#ship oneshot

[rosietrace]

『 Sapphire set 』

Characters: Victoria Shard, Isfrid Aneira(@windbornearchon), Astrid Aneira(@starry-night-rose)

Mentioned: King and Queen Aneira, Zenith Devi, Malleus Draconia, Vil Schoenheit, the former Diasomnia housewarden

Pairing: Victoria Shard x Isfrid Aneira

Synopsis: Isfrid was alone once Astrid took up a bit of space in the dancefloor. And all of a sudden, she's captivated by the woman Zen mentioned to her - Sapphire eyes and all.

Warning(s): Potentially ooc, Isfrid was the original housewarden of Diasomnia before Malleus, Victoria was intended to be Pomefiore's housewarden until Vil showed up, implied unrealistic expectations from Isfrid's parents

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblog > Likes ]

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

↳ Victoria Shard, the beautiful manipulator

Isfrid looked around awkwardly. She didn't know what else to think about when it came to noble gatherings - Other than pure dread.

Something about the intermingling of people who she never fit in with… Never sat right with her.

Yet here she was, dressed in black and blue, makeup and hair styled to perfection. All while being the equivalent of a wallflower.

At the very least, Astrid was there for her to lean on for support.

“Yeah… These types of things? They're both really boring or really fun,” Astrid suddenly said, trying to lighten Isfrid's slightly sour mood.

Fortunately, that got a chuckle out of Isfrid. “Yeah,” she replied. “At the very least, there's chocolate.”

Astrid's eyes gleamed with excitement at that revelation. “Yup! Oh, don't worry, sis, this'll be a blast!”

“Heh, I hope so, Atti…”

The two began to talk to one another. If not to pass the time, then to avoid speaking to the other nobles - Particularly other royal children.

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

Alas, Astrid wanted to take a chance and make a run for the dance floor. Yet at the same time, she didn't want to leave her sister to her own devices.

Isfrid gave her an assuring smile, telling her that it was okay if she wanted to dance. Though she was a little hesitant, Astrid didn't wanna push further and potentially make her sister uncomfortable.

So there she went, to the dance floor.

Leaving Isfrid close by, yet feeling so far away.

Isfrid felt a smile on her lips as she watched her little sister dance. Oh, how she wished she could join her.

But alas, she couldn't. Too many eyes watching, too much weight on her shoulders from the expectations of her parents - Her father, most of all.

Suddenly, in the corner of Isfrid's eye, she caught the sight of someone.

That someone happened to be enough for her face to go warm.

Victoria stood opposite to Isfrid in the room, having what seemed to be a lighthearted conversation with both her father and Isfrid's dorm mate, Zenith Devi.

Based on her appearance, Isfrid very quickly connected the dots and knew that she was the best friend Zen had been going on about with her for quite some time.

She couldn't feel the warmth on her face disappear as she looked at her. Shimmering silks adorn her body, a mix of indigo and purple for her hair.

And her eyes. If anything, those eyes were the most captivating feature of Victoria. Something about the sparkle of her narrowed, sapphire-colored eyes….

It entranced Isfrid. Rightfully so, really. She knew that ever since Zen mentioned that he was her best friend, the Victoria he spoke of was indeed Victoria Shard.

The young woman who had been proclaimed ‘society's villainess’ shortly after her debut to society at sixteen.

Isfrid pursed her lips. Why…. Why won't this warm feeling fade already…

She allowed her thoughts to take over, completely unaware that Victoria began making her way toward her.

“Excuse me?”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice jolted Isfrid out of her train of thought. And when she turned to face the source, she couldn't help but feel her lips part and her eyes widen.

Victoria Shard herself, right in front of her.

“O-Oh-!” Isfrid stammered, backing away a bit. “I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't-”

“No, it's alright,” Victoria placed a hand over her hip. “You were simply lost in your thoughts. I just pulled you out of it.”

Awkwardly nodding, Isfrid began trying to figure out what to say next. That is, until Victoria extended a hand to her.

“Victoria Shard, a member of Pomefiore,” the young woman in question extended her other hand towards Isfrid. “But then again, knowing Zen, I wouldn't be surprised if you already knew that.”

Laughing awkwardly, Isfrid took her hand, gently shaking it - For fear that if she grasped it too tightly, she'd freeze her hand.

“He's quite a joy to be around, if you ask me,” Isfrid replied, feeling a little more confident in her response. “Isfrid Aneira. Though I suppose you already know that.”

Victoria smiled, nodding in response as she pulled her hand away. “Indeed. Zen's told me quite a bit about you.”

Flinching slightly, Isfrid tilted her head. “Really?”

“Yes,” Victoria replied bluntly. “He told me you were also Diasomnia's housewarden before Draconia came into the picture.”

Remembering what had gone down during her second year, Isfrid looked away, nodding slowly. She felt herself shrink in on herself at the mention of that.

“Yes….” Isfrid responded. “I was.”

Humming softly, Victoria stood next to Isfrid, positioning herself in a way that allowed her to look at the waltz that occurred in front of her.

“I was meant to be Pomefiore's housewarden, actually,” she said suddenly. She wasn't sure why she'd bother to tell Isfrid this, but there really was no going back, was there?

Isfrid looked back at her, somewhat surprised. “You were?”

Victoria nodded curtly, her expression utterly unreadable as she watched the dancing in front of her.

“To be Pomefiore's housewarden, you must make an incomparably deadly poison,” she stated something both she and Isfrid already knew. “And…. Well…. I came to NRC much earlier than Vil did. About two months early.”

At that time, Victoria would've been the top candidate to be the housewarden. Isfrid knew that much from what she said, at least.

“But then….” She allowed her voice to trail away from her sentence. Isfrid looked at her, a hint of sympathy in her eyes - Well aware of what she was to say next.

“Then?”

Victoria sucked in a sharp breath. “Then,” she continued. “Vil showed up.”

“In no time, there was a competition between the two of us. We'd both make our own poison, and the housewarden at the time would judge them based on how long it took for the poison to kill a rat.”

Isfrid listened intently, watching Victoria as her head soon hung low. “.... Vil killed that rodent the moment his poison dripped into its tongue.”

Beside Victoria, Isfrid's eyes softened so much more. She knew that feeling - The feeling of feeling like you're worthy of something when suddenly it slips away from beneath you the moment someone ‘more qualified’ shows up.

She felt her hand reach toward her but decided against moving closer. Both Isfrid and Victoria knew: That wouldn't be what would bring her comfort.

Isfrid pulled her hand back, an awkward silence following suit.

Until, surprisingly, it was Isfrid who spoke up.

“.... I can understand how you must've felt,” she said. “That same year, I lost my position as housewarden.”

Victoria didn't know how to respond to that. At least, at first. “.... You lost it to Draconia.”

Isfrid didn't need to know if she was looking at her for her to nod in response. “Yes,” she looked at her gloved, ice-cold hands. “I knew I didn't stand a chance. Of course, I didn't…. Anyone would've preferred Malleus Draconia over some princess from a small, almost unknown, kingdom.”

For some reason, Victoria didn't like the way Isfrid talked down on herself like that.

“I see,” she replied. “.... If I may say, I'd have preferred it if you remained as Diasomnia's housewarden.”

That… Bewildered Isfrid. She turned to Victoria, eyes slightly wide, confusion filling her expression. “.... You would?”

For a brief moment, Victoria smiled at Isfrid. “Yes. If anything, I heard that Diasomnia was thriving before Draconia took your place.”

Isfrid felt her face warm up all over again. “I-I wouldn't say it thrived-”

“Oh, by all means, it thrived,” Victoria interrupted her, fully confident in what she was saying. “I haven't seen a Diasomnia student so eager to see their housewarden as an equal since Draconia took your place.”

She sighed in disappointment. “Nowadays, not even your own dorm mates want to go near Draconia. It's quite pitiful if you ask me.”

That got a stifled laugh out of Isfrid. “Well, you… Can't exactly blame them,” she felt a little more confident in herself. As if just by being around Victoria, she could be honest in what she was saying - With no hesitation.

Victoria chuckled. “I feel as though just by being around Draconia, everyone wishes to run and flee.”

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

As the night went on, their conversation went for far longer than both of them had originally intended.

Not that they minded, of course. Never was that the case.

Isfrid felt at ease around Victoria. It was strange, really, feeling at ease around someone who she barely met more than an hour ago.

