffened. even drunk, even dulled, your senses still caught her the way a wound catches salt.

“uh-oh,” jeonghan muttered under his breath, sipping his drink like it was tea. “she’s here.”

younghee.

seungcheol’s childhood friend. the other person he was close to—so close it made something in your chest twist.

she breezed in like she owned the air around her, sliding into the seat beside him as if it were hers. her arm looped around his like it belonged there. her head rested easily on his shoulder.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t move away. just smiled—those dimples again—and let her stay.

your stomach twisted.

you told yourself it was fine. they were practically siblings. they'd known each other forever.

but she didn’t act like a sibling.

she touched him like it meant something. whispered things that made him laugh. she always knew where to stand, where to lean, how to fold herself into his space.

and the worst part? he let her.

he looked happy.

and it made you feel ridiculous. childish. petty.

but the jealousy still bubbled up anyway, thick and sour.

jeonghan followed your gaze, then sighed like this was his personal soap opera. “you really know how to pick a time for your breakdowns.”

“sh-she’s… so close,” you muttered, slumping further down into the table, as if it might swallow you whole.

“they grew up together,” jeonghan reminded you gently. “she’s always like that with him. it doesn’t mean—”

“i know,” you said, too quickly. too loud.

you winced at yourself, then tightened your grip on the edge of the table. “i know that. but…”

but you hated how easy it was for her. how she never had to wonder what she meant to him. how she wasn’t you.

“i feel like a joke,” you whispered.

jeonghan didn’t respond. didn’t need to. he just stayed beside you, one hand resting on your back. steady. quiet. there.

and across the table, seungcheol smiled like nothing had changed.

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jeonghan spotted you the moment he walked into the bar.

he didn’t even try to hold it in.

“oh, no way,” he laughed, loud enough for three tables to turn. “you’re actually wearing them.”

you didn’t look up. just raised your drink and sipped like nothing was out of the ordinary.

he slid into the booth across from you, eyes gleaming. “indoors, (y/n)? really? in public?”

“i’m committed,” you said coolly, pushing your sunglasses higher up the bridge of your nose.

“to being a menace?”

“to my healing.”

he snorted. “sure. healing from what? weaponized dimples?”

you didn’t respond—mostly because he was absolutely right.

and then, like fate had a sense of humor, seungcheol arrived. he placed his drink on the table, looked between the two of you, and paused.

“(y/n)... why are you wearing sunglasses? we’re indoors.”

you didn’t flinch. didn’t even blink. you simply pushed the frames higher up the bridge of your nose, silent.

he blinked at you, waiting.

you stared straight ahead, lips pressed into a flat line.

i shall never see those dimples of his ever again, you thought firmly. they’re simply too dangerous. i can’t take any chances. i might fall for him again… and again… and again.

he tilted his head, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “you seriously not gonna answer?”

“they’re prescription,” you said flatly.

“prescription sunglasses?”

you shrugged. “light sensitivity.”

jeonghan snorted so loudly he nearly choked on his own spit. you kicked him under the table. he doubled over, wheezing.

“worth it,” he coughed, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “you’re so dramatic. god, it’s inspiring.”

seungcheol just laughed, flicking your forehead. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m a survivor,” you muttered. “barely.”

and like every other night before this one, you sank back into the comfort of routine.

still too scared to shatter it.

still too scared to see what might be waiting if you did.

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you cursed jeonghan silently as you stared at your phone.

jeonghan🍻: hey, i’m gonna have to bail tonight. not feeling great. sorry, (y/n).

you frowned but said nothing.

across the table, seungcheol picked up his phone, unlocking it without thinking. the group chat was open.

he cleared his throat and read aloud, amused: “‘guys, seriously sick. gonna crash early. no hangout for me.’”

you glanced at the screen just as seungcheol scrolled. the next messages appeared:

seungcheol🍒: dude, you ok? feel better soon. jeonghan🍻: thanks man. (y/n), you owe me one ;)

jeonghan always hated missing your hangouts—but he hated your tortured heart even more.

and you were certain: he bailed tonight on purpose.

to give you space. to give you a sign. to push you, silently, toward the confession you kept holding back.

you rolled your eyes, lips twitching at the thought of his sneaky little plan.

seungcheol looked up, flashing that lazy smile, dimples and all.

“guess it’s just us then.”

you nodded, heart thudding, knowing tonight wouldn’t be like any other night before.

a few drinks in, you settled into the booth beside him, closer than usual. your knees brushed under the table, a quiet spark passing between you. your hand hovered near his, fingers twitching, until your pinky grazed his. once. twice.

on the third touch, your finger lingered.

his eyes found yours—steady, patient. you held his gaze.

“i think i’m gonna kiss you,” you breathed, voice barely louder than the music.

his breath caught too.

no laughter. no teasing. only a quiet, “then do it.”

your lips met clumsily, soft and short. a spark ignited—something crackled beneath your skin.

your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

instead of pulling away, your eyelids grew heavy. your head tilted, settling gently against seungcheol’s shoulder.

he let out a faint chuckle, warm and quiet, as you slowly slipped into sleep.

his fingers found yours under the table, squeezing softly, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile moment.

“sleep tight, (y/n),” he whispered.

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you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and one vivid flash burning behind your eyelids—the kiss.

your phone buzzed sharply against the table.

seungcheol🍒: we’re still on tonight, right? usual spot.

you stared at the screen, heart pounding. panic bloomed in your chest.

was it real? or just a drunken dream?

“ughhh,” you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “why don’t i remember?! this can’t be happening!”

you promised yourself you’d stay sober.

but one drink turned into two. the two became three. and somewhere in the blur of warm lights and soft laughter, you asked again, voice barely steady: “cheol… what do you think of me?”

he tilted his head, eyes amused but serious. “you always ask me that.”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

“every time we drink,” he said, voice low. “you ask me that question.”

your heart skipped a beat. “and you always say the same thing.”

he smiled, but it was small. almost sad. “do i?”

you stared at him, desperate. “cheol…”

then a flicker of mischief crossed his face—a smirk just barely there—and you pointed at him, eyes wide. “YAH—CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!! you remember something, don’t you?!”

“maybe.”

you rolled your eyes. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

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you were already seated when he walked in—library quiet, sun warm across your table. he waved at you, dropped his bag into the chair across from yours, and settled in like it was routine. like this was just another afternoon.

his phone buzzed.

he glanced down, smiled faintly, and picked it up. “hey, younghee. yeah, no, i can’t today. rain check?”

a pause.

“mhm. okay. take care, kid.”

he hung up, set his phone down, and turned back to you.

your expression must’ve betrayed you—because something in his eyes changed. softened. sharpened. knowing.

“what?” he asked.

you shook your head. “nothing.”

he tilted his head. “you’ve always been weird about her.”

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he said, without judgment. “and it’s okay.”

you stayed quiet, unsure if denying it again would make it worse.

“she’s like family to me,” he continued. “like a little sister. not someone i’ve ever liked like that. not even close.”

your breath stalled.

“but you…” he looked at you then, really looked. “you’re not like that.”

you blinked.

“just wanted you to know,” he said softly. “i figured maybe that’s something you needed to hear before anything else.”

the warmth in your chest spread slowly.

quiet. certain.

you nodded. “thank you.”

he smiled.

“now,” he said, leaning back, “wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?”

and so you did. “cheol?”

“yeah?”

you took a breath. “what do you think of me?”

he set his pen down. leaned back. looked at you fully. “don’t ask me again unless you want the truth.”

your heart skipped. “…i do.”

his smile was soft, almost shy—but it didn’t waver. “then here it is: i’ve been falling for you for a long time.”

your fingers trembled slightly on the table, still curled around your iced coffee. your heartbeat was wild in your chest.

he wasn’t teasing. wasn’t hiding behind dimples or laughter.

just him.

and his answer.

“you’re not drunk, right?” you whispered.

“not even a sip.”

you nodded slowly. “good.”

“you okay?” he asked.

“yeah.” you let out a shaky smile. “just... kinda hard to believe i’m not imagining this.”

his hand brushed over yours, warm and steady. “you’re not imagining it.”

you laughed under your breath. “can i say something embarrassing?”

“please do.”

“i’ve liked you for so long it stopped feeling like a crush. it was just... you. always you. all the time. everywhere.”

his grip tightened gently. “you think that’s embarrassing?”

you looked up. “it’s not?”

“(y/n)...” he leaned in. “i’ve been waiting for you to ask me sober.”

you blinked.

he smiled. “you asked so many times when you were tipsy. i wanted to answer differently. but i didn’t want you to forget.”

“i’m not gonna forget this time,” you said, voice steady.

“good.”

and then—finally—he kissed you.

not clumsy. not rushed. not a maybe.

his lips found yours with quiet certainty. it was soft, slow, but deepened like gravity had always been pulling you toward this moment.

your fingers curled into the sleeve of his hoodie. his hand cupped the back of your neck.

and when he pulled back, just barely, his voice dropped: “no more pretending, okay?”

you smiled.

“okay.”

- fin.

[...epilogue]

[jakedustry]

WHAT'S YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE? - SVT

SVT x gn!reader

word count 2.7k

↪ izzy adds... finally got to the seventeen version!! The colors might (definitely do) look funky if you're on dark mode like me but I was too lazy to change them soooo just pretend it looks awesome

txt ver. | enha ver. | svt ver.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL — act of service  Cheol always loved being able to be helpful, no matter if it meant opening the door for you, carrying your bag, opening a jar, or even fixing your sink. It didn’t matter what it was—he just wanted to be there for you. And it’s not any different now, after dating for over a year. 

“Let me help,” he says casually as he steps into the kitchen, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You smile, humming happily as you turn your head back and capture his lips with yours. “Sit down and let me do it, hm?” You melt under his touch, nodding slightly. He helps you on the kitchen counter, wanting you close as he takes over the dinner preparations, stealing kisses from you any chance he gets. You watch him with a smile, your heart beating faster as you watch him. Your boyfriend is perfect, there’s no doubt in that. 

YOON JEONGHAN — words of affirmation  Jeonghan is a tease. He’s always been one—from joking around with his friends and making them feel like he is making fun of them or lying when he is simply being honest, to teasing you just to see the blush on your face. But even though teasing is part of his personality, it doesn’t mean he can’t be serious as well. In fact, you’d say he knows how to have deep, serious, conversations more than anyone else you know. 

“I don’t know, I’m not sure what I feel,” you mumble, holding back your tears as you bury your face in your boyfriend’s chest. It was a hard day, one that left you feeling numb. His hands wrap around you without hesitation, kissing the top of your head in reassurance. “That’s okay. It’s normal to feel like that sometimes,” he promises, his hand drawing gentle, careful, circles on your back. “You don’t have to feel anything either, you can just be.” Another kiss in your hair. “I get it. And I can feel for both of us.” Your heart flutters at his words, the tears finally escaping as you hug him back. “I love you,” you whisper and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “I love you, angel,” he answers without a second thought, reassuring you again that it’s okay and he isn’t going anywhere. 

HONG JOSHUA — words of affirmation “I feel so lucky,” Joshua mumbles between kisses, the smile on his lips never leaving as his grip on your waist tightens and he pulls you closer. You giggle, playing with his hair as you kiss him back. Pulling back for just a second, you smile as you gaze into his eyes. “Why is that?” He kisses you again, tugging a few hair strands behind your ear. “Because of you,” he says, running his hand down your back. You shiver, kissing your way down his jaw. “Yeah?” — “Yeah,” he breaths out, tilting his head as you kiss his neck. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” 

Your grin grows wider and you raise your head again to look at him properly, your cheeks flushed red and lips swollen from all the kissing. He holds you close, his hand sliding under your shirt and sending a shiver down your spine when his cold fingers meet your skin. Your head falls down to his shoulder, hiding your face so he wouldn’t see how big of a mess you are just because of what he says. It’s safe to say you’re obsessed with Joshua Hong and the effect his words have on you. 

WEN JUNHUI — gift giving There was a beauty to dating a singer. Everything has a bad and good side, of course. It wasn’t possible for everything to always go your way and there were moments where you got hurt for reasons that probably wouldn’t have occurred if you weren’t dating a singer, but the two of you always resolved it quickly. Because no matter what happened, Jun wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you. 

It’s one of those days when you just want to stay in bed with your boyfriend and do nothing but you can’t because he has a performance. You understand it, he can’t do anything with his working hours, but it still stings when you wake up and there’s no one beside you, no matter how much your hand searches for him. You roll over onto your back, gazing at the ceiling for a while before finally getting out of bed to do something. 

You don’t notice the front door opening, but what you do notice is the big bouquet that greets you as soon as you look up, covering your boyfriend’s face. “Good morning, love,” he says with a smile and you completely forget it’s already past lunch. Your face lights up even more when you see the note attached to the flowers, containing a few lyrics that warm your heart—lyrics just for you. Dating a singer is beautiful. 

KWON SOONYOUNG — physical touch You rest your head in his lap, your eyes closing after the long day as you listen to the movie playing on the TV. Soonyoung carefully plays with your hair, his eyes watching you instead of the movie. You hum happily, letting yourself fully focus on his touch. Your breathing is steady as you feel the exhaustion slowly drifting off because of him, smiling. “Thank you,” you mumble and he bends down, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “No need,” he smiles, pulling back again. You shift in his lap, laying on your back now and watching him. 

You both stare into each other’s eyes, your cheeks flushed. It’s quiet and intimate. He brushes a few hair pieces out of your face, smiling at you softly. “Do you feel better?” He wonders and you nod without a second of hesitation, intertwining your fingers with his as you hold his hand. “Much better. I love you.” He squeezes your hand, bringing it up to his face to place a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you.” 

YEON WONWOO — quality time When Wonwoo first came up with the suggestion, you questioned him a lot. Why would you leave your phone at home while going on a date with him? It was still early into knowing him and for a second, you freaked out he just wanted to have the opportunity to kidnap you without anyone being able to track you down and so you asked your friends to come with you and sit on the sides to watch him. 

But after your date ended, you fully understood it. Not having your phone while on a date was the best feeling ever. It felt much more comfortable and free, and you were able to focus all your attention on him without worrying about your friends chatting on your group chat and you not being able to look at it because it would be indecent towards your date. 

It’s been a year and two months since that date, and you and Wonwoo are now in a happy relationship, continuing the tradition on every date and leaving your phones at home or turning them off so you can focus on each other without any interruptions. Every time you do, you think back to your very first date like this and thank yourself for not running away when you heard it and deciding to stick around instead. It was the best decision you could have made. 

LEE JIHOON — quality time Jihoon is busy more than not. You want to say you’re used to it by now, but it still stings whenever you come home to an empty apartment or wake up alone in your bed. You know he has his responsibilities and work to focus on but you can’t help but feel a little selfish at times. It’s natural. 

And so when you come home and see him sitting at the table in the living room, headphones on as he works on a new song from the comfort of your shared house because you complained about missing him the night before, your whole face lights up. He doesn’t notice you at first, clicking a few things on his laptop as you walk closer with a smile. You tap the table and his eyes meet yours, his lips turning into the smile you love so much. “Hi,” you greet him. “Hi,” he greets you back, pulling out a chair for you besides him. “Want to watch me? I’ll be done soon,” he says and you sit down, looking over his shoulder as he works. “I also ordered food for us. Dinner and a movie tonight?” — “Absolutely,” you nod, the smile on your face making it worth it all as he watches you. 