But, at the same time….. She felt comforted by her presence. Captivated by her to the point that all she could seem to think about, was to stare at the set of sapphires that donned the sockets of her eyes.

That was until Isfrid and Astrid had been called over by their mother and father. Told that they were returning home.

Slightly disappointed, Isfrid looked at Victoria, who had understood that she was leaving, and nodded. They both waved goodbye as Isfrid and her sister walked back to their parents.

In doing so, however, they both heard the sounds of murmuring among the guests. One of them, in particular, wasn't as loud as the rest.

“I can't believe she's meant to be the future Queen of Aneira…. If you ask me, the kingdom would do so much better if she was never born-”

As soon as they finished their sentence, the gentleman in question soon had wine dumped above their head from behind them.

The one who did that was Victoria. Isfrid knew she wasn't in the legal drinking age, so she assumed that the wine was for her father.

“Y-You-!!” The man cut themselves off once they realized who dumped the wine on him.

Victoria sent them a cold, calculating, look. “Me? What, at a loss for words?”

In most cases, she'd have been dragged out if the man was above her in title and general status. But based on his appearance, that clearly wasn't the case.

Victoria sighed in disappointment. “Gods….. And this wine was for my father,” she looked at the wineglass pitifully before looking behind her - presumably at her father. “I'll fetch you another glass in a bit.”

She turned back to the man who had belittled Isfrid, eyes narrowing. The man tried to retaliate by doing the same, but soon bordered on cowering when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hm. That's what I thought.”

She gave Isfrid and her family a look. Soon, she sent them a polite look, curtsying.

“I apologize for such an inconvenience, your majesties,” Victoria lifted her head, sending a soft look at Isfrid, making her blush slightly.

She soon stood straight, giving Isfrid a brief smile, before walking away. From where she was walking, Isfrid knew she was fetching more wine for her father.

It didn't take long for Isfrid to be dragged out of the ballroom by Astrid - Lest their father scolded her for taking so long.

That night, Isfrid knew that as she stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom…

Eyes like Victoria's aren't as common as they once were.

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

Taglist

🥥 @windbornearchon @starry-night-rose @nem0-nee @authoruio @sakuramidnight15 @fumikomiyasaki

@geminiiviolets @grandi-flora @revolllutionary @oseathepebble @twsted-princess @celiica @vivaresmala @vaporvipermedia @spadecentral

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “friends don’t look at friends that way” prompts

“Your mouth says you don’t like me but the way you stare at me tells me everything I need to know.” 

“Stop staring at me like that, it’s making me feel things I don’t want to feel.”

“Your eyes are always on them.” “…Are they? I haven’t noticed.”

“You’re being very unsubtle with your heart eyes for them.” 

“You look like you want to devour them.” “Shut the fuck up, that is so not true.”

“Why do you always look at me like that?” “Like what?” “Like you… Want me.” 

“You staring at me like that is giving me false hopes so I’m going to need you to stop.”

“So like… Do you like them or something?” “Why would you think that? How could you think that?” “Because you keep staring at them like you’re in love or something.” 

“Stop eyeing them like they’re a piece of snack, you fucking weirdass.” “The fuck? I do not do that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t help but stare at you because you’re just so…” “So…?” “Breathtaking. You’re breathtaking.”

[wasyago]

old men

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 

Not of his own free will, anyway. 

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 

"Hey, language!" 

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 

His best friend was going to fucking freak. 

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!” 

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 

He came up empty. 

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 

He got a flat stare back. "No." 

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 

Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 

 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 

How silent his normally loud house would be. 

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 

 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  

 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 

"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 

"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 

Bonus: 

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 

"That was different. I was discovering myself." 

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 

"I hate you." 

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 

[ithinkabouttzu]

TXT reaction to having a s/o way shorter than them

Genre: Romance, fluff

Warnings: None

Description : Txt reaction to having a s/o (you) being way shorter than them

a/n: Sorry if this is short yall, (see what i did there lol) but this one is for all my short baes! really just all of y’all bc TXT boys are TALL

******************************************************************

Yeonjun

- man thinks your so cute

- Literally it hences out his protective mode when he’s with you

- Like if someone hurts you? oh they’re dead

- okay one day, he heard a loud bang in the kitchen, he went to go see what made the noise and he just sees you on top of the counter, clearly struggling 😭

- And he’ll just be like, “Do you need some help y/n?” and you’re just like “NO” bc you know he’d bring it up later if he helped

Soobin

- The height difference between y’all OMG

- Of you need him to get something for you that’s too high for your reach, he will be so happy to help

- He gets butterflies like crazy when you look up at him

- You’re his plain out weakness, you’re just so small and cute it’s so hard to say no to you like ever

- i think the height difference makes him feel so much more confident bc he’s just more comfortable around you in general

Beomgyu

- He’s a teaser

- loves how tough you are despite your height LOL

- When you guys start to playfully banter with each other he just HAS TO bring up your height

- can’t take you serious when you’re mad

- but just know, if someone else is mean or says something rude about your height, he will COME for them

Taehyun

- Doesn’t like to bring up anything about you’re height, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or something so he just doesn’t talk about it

- but heFinds you so precious

- Tries to be so gentle and soft around you

- He loves how he can just pick you up and hold you 🥺

- lowkey he kinda has a problem babying you sm LOL

Huening Kai

- HIS ADORABLE S/O

- Just wants to pick you up and smother you with kisses

- admires you when you aren’t looking

- he likes to watch over you, he hates when you get hurt

- doesn’t like to make a big deal abt the height difference but sometimes he just can’t help it

[webslinger-holland]

Best Pilot in the Galaxy | Tech from The Bad Batch

Summary: During a mission, Tech has a hard time allowing his ship to be driven by someone else.

Warning: slight angst and argument

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader Pilot

Type: Oneshot

The Marauder was sitting on a world in the Outer Rim called Cassander. It was a lush, green planet with a few major bodies of water. However, most notably, the planet was growing in population and had recently become Ord Mantell's most competitive trading rival.

The ship was nearly empty, except for a singular pilot sitting in the cockpit. She was not the rightful owner of the ship, but had been assigned this mission with the group of rouge clones that did own the ship. The squad was located somewhere in the capital city nearby, attempting to steal the package in which they had come for. The pilot waited patiently for the pickup call.

Now, the pilot had been waiting for nearly two hours for the call to come through the comms. She did everything she could think of to pass the time, which included rummaging through the squad's belongings. Though she didn't find anything of value.

The gonk droid made a noise as he waddled into the cockpit. The pilot went through the ship's log, seeing all the planets the squad had recently visited. Their last stop happened to be Ord Mantell where they were assigned this mission in particular.

"Y/n! Come in," Hunter's voice sounded desperate over the comms. She quickly jolted forward in her seat, pressing the button to relay a message back.

"Read you loud and clear," Y/n responded. She began clicking buttons on the control panel, preparing the ship for liftoff.

"We need a pick up. We've been compromised," Hunter explained. He was panting on the other end of the line, which probably meant they were running.

"What part of stealth mission is so hard to understand?"

"Just hurry. We don't have a lot of time. They're sending air support," Hunter warned her.

"Oh great," Y/n scoffed sarcastically.

"I'm sending you our coordinates," Tech interjected over the communications.

As the Marauder departed off the ground, the landing gear retracted back into the ship. The wings moved downwards as the ship was angled towards the sky. The engine roared to life; the ship began flying towards the rendezvous location.

The workers from the trading post were shooting their blasters at the criminals running away from them. They tried to keep up with them, firing relentlessly as they got away with some of their own goods.

It was Wrecker, Hunter, and Tech who were carrying the heavy cargo in the form of a shipping container. Normally, it would take four guys to carry the cargo, but since Wrecker was so strong, he was able to carry the left side without help. Behind them, Echo and Omega fired shots back at the workers. They covered them as the rest ran as fast as they could.

"Whatever is in here, it better be worth it." Wrecker grunted, dodging the blaster fire.

"As long as we get paid," Hunter responded.

The small squad continued running through the vast forest, maneuvering around trees in hopes of using its coverage to their advantage. They came into a clearing with the workers getting closer each second. All of the sudden, a cliff came into their view which caused them to halt in their place.

"Where's our ride?" Echo asked desperately. He peered around his shoulder with his gun still raised.

"There!" Omega pointed into the sky.

The Marauder rounded the corner of the mountain, coming into their line of view. It flew over to the edge of the cliff to meet them. The ramp lowered to hover right by the cliff, allowing the squad to climb aboard the vessel.

The blaster fire was beginning to hit the sides of the ship. The squad fired back, striking a few of the workers down. Once everyone was aboard, Hunter slammed the button on the side of the wall so the ramp was lifted.

"That's everyone," Hunter shouted. "Get us out of here!"

"Roger that," Y/n said.

Pulling a lever, the thrusters sent a powerful volt back which propelled the ship forward rapidly. By steering the ship, Y/n directed the ship back into the mountain range. She could hear the air support coming up behind them. She took a sharp turn to deter them.

The sharp turn caused each member of the squad to loose their footing and grab something nearby to steady themselves. Carefully, Tech quickly made his way into the cockpit. He leaned over the back of the pilot's seat, resting his hand on the panel for support. He hadn't taken the time to remove his helmet.

"That is sufficient," Tech announced to the pilot. "I'll take it from here."

"A little busy here," Y/n stated instead. She turned the wheel to the left, taking another sharp turn which made everything in the ship turn that way. And Tech ended up leaning a little into her.

"Wrecker," Tech ordered. He moved to sit in the co-pilot seat which was where Echo usually sat. "Get to the tail gun."

There were at least six smaller ships following them at this point, firing as many rounds as possible. The Marauder swayed to the left and right, expertly dodging each blast aimed at them. In the tail gun, Wrecker got into position before firing back at the ships. He managed to hit one of them, but it wasn't enough to bring the ship down.

Back in the cockpit, Tech began pressing a few buttons on the control panel. The pilot glared at him through the corner of her eye, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. She maintained her grip on the sides of the wheel.

"Transitioning controls back to co-pilot," Tech announced. He went to press the final red button, but she swatted his hand away. "What are you doing?" Tech demanded an explanation.

"I know how to fly," Y/n said through gritted teeth. Her eyes were still facing forward as she focused on the task at hand.

"I never said you didn't," Tech informed her. "I am simply stating that I am ready to transition controls back to me as I am more capable of flying this vessel than you. It is my ship after all," Tech said as a matter of factly.

Hunter rolled his eyes in the background. He knew it was pointless to argue over the comment.

"You weren't hired to be the pilot for this mission," Y/n argued back. "I can get us out of this."

With that comment, one of the blaster fires struck the right wing which caused it to catch on fire. The two of them peered out the window, spotting the trail of black smoke falling behind the hit.

"You were saying?" Tech replied. He gestured to the damage done to his ship. She rolled her eyes at him.

A few more ships began trailing behind them. They began firing more shots towards them. There was no way one ship could take the whole fleet down.

"Uh guys," Wrecker announced from the tail gun. "We've got more incoming."

Ignoring the comment, Tech quickly transitioned controls back to his wheel before the other pilot could protest. He gripped the wheel harshly, moving the wheel to take a sharp left hand turn. The ship was forced to swerve around the side of the mountain; a few of the enemy ships crashed into the sides as a result. She switched controls back to her wheel, taking a right hand turn. The ship weaved around another mountainside.

Behind the googles of his helmet, Tech squinted his eyes in slight irritation. He changed controls once again. He quickly grabbed onto the lever, pulling it backwards so the thrusters gave another jolt of energy. Now they were flying a little faster.

Nevertheless, another blaster hit managed to strike the back of the ship. The Marauder jolted forward from the force of the blast. The two pilots lurched forward in their seats. The others continued to hold onto things for support.

"You aren't doing much better," Y/n replied snakily. She reached forward to press the button once more. She turned the wheel as far as she could, which caused the ship to completely turn around. She pulled the lever for the extra push.

"What are you doing?" Tech exclaimed. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Down in the tail gun, Wrecker began firing at the ships flying directly in front of them. With his expertise, he struck down three ships. Those ships exploded into a million pieces, fierce flames erupting around them. The Marauder flew through the fire without taking damage.

The enemy ships needed to turn around before continuing their chase. They quickly swerved their ships. Once the ships were facing the right way, the thrusters kicked in for that extra power. And the enemy continued their pursuit.

"I will only say this one more time," Tech's modulated voice spoke through his helmet. He turned to face her in his seat. His eyes looked angry behind his googles. "Relinquish controls now."

"Over my dead body," Y/n challenged him. She didn't take her eyes off him.

In the background, Hunter and Echo seemed to raise their eyebrows at the two pilots. They looked between them, half expecting one of them to cave in and go back to flying the ship. But neither of them faltered.

"Uh guys," Omega interrupted them.

Both of them directed their line of attention back towards flying the ship. With a quick maneuver, they managed to dodge the mountain they were heading straight for at the last second. A few more ships crashed into it.

"You're both going to get us all killed if you don't figure something out," Hunter shouted behind them.

Reaching forward, Y/n went to press a few more buttons, but Tech swatted her hand away this time. He went ahead and pressed his own buttons. He was punching in the coordinates for their destination.

"You are not the best pilot in the galaxy," Y/n claimed. She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. He kept putting in the coordinates.

"Hardly a measurable cause," Tech said with a roll of his eyes in annoyance.

"You haven't made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs," Y/n added. It was like she was insisting that it could be measurable.

"I have a theory that it can be done in twelve," Tech stated as a matter of factly.

"I highly doubt that," Y/n chuckled at the comment.

Suddenly, Y/n pressed the wheel forward with all of her might. The ship began to descend down at a rapid pace, shifting into a nose dive position. The ground was growing closer and closer with each second. The enemy ships following right behind them, firing non-stop.

Both Hunter and Echo were holding onto panels behind them. The force of falling forwards was pushing them back. They were unable to move.

"You have to pull up--" Tech ordered in a slight panic.

"Oh for the last time," Y/n shouted over him. "I know what I'm doing!"

At the last possible second, the wonderfully skilled pilot pulled the wheel into her chest so that the ship was pulled up. It was so close to touching the ground, but it missed it by a hair. The last two ships crashed into the ground, exploding suddenly and sending debris flying.

Now that the threat of the chase was finally over, Y/n could relax in her seat a little. The rest of the squad was completely silent, realizing that she had managed to get them out of the situation with little damage in the end. Beside her, Tech kept his eye on her since he was still angry with her.

The Marauder started to climb in altitude, shifting towards the edge of the planet's atmosphere. It finally passed through the atmosphere, flying through space. The stars throughout the galaxy sparkled as the planet grew small and smaller. It was now all behind them.

"Are the coordinates to Ord Mantell in?" Y/n wondered. Her voice was so much calmer now. Her shoulders slumped at her sides. But she refused to make eye contact.

"Yes. They are in," Tech informed her softly. His eyes softened behind his helmet. He studied her carefully, trying to figure out what she was thinking in that brain of hers. He quickly shook it off, directing his attention back towards the void of space in front of them.

Without thinking, Tech and Y/n went to reach for the lever to send them into hyperspace. Their hands grazed each other's with neither of them being any closer to the lever than the other. They both awkwardly pulled their hands away upon contact.

"I'm sorry," Y/n muttered under her breath.

He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for the situation they just came out of or the situation that just occurred with the lever. Nevertheless, she reached for the lever once again, pulling it back to send the ship into hyperspace.

Back at Ord Mantell, the Bad Batch went back to Cid's Parlor. They stood on the other side of her desk, having just delivered the cargo that she paid them to retrieve. She peered into the package, checking to make sure everything was there.

Behind the group, Y/n stood there in total silence. Her eyes were trained on the floor as she shifted in her place awkwardly. She waited for their boss to address them.

Beside her, Tech stood about an arm's length away. He glanced at her through the corner of his eye, taking note of her odd demeanor. He raised his finger and opened his mouth to say something to her, but he was rudely cut off.

"Looks like everything is here," Cid announced. She closed the cargo container. She began rummaging through her drawers, collecting the correct amount of credits to pay both parties.

Now Y/n went to take a few steps forward and made her way through the members of the squad. She stood in front of the desk. Her boss went ahead and placed a handful of credits in her hand.

"That is your cut," Cid told her. She handed the rest of the credits to Hunter. "And here is your cut. I'll call you when I have another job," Cid claimed.

There was a brief moment of silence in the room. Cid went to cross her arms over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at the company of six standing in front of her.

"You guys work well together," Cid said honestly. "You should work together more often."