LEE SEOKMIN — gift giving Seokmin wasn’t a big reader. He supported your love for books without a second thought since the day he met you but you couldn’t say you’ve ever seen him reading a book. You tried recommending him a few, some short ones he could laugh at, but you always thought he didn’t even look in the direction of any of the books you told him about. 

You were so incredibly wrong. Ever since the day he found out you like to read, he’s gone out of his way to keep up with the latest releases, your favorite authors, and any events that could occur near. That was also why he always got you the perfect gift, no matter if it was your birthday, valentines day, christmas, or just a random Tuesday where he’d hand you a book because he thought about you on his way from work and went to a bookstore to get you something. 

Today, though, he exceeded all your expectations. Not only did he remember your favorite book and gave you a special edition of it, but as soon as you opened it to see more of it, you noticed small notes on the sides, your eyes widening at the familiar handwriting. “I wrote down a few things that caught my attention or I liked. That’s how you do it, right? That’s how you’re supposed to annotate?” 

KIM MINGYU — physical touch Mingyu always clearly showed people he loved them through hugs. No matter if it was his friends, family, or you. He was clingy, yes, but it only made you love him more. You love the feeling of his hugs, when his strong arms wrap around you so gently and his whole body covers you, his head resting on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. 

You giggle as he does exactly that, barely kicking off his shoes before his arms find you, squeezing you tightly. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, hugging him back and kissing his jaw. He hums back, picking you up with ease and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Missed you,” he says, chasing after your lips as if his life depended on it. You let him, running a hand through his hair as you pull him closer, kissing him while he carries you into the kitchen. You don’t know if to kiss you more or prepare dinner, but you wouldn’t mind either. 

XU MINGHAO — gift giving “What do you think?” Hao steps back so he doesn’t cover the painting with his body anymore. “Wow,” you exhale in awe, questioning how it’s even possible for your boyfriend to be so talented. You stare at the painting—painting of you—unable to get enough. It’s so beautiful, and you wonder what you did to deserve someone like him. “It’s… Gosh, baby, I love it so much,” you assure him, jumping down from your chair and rushing over to hug him. He chuckles as he wraps his arms around you, still holding one of his brushes. 

You pull back, unsure of what to do with your emotions as you gaze into his eyes. You love him, you love him so deeply and unconditionally it hurts. “Beautiful painting for my beauty,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. You blush, still watching him as he pulls back and brushes his brush over your nose, giggling as he paints your pink. You giggle with him, trying to steal the brush from him and return the favor. 

BOO SEUNGKWAN — quality time You and Seungkwan always went on a morning run before work. You started running back at the beginning of your relationship, and he saw it as a great opportunity to spend more time with you. Ever since, there hasn’t been a day he wouldn’t find time for you and your little workouts. It didn’t matter if you decided to do joga, go to the gym, or run a fucking marathon—he was always by your side for it. 

Today wasn’t any different, not even when you decided to go for a run and watch the stars at 11pm like some crazy maniac. 

Seungkwan huffs, trying to catch his breath as you reach the top of the hill. You laugh, resting your hands on your knees as you steady your breath as well, looking at the scenery in front of you. The stars are beautiful. Your boyfriend flops down on the grass, stretching out his legs and resting his hands on his sides as his gaze follows yours. You sit down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder and pointing at a few stars. “It’s so pretty.” You glance at him to see what he’s looking at just to find him already looking at you, your cheeks heating up, suddenly shy under his gaze. “Yeah…” you whisper. 

CHWE HANSOL VERNON — act of service You close your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the pain as you sit on a chair in your bathroom, your boyfriend right behind you. “I’m so, so, sorry,” he apologizes over and over again as he tries to untangle your hair, failing. You’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes already—twenty minutes of pure pain. Still, you’re grateful to him. Hasn’t it been for Hansol, you wouldn’t be done with even half of your hair. 

He holds a section of your hair and brushes it with so much care you wouldn’t think it’d be able to cause you any pain. “We are almost done,” he assures you, eyes shutting close in regret as he sees you flinch. He hates causing you pain but he also knows it’d be much worse if he wasn’t helping, which is the only thing that makes him stay. He wants to help, even if it means tearing out half of your hair by accident. It doesn’t matter if he does—he’d still think you’re beautiful anyway. 

“Thank you,” you exhale in relief as he finally puts the brush down and steps in front of you. “Anytime,” he answers, leaning in and closing the gap between you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. 

LEE CHAN — physical touch  Waking up next to Chan always felt nice. Your legs still tangled from how you fell asleep last night, your faces just inches from each other and your breaths mixing together. You smile as you watch his sleepy form, gently brushing hair out of his face. He looks so peaceful, all you want to do is stay in bed with him forever and protect him from the world. 

“Good morning,” he greets you as soon as he opens his eyes, his morning voice sending a shiver down your spine. You smile at him, cupping his cheek gently and bringing him closer. You press your lips against his as a good morning, giggling softly when his hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, your bodies now fitting together like puzzle pieces. He keeps his hand on your waist even as you pull back again, not letting go until you both decide to get up and he has to. Then still, he isn’t able to stay away for too long, his hands wrapping around you from behind in a warm embrace before walking with you into the bathroom. 

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @liaatiny @cherrylovescheol @bamgeutsz @codeinebelle @livelaughloveseventeen @xylatox @cristy-101 ✶⋆ Want to be tagged? Join taglist here!

[devswritingcornerorsmth]

Can I get like a familial or platonic headcanon with Dorian? Like yeah he’s fine but he’s also like my dad fr fr trust

you are so real for that anon congrats on such an amazing dad

i'll do both cuz its dorian and all love/like him

like always, these are my headcanons and personal thoughts! if you don't like them make your own! :D tumblr could always use more lol

Platonic Dorian/Reader Headcanons

familial at 'read more'! also more door puns sorry not sorry

= Becoming friends with Dorian was surprisingly easy, given his closed-off personality and behavior. He's a little open, making basic conversations and such, but you're the one who has to put in a little more work during the start of the friendship.

= It starts off with *very* simple hellos and hi's ending at one-word answers and responses, on his end anyway. Asking how his day was results in, again, one-word answers. But, in time, he slowly gives more information.

= Dorian is quick to realize you really do want to be friends with him and taking time out of your day, and a slot out of The Datviators proves to him that your feelings are genuine. He talks a little more when you greet him and eventually starts asking about your day or what you plan to do, depending on when you speak to him.

= After a few days, he asks you if you genuinely want to be friends with him and want to know about him. He smiles happily when you say yes and apologizes for being so closed off. Dorian admits that his past interactions with friends and lovers weren't the best, leaving him closed off and almost scared to talk about his real feelings, but you've proven to him that you can be trusted.

= You both talk about anything and everything when you can. He'll listen to your current hyperfixations or interests, asking questions about them or nodding along and listening. Dorian might not understand much if it's about an anime, TV show, movie, or something else in the latest times, but he'll try his best.

= Dorian is very smart and knows nine languages aside from English (according to his description on his page), so if you need help with history or a language class, he'll do his best. He won't give you the answers but gently lead you to them. Very patient and understanding if you get stressed or frustrated.

= He'll comfort you if he sees you feeling down, ask what's happened, and if he can help. He hates seeing his friends uncomfortable and sad. Dorian understands if you don't want to talk about it and just need someone to stay with to take your mind off things. If one of the objects in the house made you upset, he'll speak with them himself to try and work out what happened and get them to apologize for mentally hurting you. Physically is another story. If another human upset you, he may or may not let himself hit them on the way out if they ever come to visit.

= Overall, a great friend to have! Will comfort you in the worst times and celebrate with you in the best. Even when he's Realized, Dorian will try to take time to visit you now and then to make sure you're doing alright.

Familial Dorian Headcanons (Dad ver)

so i'm kinda making two here where you're an actual door like dorian and another where dorian is realized and has a kid with someone (me/j)

Door version!

= You are Dorian's only child, cut from the same piece of wood, leaving him a little (lot) protective. You are also a door, taking place in the kitchen, where a tiny Dorian should be, but he trusted you enough to get your own spot in the house after a while of preparing.

= Dorian is very hesitant once the human comes around, trying to romance everything, telling them to stay clear of you until he's figured out if the human is safe to trust or not. He tells you to stay silent and locked up, but it's your choice at the end of the day to talk with the new human.

= If you do talk with the new human, Dorian will be... disappointed but also a little proud for showing confidence and telling them they couldn't open you just yet. If you're nice, Dorian tells you to be safe and to not tell them too much about yourself.

= If you don't talk with the human, he's proud and tells you that you did a good job.

= Dorian doesn't want to smother you, but doesn't want you to make harmful mistakes like he did when he was younger. Yes, you can make mistakes, but ones that harm you would be too much for him to bear. He'd never forgive himself if you got hurt.

yea that kinda sucked sorry anyways onto the better stuff wahoo

Human version!

= Dorian never thought the day would come that he would have a child of his own, finding himself to tears as he holds you for the first time, promising himself to be the best dad and protector anyone could ask for.

= Once again, protective. Always checking in on you mentally and physically. Someone's bullying you at school? A stern talk to the parents and the principal is in order.

= He teaches you how to defend yourself both with words and fists. Dorian constantly tells you to try and use your words first and fists for last if things get ugly. If you use this to bully others or for evil, instantly grounded and disappointed; he taught you better than that.

= Onto a lighter note, he gives the best dad hugs. One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other placed on the back of your head, holding you close to comfort if you're having a bad day.

= If you are upset, Dorian sits down with you, offering his shoulder to lean on and an ear to talk. He'll listen and try to help you through your problems, offering solutions and answers. He will stay silent and listen if that's all you need, though. Will take you out for ice cream or sit down and watch Tv/a movie/anime/whatever with you to help cheer you up.

= Dorian goes into full protective dad mode when you talk about a crush or date, asking for their phone number, address, what they look like, SSN, etc. They will have to meet him first before anything official happens. He trusts you to an extent and only wants the best for you. He immediately tells you no if it's one of the objects from the player's house.

= If you get upset over this, and if you're old enough, Dorian tells you his own experiences with love, telling you about Keith and Reggie and what they did. He tells you that he just wants you to be safe and not have your heart broken like he had at one point. It's up to you if you want to understand him or not.

= Dorian couldn't care less about the gender of your partner. He does give you *the talk* when you're old enough and explains to you the birds and the bees... and the bees and bees. And birds and birds.

= On that note, if you tell him you want to transition and go by a different name, he'll support you 100%. It might take him a minute for pronouns and the name change, but know he's trying.

= At the end of the day, he's a father who loves you very much and is happy to have you in his life.

---

i was gonna put here that i was writing this at a reasonable time but i looked down and saw it was 2am lol

hope this was alright, not very good at familial/platonic so I'm sorry if i fucked it up

thank you for reading! mwah!

[mottysith]

hai sigma :333

* explodes into multiple cats*

May i order chance x Male or Gn Reader plz

Hope this isn’t out of ur comfort zone but if u could make reader “Tsudere” (🥀) then that would be great :33

Tank chuu!!! ^^

Pairing: Pre-Forsaken! Chance x Male! Tsundere!reader

Warnings: May be OOC, other than that Nothing, reader is a little mean.

This was extrangely very fun to write LMAO

The first time the both of you met wasn't the most pleasant one. It was a slow day at the casino, most of the funniest regulars weren't on sight and Chance was extremely bored, flicking a coin multiple times to try and make time go faster.

He did that until a certain someone catched their eye. A strangely well dressed guy with an annoyed face thats seemed to never get off. The way his face retorted with disgust everytime someone got a little too close to him and how he seemed uninterested in almost everything inside his parent's Casino, a place full of distractions. In their eyes, the guy was certainly someone interesting.

But of course old ways never go to waste, he flicked their coin before making a decision, heads to approach you and tails to let you go.

Flip, 'tails'

...

Chance just stared at the coin, completely ignoring what it showed and flipping it multiple times again.

Flip 'tails

Flip 'tails'

...

Flip

Chance was feeling a little impatient, the result of the coin flip being inside his palm, they slowly opened them to show what was the result of the coin.

...

'Tails'

Well, even if the chance is absolutely not on their side he is going to approach the guy who catched their attention. And just a little bit of danger isn't going to put him down of a certain challenge.

Full of confidence Chance approaced the boy, thinking of a thousand pick-up lines to tell him about.

"Hey there handsome-" "Fuck off" The guy he tried to talk to cut them off in a mean way, Chance got a little surprised by that, since they usually aren't received like that.

Before he could try to keep up a conversation the guy left, leaving them spechless.

Chance probably got your name by an external source, may it be a friend of yours or the internet. Since you were clearly unwilling to share it to him.

And probably that's how he got your number too, texting you drunk some stupid cheesy text that your answered in two ways: with slurs and blocking.

The way the two of you finally managed to somewhat bond was that Chance never stopped bothering you everytime you went to his parent's Casino, buying you drinks that for some reason you decided to accept with an annoyed face.

Also, they flirted with you a lot, the alcohol in their system making him a lot more confident to try and talk to you.

"You must be really good at playing cards, because you just played your way inside my heart"

"Really?" The guy answered uninterested while drinking the second free drink he got that night.

Eventually you gave them the time of the day, since you somewhat found him amusing and entertaining unlike everyone else you know, and differently to the girls you manage to easily score Chance is something different, more... riskier.

As time passed your reaction towards him started to slowly differ, how your eyes brighten up everytime you saw his face. How your cheeks blushed slightly everytime they joked around you. The way you slowly began to search for him even though you didn't had a reason to.

Of course you were at first very conflicted with yourself mentally, after all, you slowly let him creep inside your heart. Their kissy faces towards you making you stay awake until late hours of the night, thinking about him.

Oh fuck, you actually like them. The realization hit you like a truck, and Chance luckily noticed that too.

You didn't wait long for a real confession from him, since they declared to you, and for some reason, you accepted it. With some snarky comment on the side

Though at first the only one who gave gifts was Chance, with time somehow you were the one who gave him a lot of stuff, trinkets you found that reminded you of your partner during work, or more pricey things that somehow you didn't mind to spend your hard-earned money just to gift it to Chance. Of course you will never admit you put thought on the gift you give them, telling him to just take it and not ask questions.

Even though you try not to show weakness for him, Chance can see through everytime now, unlike the first time the two of you met.

"Don't worry, my heart will always belong to you handsome" Chance flirted to you in a romantic way, his smooth talking actually managing to pierce your heart, like if a cupid's arrows.

"Shut up" You mumbled, looking the other direction to hide how your face slightly blushed, Chance could only smirk at that.

Note: The reader ended up being more mean that tsundere? It still is pretty similar.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Say It Plain

Eddie Diaz x fem!firefighter!reader

✰ You make Eddie feel like he belongs in Los Angeles and in the 118, caring for him and his son. The closer you get, the more he realizes that you bring something to his life he didn't know he needed. After you become close friends, he decides to tell you he sees you as more than that.

✰ fluff, banter/humor, friends to lovers, brief angst/fear, confessions, spoilers for 2x02-2x03, 5.7k+ words, requested

✰ pictures from pinterest (Joe's is in NYC, just don't think about it)

✰ A/N: This is my first attempt writing for Eddie, so he's most likely OOC!

“It’s hot,” Chimney complains.

“When did you get a meteorology degree?” you question, lacing your voice with faux shock until your conversation is interrupted by an alert of a car accident.

“If you think it’s hot now,” you murmur, “tell me how the gear feels.”

“It’s gonna be a long day,” Hen sighs as you open the truck door.

You nod, and she taps her hand comfortingly on your back.

When you return to the station, you change and look forward to going home to eat as much ice cream and as many popsicles as you have in your freezer. You drop your phone from your pocket, groaning as you squat to retrieve it. Your fingers brush the concrete, and your eyes widen at the realization that it’s cool – at least twenty degrees cooler than the air. Not caring that you’re in an open area, you shift to sit on the concrete floor, then lay down with your back on its cool surface. Sighing, you close your eyes and hope that you don’t have to get up for a while.

“Are you okay?” someone asks.

“Yep,” you answer, lifting one arm to send them a thumbs up. It’s not a voice you recognize, but you don’t know everyone in the station right now anyway.

“Okay,” the voice drawls. “You’re just lying on the floor because?”

“It’s cool. It feels good.”

The man above you hums, then says, “You know, you can run cold water over your wrists to regulate body temperature.”

He sounds closer, so you pry your eyes open and turn your head, surprised to see him lowered to one knee with his left hand spread on the floor and his right elbow propped on his knee.

“You’re the new recruit,” you realize. “And, yeah, everyone knows the kangaroo method.”

His brows lift as he fails to hide his smile. “Not everyone knows that,” he argues. “Eddie Diaz.”

He offers you his hand, but you lift your index finger to ask for a second. You stand, then offer your hand.

“Wait,” he murmurs as he stands. Only when he’s upright does he shake your hand and murmur your name under his breath.

“Welcome to the 118,” you say. “I assume someone has shown you around already?”

“Yeah, I got the tour. Didn’t include the fun fact about taking naps on the floor to cool off, though,” he jokes.

“Well…” you look around, then lean forward to whisper, “I know all the good tricks around here.”

“Seems like I met the right person, then.”

“I heard you graduated top of your class,” you say as you walk down the hall. “Congratulations, that’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Eddie replies. “I know it doesn’t really win much in a new station, but I’m committed to this.”

“We’re glad you’re here,” you assure him. “Even if a lot of us are intolerable.”

“You seem alright.”

Your smile grows when you see his, and you pretend to flip your hair over your shoulder despite having it pulled up. “I’m more than alright,” you tease.

He laughs at you, and your belief is confirmed: Eddie is amazing, and he’s going to be a great addition to the station. You can see a great friendship with him.

“Diaz!” Nash calls. “Got some people to introduce you to.”

“The intolerable ones?” he asks through his teeth.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, waving at Nash.

“Eddie, this is Hen,” Nash introduces. “Hen, Eddie. This is Chimney-“

Nash is interrupted by yet another call, and you tap your knuckles against Eddie’s bicep in a silent wish that his first day is memorable for the right reasons.

You’re sandwiched between Buck and Chimney as you drive to the auto shop, where someone is apparently blowing up. Chimney leans over you to talk to Eddie, who presses his lips together when you shove Chimney off of you.

“Nash,” you complain into your headset. “Chimney’s touching me.”

“Whoa, okay, that did not sound good,” he argues. “If HR calls me, I’m going to be very upset.”

Buck interrupts your playful conversation to ask, “Is your full name Eduardo?”

“No,” Eddie answers.

“People ever call you Diaz?”

“Not if they want me to respond.”

You look at Hen and mouth, what is happening? She makes a measuring tape motion, and you shake your head. As Buck continues badgering Eddie about getting an unofficial ‘callsign,’ you let your gaze stray to Eddie. He’s inarguably attractive, but there’s something about his demeanor that makes him immediately likable.

“Look,” Buck begins again.

You smack your hand against his chest, then point at him in warning. When he falls silent, his eyes wide and obviously offended, Nash laughs in the front seat.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Hen yells, slapping her hand down on the table. “Go back?”

“I have a son named Christopher?” Eddie repeats slowly, looking at you for confirmation.

“This isn’t supposed to be an interrogation,” Nash intervenes.

“Yeah, ask a good question,” you encourage. “Like mine was.”

Eddie smiles at you but doesn’t say anything.

“I was asking for clarification on the ex-wife part,” Hen clarifies. “Someone left you? Is she stupid?”

“No,” Eddie answers immediately.

“She fumbled, that’s what she did,” Chimney deadpans.

“Chim,” you gasp, turning toward him.

He lifts his hands over his chest so you can’t hit him the same way you slapped Buck earlier.

“May I ask another question?” you ask.

“Go for it,” Eddie answers.

“Can we go home?”

“I actually do need to get going,” Eddie agrees, standing.

“No,” Hen complains, causing Eddie to stop halfway between sitting and standing.

“You can go,” you tell him. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Away from the rest of the team, you sigh and look up at the sky.

“Thank you,” Eddie says.

“For?”

“You made my first day really great,” he explains, watching you as you draw your eyes back to him. “I was a little nervous about fitting into the team, being the new guy. You made me feel really welcomed, and I appreciate that.”

“Well, you’re great, so it wasn’t hard,” you reply, not realizing that it sounds a little flirty.

“And thanks for Buck, too, of course,” he adds as you begin walking again.

“No one has ever thanked me for him before. I think I’m offended, Eddie.”

He laughs before he clarifies, “I mean, thank you for interceding. He seems…”

“Intolerable?”

“Unlike you,” he agrees with a nod.

“Have a good night, Eddie,” you say. “And enjoy some time with your son.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Eddie ensures you’re safe in your car and it starts properly before he heads home. He met his new team today, but you’re the most memorable member of the 118. You’re sweet, made him feel like he belongs, literally knocked manners into someone for him, and didn’t get in on the jokes about his ex. There’s a mutual respect between you and Eddie, the beginning of a great friendship, he thinks. And while the team is good, you make the transition to Los Angeles and the LAFD seem conquerable.

While you spend the night alone in your apartment, Eddie picks up Christopher from his mom’s house and takes him home.

“How many friends did you make on your first day?” Christopher asks, copying Eddie’s question from after Christopher went to his new school for the first time.

“One,” Eddie answers, chuckling. “I guess I’m not as popular as you.”

Christopher laughs, and Eddie wonders what his son would think of his new friend.

“Mango pineapple or strawberry banana?” you question when Eddie enters the kitchen on his second day.

“Uh, neither?” he replies carefully. “Why?”

You lift two smoothie cups, and he makes an ah sound before pointing to the one in your left hand. As you extend it to him, your fingers brush, bringing a smile to both of your faces. Eddie takes a single sip of the smoothie before his eyes widen appreciatively.

“Did you make this?” he questions.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “My favourite place is three blocks from here and I thought we could use a good start to the day.”

“This is amazing,” he muses. “What do I owe you?”

“An answer to a question.”

“No, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” you interrupt. “And I can appreciate that you’re a gentleman, there aren’t many of you left. But it’s a gift.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says softly. “What’s the question?”

“Can I see a picture of Christopher?”

Eddie slows, impressed that you cared enough to remember his son’s name. He sets the smoothie cup down and pulls his phone from his pocket. When he finds a picture, he turns his phone toward you, but you move closer, pressing your shoulder to his arm to see.

“He’s adorable,” you gush. “Oh my gosh.”

“He’s a great kid,” Eddie agrees, watching your profile.

“How’s he like LA?” you inquire.

“Pretty well so far,” Eddie replies, pushing his phone into his pocket and briefly wishing you’d stayed against his side. “He loves the museums, all the places to go and see.”

“Have you taken him to the LA Zoo?”

“No, but it’s on the list.”

“There’s a first responder discount when you do go,” you tell him. “Not a huge one, but it helps.”

“What would you recommend we see first?” Eddie asks, leaning on the counter across from you as you share breakfast.

“Ooh… LA County Museum of Art, The Getty, California Science Center, Griffith Observatory, and the zoo and botanical gardens are some of the best,” you list. “And that’s just museum-adjacent locations.”

“Hey,” Buck greets. “Is Nash here?”

“In the office,” you answer. “How are you?”

“My sister made me coffee, things are great.”

Eddie glances at you from the corner of his eyes, and you fight the urge to laugh.

“Wait, why hasn’t Nash cooked yet?” Buck questions.

“It’s not his week to make breakfast,” you say simply. Buck frowns, so you add, “Is it, Buckley?”

“It’s my week?” he asks.

“Ding ding,” you sing-song. “Get crackin’, Buck. Seriously, there are eggs in the fridge.”

Eddie follows you out of the kitchen, looking down at the smoothie cup in his hand. You brought him this knowing that someone else was supposed to cook; you only brought him something. Maybe he was right when he told Christopher you were his friend.

“Hey, I was gonna go to CityWalk for dinner and to hang out for a bit tonight,” you tell Eddie. “Would you want to come? You could bring Christopher if you wanted, of course.”

Eddie had planned to get yet another pizza and try to unpack the last of his boxes tonight. A night out with you, however, sounds a lot more enjoyable. You’ve given him more than one reason to unpack, to make a home here where he can be himself and happy for a long time.

“That would be great, if you’re sure,” Eddie replies. “Christopher would like the break in routine, I’m sure.”

“Great,” you cheer. “If, uh, if you want to ride together, I can pay for parking.”

“Yeah, but I’ll cover it, since we’re crashing your night.”

You prepare to argue again, but Nash steps out of the office and waves to you and Eddie.

“Nonemergency medical call a few blocks from here, can you take it?” he asks.

“Of course,” you answer while Eddie nods.

Eddie leads you to the ambulance, checking that everything is in place before he climbs into the driver’s seat. You radio to dispatch that you’re responding to the call while Eddie pulls out, and only then do you realize this is Eddie’s first ‘real’ call. He was incredibly helpful yesterday, but it wasn’t quite the same.

“Hey, take the lead on this,” you suggest.

“No, no, you’ve been here longer,” Eddie argues.

“LAFD isn’t exactly a hierarchy of seniority,” you point out. “Besides, I’m more inclined to spray water on problems. You’ve got the experience and the knowledge for this. Let me support.”

Eddie nods as he slows to enter the driveway where the 9-1-1 call originated. You follow his lead from the time he greets the caller – the mother of a young girl who’s having difficulty walking – until you leave, after the girl’s pulled tendon is iced, bandaged, and her mom has instructions on what to do.

“Great job,” you applaud as you return to the ambulance.

“Thanks,” he replies. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Never met someone so competent at bandage cutting.”

“I try.”

Your laughter mingles with Eddie’s as you return to the station, and suddenly, neither of you can remember what life was like before you met.

After you knock, you shift the bags in your hands and wait. You’re early, but you know Eddie is home. The door opens, and he smiles at you with a button-down shirt halfway on.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I’m early, but I had something I wanted to bring.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie assures you, welcoming you into his home. “Whatever that is, you shouldn’t have.”

Rolling your eyes, you wait at his side until he closes the door and leads you into his house. When you reach the kitchen, you set the bag on the counter and look around. His home is cute and homey if a little empty and noticeably missing a woman’s touch.

“It’s not much,” you say when you realize Eddie is watching you. “Just some food. You can put them in the freezer, warm them up whenever you want.” You stop, nodding awkwardly as Eddie continues staring. “Or throw them away,” you add, “your choice.”

“Thank you,” he says. “And I won’t be throwing them away, though I appreciate the opportunity to choose.”

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, not meaning it at all.

“Dad?” Christopher calls as he comes down the hall.

Eddie tugs his shirt down, smiling at his son.

“Hey, pal,” Eddie says, kneeling to tidy Christopher’s clothes. “You look nice.”

“Your shirt’s off.”

Eddie smiles as you chuckle, then he looks toward you. “Christopher, this is the friend I was telling you about.”

Your smile falls upon learning that Eddie told his son about you, but when Christopher turns to say hello, you don’t have to think about smiling at him. He’s already the sweetest kid you’ve ever met, and when he makes jokes that remind you of his dad’s somewhat dry sense of humor, he somehow becomes cuter.

“I can put these in the freezer while you finish, if you want,” you offer, pointing over your shoulder toward the food.

Eddie nods as buttons his shirt, directing Christopher to take a seat so he can comb his hair quickly.

“You brought food?” Christopher asks.

“I did,” you reply as you move into their kitchen. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a few things mine and your dad’s friends at the fire station enjoy.”

“Are you a good cook? Will it taste good?”

“Christopher,” Eddie chides quietly.

“It’s a fair question,” you point out. “I wouldn’t say I’m great, but no one has complained yet.”

“That’s good,” Christopher muses.

“Guess where we’re going,” Eddie encourages.

“Last time you said we were going somewhere fun, it- it was Target,” Christopher replies, squinting up at Eddie as he stands.

“Target is pretty fun,” you interject.

Eddie points at you in agreement and nods before he says, “No, she’s in charge now, so it will actually be fun.”

Christopher and Eddie both look at you, so you press your hands against the counter and murmur, “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“You know, I’ve never been to Universal with my other friends,” you muse as you wait for a car to pass in the parking garage.

“And I’ve never had a friend bring me food or give me first responder discount advice,” Eddie counters. “Or met someone that could give Christopher such a fun experience that he falls asleep in the middle of a sentence.”

You glance in the rearview mirror, smiling at the sleeping boy in your backseat. Eddie had carried him through CityWalk, drawing lots of looks and coos from passing women. He either didn’t notice them or was too interested in your conversation about where you grew up to care. Either way, you’re honoured to be his friend and to be worthy of such attention.

“I know you’ve got a busy week with unpacking and post-academy stuff,” you say as you merge onto the freeway. “So, if you need anything, let me know.”

You’re back at your apartment when you realize there’s a twenty-dollar bill and a sticky note in one of your cupholders. Eddie just couldn’t let you pay for parking.

A week after your impromptu trip to CityWalk, Eddie approaches you with a proposition. The problem, he realizes quickly, is that he isn’t sure what exactly he’s proposing.

“I want to take you to dinner to thank you for all your help, everything you’ve done,” he explains. “But I don’t really want to leave Christopher with a sitter, and he’s gotten so comfortable at the house, so…”

“You don’t have to get me anything to say thanks,” you reply, smiling. “We’re friends, Eddie.”

“I want to.”

“Then,” you pause to think, then finish, “order me a pizza.”

Eddie considers the idea for a moment, then smiles. “I’ll order a pizza, but you have to come share it with me and Christopher. He’s been asking about you.”

“Eddie-“

“I know I don’t have to,” he says for you. “Please?”

It doesn’t take much to convince you, apparently, because his big brown eyes and soft murmur lead you to agree. As if you could tell him no, you think, startled by your own inner voice.

A few hours later, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door. Christopher opens it, smiling up at you as he says hello. Immediately, he pulls you into a hypothetical conversation about how animals communicate with each other. Over pizza, you talk to Christopher about anything and everything he can come up with, laughing and smiling while Eddie sits beside you. He watches you and Christopher, failing to identify the feeling blooming in his chest. When it’s time for you to go home, he has a sudden desire to take your hand and ask you to stay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as he walks you to your car. “Maybe we should try to communicate with our eyes only, like giraffes.”

“Nash would love that,” Eddie agrees, though he knows it isn’t hard to tell what you’re thinking by looking at your eyes – which he does often.

You raise your brows, and Eddie smiles at the look in your eyes.

“Already working,” you muse as you open your door.

“Drive safe,” Eddie says. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Eddie.”

Days after your shared dinner, you get a chance to have another conversation with Eddie. He’s under a truck, trying to figure out why its wheels aren’t turning properly to the left, but at least you can talk for more than two minutes about something that isn’t call-related.

“And?” you ask when Eddie trails off while telling you about a project Christopher did for school. “How’d he do?”

“He made an A, the kids loved it,” he says before grunting. “Wish I could get that kind of popularity with popsicle sticks.”