In response, Y/n breathed a scoff under her breath. The boys turned their heads to look at her, slightly surprised at her reaction. She shook her head in denial.

"Yeah. Like that's ever going to happen," Y/n rolled her eyes at the notion.

Without hesitation, she spun around on the heels of her feet in order to head towards the door. She purposely bumped into Tech's shoulder a little too harshly. She left the room with the door closing behind her.

"What's wrong with her?" Cid scoffed. She looked at the rest of the squad for some form of explanation, but none of them said anything. "Fine! Be all quiet and mysterious. See if I care," Cid said.

By the time the Bad Batch left Cid's office, Y/n was nowhere to be found in the bar. They went to sit down at the bar so they could order drinks to celebrate another successful mission. They sat in complete silence, thinking about what transpired during the mission.

"Where do you think she's gone?" Echo wondered.

Though they never pulled missions together, the Bad Batch knew that the pilot worked for Cid and was stationed at Ord Mantell. They had seen her quite often over the past few months. They had grown familiar of her. And now they worried about her.

"The odds are that she returned to her flat," Tech explained. He pushed the bridge of his googles up to be more secure on his face. He kept his focus on his data pad.

"Probably," Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "But it's late. Which means it's dark out."

"Astute observation," Tech claimed sarcastically. He gave a single nod, but didn't take his eyes off his data pad.

"And she's walking back to her flat...at the edge of town...late at night," Hunter further explained.

"She will be fine," Tech stated. He knew where he was going with this. "She is always saying how she can take care of herself and doesn't need our help. Why would that change now?"

The other members remained silent. They turned their heads to take quick glances at one another. With a silent agreement, Hunter rose to his feet and went to stand by Tech. He roughly grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him out of his seat, much to his dismay.

"Go find her. Make sure she gets home safe. And apologize to her," Hunter ordered.

"I do not see why I have to be the one to apologize when I did noth--" Tech began. He was quickly cut off.

"Tech," Hunter said in a warning tone of voice. He crossed his arms over his chest, showing that he meant business.

"Fine," Tech said in defeat. "I will apologize."

With some hesitation, Tech grabbed his helmet and fitted it over his head. He began making his way towards the door of the parlor, leaving the rest of his crew behind. He walked through the deserted streets of Ord Mantell, passing a few shady people in the process.

Now Tech knew that she lived near the edge of town because she had once mentioned it during a conversation. Besides that, Tech really didn't know where to look and simply hoped he'd bump into her before she got home so he'd know she was safe. He passed by a few alleys, peeking through each one briefly.

The Marauder was parked in a hanger bay only a few blocks away from the parlor. Just as Tech passed by the hanger, he heard a familiar voice coming from his very own ship. He backtracked by taking two steps backwards. He peered into the hangar bay to glance at his ship.

Stepping into the bay, Tech tilted his head to the side in slight curiosity. The right wing of the ship began to move downwards until it lay completely horizontal. A few seconds later, Y/n began descending down the ramp with a toolbox in hand. She walked over to the wing of the ship.

Upon seeing her, Tech sharply inhaled. He felt the back of his throat close up and his shoulders tensed at his sides. He hesitantly took a few steps forward, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

Reaching upwards, Y/n placed the single toolbox onto the flat surface of the ship's wing. She proceeded to grab onto the wing before hoisting herself up onto it. She climbed to the center of the wing to assess the damage inflicted in the crossfire.

At this point, Y/n had no idea that he was also in the hanger bay with her. She opened the toolbox, rummaging through to find the right tool. The damage done to the right wing was a massive gaping hole with burnt edges from the fire. It would eventually need a panel welded to cover it up again. But for now, she focused on the internal repairs.

Thankfully, from the assessment, nothing major had been hit. A few bolts had gotten loose and a few parts needed to be replaced. She focused on that for now.

After grabbing a socket spanner, Y/n leaned down to place her arm into the gaping hole of the wing. It went so far down that her chest was practically pressed against the surface of the wing. She used the spanner to tighten some bolts.

"What...are you doing?" Tech decided to finally announce his presence. He stepped forward until he stood in the light coming from the opening of the hanger bay.

Upon hearing that familiar voice, Y/n only rolled her eyes to herself. She continued her work as she preferred to focus on repairs rather than on him. She grunted softly, making sure that first bolt was nice and tight.

"What do you want Tech?" Y/n wondered. She pulled her arm out of the hole to assess her work. She didn't even bother to glance towards him, knowing he would have sent her a look of disapproval for working on his ship.

Slowly, Tech began to lower his gaze to the floor. He contemplated his next words carefully, fighting the urge to lash out at her for meddling with his ship. He liked things to be a certain way and would have much preferred if he did the actual repairs. Now Tech didn't want to fight with her so he changed his approach.

"I analyzed that you left the parlor on your own and thought it would be better if I accompany you back home," Tech explained. She huffed at his answer.

"I've told you before," Y/n began. "I can--"

"Take care of yourself," Tech finished. He adjusted the lenses of his goggles though he still wore his helmet. He noticed how she fell silent. "Yes, I've gathered that much."

"Why are you really out here?" Y/n wondered. She went to lean down again in order to tighten more bolts.

"I...could ask you the same," Tech replied slowly. He honestly felt like this was the first civil conversation they had ever had.

"I wanted to make some repairs on your precious ship since it was apparently my fault," Y/n claimed. Her tone sounding a little harsher now. She tightened two more bolts in the process.

"That is not what I meant," Tech interjected. He took a step forward. He gazed up at her figure perched on the wing, attempting to reason with her. "I was...caught up in the moment. Shouldn't have said those things," Tech confessed quietly.

"Well, don't worry. As soon as I finish up these repairs, I'll leave and you'll never have to see me again," Y/n responded.

For some reason, Tech couldn't combat a response to her comment. He simply nodded his head understandingly. He lowered his gaze to stare down at the ground and allowed her to finish her repairs in silence. He thought for some time how he could fix this relationship since it wasn't his strong suit. Fixing things was more his style.

"Blast," Y/n's voice pulled him out of his train of thought. He glanced up at her.

The sleeve of her blue flight suit had gotten in the way of her repairs. She had rolled her sleeves up to keep the material out of her way, but the sleeves continued to fall back down to her wrists every time she placed her arm in the hole. She pulled back and rose to her feet.

Without hesitation, Y/n's hands flew to the top button of her flight suit. She began to undue the buttons in which she revealed the black tank top underneath. All the while, Tech studied her carefully as her nimble fingers worked steadily. His pupils dilated behind those goggles of his.

Upon reaching her waistline, Y/n had stopped unbuttoning and shrugged the suit off her shoulders. She tied the sleeves around her waist. She dropped to her knees to continue working without the distraction of her clothes getting in the way.

Slowly, Tech raised his hand to the side of his head and clicked the bottom to save the recording to the drive. He records everything and he was certainly glad he recorded that. He wanted to revisit the recording later for his own 'research' purposes.

"There," Y/n sighed. She sat back on her knees, wiping her dirty hands on the pants of her flight suit. "Repairs are finished."

Naturally, Y/n began to pack away the tools she used and placed them back into the box. She closed the lid of the toolbox, tossing it over the edge of the wing for it to land on the ground with a thump. She then proceeded to jump down off the wing of the ship, landing a little hard so her knees buckled slightly.

Just like she promised, Y/n had every intention of leaving the hanger bay so that they'd never have to see her again. She went to walk away, but just as she passed beside him, Tech reached out and grabbed her forearm. She halted in her steps.

Neither of them could look at each other. She felt his gloved fingers digging into her bare skin, but not hard enough that it would leave marks. She slowly turned to look at him, but he kept his head down.

"I...really came here to apologize," Tech confessed. When Tech lifted his gaze to meet her face, he saw how her eyebrows went up in slight surprise. It definitely caught her off guard.

"I see," Y/n thought about his words carefully. She shifted her balance from one foot to the other. "So all those things you said back on Cassander where just...what?"

He closed his eyes, seriously regretting everything he said. "Like I said earlier, in the moment, I was incredibly frustrated with you."

"Because I wouldn't give up the controls?" Y/n said flatly.

"No, because I recognize that my levels of dopamine are elevated when I'm around you and I distance myself from you in order to prevent that from happening,” Tech confessed before he could even stop himself.