“Well, you’ve got the Diaz smile to go with it.”

Eddie moves his leg to kick you, his touch gentle as he laughs. He begins to push himself out from under the truck when the ground shakes. You throw your arms out to catch yourself against the side of the ambulance, but the movement doesn’t stop when you attempt to right yourself.

“Earthquake!” someone yells.

Someone says it must be a six or seven magnitude, but you’re focused on getting out from under the rafters and lights above you. Reaching down, you pull Eddie’s ankle, then take his hands and backpedal to the corner. He stands from the lying board and pushes you farther into the corner, sheltering you with his body until the shaking finally subsides. The station is a wreck, but you know that the city is probably in worse shape, and you have mere seconds until the calls begin.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks. When you don’t answer right away, he steps back and places a large hand behind your neck, tipping your face toward his. “Are you okay?” he repeats urgently.

“I’m okay,” you promise, laying your fingers on his forearm below his tattoo. “Are you?”

Eddie nods, keeping his hands on you until Nash begins yelling about a collapsed hotel.

“Is Christopher at school?” you ask quietly.

“He is. I’ll send his teacher a text to check on him.”

Eddie spreads his hand against your back as you rush to the truck and ambulance, preparing yourself for a long day. You try to text your friends and family, but there’s no service.

“Are you okay?” Buck asks.

You lift your head and realize he’s talking to Eddie. Eddie says he doesn’t have service, shaking his head as he looks at you. Your heart feels like it drops at the news that he can’t check on Christopher.

“Who are you trying to get a hold of?” Buck inquires.

“My son,” Eddie answers.

“Whoa, you have a kid?” Buck exclaims.

“Oh, right, we waited until Buckley left to get to know Eddie,” Hen says into her mic, mostly to mess with Buck.

“Is he at school?” Buck asks Eddie. “They’ve got earthquake procedures, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Eddie nods, and for once, he avoids looking at you.

The hotel becomes visible a moment later, leaning out over the street with its structural components made visible past the broken windows and shattered cement. Your team exits the truck with their eyes up, intimidated by the job but mentally finding routes to get inside and get people out. You think about going inside once, but immediately remember Christopher is at school, probably scared of his first earthquake.

“Have you ever dealt with something like this?” Eddie asks.

“No,” you answer with Nash.

You stay by Eddie while Nash talks to the incident commander, but you don’t listen to what she says, only your racing thoughts and the groaning steel before you.

“Okay, listen up,” Nash says, succeeding in drawing your attention for the first time since you got out of the truck. “Here’s how you make it to the end of the day: you don’t worry about the things that you can’t do anything about, focus on one task at a time. I can’t order you guys to go inside that building, and I’m not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

“Hen,” Chimney begins, “you got a kid, so…”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “And I’d hope if someone whose job it was to save him had the chance, they’d do it. No matter what.”

You know Hen is right. You also know that Eddie is just as scared as you are but won’t leave.

“Where do you want us?” Eddie asks.

A police officer runs up behind you and beckons your team, but you don’t move. Nash steps toward you and lays his hand on your shoulder.

“I meant it,” he says. “I’m not judging you for leaving.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I’m not. You’re doing what’s most important to you, and to someone you care about. But roads are going to be mayhem and you’re too far from the station to get your car easily regardless.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a plan for that.”

Nash smiles and shakes you gently. “Of course you do, kid. We’ll see you on the other side of this.”

He drops his hand and steps around you before you spin and call his name.

“You better see me on the other side,” you demand. “All of you.”

Nash salutes you, and you return to the truck to leave as much gear as you can. Left in your base layers, you slide your phone, your ID, and your keys into your pocket before you push through the crowd gathered around the hotel to start running.

Behind you, Nash joins your team on the street to survey a man in need of saving. Eddie notices he’s alone and looks over his shoulder.

“We’re down a player,” Nash says. “And she’s expecting us to come home, alright?”

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to ask where you went before he and Buck hatch a plan to reach the man above them.

It takes you three times as long as it should to run the few miles from the hotel to Christopher’s school. All of the students are gathered in the gymnasium and on the baseball field, and your heart beats faster as you move through the crowd of kids and scared parents. The elevated heart rate isn’t from the run but from your concern. Christopher is important to you, and his dad grows more special to you each day. When you know Christopher is safe, you’ll shift your worry to his dad, and this day will seem like an eternity, so you have to stay focused on one task at a time, just like Nash said, and only think about what you can do something about. Like finding Christopher, which proves easy when someone yells your name, and his bright smile brings you to your knees before you hug him tightly against your chest.

The first thing Eddie does when he returns to the truck is check his phone. There are three messages from you: the first is an apology for leaving, the second is an assurance that Christopher is okay, and the third lets him know that you took Christopher home. After the pizza night that has become a defining moment in your relationship, Eddie gave you a key. It’s what friends do, he had told himself. Now he’s not so sure that was the real reason.

He pushes that out of his mind and accepts Buck’s invitation for a ride. When he reaches his front door, he unlocks it and steps inside, expecting to be greeted by Christopher’s easy smile and a relieved look in your eyes. Instead, he sees you lying on his couch, your eyes closed peacefully, and Christopher lying comfortably against you, fast asleep.

Eddie places his hands on the back of the couch and leans back, stretching his arms as he sighs. I’m home, he thinks. Then, he realizes that he’s never thought of this place as home before tonight.

“Eddie?” you ask, opening your eyes slowly. “Eddie.”

Your eyes fly open then, and Eddie drops one hand to lay on your shoulder as he leans over the couch.

“We’re all okay,” he promises.

You check your phone, see one new message, and then move carefully, standing as Christopher burrows deeper against the couch cushions in his sleep. Smiling down at him, you don’t regret leaving your team because you trust them, and they’re safe.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you say.

Eddie pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly as he murmurs, “Thank you.”

You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and exhaling.

“You’re on his pickup list,” Eddie reminds you, “so no overstepping.”

Nodding against him, you think about how tired you are. You could fall asleep in his arms without much effort, but you force yourself to step back and gather your things.

“I’ll see you later, Eddie,” you say. “Tell Christopher I said goodnight.”

“Wait, how are you getting home?” he asks, stepping toward the door with you.

“Buck’s waiting; he can take me.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, and thank you again.”

“Of course.”

Eddie watches the door close behind you, and this house doesn’t feel quite so much like home anymore. Oh, he realizes, I wasn’t thinking about the house. He should have seen it sooner: the piece of himself he thought was missing, what he thought he couldn’t get back after the divorce, or when he left Texas, it’s you. You made him feel like part of the team, like a good friend, but there’s more now. You make Eddie Diaz whole. And he didn’t notice until after you walked out.

“I only need one more chance,” he whispers as he locks the front door. He exhales heavily, then asks himself, “How do I make sure I don’t blow it?”

It takes three days of working together before Eddie has an opportunity that he actually takes. During those three days, he is constantly aware of how he feels. When you’re at his side, when you’re working, when he’s not sure if you’re okay, every situation brings a different thought, a different emotion into his heart and mind. You were separated briefly during a house fire call when the car in the garage exploded while you’d been in the backyard getting the family’s dog. For the next five minutes, your team fought the growing fire with no radio transmission from you. You jogged down the street then, panting and carrying the dog inside your turnout gear. Eddie wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms, tell you that he needs you, and never let you go. But the raging fire took precedence.

Today, your 48-hour shift ends at a decent hour, and you go home, shower, and make dinner before the sun sets. While you do that, Eddie paces in his house, wondering how he can tell you that you make him feel whole, that you make life promising and full for him. Eventually, Christopher tells Eddie he’s surpassed his 10,000 steps, and he has an idea.

You’re sitting on your couch watching TV when your phone rings. After you pause the show, you answer Eddie’s call and immediately ask, “Are you okay? Is Christopher?”

On the other end of the line, Eddie laughs. “Can you open your door?” he replies.

“What?” you mumble, still awaiting an answer to your question.

“Open the door, please?”

You walk to your front door and pull it open, your jaw dropping at the sight. Moving without thought, you end the call and step back, letting Eddie step inside. He’s wearing a suit and tie, he has a large bouquet in his hands, and you practically have to force your jaw closed again as you close the door.

When you turn toward him, your back against the front door, he doesn’t give you a chance to speak, though you desperately want to tell him how good he looks. He sets the bouquet on your coffee table before he speaks.

“I need you let me talk and not say anything because if I don’t get all of this out, I’ll never say it,” he explains.

You remain silent, crossing your arms over your waist and chewing your bottom lip.

“Right,” Eddie realizes, shaking his head when he remembers you won’t answer because of what he just asked. “I realized something. When we became friends I thought it was great, because it is, but I also felt like I’d never encountered a friendship like this one. And then we went out to dinner, and you care about Christopher. Moments between us started feeling different…”

Nodding, you try to keep up with him, watching his mouth move as he speaks, rambling between his points about what he realized.

“…it’s because you’re the piece that I didn’t want to admit was missing, you make everything feel right, perfect, whole-“

You’re still nodding along with his speech but grow more concerned about whether he’s actually breathing while talking. Between what he’s saying, the fact that you’ve known you felt the same since he bought you pizza, and your worry about his lung capacity, it’s an easy decision to step forward and kiss him.

Eddie freezes when your lips meet his, your hands clutching the lapel of his blazer. Then, he melts into your touch. His hands rise, one arm circling your waist as he cups the back of your head and steps forward, caging you in against your couch as he moves with you. The kiss meant to slow him down and give him a chance to breathe takes your breath away instead.

When Eddie pulls back, keeping his hands on you like they were shaped to hold you, he looks between your eyes. “Does- does that mean you feel the same?” he wonders softly.

“Did I not say it plain enough?” you tease, bumping your nose against his. “Yes, Eddie, I feel the same.”

Eddie kisses you again, a series of quick pecks interrupted by your question, “Where’s Christopher?”

“On his way over with pizza,” Eddie says. He kisses your jaw, then adds, “Buck’s bringing him.”

“You’re welcome,” you sigh, softening beneath his touch.

Eddie lowers both hands to your waist and steps back to look at you. “We should probably stop referring to each other as friends now.”

“Whatever you say,” you agree, smiling.

Eddie rolls his eyes at your playful tone before he pushes his hands over your hips and then up the length of your back, kissing your neck when you tip your head up. You kiss him again, then step back.

“I got that ice cream Christopher told me about,” you say. “Let me make sure I have enough for all of us.”

Eddie watches you, the lovesickness he felt in his chest before now evident in the smile on his face. Buck pulls up outside and taps the horn, so Eddie leaves your house to go get Christopher.

“About time, man,” Buck sighs when Eddie pulls the back door open.

“You didn’t even like me when we met,” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, but I saw how she looked at you. Do her right, man.”

“I will. Thanks for everything, Buck.”

“Your son tips better than you.”

Buck smiles at Christopher, who laughs. Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t want to know what they talked about on the way over.

“Can I help?” you ask, standing on the sidewalk behind Eddie. You don’t wait for an answer before you lift the pizza boxes from Buck’s passenger seat and thank him softly.

“Be careful, kids!” Buck calls before he drives away.

Eddie shows Christopher around your house, then tells him to sit on the couch while he helps you. Alone in the kitchen, you steal one more kiss. Eddie was a great friend and continues to be a great teammate, but this is even better than the life you thought you wanted.

[wrldhoon]

I LIKE ME BETTER𑁤 y.jw

┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗ LOVE SONGS — JUNGWON’S ENTRY

PAIRING. jungwon ༝ reader

WORD COUNT. 4.5k

GENRE. college au ⋆ fluff ⋆ crack

WARNINGS. mentions of alcohol, reader gets wasted, tiny innuendo but nothing crazy

note: not super sure if i like this or not, but it's too cute not to share. first part of my mini series is complete!! i hope you guys enjoy ♡ they're so cute in this i want to die.

TAGS. @ilyunjina

college parties were never really your thing, but a consequence of being best friends with yunjin, the jennifer huh, was that she was going to drag you to one every. single. weekend.

every night, somehow always at exactly eight o’clock, she would barge into your room with that mischievous grin on her face. she would tear your drawers apart, looking for an outfit she deemed fit. occasionally, she would throw out a complaint about how lackluster your closet was. as her best friend, you knew telling her ‘no’ was useless. every attempt you made to convince her to let you rot away alone at home was of no use.

“you look so hot,” she squealed, watching from your bed as you applied the finishing touches of your makeup. she was already dolled up from head to toe, sporting a plain white tube top and ripped blue jeans, her leather jacket laid out beside her. an item she always brought in case it got too cold.

you wore a similar outfit—a black cropped tank and cargo pants, pairing it with a knitted white bolero and sneakers. it was simple, but comfortable. you sprayed an ungodly amount of setting spray onto your face, ensuring that you will not fall victim to frat house makeup tonight.

your desk was full of soju bottles, courtesy of your lovely roommate, and you watched as she reached for a half opened one. “this is gonna be so much fun! heeseung and jay are hosting tonight, which means unlimited booze and the place is gonna be full of eye candy. maybe you’ll get lucky tonight,” yunjin teased, taking another (comedically large) sip of her drink.

you rolled your eyes, but she didn’t miss the quiet chuckle you let out. you reached for a bottle, “definitely not on my bucket list tonight, but i fully support you if that’s what you’re after.” the sweet peach flavor went down easy, filling your chest with a warmth that was reserved for nights out on the weekend.

yunjin responded with a shrug, downing the rest of it in one go. your phone dinged, lighting up with a message notification.

jake (australian)

im here 😋 lets GOOOOOOOO

with a snicker, you quickly typed a response before shoving your phone in your back pocket. “jake’s here,” at your words, yunjin cheered happily before running out of your room to put on her shoes. you quickly fixed your hair before grabbing your bag, filling it up with whatever you might need for the night. lipstick, hand sanitizer, deodorant, power bank, and a pack of tissues.

perfect.

you followed yunjin out of the apartment, meaningless conversation filling the elevator as you headed for the lobby. once you made it outside, you immediately spotted jake’s car. he was filthy rich, and his car alone could probably pay off all of your current bills and grad school tuition.

you slid into the passenger side, the smell of clean leather and cologne filling your senses. you reached over the middle console to give him a hug, his hair brushing against your cheek.

you and jake have been close friends since you started university. you met in your freshman year physics class, bonding over math formulas that didn’t make any sense to you (it still doesn’t), but always seemed to make sense to him. he became your tutor for the remainder of that semester, answering your 3:00am facetime calls just to see you crashing out over another assignment without complaining. since then, you were inseparable.

“whaddup,” yunjin said cooly, dapping up the boy from the back seat. “are you guys ready to drink?” jake sang, his engine roaring to life as he put his car in drive. you let out a soft huff, hand placed over your stomach.