But now, hearing what he just said, Tech quickly averted his gaze away from her. He was thankful to be wearing his helmet so she wouldn't see how bright his cheeks had gotten. He released his grip on her arm, letting it fall back down to his side.

For once, Y/n actually understood what he said. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at this sudden confession. She definitely did not expect him to blurt out his emotions that night, especially after their fight on the ship. She knew better than to tease him at a time like this.

"I-I don't understand why," Tech said rather sadly. That was the first time that he'd spoken those words out loud.

What broke her heart was the tone of defeat laced with his words. It told her that he'd been wrestling with these foreign emotions and thoughts for some time. He didn't know how to react around her and so he acted with defense. He pushed those feeling away, fighting against it.

Hesitantly, Y/n lifted her hands to the sides of his helmet. She went to remove his helmet slowly, revealing his face to her for the first time today. She tossed the helmet to the side without a care in the world, but he still refused to meet her gaze.

"You are probably repulsed by me," Tech began. "From the way I treated you and the words I said to--"

But Tech wasn't able to finish that sentence. Because Y/n had taken his face in her hands and leaned upwards to press her lips against his own. He froze in his place.

His eyes were wide open in surprise. His hands were elevated on either side of him because he didn't know what to do with them. He could feel the softness of her lips still against his own. Before Tech had the chance to process what was happening, Y/n pulled away from him.

The two of them were standing so close together; the chests being pressed against one another's. Their breath mingled as their noses bumped together once or twice. He glanced down at her lips because he wanted nothing more than to taste them once more.

His hands found their way down to her hips with one hand sneaking around her lower back. He pressed that hand into her back which brought her body even closer to his. She released a small gasp.

"Apology accepted," Y/n whispered to him. She played with the edge of the plastoid armor on his chest. "And I'm sorry for the way I acted towards you."

"Why cyare?" Tech wondered. He raised his hand to the side of her face, tucking a single strand of hair behind her ear. He held his hand against her cheek.

"I should have given up the controls. You are the better pilot and it is your ship," Y/n explained with a shake of the head.

"I am not the better pilot," Tech stated firmly.

There was a moment of silence between them. "I can't make split second decisions and calculations like you do when you're flying."

"Well, I've never done the Kessel Run." Tech argued back playfully. He smiled down at her. "At least, not in twelve parsecs."

"Fourteen," Y/n corrected him. "I did it in fourteen."

"Fine. Fourteen," Tech caved in.

Slowly, Tech tilted his head to the side and began to lean down with every intention of kissing her again. But the two of them were interrupted when someone cleared their throat over by the entrance of the hanger bay. The two of them quickly pulled apart and turned to face whoever had interrupted them.

The other members of the Bad Batch stood looking at them near the entrance of the hanger. It was initially Hunter who had cleared his throat to garner their attention; he stood with his arms folded across his chest just as a disapproving father would. Beside him, Wrecker and Omega were practically squealing with each other. They couldn't contain their excitement. And Echo averted his gaze in an awkward manner.

"Care to explain yourselves?" Hunter hinted. He glanced between the two of them with a playful smirk on his face.

"I think they finally confessed that they like each other," Wrecker interrupted. His words coming out louder than anticipated. He nudged Echo who stood beside him.

"You think?" Echo glanced at him.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Omega smiled at them.

Meanwhile, Tech quickly collected his helmet off the ground and placed it over his head once again. He hoped it would cover the blush creeping up his neck to his face. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of the taunting from his brothers anytime soon.

"Well boys. It looks like we got another member on our crew," Hunter said slowly. "Welcome to the Bad Batch."

[0anonnymouslyours0]

would u write abt like early seasons spence with a cute girly gf who is just obsessed with him🤭 i think it’d be so cute bc he just wouldnt be used to all that attention <3

like she’s constantly in his lap kissing him wherever she can!! baking him stuff!! making sure he eats before works bc lets be honest he probably forgets to do that a lot, always sending him little updates throughout her day whenever he’s on a case, always asking him things just so he can go on one of his cute rambles!!

yes! i love a super fem!reader with spencer! hope this is what you wanted :)

warnings; kissing , implied smut , fluffy stuff , readers very domestic

you of course love making spencer food! all the time he wakes up, ready to leave, when he finds a little container on the counter. filled with something you know he'll like, and a little note with a kiss in bright red lipstick on it.

if you're up at the same time as him, when he walks out of the the bathroom you're in the kitchen, cute little apron over one of his work shirts, cooking him something to eat on his way. a kiss on his cheek, food in his hand and he's ready to go.

the team loves you, so you regularly stop by to deliver whatever latest baked good you've made. waiting at spencers desk, as you watch his team rush into the kitchen to grab a piece, each mumbling about how good your cooking is.

you send spencer regular updates, photos of what you're doing, wearing, eating. he loves it. especially when he gets photos of the lingerie under your clothes...

when you and spencer start dating, he's not used to your constant doting at all, but once he gets used to it he absolutely adores you and all your habits. your just so extra, and he loves it.

when he comes home late from work, you always climb onto his lap as he sits in his office chair, nuzzling your head into his chest, just your little sleep shorts and top on. when spencers had a particularly rough day, sometimes he'll take you back to the bedroom, and take out his frustrations on you.

every friday night, if he's at home, you set up a little date night. cooking him dinner, and setting up the table all prettily. getting dressed up in something nice, lipstick on and hair done. picking out a book or movie to watch for the later of the night, until you fall asleep on the couch, tangled in each others arms.

spencer also finds that his bag is always packed in the morning, sometimes with a book you've picked out for him. his shirt and slacks always ironed and laid out on the bed, shoes polished.

spencer sometimes struggles with his tie, but you love to sit in his lap, fixing it up before he leaves for the morning, giggling as he squeezes your thigh.

eeeeeeee <3

[percyswhxre]

whenever anyone asks someone their favorite percabeth moment from the pjo series everyone’s always like “oh the underwater kiss for sure. it was so cute. idk how anyone could think otherwise!” and don’t get me wrong, it’s cute and i do love it , but if you ask me, i know that’s not gonna be my answer. i’m gonna say “definitely in the sea of monsters when annabeth hears the sirens and percy comforts her.” i mean, is nobody gonna talk about how genuinely sweet but heartbreaking that was? annabeth listens to the sirens and sees herself with a happy family and luke who never turned evil. that was all she wanted. and keep in mind, they’ve only known each other for about a year. so when percy goes up and just holds her while she cries??? so yes, that is my favorite moment in the whole dang series, not just between them.

[firstclassthot]

Otp prompt #80

Person A and B are skipping rocks at a pond, except B doesn’t exactly know how. Person A stands behind B and places their hands on top of B’s to teach them how to skip rocks.

[the-stardom]

“THAT'S MY ATTACK!”

Swap!Sans by AU Community (Popcornpr1nce)

Error!Sans by @/loverofpiggies

⸻

ErrorBerry my beloved

I remember how I used to ship this more than ErrorInk or DustBerry/MurderSwap

Now this ship is left on a shelf to dust... Until today!

⸻

BONUS:

[bawebye]

ok i think thats it see yall in 7 months

[rosietrace]

『 For you? Anything. 』

Characters featured: Victoria Shard, Victoria Le Fay(@starry-night-rose )

Pairing: Shard x Le Fay

Synopsis: Le Fay got stood up during her date. And it seems Shard came at just the right time.

Warning(s): Potentially ooc, Shard is referred to as “Regina”, getting stood up on a date

{ Apologies for any out of character moments }

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

Victoria sat there, impatient and disappointed. And no, this wasn't the Victoria of Pomefiore.

It was the one from Diasomnia. Victoria Le Fay, in all her prideful, confident glory, had been asked out.

And so far? It hasn't been going well for her.

That pretentious snail…. She thought, crossing her arms in annoyance as she felt a vein appearing on her forehead. To think, they'd leave me hanging like this…

She looked down at the ground, barely even bothering to touch the menu. The other people around her looked at her in both pity and slight amusement, depending on the person. Because they all knew what had happened.

Her date had stood her up.

And Victoria knew that as well. She uncrossed her arms, finally beginning to compose herself in an attempt to hide any signs of sadness.

She liked that guy. They were nice, handsome enough, and even went as far as to promise to pay for her meal during this date.

And yet they didn't come.

A waiter nearby soon approached. “Um, miss?” they called. “Have you…. Have you finally decided on what you shall order?”

Victoria pursed her lips, unsure of how she was to answer. She was hungry, sure, but…. There was that hope. That sliver of hope that, maybe, possibly, they'd show up.

As the waiter began growing all the more concerned, a voice was heard behind them.

“She'll have the pomegranate-based cheesecake.”

Both the waiter and Victoria turned to see who the source of the voice was.

Ah. It was the other Victoria, the one from Pomefiore.

Victoria would often call her Regina, in order to differentiate between her and the woman in front of her at the moment.

Regina looked at Victoria, raising an eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “Did you come here for nothing?”

A moment of silence passed between the two. The tension between them was so thick that the waiter between them would have cut it with a knife.

Even so, Victoria sighed, sending a nod. It was unclear if she sent it to Regina's way, or the waiter's.

Regardless, Regina sat across from her whilst the waiter wrote down Victoria's order. They turned to Regina. “And you, ma'am?”

Regina hummed, not even bothering to look at the waiter. “Vanilla and chocolate parfait.”

The waiter gave her a firm nod, writing down their orders before walking off.

Victoria tensed up, narrowing her eyes a little. “Why are you here?” she questioned.

Regina arched a brow. “Do you not want me here?”

“Wha- That isn't what I meant,” Victoria clarified. “I was just…. Surprised to see you here.”

Regina shrugged. “I can see why,” she said. “Let me guess: That date didn't go as planned?”

As surprised as Victoria may have been, she didn't bother to question Regina. Crossing her arms, Victoria allowed herself to slouch in her seat. “I'd barely call it a date.”

“Oh?” color Regina intrigued. “How come?”

Victoria huffed in annoyance. “He didn't even bother to show up,” she told her. The look in her eyes bordered between annoyance.

And hurt.

Regina noticed that, right away. She gave Victoria a look of pity. “Are you sure you're okay?”

There was genuine concern in her tone, so much so that it caught Victoria off guard for a moment.

“Hm. Of course, I am!” she feigned the confidence she had when she first entered the damn restaurant, moments before she realized: she got stood up. “You know me already, Regina, the great Victoria Le Fay isn't one to be so caught up over such frivolous matters!”

As soon as she said that, she knew - Regina didn't buy that little lie one bit. Manipulative as she may be, Victoria knew that Regina claimed to “uphold” one thing.

The truth. And what Victoria said, was far from it.

“Hey,” Regina called out, reaching out to place her hand on Victoria's. “You're lying. I know it.”

“Regina…”

“Victoria.”

“This isn't any of your busine-”

“I can't help you if you continue to lie about your feelings, Victoria,” Regina told her, letting go of her hand to fold her arms over her chest.

Victoria looked away. “This isn't any of your business.”

Regina sighed. “I know,” she replied. “I just happened to be at the right place, at the right time.”

“But….”

From the corner of Victoria's eye, she saw genuine sincerity filling Regina's eyes. “What I can do to help is to at least listen to you let out those frustrations you've been bottling up.”

It was ironic, to say the least. The girl who bottled her emotions the most is telling the girl who is most vocal about her opinions to do just that.

Still, Victoria was touched by her words and took a deep breath. “Fine,” she breathed.

And so, she told her everything.

▹ †𝆤࿙๋࿙࿚⊱【 ♛ 】⊰࿙࿚๋࿚𝆤†

That ended up being exactly what she needed. For someone, it didn't matter who, to listen to her voice her opinions with little to no qualms about it.

Regina was quite the listener. A couple of comments here and there, but mostly silent. Letting Victoria take the initiative as her words started becoming all the more frustrated.

And that frustration only revealed itself fully once Victoria had a flavorful taste of pomegranate cheesecake.

“I just can't believe they'd do such a thing,” she continued to complain, taking a bite of her cheesecake with very few complaints about its taste.

Regina hummed. “Yes, a rather ridiculous thing to do, indeed.”

“Admittedly…” Victoria trailed off. Regina stopped any words from leaving her lips, in order to patiently await what Victoria had to say.

“Admittedly,” she began. “I… Actually quite liked them.”

And that's what made it hurt more.

Giving her a look, Regina pursed her lips, possibly thinking of something to say to respond to that.

And she found that reply, almost immediately.

“I see,” she said finally. “I'm not an expert at this sort of thing… But I can at least tell you this.”

Victoria arched a brow, (im)patiently waiting for whatever Regina had to say to her.

“You shouldn't be too caught up on someone like them.”

Victoria became all the more confused. “Why are you so concerned about my feelings? You don't need to do anything for me..”

Regina chuckled so softly that Victoria felt her cheeks heat up ever so slightly.

“For you? Anything.”

Victoria flinched, but allowed Regina to continue with what she told her. In doing so, she attempted to shake off the redness of her cheeks.

“Besides,” Regina rested her chin on her hand, leaning against it while looking at Victoria with a gentle smile.

“Who knows? Maybe the person you're looking for could be right in front of you.”

But, you're the…. As her thoughts drifted elsewhere, Victoria felt her face heat up in realization.

Was…. Was Regina referring to herself?

To be fair, it wasn't like Victoria felt like she could complain about being with Regina. She was poised, beautiful, and intellectually advanced….

Oh. Oh.

Victoria was in love with Regina. Or rather, in love with Victoria Shard.

At that realization, Regina looked at her with a look of concern. “Victoria?” she called out to her, pulling her out of her train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Victoria remained silent, unsure of what to say next. Obviously, she couldn't just tell Regina of these recently realized feelings right then and there.

But….. Y'know what, that was a problem for future Victoria Le Fay.

Smiling, albeit a little more softly than usual, Victoria shook her head.

“I'm fine.”

♝•°•═════ஓ๑【 ♛ 】๑ஓ═════•°•♝

Taglist

🥥 @starry-night-rose • @windbornearchon • @nem0-nee • @authoruio • @fumikomiyasaki • @sakuramidnight15

@oseathepebble • @geminiiviolets • @twsted-princess • @revolllutionary • @celiica • @terrovaniadorm • @vivaresmala • @vaporvipermedia • @spadecentral

[10liver]

Bakugou was always the aggressive type, but you just do something to him that he can't explain.

Cw; Fluff, character POV, Fem!Reader

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

It all started the moment you walked into class, your soft demeanor, your resting soft natural look, your pink lightly glossed over lips. God, he couldn't help but fluster at the sight. You were so fucking stunning.

But would he ever admit it? No, not over his own grave.

Yet he'd always think it, especially since somehow, you got wrapped up in his squad instead of Deku's. How? He has no fuckin' clue. Just like with his heart, you managed to squirm your way into his "friend" group.

Even so, he'd always wish you'd switch sides and go with that damn nerd's group instead of his. Why? Because every single time he gets asked to hang out, you're there. You're there, overpowering every single one of his senses with your strawberry perfume. Every. single. fucking. time.

And even during class, you're there to disturb him with your damn strawberry scent. Because of course, you were swapped to sit next to him. Of course.

And of course, you were sometimes sat beside him during lunch. Why wouldn't you be? God, he can never catch a break, can he?

He doesn't know why you're so.. you. Nor does he know why you're fuckin' everywhere. And he doesn't know why he feels the way he does around you. But he wants it to stop. He wants you to stop. And that's why he's here, standing right before you with a deep scowl.

"Can you stop?"

"Wha?"

"Stop."

You just innocently tilt your head, obviously confused with this interaction. But did he care? Yes. But was he going to act like it? No.

"What are you talking about?"

He stayed silent, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he eyed your figure.

"Nothin' just stop coming near me, Damn it."

Turning on his heel, he walked away with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Whyd he say that? Did he hurt your feelings? Oh God, did he make you cry? Fuck. What's wrong with him?

"So.. you don't like me..?"

He froze mid-step with his eyes blown wide. What'd you just say? His head ever so slowly turned to glance at you over your shoulder.

He could feel his heart being wrenched out of his chest when he saw soft tears adorning your slightly chubby cheeks, barely ruining the soft faint blush of make-up as they dribbled down your cheeks.

"What?"

"You.. sniff, don't like me..?"

For once, he didn't know what to say. He didn't have any rude words of rejection stored away for you. He didn't have a stream of curse words at the tip of his tongue. He didn't have the urge to laugh in your face. The only thing he wanted to do was wipe your precious tears away with his thumb before giving you a soft kiss on your forehead.

"What're.. What.. Huh?"

"K-Kaminari said.. he said that you liked me like you like everyone, you just don't know how to show it.."