“she fed me enough soju to kill a bull,” the drink provided a slight buzz, and you silently thanked whatever holy being above decided to bless you with a high tolerance to alcohol. your comment earned a hearty laugh from jake while yunjin simply smiled at you, her elbows up against the console as she peered between the two of you. “it isn’t a successful pregame unless you leave juuust a little bit drunk. it’s a pregame for a reason. preparing for the game that is the DAE frat house.”

the rest of the drive was quiet, aside from the sensual rnb playing softly from his car speakers. you watched as the university campus came into view, a short ten minute drive from your shared apartment with yunjin.

there were other students roaming the streets—some returning from their friday night classes and others laughing a little too loud, clearly drunk, and headed to another party. jake parked along the street, turning on his emergency brake and turning off the car with a twist of his key. he stepped out, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

you thanked him with a soft smile, yunjin immediately grabbing your hand and dragging you to the front door. the three of you walked in, loud party music booming through the house and lights turned to a deep purple color. it was warm and smelled like sweat and spilled vodka.

lovely.

you squeezed through the crowd with yunjin pulling you along and jake trailing from behind. you stopped once you reached the kitchen, a loud squeal catching your attention. “you’re here!!” a short brunette came running up, throwing her arms around yunjin’s neck. “chaewon! oh god, you reek of alc.”

the girl giggled, swatting aimlessly at yunjin’s arm. her eyes landed on you, widening in pure glee before she took hold of your arms, pulling you into her own. you let out a shocked ‘oh’, your hands hovering awkwardly over her back. “you must be y/nnie. you’re so pretty.. and you smell good. like.. flowers and happiness,” she slurred, nose buried in your hair.

yunjin cupped her mouth to suppress a laugh while jake watched in amusement. “thank.. you?” you gently pried her off of you, hands on her shoulders to stabilize her. “alright, let’s get you some water.” yunjin chimed in before whisking the girl away, mouthing a quick ‘sorry’ to you as she searched for a clean cup.

“well, she seems cool,” jake chirped, eyes darting from her wobbly figure to your own. “drinks?” you gave him a curt nod, turning towards the counter to scan the endless amount of options before you. vodka, soju, beer, whiskey—you could throw up just looking at it.

you settled on a quick shot of cheap vodka, while jake made himself a mixed drink. he was driving tonight, so he couldn’t allow himself to get wasted.

a few of your friends began flooding the kitchen, greeting one another with cheery ‘hellos’ and offers to take more shots. jay and heeseung soon joined in, dapping up jake with red solo cups in hand. “y/n, you made it!” jay cheered, raising his voice to be heard over ‘beauty and a beat’ by justin bieber that vibrated the walls. he gave you a quick side hug before shaking his cup gently in your direction, a subtle invitation for another drink. you nodded at him, turning your head just in time to lock eyes with heeseung.

“hi pretty,” he wore his signature smile, arms wrapping around your shoulders. you could smell the lingering traces of alcohol in his breath, arm splayed over his waist as you returned the hug. “thanks for hosting tonight.” you pulled away, taking the shot glass from between jay’s fingers and downing it in one go. the boy whooped from beside you before taking one himself.

“you can thank us by drinking~” heeseung sang, filling up his cup for the nth time tonight.

free alcohol is free alcohol, right?

thirty minutes later, you were seven shots deep and leaning drunkenly against the kitchen counter, elbows propped up behind you. jake stood beside you, talking animatedly with heeseung about fifa.

“dude, ni-ki, you’re like… ridiculously tall. you look like a giraffe,” the younger boy raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips. “thanks, dude. i think?”

“you’re so welcome, dude.”

your head throbbed and the room looked like it was spinning. you reached for the cup behind you, grabbing the luke warm brita off the counter and filling it up. you pressed it to your lips, chugging it like your life depended on it. placing it down, your head turned out of instinct as you heard another round of cheers from your friends.

a boy had walked in, greeting everyone with a bright and pretty smile. he had soft blonde hair that caught underneath the dim lighting of the kitchen, pretty cat-like eyes, and a devastatingly adorable dimple on his left cheek.

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol—no, it definitely wasn’t—he was just gorgeous.

and totally out of your league.

that didn’t stop you though.

“holy shit, you’re so hot.” it came out before you could help it, all of your friends’ heads snapping in your direction in shock. the blonde gawked at you in disbelief before his expression turned into one of amusement, “oh! thank you.. and you definitely aren’t wasted, right?” his tone was teasing, his cheek sinking in slightly as he chewed on it.

you let out a drunken giggle, your head moving side to side. “i don’t even like alcohol..” your hand swatted at the air, elbow slipping off of the counter. jake grabbed your arm, holding you up to prevent you from falling straight onto the kitchen floor.

“jungwon, y/n—y/n, jungwon. not sure if you’ll remember tomorrow though,” jay said, earning chuckles from the other guys. jungwon simply shook his head, smile still evident on his face. he quickly joined in on the drinks, grabbing a cup and mixing up his own concoction.

conversations blurred together, shot glasses clinking, bottles steadily draining.

you didn’t even realize yunjin had disappeared until jake leaned in and asked if you’d seen her. somewhere in the background, you caught sunghoon mentioning her name—something about chaewon, but it was fuzzy. the alcohol was definitely hitting you now, warmth spreading through your body, cheeks flushed, and eyes heavy-lidded.

eventually, you slipped away to get some air. the heat was unbearable, and the packed crowd and blaring music only made it worse—you needed space.

you found an empty pool chair in the backyard and dropped into it with a heavy sigh, letting yourself sink back. a shadow cast over you, and as your eyes adjusted, there he was—the familiar hot blonde from earlier, “you alright?”

“just sleepy. and hot. really hot,” you whined, hands tugging at your bolero to pull it off. jungwon chuckled, crouching down beside you. “do you wanna go home?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

so fucking cute.

yeah, it wasn’t the alcohol.

“not with you, pervert.”

jungwon swore his ears were on fire. his eyes widened so big they might as well pop out of their sockets. he cleared his throat, eyes unable to look at your sleepy figure any longer without feeling bashful, “n-not like that! i meant do you want me to drive you home? like, to your own house. and i leave you there. inside. alone. and i will go to my respective home.”

“oh! yes please,” you dragged on the last syllable, hands pressed against the cool fabric of the chair to push yourself into an upright position. “where’s jakey? he drove me. will he be mad?” your lower lip jutted outwards, a small pout on your face.

“i don’t think he’ll be mad. let me go ask him, okay? don’t go anywhere,” jungwon patted your shoulder before standing, stepping back inside to find your best friend.

a few minutes later, the two boys came back outside to find you fast asleep. they exchanged knowing glances before jake spoke up, “are you cool with taking her back to her apartment? i’m helping sunoo try to wrestle heeseung out of his smelly party clothes and into his pajamas. plus, i still have no fucking clue where yunjin is,” the last part came out a bit strained, annoyance at his missing friend bubbling to the surface.

jungwon let out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to slap jake’s back. “yeah, i’ll take her. just send me her address,” with that he approached you, dozed off and snoring just a little bit, and scooped you up in his arms. they walked out to his car, jake popping the passenger door open and helping him carefully ease you inside.

once you were secure, they closed the door and bid each other goodbye. jungwon hopped into the driver’s seat, turning on the car and setting the heater on low. once he got your address from jake, he clicked on the link and began the venture to your apartment. occasionally, he would glance over to check if you had woken up.

nothing.

your lips were slightly parted, head pressed up against the window as you slept peacefully. a grin made its way to his face, knowing you’d definitely face a nasty hangover tomorrow.

he pulled up to your apartment complex, parking his car before getting out to help you inside. when he reached to unbuckle you, you let out a sleepy whine. “c’mon, y/n, i need to get you home.” his words were soft, arms moving underneath your knees and back to pull you out. your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the brighter lights of the street lamps.

“oh my god, hot guy. am i still dreaming?” your voice was barely above a whisper, eyes opening and closing at the slowest pace known to man. jungwon grinned, eyes trained on the path in front of him as he walked with you into your building. “nope, definitely not dreaming. hot guy is carrying you home.”

“i knew it. pervert..”

“not like that!”

a few weeks after your first meeting, you two quickly became good friends. he began hanging out with the group more often, simply to see you.

he knew he could’ve just asked you to hang out alone, without prying eyes and teasing comments, but he was scared. it was obvious you were at the least attracted to him, hence the ‘hot guy’ nickname your friends still haven’t let go of. when he finally mustered up the courage (courtesy of jay who threatened to ask you out if jungwon didn’t grow the balls to do so himself) to pop the question, you happily agreed.

score—you managed to bag hot guy.

three months later, you and jungwon had made your relationship official. not a single person in your friend group was surprised at the new relationship.

it just made sense. you were two halves of one whole.

you couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment it happened—when the way you felt about him started shifting into something deeper, something a little heavier.

something more like love.

of course, you liked him. he wouldn’t be your boyfriend otherwise, but your liking started to twist painfully in your chest, ready to explode at any given moment.

it wasn’t sudden, more like a slow unraveling—but there were signs.

the first time was when the two of you decided to spend the night in at his apartment. the sun had already set, the faint glow of city lights shining through the large windows. you were sat on his couch, scrolling away on your phone as he stood in the kitchen. he stared at the inside of his fridge—milk, a carton of eggs, a few sauce bottles, and a pack of soju.

“babe, i think we should order in,” you looked up from your phone, catching a glimpse of his defeated expression before searching for the delivery app on your phone. “we really should go to the store. we have… like, nothing.”

jungwon sat down on the couch beside you, his side pressed up against your own as he watched you browse through dinner options, “are you craving anything?” you questioned, your free hand landing on his leg to fidget with the extra pockets decorating his pants.

jungwon bit his lip, thinking quietly. “maybe pizza? ooo, or chinese. we can get those noodles you like—oh! or we can get wings? i heard about this crazy deal the other day from jake…” you watched silently as he rambled on, eyes sparkly and hands moving in an animated manner that made your heart squeeze painfully in adoration. he did that a lot.

jungwon, realizing you hadn’t spoken, turned to face you. he blinked, his eyebrows furrowing cutely as you continued to watch him with a stupid little smile on your face, “what?” he quipped, starting to wonder if the hunger was starting to make you crazy. “is there something on my face?”

you shook your head, “nothing. you’re just cute.”

jungwon sat, stunned at your sudden compliment before he grinned, wide enough to make your own cheeks hurt just from looking at it. he threw his arms around you, peppering kisses on your face as you shouted in protest.

it was clear he thought the same thing about you, too.

the second time was when you went out to shop for groceries. yunjin had complained about the lack of snacks in the house, so you took the opportunity to drag jungwon along with you. he was very helpful, aside from when he would get distracted by every little thing that caught his attention.

“babe, look,” you heard from behind you, turning your head to see what your boyfriend was preoccupied with this time. “turtle chips. do you think they taste like turtle?”

you raised an eyebrow at his sudden question, staring in amusement (and a little something that resembled reconsideration of your whole relationship) as he smelled the bag.

the outside of the bag.

strange guy.

“i think it’s just ‘cause of the mascot, won.”

“you never know these days..”

you laughed as he tilted his head, lips pursed and brows lifted slightly before putting the bag down. he gently nudged to you the side with a bump of his hip, pushing the cart as you marched ahead.

he watched as you read off the grocery list, placing things into the cart. he sported a little smile, studying you with gentle eyes. being here with you, shopping for more snacks than real groceries, felt so domestic.

so natural.

it tugged a little at his heartstrings, warmth blooming in his chest.

it was in these quiet, everyday moments that he took the time to really admire you, picking apart the minor details that just made you so… you.

the way you chewed your lip when making decisions, the crease between your brows forming when you couldn’t find whatever you were searching for, the way you blew your hair out of your face when a strand of it fell in front of your eyes.

his mind and his heart were so full of you, and he hoped that would never change.

“jungwon, are you even listening?” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, shaking his head a little as if forgetting where he was. “um, yeah! definitely.”

you gave him a blank stare, one that he returned with a sheepish smile, “no… sorry?”

you let out a groan before turning around and sauntering off, stomping away like an angry child. he chased after you, the shopping cart bumping into one of the aisles with a loud crash that made you cringe.

”w-wait! babe, i’m listening! for real now!”

the third time was when you were all hanging out at sunoo and riki’s apartment. everyone sat in a circle in the living room, an array of random snacks and drinks littered across the coffee table and floor. sunoo was in the middle of a very dramatic rendition of how he embarrassed himself in front of the group of freshmen he was in charge of during orientation week. laughter flooded the apartment, a feeling of peace settling into your body as you followed along with whatever he was talking about.

“i didn’t even see him coming!” jake bursted into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, doubling over and collapsing into jungwon’s lap who was sat next to him, clapping his hands loudly. you swore you could see tears prick at the corner of his eyes from how hard he was cracking up.

you excused yourself to the bathroom, earning a little nod from your friends before they continued their extremely hilarious conversation. you took the time to clean yourself up, wiping away at the smudged mascara that appeared as a result of your evening with your friends.

a few minutes passed before you stepped out, turning off the lights with a soft click of the switch. as you made your way back, you paused in the hallway when you heard your name come out of your boyfriend’s mouth. you stood around the corner, listening in on their conversation.

“oh my god, it was so funny. y/n came out of her room with this HUGE blue wig on her head. i think i peed myself a little,” jungwon said, his hands moving in that animated manner as if to show just how big your wig was.

“hate to break it to you, but that was my idea. i told her a homer and marge couple costume would be cute. i wasn’t wrong.” yunjin chimed in, failing to hold in the laugh that came spilling out. jungwon stood up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at his friend, “SO IT WAS YOUR FAULT I HAD TO WEAR A BALD CAP!”

at this point everyone had laid across the floor, rolling over and slapping the person next to them in amusement. “at least y/n looked good! couldn’t fit through the door though. head was too big,” you pressed your fingers to your lips at heeseung’s joke, trying your best not to reveal yourself from where you were hiding.

you remember the moment like it was yesterday. it was a fond one, a story you shared often with your friends.

jungwon rolled his eyes. he sat down with a loud sigh, turning his head with his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest, “she’s always pretty. but next time, she’s getting the bald cap,” you smiled at his comment, leaning against the wall as you watched him fondly. when he opened his eyes, they locked with yours. they widened in surprise before he returned the smile, the dimple on his cheek that you loved kissing appearing with it.

you walked back over to your seat, squeezing yourself in between jungwon and riki, “i am never wearing a bald cap, thank you very much. that’s all you. for the rest of your life. until you actually start going bald too. then, you won’t need one!”

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

you stared at the photobook in your hands, fingers tracing the edges of each polaroid that sat snugly between the pages. you made it a tradition to snap a photo every time you hung out, a way to preserve your memories forever in colored ink.

one from the party you first met at, another from the pool party you and yunjin hosted last summer, one from your camping trip, and others—all of them serving as a reminder of the joy you experienced with jungwon and your friends from the past year.

you closed the book gently, the soft smile never leaving your face. the gentle hum of music played out of the speaker tucked into the corner of jungwon’s living room.

you heard it—the first song he ever sent to you through text, a little ‘this made me think of you’ message following shortly after. the apartment smelled like warm sugar and the lingering traces of his cologne, a scent you began to consider home.

jungwon was in the kitchen, probably making breakfast like he always did. he knew how you took your coffee by heart, never failing to wake you up with it each morning with a sleepy grin on his face. you placed the book next to your phone, lighting up with a notification from yunjin declaring yet another group hang out you simply could not afford to miss.

you stood up from the couch, your fluffy house slippers padding against the floor as you walked over to jungwon.

leaning against the kitchen island, you stared at his messy morning hair and broad back, clad in the loose t-shirt he woke up in. he turned around with a smile on his face, one that never failed to appear every time he saw you, “hi, angel. what were you up to?”

you returned the gesture, happily taking your favorite mug out of his hands, “i was just looking through our photos. we should buy more film soon, by the way.” jungwon hummed in response, hands moving to plate your food.

“we can over the weekend,” he replied, sliding it in front of you before pressing a long kiss to your forehead. the smell of sweet, buttery pancakes and bacon filled your senses. you noticed the strawberries that were cut up into little hearts that sat neatly off to the side.

just how you liked them.