He could feel the veins popping out of his skull. He was going to blast him to the next state over, swear it. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be here crying. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be here having a dilemma on whether he should ignore you and walk away because he can't handle his feelings or walk up to you and hold you til' you stop crying.

God damn it.

The moment you lowered your head to look down at your feet, he was there in an instant, one hand splayed against the small of your back with his other on the back of your head as he pushed you forward into his body, embracing you in a warm, burnt sugar and caramel scented embrace.

You inevitably froze, your light sobs immediately ceasing as your arms dropped to your sides.

He didn't know what he was doing, or why he was doing it.

That's a lie. He knew what he was doing and why, but he truly didn't feel like it because whenever you were around, his conscious and train of thought flew out the window.

"Dumbass, I never said I didn't like ya."

"So you do like me?"

"I guess."

"Is that a no?"

"Fuck, yes, I like you damn it."

"..."

"I KNEW IT!"

The both of you flinched with him immediately pulling away from you as his head snapped to glance over his shoulder only to find his, and now your group of friends all cheering and dancing.

He felt his blood begin to boil. What's going on? Did they put you up to this? He swore he was gonna–

"Please don't be mad.. it wasn't fully their idea.."

The moment he felt your arms wrapping around his waist from behind, all the anger and aggression immediately disappeared, leaving nothing but a blank expression.

The things you do to him would actually literally drive him up the wall. He swore it. Which is why he turned around in your grasp and placed a warm hand on the small of your back once more.

"You're so fuckin' lucky you're adorable."

"Awwww.."

"Mommy sounded so cute back then!"

"Hell– Uh.. 'Course she was."

You giggled, watching as your now husband and pro-hero Dynamite told your kids the story of how the both of fell in love.

"Was?"

"Is. She is adorable."

"That's what I thought."

[unknownarmageddon]

Christ Alive

a kross oneshot. in which they go to a party cackles

based on the song skeletone by bones uk rental suits au belongs to me and @psycho-chair

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for two, maybe three, cars. It was dark, the only thing visible in the black murk past the washed out lights of the gas station’s overhang was the passing specks of car headlights. 

    Cross leaned on the elbow he held propped on the counter, tried to tune out the mediocre mainstream music playing distantly over the store’s speakers, and watched the only customer inside idle about the shelves. 

The lights buzzed. two of the fridges against the back wall flickered every so often.

      The door chimed as it was opened, and another stranger entered. They wanted 50 dollars’ worth on pump three. And a pack of cigarettes. The door chimed again, then they were gone. 

The lights buzzed. The fridges flickered. Everything was delved in a cool colored haze. 

     The last remaining person in the store bought two drinks. With the dinging of the door as they left, a father and two kids entered. They piled their spoils, a mound of snacks, onto the counter.

      There were several minutes of vacancy. Nobody in the store but him. It felt like an eternity, always did. Cross fiddled with the shelves behind him to waste time. 

Buzzing lights. Uneven churring from the slushy machine in the back. 

        The door chimed. Footsteps, sneakers scuffing on tile. 

Cross turned, and could practically feel the grin boring into him.

Him again. 

    He was leaning forward over the counter with his arms crossed in front of him. His jacket had obtained a few new stains, both red and black. The faint, electric sound of music played from the chunky maroon headphones around his neck. 

Cross felt himself grin for a moment. He couldn’t help it.

“Hey pretty boy.” He looked at Cross with deep dark sockets. 

“Killer.” 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Killer quipped. 

    He pulled himself up to sit on the back edge of the counter, still facing Cross. Cross furrowed his brows. 

“I told you to stop sitting on the counter.”

Killer hardly considered moving. His soul hummed like even it was laughing. “You’re gonna have to make me, sweetheart.” 

Cross knew that wouldn’t have worked. And he didn’t really care, not enough to force him. 

“You miss me?” Killer quipped.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Cross replied. 

Killer laughed. “I’m wounded.” 

     Cross turned back to the shelf, and Killer slid off the counter to stand next to him. 

    “Ya got any plans tonight? Other than the blast you’re clearly havin’ already.” Killer murmured, hands shoved the pockets of his jacket. The fabric of he and Cross’s clothes brushed as they just almost touched, they were that close.

When did Cross ever have plans? He shook his head. 

Killer’s grin got wider. Cross narrowed his eyes at him. What was he planning.

     Killer hopped back over the counter and headed for one of the fridges in the back. Cross leaned over the counter on his elbows to watch him. 

“Y’know, there’s gonna be a party tonight. At ten.” Killer jerked open the door and crouched, now partially obscured by the shelf behind him. His voice came to Cross echoed by the distance.

“Where?”

“Some guy’s place in town, I dunno, all I’ve got is the address. He was really talkin’ a big talk, I wanna see if he’s full of shit or not.” Cross could tell he was grinning. He had that kinda voice. 

“And you want me to go with you.” Cross responded after a pause. 

From the fridge Killer retrieved two energy drinks. He stood and the door was closed with a shove from his foot. 

“Exactly.” 

He hesitated, apparently for dramatic effect knowing him, and waited for an answer.

“…I’m not going.” 

“C’monnn, you gotta get outta this boring ass gas station sometime. Have an actual good time.” Killer pressed.  

“I don’t do parties.”

“How bad could it possibly be?” 

“I doubt I would miss out on much.” Cross responded.

“You’d never know. Unless you go.” Killer persisted.

       Cross didn’t respond after that. He stared at the tile in front of Killer’s feet, turning the notion over in his mind. He knew damn well that if Killer wanted something he’d find a way to get it, so he doubted how much good resisting would do. 

      Killer weaved through the aisles to the middle of the store, then went for the far back. He cracked one of the energy drinks. 

“When are you gonna start paying for those?” Cross called to him. 

“You think about that party, ‘kay, pretty boy? Think about it.” Killer called back instead and pulled the headphones on. He vanished among the shelves. Cross saw the top of the storage room door as it opened, then closed.

      Cross was left alone in the store again. The trickle of costumers came and went, and he worked on autopilot. His mind was occupied by the party and the loiterer in the storage room.

     His first reaction was to not go. And he trusted that reaction. All he knew about it was that it would be loud and crammed with people he likely didn’t want to be around. And that he wouldn’t know anyone but Killer. He didn’t think— no he knew it wouldn’t be worth it. 

     But who knew how well Killer would take that news. And he kind of had a point about getting out of the gas station. 

      Cross worked for three more hours. Occasionally he would watch Killer slink from the back to steal another energy drink or two, or a bag of chips. Cross pretended not to notice. Every time Killer passed the counter he would toss a smug grin at Cross. Meant only for Cross. The kind that loosely hid all the kinds of things he would say out loud if they were alone. Cross pretended not to notice those, too. 

        He would’ve stopped him, confronted him again for never paying for what he took. But Cross didn’t exactly want to be on the receiving end of that knife he flashed the night they met. And when Killer was around he had company, and the extra shitty customers never came back. It was a fair trade. So what if a few cans went missing here and there. 

        When Cross’s shift came to an end he left the counter in favor of the storage room. The smell of smoke flooded his nose the minute he pushed open the door. It wasn’t invasive, but it was noticeable enough whenever you walked in. It’d always smelled like smoke in here, after Killer showed up.

           The culprit sat on the floor in the corner beside the door. He had fully tucked himself into that corner, in the gap between boxes and freezers that lined a few of the walls. He had one leg propped on the other, and the magazine he held obscured his face. Cross could still hear Killer’s music blasting through his headphones even from where he stood. 

“My shift’s over. You gotta leave.” Cross greeted him.

Killer pulled the headphones down and looked up over the edge of the magazine. He hadn’t heard him.

“Shift’s over.” Cross repeated. 

The music cut off; the magazine was shoved under a shelf. “You got it, boss.”

He pulled himself to his feet and left his corner to push past Cross, who tailed him in return. 

     The gas station’s front door chimed for the last time as they exited out onto the pavement in front of it. It was cold, Cross zipped up his jacket. His breath clouded in front of him as he watched insects buzz around the precious glow of the station’s lights. 

     After a moment of standing he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around at the vacant parking lot, awkwardly awaiting for whatever Killer was going to do. He didn’t trust him enough to leave first. 

His eyes landed on him. 

“What time’s it?” Killer asked.

Cross checked his phone. “Nine forty.” 