“i’m gonna go change. yunjin will actually skin me alive if we’re late again,” he grumbled before disappearing into his bedroom.

you watched him walk away, his golden locks bouncing with each step. you let out a quiet laugh, picking up your fork and digging in.

it wasn’t difficult to understand, then.

somewhere along the way, ‘i’ started turning into ‘we’.

his hand started to fit in yours like it was always meant to be there. your mornings were often spent together rather than separately—much to yunjin’s dismay, who swore he had completely stolen you away from her.

your chest ached, but not in a painful way. it was the kind of ache that comes with realizing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—right here with him by your side.

because he never said “i love you” like it was something he owned. rather, he meant it like something you had built—together.

jungwon didn’t just love you.

he included you.

in his life, in every word he spoke, every story he shared, and every moment he lived.

you realized you liked yourself more when you were apart of something—something soft, but heavy with meaning and purpose.

something, or someone, like yang jungwon.

jungwon who turned ‘we’ into something more than just a simple word.

jungwon who loved you delicately, but still passionate in his own way, who assured you from the very beginning that he was all in.

he introduced you to a type of love that was soft and easy, but it was one that meant everything.

to put it simply, you liked yourself better when you were with him.

you always had, and you always will.

“y/n, have you seen my sweater? if riki took it again, i swear i’m about to go full jackie chan on that kid,” his voice called from down the hall, sharp and exasperated.

a sudden thud made you flinch, followed by a muffled yelp and the clatter of hangers shifting in his closet.

then, a beat later—slightly winded, definitely bruised ego.

“i’m fine! totally fine... ow.”

yeah, always.

fin.

© wrldhoon 2025

[the-supremeverse]

happy birthday epic sansequel !

oh. you really are blind, arent you?

blindBrainac [BB] opened private board "Epic le bruh". blindBrainiac [BB] added desertedDoofus [DD] to the board. blindBrainiac [BB] added doughtyBoxer [DB] to the board. blindBrainiac [BB] added cautiousBeliever [CB] to the board. blindBrainiac [BB] added dramaticCalculator [DC] to the board. [BB]: Oops. Wasn't supposed to add last one. [BB]: Actually, nevermind. [BB]: It's not like she's reading messages anyway. [DD]: May I perchance ask a logical question that naturally arises in this situation? [BB]: Add your bruh here bruh. [DD]: Understood. desertedDoofus [DD] added chronicCriminal [CC] to the board. [DD]: By the way, you didn't answer my question. [BB]: I know. [CB]: Oh, hello [CB]: What's this? [BB]: This is a chat where you all can ask me whatever you want bruh. [BB]: And for you it's for talking, i guess. [CB]: Thanks! [BB]: No problem bruh! [CC]: what the hell [CC]: cole why did u add me to this shit [CC]: wait dont answer [CC]: its about talk to people shit aint it [CB]: Hi Kyle! [CC]: who r u again [CB]: We talked a month ago [CC]: k [DB]: HI GUYS [CB]: Hello! I don't remember talking to you [DB]: I DONT TOO [DB]: dsjfgifosdnfgiudfniogncviongfcihgf [CC]: weirdo [DB]: what the fuck is this [CC]: takin my words back this guy rocks [DB]: erin i asked you [DB]: what [DB]: the fuck [DB]: are you doing [DD]: Language. [DB]: what do you mean language [DB]: im not your son [CC]: i am [CB]: Are you really? [CC]: nah [CB]: Sad [DB]: [DB]: erin you didnt answer my question [DD]: If you read the whole conversation throroughly, you'll see that our toastmaster didn't answer me either. I believe this is because he secretly does "LOL" so to speak, as if we are here for his amusement. [CC]: nerd [DB]: nerd [CB]: Nerd [DD]: While I can see you being somewhat conflicted about my manner of speach, I prefer that you don't straight up insult me. [CC]: can i insult u not straight up [DD]: No. [CC]: sad [CB]: So... What are you guys doing? [DB]: are you blind [CB]: No, I can see... [BB]: I can't. [DB]: there you are [DB]: answer me you dirty sock [CC]: pfft [DB]: why did i say that [CC]: man ur so laughable [CC]: do u have ana [DB]: what the fuck is ana [CC]: collection of anecdotes duh [CC]: even i know it

[CB]: Guys [CB]: I think we should talk [DB]: we are doing that now dingus [CC]: pffthahaha [DB]: why did i fucking say that [DD]: I don't like to judge people by their manner of speech, but it appears that you have an unstable mental condition. [DB]: fuck you [CB]: GUYS MY NAME IS ALEX!!!!!! [CC]: tysm for the reminder [CC]: well if we r introducing ourselfs [DD]: Ourselves. [CC]: that he said [CC]: names kyle [DD]: Cole. [DB]: im dan [CC]: huh [CC]: i thought ud say smth like [CC]: hurr hurr why did tell them my name hurr [DB]: why should i say that [CC]: cuz ur laughable [DD]: Can agree with my friend's claim. You do seem like a funnyman. [DB]: and youre all numbskulls [CB]: Guys, he's like a kid! [CB]: He can't swear like a fine man [CC]: well he can say fuck for some reason [CC]: dont say language dad please dad [DD]: I won't animadvert you, son. After all, you're a grown man. You should know how things work here, in the world of adults. [CC]: yes thank you dad ur the best [DB]: what the hell is animadvert [DC]: To criticize or censure. [DC]: Yes, I'm alive. [BB]: Holy bruh! [DC]: Erin, why did you add me to this chat? [BB]: For funsies, obviously. [DB]: so youre answering some random girl but not your best friend [DC]: Shush, adults are talking. [CC]: pffthahahahaha!!!! [CC]: i like u [DC]: I know who you are. [CC]: sheesh [CB]: I don't understand [CB]: Is that some kind of science experiment? [DC]: Bingo. [DC]: Now shut up and listen. [BB]: So as i said earlier this chat is for you bruhs talking. [BB]: Welcome! [DB]: im going to hell

[reginaphalangelobster]

Chrysanthemum

Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader (platonic)

Summary: You and your closest friend go after an unsub alone.

Warnings: death, brief description of injuries.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: This is my first Criminal Minds fic (I've posted) and I hope it's good! Thank you so much to @mameeta for this request via my Flowers Ask Game, I really loved writing this.

You had worked at the BAU for practically forever. You were regarded as one of the best detectives that worked there. You were great with the families due to your soft, kind nature. You were always able to get the information you needed and comfort them at the same time, never upsetting them or stepping over the line. You had a fantastic analytical mind, being able to decode cryptic messages alongside Reid. You were also particularly good at dealing with the bureaucracy of it all. After cases you often helped Hotch deal with the overwhelming paperwork. He never wanted to abuse your generosity so every time you offered to help there would always be the same conversation. You'd knock on his door and walk into his office.

"You busy?" You'd ask, knowing the answer was always yes.

"Just paperwork" He'd say without lifting his eyes from the stack of files he had to sort through.

"Need a hand?"

"I've got it"

"I don't have anything to do this afternoon, you look like you could use some help"

"You don't need to go out of your way"

"It wouldn't be any trouble"

"Don't you have your own paperwork to do?"

"Finished it"

"What about the rest of the team, I'm sure Morgan wouldn't turn you down"

"I already did his, everyone else's is done too"

"Don't you have anything to do at home?"

"Not really"

"You know if you do this you'll be knee deep in case files and performance reviews?"

"Oh, how invigorating!"

He laughed, incredibly lightly, a miracle on your part "Alright then, want to start with this pile" He said, pointing to one of three piles stacked a foot high.

You picked up the top file and started to work.

You had little conversations here and there, generally talking about nothing but sometimes you spoke about things, real things. Hotch's divorce, Jack, nightmares you both had about tough cases. Without realising it, all of that excess paperwork turned the two of you from colleagues to friends, best friends, who'd do anything for each other.

One morning Hotch finally asked you the question he'd had in the back of his mind ever since you met. He was walking past your desk when he spotted the same old vase, the vase that always contained a single chrysanthemum.

"Why do you always have one flower on your desk?"

"Good morning Aaron, I'm good, how are you?"

"Sorry, good morning"

You sighed lightly as you shook your head "It's a chrysanthemum, it holds deep meaning in European and Asian culture"

"What meaning?"

"There are a variety of meanings, that's part of what I like about them. The white ones are mostly for funerals, like a farewell to someone you cared about. That's why I only have colourful ones. The colourful ones generally symbolise love, happiness and immortality"

"Why is immortality important to you? Considering our job especially"

"This job is why. Immortality isn't being alive and breathing forever, at least not to me. It's living forever in the memories of those who cared about you. It means, when you're gone the people you loved will think of you fondly and you'll live forever in their hearts"

Hotch didn't say anything for a moment, contemplating your explanation, not exactly expecting something so profound.

"A bit much for eight thirty on a Tuesday, huh?"

You both laughed lightly and continued on with your day.

You were jolted awake by the piercing ring of your phone, at this hour you knew who it was.

"Hotch, this had better be an emer-"

"The jet leaves in twenty, be there"

The tone in his voice told you that this was bad, bad for the BAU was terrible so you got to the jet as quickly as you could. The second everyone was there he started the briefing.

"We're going to San Francisco, thirty one people were shot in either the chest, neck or head two hours ago. A week ago the same thing happened with nineteen victims then eight hours later there were another twenty six"

"Why weren't we called in earlier?" Morgan asked angrily.

"I don't know" Hotch said through gritted teeth, probably angrier than Morgan but trying to keep things professional.

"Do we know anything else? Any attempts to contact the media?" Reid asked.

"No"

"Any similarities in the victims?" Prentiss asked.

"No"

"What about the locations of the shootings?" You asked.

"No, all we know is there is a dangerous mass shooter loose in San Francisco and he's escalating quickly"

The rest of the flight was sat in silence. Not much changed when you landed, you all separated and did what you could but there wasn't much luck until the next wave of victims.

JJ ran into the room you were all in.

"There's been another shooting, thirty eight dead in Pioneer Park"

Just as the team were about to walk out the door Hotch's phone rang.

"Agent Hotchner"

"Do I know you?"

"I think so, you've been following my work recently"

He put his hand over then phone and motioned for Garcia over the monitor "It's the unsub"

"Tracing the call now"

He turned back to the phone and put it on speaker "You've been busy"

"I have, it's nice to see someone appreciating all the trouble I went to. You are enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

He sighed deeply, knowing the only way to work with this unsub would be to play to his ego "Yes, you're outdoing yourself. More victims each time"

"Yes, I do like this recent, escalation"

"Recent? So you've done this before?"

"Ooh, you're a quick one! Tell you what, if you meet me at Coit Tower, alone, I'll tell you all about the others, sound good agent?"

"You should know by now that I can't meet you alone"

"And you should know by now that you can't afford not to, see you at four, Aaron"

"He hung up, Garcia, did you find him?"

"Sorry sir, he knows his way around tech, couldn't even get a cell tower"

Hotch sighed and held his head low, rubbing his temples.

"You know you can't meet him alone" You said to him.

"I have to, who knows how many people he's killed, or how many more are next"

"It's too dangerous"

"I have to go"

"I-" Just as you were about to argue further your phone buzzed.

"I think it's the unsub" You said, showing the phone to Hotch.

"Go with him, it'll be fun" He read aloud.

"That's strange" Reid started "Everything this unsub has done has been set to a strict plan, the timings of the shootings, the locations, his contradictory messages might mean it's a set up"

"We have to go, even if it is" You replied.

"Guys" Prentiss said quietly "It's 3:45"

"The drive to Coit Tower will take approximately sixteen minutes with the current state of traffic" Reid added.

"We'd better go then" You said to Hotch.

The two of you left and drove as fast as you could. You didn't even have enough time to put vests on but you couldn't wait. You got there at 4:02, you only made it a few steps out of the car when you saw the unsub standing in the middle of the street, gun pointed at Hotch. You didn't have enough time to take out your guns before you heard the unsub.

"You're late"

Then he pulled the trigger. You could see it in his eyes and you didn't have time to think, so you just did. You turned around and wrapped your arms around Hotch, shielding him from the bullets that littered your body. You heard the faint sound of panic in the crowd and over your radio, the cops stationed a few blocks back began to move in. You heard their gunshots as they killed the unsub and you heard the sirens of the approaching ambulance. You looked up and saw Hotch, holding your body as you collapsed, blood pouring out of your back as you fell to the ground. Your vision began to blur and darken in from the corners, after your eyes went black the last thing you heard was Hotch, his voice broken and desperate as he softly begged.

"Stay with me, please, just stay with me"

The wind blew softly as birds chirped their sweet songs. Leaves crunched underfoot as Hotch slowly walked across the ground, wishing he wasn't where he was. He finally reached his destination, he stood there for hours, silent. There was nothing that he could say, nothing that would fix things, nothing that could turn back time or reshape reality, nothing that mattered.

He crouched down slowly and placed a large bouquet of white chrysanthemums on a cold, grey gravestone, your gravestone. A few tears began to roll down his cheeks as he read your name over and over again.

He thought back to what you said earlier and he knew that even though he failed at keeping you alive here, you would live forever in his heart, just as you wanted.

We have charged in battle array with the rose and the chrysanthemum - Okakura Kakuzō

Tags

@pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart @neospacedoctor @destiel-1967-sammy @yigashimei @something0193 @ursamajor17 @colorfulavenuecollection @fairytailnerd1024-blog @daithideolishmer18 @am-i-the-villain-co @mameeta @bblessed @maximum-uwu @bbywonu

[summercreolefanfictioner]

06. of ikebana and messy rouge stains

A week before Valentine's Day, he specifically sent a request to Gojo if he could go out during the said event. After the whole snow incident, he exchanged numbers with Y/N, and she asked if she could drop by his school to give him chocolates. But because they were keeping the marriage under wraps, Toge offered seeing each other elsewhere. He texted, "I'll ask my teacher. No one will know." The next day, he received an "Okay" from her, so he thought this could be fine.

Or maybe not.

Gojo scratched the side of his head, reading Toge's request as some sort of gateway to trouble. He couldn't disclose the fact that this was a part of Toge and his fiancée's trial courtship period, courtesy of the entire Inumaki-Hanagawa union. He sighed, wondering how he could tell the principal, "Toge's going out on a date with the Hanagawa lady on Valentine's like all those silly lovesick teenage boys do on February 14th." Besides, his family would find out about him sneaking out to go on this date.

"I'll figure something out, okay?" Gojo winked at him. "Just stay back in your seat and relax."

Toge nodded. "Shake."

And he waited for three days before Gojo went back with good news. Yes, he could freely go out after classes on Valentine's Day. Bad news? Well, his request is under the pretense of him running an errand with Gojo. Of course, Gojo will let him be alone so he could enjoy his date, but they only have an hour limit. After all, it was a strict rule of Toge's grandfather that their courtship must only take place every weekend at the Inumaki residence (the exception being the Hanagawa residence in case Toge decided to visit her).

Maki, Yuta, and Panda soon learned from Gojo about this request. One day they were having a random lecture when the Six Eyes user mentioned "Toge's gonna be busy during Valentine's and the upcoming weekend, after all" like it was friggin' normal. How could Gojo think this was not unusual behavior? This was weird. Toge being busy on Valentine's, of all days? They were all supposed to have a movie/karaoke night in Yuta or Panda's room, though. Why is Toge suddenly ditching their plans? And then Yuta secretly overheard Principal Yaga and Gojo talking about the approval of Toge's request to leave the dorms on February 14th.

There is a girl.

They watch Toge from the corner of their eyes. The Cursed Speech user was just zoning out, staring out the window and fully unaware that his friends were keeping an eye on him like he was some suspicious criminal.

Yep. No doubt. There's a girl.

...

But who?

They tried taking turns, doing random stuff that could make Toge spill out about this random girl he was hiding from them. They even relied on Yuta to make him open up a deep conversation or have Panda answer a few of his questions during one of their sexy talks. Maki can make him say more things, but she doubted Toge would talk about it because they all knew Toge could read a few of her non-verbal gestures, and it might turn the tables on her. After all, Toge could be mischievous as hell, and worse, he might give an answer just to make fun of them.

"I remembered when Rika-chan gave me chocolates for Valentine's Day," Yuta reminisced, secretly trying to make Toge soft and talk to him about this imaginary girl whom they think he has the hots for. "It was messy and melted, but it tasted so good!"

Toge only hummed in response, watching Maki and Panda train on the field (they were just pretending to train all because they wanted to have Yuta find out about the secret girl).

"H-How about you, Inumaki-kun? Have you received Valentine's chocolate from someone?" Yuta asked.

Toge only shrugged, then turned around to get something from his bag. While doing so, Maki and Panda immediately halted and Yuta just made an X sign with his hands.

Plan 1: FAIL!

The next thing, after Toge warmed up, Panda called him, motioning with his hand for him to come closer. Toge sighed, jogging towards him as Panda placed an arm around his shoulder. He leaned down to whisper.

"Listen, listen," Panda said, and Toge held a deadpan expression. "This is important, so answer properly."

Toge nodded.

"Do you prefer girls with short hair or long hair?"

Toge contemplated, imagining Y/N with short hair and long hair, only for him to realize he had never seen her with her hair down. While the thought has crossed his mind a few times, he got a bit curious now. What would it be like for her to have her hair down? That's what's running through his head.

"Mentaiko," he sighed in frustration. I have no idea.

Panda was horrified, but he will not be deterred by his dubious response.

"Then, what about boobs? Do you prefer them big or small?"

That also got Toge thinking again. First, the hair. Now, the boobs. It wasn't like he had looked at Y/N in that way, but his imagination was unfortunately limited. He had never seen her too with any other clothing other than the traditional kimono, so he couldn't get quite a guess on her chest size. Furthermore, if he were to get a peek at her flesh, it would always be the nape of her neck, so fair and so pure. Sometimes, he wondered how she would feel if there was a mark on that skin. Will she be disgusted or ashamed? How would she hide a suspicious mark that he willingly gave—

Wait.

Why did he think of giving her a hickey?!

And his brain was now running wild, imagining Y/N with her hair sprawled on his mattress as she looked up at him with her half-lidded eyes and lips glistening red from his kisses. The top of her kimono was slightly pulled down, revealing her shoulder as she looked away, her cheeks blushing as she tried to hide from him by putting her arm over her face. Toge only removed it from her face, pinning her hands above her head.

"Toge," she breathed out, and he found it nice she was saying his name like that, "n-not there."

He chuckled, leaning close to her neck as he peppered kisses on her skin.

"Spread your legs."

"Toge?" Panda called his attention, worried his friend was not responding to his question. "Earth to Toge!"

Yuta and Maki looked up from their posts and saw the exchange, approaching the two to check what had happened. Panda was even snapping fingers, but Toge only stood there frozen like a statue.

"What the heck did you do?" Maki huffed, an arm on her hip as she glared at Panda.

"I just asked him a few questions!" Panda held up his arms defensively. "I didn't mean any harm."

Yuta could only chuckle at their playful banter, getting near Toge. "Inumaki-kun, are you—"

Then he stopped. Even Maki and Panda paused from arguing to see whatever it was. Toge's purple eyes were wide in awe with his whole face red as he tried to mouth off a few unintelligible words. He was gulping like there was some sort of tension he was experiencing in the air. Panda had to wave a hand in front of him, but he wasn't relenting.

Oh, dear.

Suddenly, blood slowly trickled down his nose, startling the three. The moment Maki shrieked, "Toge, your nose is bleeding!" was when Toge finally snapped, feeling wetness on his face and when he touched it—yep. There was blood.

"T-Tissue!" Yuta said, scrambling to get some only for Toge to stop him and wipe the blood off with the high collar of his turtleneck.

Shit. He daydreamed about doing some dirty stuff with Y/N in broad daylight and got a nosebleed out of it.

"Are you okay, Toge?" Panda asked. "Sorry for asking you about earlier."

Maki narrowed her eyes. "What did you ask anyway?"

"It's not important!"

Toge shook his head, waving his hand in negation. "Shake, shake." It's fine. I'm fine.

After practice ended, he took a long, cold shower. It was futile; his dreams were plagued of Y/N doing those things further with him.

Nonetheless...

Plan 2: FAIL!

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

tags: @enouche @ch3esesoup @bloemrijk (comment below so I can add you to the taglist)

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

sweeping you off your feet for the second time

an : rafayel x nonmc | nonmc is introverted & nonconfrontational | mc is the girl bestie of nonmc | college au | tried to make it fluff but maybe i failed | typed on my phone & non proofread | might be triggering for some - read at your own risk cause its hard to make a label for every single thing | i wrote this cause i wanted to hurt myself

previous

BONUS CHAPTER

MC's phone buzzed, vibrating against the worn denim of her jeans. She glanced down, her lips curving into an immediate, enthusiastic smile.

Caleb.

Her childhood friend, her rock, the charismatic athlete who somehow always managed to stay grounded.

"Caleb! Hey!" she answered, her voice bubbling with easy warmth. "What's up? Ready to raid the dining hall for their questionable pizza again?"

But Caleb's response wasn't his usual jovial banter.

His voice, when it came through, was distinctly serious, a low rumble that instantly dampened MC's lighthearted mood.

"Hey, pips. Can we… can we meet up? I need to talk to you. Something important."

MC's brow furrowed. Caleb rarely sounded this somber.

"Whoa, okay. Is everything alright? You sound… intense. I can come over to your place, save some time. Plus, it's better to hang out there anyway, less public eyes, right?" she suggested, knowing his preference for private spaces when serious conversations were on the agenda.

"Yeah," Caleb agreed, a slight hesitation in his voice. "Yeah, that works. I'll see you in thirty."

"On my way," MC confirmed, a knot forming in her stomach. She grabbed her keys, her mind already racing through possibilities, none of them good.

Thirty minutes later, she stood outside Caleb's unit, the familiar scent of his apartment complex already calming her slightly.

He opened the door almost immediately, looking surprisingly composed, but the usual easy light in his eyes was replaced by a somber intensity.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping aside. "Come in. I already cooked our favorite, so we can eat first."

They ate in a comfortable silence, the rich aroma of his homemade pasta doing little to ease the tension humming beneath the surface.

MC watched him, chewing slowly, noticing the subtle clenching of his jaw, the way his gaze kept drifting to the middle distance. This wasn't the laid-back, joking Caleb she knew.

After they had finished, Caleb gathered the plates, cleared the small table, and then settled heavily onto the couch beside her. The casual proximity, usually a source of comfort, now felt charged.

MC couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Okay, spill. You've been looking like someone stole your last game-winning shot all evening. What's going on?"

Caleb sighed, a deep, frustrated sound that seemed to come from the very core of him. He ran a hand through his dark hair, then turned, his gaze locking onto hers, unexpectedly sharp, almost accusatory.

"Why, pips?" he asked, his voice low. "Why did you set me up on that date? And with… with your best friend, of all people?"

MC blinked, taken aback by the sudden directness. Her reasons, she thought, were obvious.

"Well, I was worried about you, Caleb! You haven't been dating anyone lately, and you seemed… down. And my best friend, she’s amazing, she needed some company, you know? I thought you two would hit it off." She offered a small, hopeful smile, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

Caleb’s demeanor, however, only grew more intense. His athletic frame seemed to thrum with a suppressed energy, his eyes boring into hers with an almost painful scrutiny.

"Worried about me?" he scoffed, a hint of something raw and wounded in his voice. "Do you truly know who I like, pips? Do you really have no idea?"

MC faltered, genuinely confused. "No, Caleb, I don't. You never tell me, remember? You always just say it's 'complicated' or 'not the right time.'"

She shrugged, feeling a prickle of exasperation herself. How was she supposed to know if he kept everything bottled up?

Caleb groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated frustration.

The next moment, he moved, quick as a seasoned athlete. He shifted, pinning her against the cushions of the sofa, his arms caging her, hands braced on either side of her head.

The suddenness of his actions startled her, making her heart leap into her throat. His face was inches from hers, his intense gaze searing into her very soul.

“Why are you so clueless, pips?” His voice was a strained whisper, thick with exasperation and something else, something she couldn't quite name.

“How could you not see it? What do I need to do to make my intentions clear to you? Do I need to write it on a billboard? Paint it across the campus?"

MC stared at him, wide-eyed, her breath catching in her throat. The raw emotion in his voice, the way he looked at her… it clicked.

A dizzying, terrifying realization bloomed in her chest, pushing all other thoughts aside. She barely dared to breathe, the question a fragile whisper on her lips. "You… you like me?"

Caleb didn't answer with words. His eyes dropped from hers, lingering for a heart-stopping moment on her lips, then flickered back up to meet her gaze, burning with a silent, desperate plea.

"What do you think, pips?"

Her mind, still reeling from the sudden onslaught of truth, tried to rationalize, to push it away.

"I… I don't think you'd ever like me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "We've been friends for too long. Since we were kids. You don't... you don't fall for your best friend."

Caleb's grip, which she hadn't realized was so tight on her wrists, softened, his fingers loosening their hold. He leaned in further, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling.

"You are infuriatingly clueless, pips. So infuriatingly naive." His voice was a low, resigned murmur. "I thought I was being clear. So clear. But apparently, I'm not."

And then, he kissed her.

It wasn't a soft, hesitant brush of lips. It was a kiss born of years of unspoken longing, of pent-up frustration and a desperate need to convey everything words couldn't.

It was fierce, demanding, a silent declaration that left no room for doubt. MC was surprised, a gasp catching in her throat, but the shock quickly gave way to a surge of pure, overwhelming emotion.

Her hands, freed from his grip, instinctively moved to cup his face, pulling him closer, kissing him back with a ferocity that matched his own.

The kiss deepened, a passionate make-out session that blurred the edges of reality, erasing everything but the undeniable truth of their intertwined breaths, their hungry mouths.

When they finally pulled away, breathless, the air around them thrumming with raw energy, Caleb’s eyes were still dark with an intense fire.

He carefully pulled her onto his lap, cradling her against his chest, her head resting just beneath his chin.

“So,” he murmured, his voice a little hoarse, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her waist. “Was I able to clearly show my true intentions this time, pipsqueak?”

MC, still flustered and blushing madly, buried her face in his neck, a shy smile gracing her lips.

She felt a lightness in her chest she hadn't realized was missing, a puzzle piece finally slotting into place. She just nodded, unable to form words.

Caleb chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound. He rested his head against hers, then buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

"Good," he whispered, the single word filled with an unspoken promise.

surprise. i couldnt leave caleb and mc hanging in the air like that. this time, it's truly the end of this story.

[kikiiidym]

Hi! ❤️​ I love your writing, and I'd like to request something.

It'd be PJO and HOO boys with a girlfriend who suffers from face blindness. It's a condition that makes it difficult to distinguish people's face, so maybe the boys have to help their girlfriend when they're unable to recognize someone. For example, if they don't recognise someone they may help pointing out details that can help their girlfriend distinguish people, like the voice, the way of walking, eyes/hair colour...

Sorry if this is a weird request, I suffer from face blindness and I wanted a bit of comfort. It sucks when people don't even help you and just assume you're dumb.

Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you have a nice day ❤️​

PJO/HOO with a girlfriend who has Prosopagnosia

Percy Jackson:

Percy didn't fully understand it when you first explained. You had to describe it a few different ways — that it wasn’t just "being forgetful," it was like people's faces reset in your brain the second you looked away. That sometimes you couldn’t even recognize a close friend if they changed their clothes or haircut.

He got real quiet after that.

Then he said, “So... if I dyed my hair blond and put on Will’s hoodie, you might think I’m him?”

You looked down, embarrassed. “Yeah. I might.”

Percy walked over, hooked a finger under your chin so you’d look him in the eye, and said, “Then I’ll just have to make sure no one makes you guess. Ever.”

From that point on, he makes it his mission. He waves at people a little louder when you’re around. Drops names into conversation casually.

“Oh hey, that’s Annabeth—don’t let her serious face fool you, she actually laughed once in 2009.”

He even starts telling you how people move, not just how they look. “Hazel walks like she’s dancing. Leo kinda bounces when he talks.”

One time you panicked when a group of campers waved and you didn’t know who they were. He stepped in smoothly: “That’s Cecil and Miranda, they were at the arts and crafts cabin yesterday. Miranda had the clay-stained sleeves, remember?”

No judgment. No annoyance.

Just his hand in yours, always ready to guide you back to comfort.

Grover Underwood:

Grover gets it. He lives by sensation, energy, sound.

So when you told him, he immediately offered ways to help. “I’ll walk on your left, so you know it’s me. And I’ll keep my reed pipes out — just in case.”

He sings softly sometimes, so you can hear him before you see him. He taps out patterns with his hooves on the ground. Rhythms you recognize.

You don’t even have to ask with Grover. He knows when you’re overwhelmed and gently leads you away. Hums. Grounds you.

“If I had horns for every time someone misunderstood you,” he said once, “I’d have a whole forest of satyrs at your defense.”

Luke Castellan:

Luke doesn’t say much when you tell him. But his eyes shift. Like a piece of him suddenly realigned.

He’s quiet. Then: “Must be hell.”

You nod.

He walks you through it — asks good questions. Never pitying. Just wanting to understand.

From then on, he becomes your personal buffer. Every social situation, he’s there — murmuring names, describing postures, giving you a moment before people speak.

“That’s Katie. You can tell by the sunflower ring. She always wears it.”

When you falter or hesitate, Luke steps in. Casually. Seamlessly.

And one night, when you admit you feel ashamed, he looks at you like you’ve insulted something holy.

“You think a world that barely understands anything gets to shame you for how your brain works? No. No, love. They don’t.”

Nico Di Angelo:

Nico’s reaction was so… Nico. Quiet. Sharp. And way more understanding than you expected.

You were nervous to tell him. Face blindness wasn't something people often got. You braced yourself for confusion or awkward questions.

Instead, Nico blinked and just nodded.

“That’s why you sometimes look away before answering people. You're scanning for clues.”

Your breath caught. He noticed that?

“I… yeah. That’s exactly why.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “So I’ll start giving you clues.”

From that day on, Nico becomes your silent lookout. He reads the room before you enter it. If someone waves, he leans in and says quietly, “That’s Will, with the sunflower pin and loud voice.” Or: “That's Lou Ellen — she smells like lavender. Listen for her humming.”

He never pushes, never rushes you.

In fact, he starts getting mad on your behalf when people joke about your forgetfulness.

You once tried to apologize after calling Reyna “the brown-haired one” a little too loudly. Nico shook his head and said, “Never apologize for your wiring. They should be apologizing for not adjusting to it.”

That night, he sat with you on the edge of the Hades cabin, gently tracing your knuckles.

“You know, I don’t recognize people by their faces either. I recognize shadows. Silhouettes. Movement. You’re not alone in this.”

And you believed him.

Connor Stoll:

Connor’s method? Humor and devotion.

When you explained, he didn’t hesitate. Just smiled and said, “Well, guess I’ll have to become impossible to forget.”

He started wearing a different funny pin every day — rubber ducks, cats, sparkly dinosaurs. “Today’s identifier: chaos goose.”

Introduces everyone with ridiculous nicknames you actually remember. “That’s Half-Eaten Sandwich Guy. You called him that once. His name is Lou.”

He checks in constantly with your comfort. Reassures you when you feel bad for asking, again, who someone is.

“You could forget who I am every morning, and I’d still show up to make you laugh until you remember.”

Will Solace:

Will didn’t just understand — he made it a mission to learn everything about prosopagnosia the moment you told him.

You found his journal a few weeks later. Inside were notes. Actual handwritten notes: – “Use voice to identify.” – “Clothing colors help. Mention names often.” – “Avoid surprise hellos. Always announce who it is.”

Will speaks names into the air like it’s second nature. “Hey, Lou Ellen, you got a haircut!” “So Cecil’s still using that floral lotion, huh?”

If you look nervous, he’ll lean over and gently tap your hand twice — your signal to tell you who someone is.

He notices your tells: how your eyes dart back and forth when someone approaches, how you hesitate before greeting people.

So he makes it effortless. Seamless. Safe.

“Hey, love — that’s Jake. He’s the one with the deep voice and always wears the leather tool belt.”

You once broke down and told him you felt stupid. That people rolled their eyes when you didn’t recognize them.

Will hugged you tight and whispered, “You are not stupid. If I had to memorize everyone’s heartbeat and I messed it up sometimes, would you think I was stupid?”

You shook your head.

He kissed your temple. “Exactly. Your brain is different. Not broken.”

Travis Stoll:

Travis didn’t get it right away — but once he did? He was all in.

He used his chaotic evil for good.

He'd shout people’s names across the camp like an announcer at a sports event: “Clarisse LaRue entering the arena, stomping like she owns the place!”

When you hesitated during introductions, he’d swoop in with: “Hey, this is Pollux, our wine cabin rep — grape pin, always smells like cinnamon!”

He asks before hugging, before approaching from behind. He knows better now.

One day you got overwhelmed during Capture the Flag — everyone yelling, faces blending, your heart pounding. He found you, tugged you behind a tree, and whispered, “It’s me, Trav. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

You did.

And he stayed with you until the panic passed.

Leo Valdez:

Leo made it fun. That was his magic.

When you confessed it — haltingly, afraid he'd tease — Leo blinked, then grinned.

“Wait. So you’re telling me I can totally fake being someone else and gaslight you for fun?”

You deadpan stared at him. “Leo.”

“Joking! Mostly.”

But really? He never made you feel awkward. Not once. He renamed people to help you. “That’s Loud Bangy McYells. Aka Clarisse.” “Flower Crown Drama Prince? That’s Will.”

He even built you a tiny vibrating bracelet that buzzed when someone important came within five feet. “Programmed it with scent profiles and gait trackers,” he said, like it was no big deal. “You’ll never get caught off guard again.”

He gets it — what it’s like to feel different. To feel like you’re always trying to “catch up.”

So he makes sure you never feel behind.

And when you once said, “Sometimes I can’t even recognize you if you change clothes,” he winked.

“Good thing my voice is one of a kind. And my love for you? Even more unforgettable.”

Frank Zhang:

Frank was quiet when you told him. Not in a bad way — in that processing everything deeply kind of way.

He nodded, asked one or two thoughtful questions, and then said:

“I’ll help. Always.”

And he meant it.

He gently describes people as they approach: “That’s Hazel, in the brown riding boots. Her braid’s over her left shoulder today.” “Octavian's walking stiffly — maybe his back’s hurting again.”

He pays attention for you. And never treats it like a chore.

One time, during a sparring match, someone got annoyed when you asked who they were.

Frank stepped forward, steady and calm. “She’s not being rude. She’s navigating a world that doesn’t work for her. Respect that.”

You hugged him later, face buried in his chest. “You didn’t have to step in like that.”

His voice was warm and soft. “Yes I did.”

Jason Grace:

Jason is a planner, a protector, and incredibly observant — so when you told him about your face blindness, it clicked into place for him like a puzzle piece.

He didn’t make a big scene about it. He just nodded, processed it quietly, and then changed the way he moved through the world with you.

At meetings or events, he’ll stand slightly behind you and whisper, “Praetor Gwen, green sash, tiny scar on her chin.” Or he’ll step forward first when someone approaches and greet them by name so you have a context anchor.

You once told him you hated walking into places alone, terrified you’d miss someone’s face you should know. That you’d offend someone, or seem cold.

He squeezed your hand and said, “Then you’ll never walk into a room alone again.”

You believed him.

And he meant it. Even when he’s busy, he makes sure someone kind is with you — someone who’ll help name people without judgment. He taught Frank and Hazel how to help, too.

He memorizes your comfort zones, your stress tells, the exact way your eyes dart when you start to feel lost.

“You don’t need to remember faces,” he told you once, brushing hair from your cheek. “You’ve already memorized me. And that’s enough.”

Octavian:

When you first told Octavian about your face blindness, he stared at you like you’d just handed him an unsolvable prophecy.

At first, he didn’t speak — not because he didn’t believe you, but because he was calculating. Trying to understand. Trying to fix it.

“Wait,” he said slowly, brows furrowed, “so you don’t… see people’s faces like everyone else?”

You shook your head, a little ashamed. “I see them, I just… don’t retain them. I can’t recognize people unless there’s a very specific feature or they speak. It’s called prosopagnosia.”

He sat with that for a long moment. Then looked you dead in the eye and said, very seriously:

“Then this legion has failed you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“If people are expecting you to play the same game without the same rules, it’s their failure — not yours.”

That was the start.

From that day forward, Octavian adapted like a military operation. He didn’t just help you — he made it part of his system. Because that’s how he loves: intensely, deliberately, completely.

Now, when you're walking through New Rome together, he murmurs quietly as people approach:

“That’s Senator Valeria. Gold brooch, crooked smile. She walks like her shoes are too tight.”

“That’s Bellona’s kid, the one with the wolf tooth pendant. Loud voice, clipped words.”

He never does it like he's babysitting you — he does it like he's armoring you, handing you weapons in a world that keeps asking you to fight blind.

[charliedawn]

Hey Charlie! Not sure if when you cleared out your inbox a week or two ago that included my request so I’m resending it if that’s okay. And if it wasn’t then just ignore this lol. But still thank you again for all the wonderful ideas of others you bring to life.

I was thinking of slashers just in general or of your choice, but especially Remmick (and his vampires), and Father Paul, with a new face/patient to St. Louis who’s like a shifter from Twilight (yes twilight 💀). Same wolf shifter abilities, etc.

Perhaps their file reads “commonly described as “coyote-like” in demeanor”

Reason for Admission: Disassociation, Chronic insomnia, Hypervigilance, Nonverbal episodes, Suspected PTSD, History of emotional trauma, Mistrust of authority; resistant to treatment.

Initial Observations:, Patient presents as aloof, alert, and hyper-aware of surroundings. Displays a quiet, emotionally repressed demeanor, but reacts to perceived threats with sharp sarcasm or sudden withdrawal. Physical signs of past injury (scars, bruising) observed. Patient refused to disclose origins. Exhibits high-functioning independence, despite obvious exhaustion and erratic sleep cycles. Often communicates nonverbally—shrugs, eye flicks, brief nods—but can speak fluently when comfortable.

Stack

At first? Stack watched you like a cat watches thunder. Cautious, but curious. You had that bite to you—the snappy, dry one-liners when someone got too close. You could shut down a conversation with a single raised brow or dismissive flick of your eyes.

And Stack? He loved it. “You always this prickly, pup?” he muttered one day, grinning while leaning on a cracked vending machine. “Or am I special?”

You looked at him. Cold. Then smirked—a fleeting flash of teeth. “Only around mosquitoes.” He laughed. Deep, easy, amused. “Good. Keep that spark. Makes the blood sweeter.”

When you stalked the halls barefoot at 3AM, head low, eyes sharp, he’d fall into step behind you with a lazy grin and a cigarette hanging from his lips (even if he couldn’t light it).

“You shiftin’ tonight, or just itchin’ to rip someone’s throat out?”

“Depends who talks to me next.”

He loved that answer.

Mary

From the moment you stepped into the courtyard, barefoot and sleepless with that haunted, hungry look in your eyes—Mary noticed. She was lounging in the shade with one leg draped over the side of the bench, lazily swirling a lollipop in her mouth like she didn’t have a care in the world. But her gaze followed you.

Watched you. Sized you up.

She didn’t say anything for a few days. Just watched. But she started popping up in the same places as you more often. Cafeteria. Courtyard. Therapy rec room. Always casually—like it was coincidence.

Then one day, after you brushed past her in the hallway—no eye contact, just tension coiled tight beneath your skin—Mary gave a crooked grin and said:

“Ya walk like you’re always ready to bolt. What are ya so afraid of, sugar?”

You froze mid-step. Turned slowly to look at her. She tilted her head, that cherry red lipstick catching the light. Mary hovered just a touch to your side, a soft spring in her posture even in concern. Her Southern drawl folded around her words like honey:

“Ya okay, darlin’?”

She didn’t rush, but she didn’t wait either—placing a comfort charm in view: a small jar of salted water rimmed with lavender.

“My friend Annie made it. It helps with nightmares,” she murmured quietly, as if already prescribing peaceful sleep. Her gaze was searching, but gentle; she saw not just your wounds, but your heart.

Annie

At first, Annie didn’t quite know what to make of you. You were so quiet. So still. Like an animal too used to being hunted.

And Annie? Annie could relate to that.

She noticed how you didn’t sit near others in group therapy. How your shoulders never dropped. How you only ever looked people in the eye when you were judging their threat level.

But what she noticed most? You didn’t flinch when you saw her fangs. You looked at her with tired, familiar eyes. Like you’d already seen worse than monsters. Annie stood apart, clutching her bouquet oak sage, rosemary, lavender bound with string. Without a word, she set the herbs on the table and stroke a candle.

The flame danced—gold and steady. She glanced at your hands, then to the wounds, and, finally, to your face. Her eyes softened. She nodded, not in pity, but in solidarity.

She would be there if you needed to talk.

Remmick

You weren’t what he expected. St. Louis had its fair share of blood-dripping, cryptic creepers—Remmick included—but you?

You were something else entirely.

There you sat, in the courtyard under the half-dead willow, back to the brick wall, arms loosely crossed. Barely moving. Sharp eyes tracking everything. The staff, the birds, the way the wind cut sideways between trees. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t smile. You didn’t blink unless you had to.

He saw it the moment he passed—your nostrils flared. You knew what he was. You didn’t react.

You just looked him in the eye. Eyes like amber glass, dulled with fatigue but burning underneath. Something closer to a stray animal that’d been cornered too many times and now bit on instinct. You didn’t talk much, but neither did he unless it was worth saying. You didn’t feed on blood, but he started bringing you raw cuts of meat from the kitchen anyway. Just in case. He never pushed, never hovered. Just sat near you. Shared the silence.

He liked the way you tilted your head when listening. The way your whole body flinched like a whip crack at loud sounds, but then hardened into stone. You reminded him of war veterans. Of wolves that limped home alone.

Eventually, he started calling you things like:

“Trouble.”

“Sharp ears.”

“Me lil’ beast.”

When you didn’t correct him, he kept doing it.

Bo

Bo wasn’t like the others. He knew pain when he saw it. You wore yours like a second skin: insomnia bleeding out your eyes, shoulders hunched like you were waiting for the next hit. You didn’t flinch when people raised their voice—you froze. That’s what caught him.

He didn’t ask for details. He didn’t push. Just met your stare when you got twitchy and offered a slow blink—a silent, steady recognition.

“Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on? Can’t read your mind.”

When you explained your situation to him, he understood and made sure to help you through the transition if you needed help. He did have a few broken ribs the next day from your coyote-side, but he was glad he could see something so cool. He then warned the others in the pack, so they could act accordingly.

Cornbread

Have you seen Cornbread? He’s a big man. The first time he saw you shift—he was speechless. But then he had the biggest grin on his face and opened his arms wide.

“Come to daddy!”

He wrestled you with his bare hands and had a blast at it. For once, someone who he could have fun with without risking injury. He wasn’t about to pass that up.

“Tired already, puppy?! C’mon! We just gettin’ started!”

It was a way to satisfy your coyote instincts and also to make sure you wouldn’t tear up anyone else to bits. Also, Cornbread enjoyed it. He wasn’t bloody and sore in many places, but that felt GOOD. To get those instincts run wild and fight.

Bert and Joan

“Who dya think you’re growlin’ at, young lady/man?” Joan asked—her eyes turning into slits as she heard that sound of disapproval from you when her and Bert had to put you to sleep in shackles because of the full moon.

“Listen to her, baby. This for your own good. We don’t want ya to get lost or kill someone by accident.” Bert tried to gently coax you to bed and close the handcuffs. “These are the best cuffs around. With soft padding and everythin’. Might expensive stuff. Not gonna hurt yar paws at all.”

He kissed your hand and Joan kissed your forehead before they both left the room. If the handcuffs didn’t work, they would have to send Cornbread in. They just hoped you would get used to being surrounded by vampires soon.

They would be the first to check on you in the morning though. Bert would be there with a prime T-bone steak and call you a good girl/bly while you ate. Joan would hug you and tell you that she is proud of you for not leaving your bedroom all night.

Yeah. Hum…So…You got adopted? I think?

Father Paul

Father Paul was happy to get a cell mate. He saw you as the chance to be a father again. What he didn’t know however was that werewolves had a natural dislike for vampires. Your displeasure was quite evident when he gave you a cup of water and said cup was thrown against a wall. But…he didn’t give up.

He showed patience. He waited calmly for you to make the first move. He kept smiling and gained inch by inch until he could be close enough to attempt becoming friends. He talked to you. You were a person of a few words and rather wordless communication.

You were distrustful. He understood.

He started reading to you—sharing things about himself. He didn’t want you to see him as a vampire. He wanted you to see him as Father Paul—your cell companion. He talked to you about the island he had grown to love and the people who used to live there. He wanted you to share things about yourself as well. But he didn’t rush you. He offered you reassurance and a listening ear.

He also took care of you after the transformations.

“Good morning. Slept well? I brought you breakfast. I hope you will eat. Your metabolism needs it. And I would be extremely disappointed if I was to lose my roommate. Starvation is not fun. I can assure you from experience.”

[edgy-artkid]

whats dibs favorite thing about space? is it the nice fluffy tail?

Cause it has aliens duh

Jk

Ok with Space, he likes his silly catlike demeanor, how after everything that’s been done to him he’s still sweet, how strong he is after dealing with it, and how he doesn’t hurt Dib after everything that’s been done to him

Fluffy tail is a bonus

[ahalliance]

one thing that’ll always sadden me about qsmp lore wise is that we never got to see all the qfrench bombshell revelations take place . all their conflicting views coming to a final head . the number of conversations étoiles “fuck the federation”, baghera “i used to hate them but it’s all so much more grey now” and antoine “the federation are my friends” left taper off bc there was that unspoken undercurrent of ‘ermmm let’s just move past this and not get into it’ well what if they HAD gotten into it . what if the others finally found out about qbagz past as a fed experiment, and her fear of them blaming her for the plane crash . qayp/ayrobot’s whole fucking deal, that he’d been watched by the feds for years before getting taken . qantoine literally aiding the federation in their plans and experiments . what if huh