      Killer hopped off the slight incline of the pavement and moved through the darkness. To Cross he became a raccoon you’d see outside your garage. So blanketed in darkness it doesn’t look much like anything at all. Except, his soul provided a red halo around his silhouette. 

“You comin’?” Killer called over his shoulder and stopped. It was more of a request than a question. 

Hesitation. Cross glanced to his left, then back at Killer. “No?”

“You scared, sweetheart?” Killer replied. He could barely see him, but again Cross could tell he was grinning.

“No.” 

“C’mon, just this once. It’s just a party. One time’s not gonna hurt anything.” He said. More firmly, sharply. 

Killer gestured with his head, nodding, beckoning Cross to come with him.

“You always say that.”

“Am I wrong? Let’s live a little. Nothin’s gonna happen.” He spread out his arms, turning on his heel to look back at Cross. 

Cross scowled doubtfully. He’s known Killer for long enough to at least know going anywhere with him didn’t have any guarantees of anything. 

    Killer slunk back toward Cross and grabbed him firmly by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him down so their faces were level. His face was warmed by Killer’s breath. Killer looked him over, then dead on. 

Killer huffed a laugh. “You’re scared.”

     Cross paused for a long time. A car alarm started from somewhere distant in the dark. Then it was quiet again. 

“We’ll take the truck.” He decided eventually, flatly.

      Killer’s eyes widened. He released Cross and ran for said truck, which was parked back in front of the gas station. It was small, old, and white; one of those trucks that didn’t have back seats, and the front was one long singular bench with seatbelts that just went across the lap. 

      Killer was grinning, exclaiming to himself, in his triumph. He had gotten Cross to cave, andthey were taking the truck. 

      Killer rapped on the truck’s side with his palm as he stepped along it toward the door. He tried the door prematurely, eagerly. It was still locked. Then there was a click as Cross pressed a button on the interior of the driver side door and the rest of the doors unlocked. Killer jerked his open to slide into the passenger side; Cross got in after him, with less enthusiasm. 

The key met ignition and the vehicle grumbled to life like an aged animal. 

     Its beige leather seats were long worn, its paint was chipped in spots, it was overdo for a wash, and its windows were dusty and still functioned on a crank, but it served its purpose. 

     They left the parking lot. Cross heard Killer fighting with the window beside him, but he eventually got it open. Cold air streamed into the cab. Killer leaned against the door with his shoulder out the window. His feet were kicked up onto the dash. 

    In front of the windshield, dangling from the rear view mirror, hung a silver pendant on a chain and a long-expired air freshener. 

With each imperfection in the pavement they hit the cab bumped. 

“What’s the address?” Cross asked.

     A slip of paper was dug out of Killer’s pocket and examined. He put his legs down. 

“Left, up here.” He pointed, the turn signal clicked in time.

“Go for a bit,” He said now. “Here,” 

“Right, past here and down that road,”

     They drove for a while, mostly in silence save for Killer’s directions and occasional quips or broken humming.   Sometimes the headlights of a passing car or a lone streetlight would illuminate the cab; otherwise it was dark. 

Killer pointed at the windshield again. 

They were here. 

      What Cross saw was the front of an apartment building, one a few notches nicer than his own. That building immediately set the tone for the whole party in stone in Cross’s mind. It was fucking intimidating. He shouldn’t be here. 

   He glanced over at Killer, who was already slipping out of the truck. Cross inhaled and followed. 

———

       Upbeat music he’s heard everywhere a million times blasted through the apartment. Talking, laughing, shouting, all joined it. Lights everywhere, sounds everywhere. So many people were crammed in this single space.

     Cross was made hyper-aware of the presence of the other guests. The way they were dressed, the way they held themselves. They belonged here, he didn’t.

      He became Killer’s shadow. He kept his arms tight to his side, his eyes trained on his feet and Killer’s stride. He followed directly behind him as his companion sauntered through the apartment.

       They collected a few stares. What a sight they must be, two stupid boys wading through somewhere they shouldn’t be, one with stains on his clothes and one in a plain black jacket he’s had since high school. One with oil flowing from his eye sockets, one with an old rusted pickup. 

          Cross liked to imagine the things they whispered to themselves as the skeletons passed. Exclamations of surprise, of judgement. Eyes glued. 

     But, in reality, no one said anything. No one heckled them. He even doubted that many people were paying attention to them. Even still he was all too aware. 

      Finally, he and Killer breached the thick of the waves. Killer was saying something to another guest as he handed Cross a plastic cup of red liquid, which he accepted without much thought. 

“Whad’ya think?” Killer asked Cross and leaned against the table. He gestured with his free hand at everything around them like he was showing it all off. He held his own beverage in the other hand, Cross clutched his with both. 

    Cross didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to think. It was loud. There were way too many people. He’d decide eventually, he thought. 

     Killer lifted his cup to his mouth, then paused and lowered it. He deadpanned at it. 

“This tastes like shit.” 

Cross half-laughed, Killer grinned. 

      They stayed at that table for the duration of three, maybe four, songs. Killer did most of the talking. Cross only listened, offering the occasional hum in agreement or comment. Killer would point out people in the crowd he found notable for whatever reason to him. Made jokes, teased, rambled about menial things. He complained about the music, but he still tapped his finger against his cup in time. 

       Cross kept searching Killer, trying to figure him out. He wondered if he noticed how out of place they were. Or if he cared. But then he thought about it more, and he doubted he did.

     The song changed; Cross didn’t recognize this one. It was slower, but not melancholy. Carried by a steady rhythm and smooth electric guitar. Like the pounding of rain on concrete at night. 

Killer glanced up. “Fuckin’ finally, something good.”

     He set his cup down and pulled away from the table. “Alright I’m tired of standin’.” 

He stood with his back turned a moment, surveying the crowd, thumbs jammed in his shorts pockets, before he swiveled to offer his hand to Cross. “C’mon, you gonna do me the honor?” 

    Cross retracted, set his cup down and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket like he was hiding them. 

“I don’t dance.”

Maybe he would, in any other circumstance. When there weren’t so many people.

“Fuck babe, what do you do?” Killer replied. The corner of his mouth ticked up. 

    He pulled back toward Cross to nudge him with his elbow like he was trying to push him forward. 

“Dude,” Cross laughed. 

“We’re at a party, you gotta dance at least once.” He argued. “It’ll just be me, don’t worry about them.”

Cross conceded. “Just for this song, alright?”

    Cross quickly learned that Killer didn’t know how to dance either. They devolved into a mess of movements, a tangle of limbs. Killer held a hand to Cross’s hip, Cross held one to Killer’s shoulder. Occasionally their hands would intertwine. 

      They exchanged steps off-rhythm. Killer was quick, Cross took strides to catch him. 

      Cross continued to be aware of the other dancers, even here. He couldn’t shake them from his mind. He wasn’t nearly as coordinated, and he had a habit of staying too stiff and rigid. But Killer had enough confidence for both of them.

       All Cross saw was the carpet, his eyes glued to their feet. Making his best effort not to trip. Or get stepped on. He risked a glance up at Killer’s face. He was grinning with the most actual enthusiasm Cross had seen from him tonight, and it became infectious. 

“You keepin’ up, pretty boy?” Killer asked, catching Cross and keeping him from looking back down. 

“You’re horrible at this.” Cross replied.

“And you dance like you’ve taken ballet since kindergarten.” Killer scowled, but his eyes were still grinning. 

     In the last remaining minute of the song they slowed, swayed, leaning into each other. They let the wave of other dancers surge around them. Killer hooked an arm around Cross’s neck, Cross laid his over his shoulders. Cross watched him, awaiting his next move silently. 

Killer took Cross’s left hand and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

Cross decided this party wasn’t that bad, at least.

          Killer’s song ended. They untangled. Cross followed Killer as he slunk over to the apartment’s kitchen, where refreshments were strewn over the counters. The nearby balcony’s door was propped open, and Cross lingered there in the opening. Cool outside air hit his back. 

       Now Killer was chatting up another guy at the table. Like he always did when they went out anywhere. As if out of habit. Cross disregarded them; all he heard was Killer say “is that a challenge?”.  He would’ve dwelled on it more, been more bothered, but he put his attention on everyone else. He scanned the crowd like he expected to be jumped. 

   Beside him Killer returned and he felt him press up against him. He knew he was grinning. His hand wandered Cross’s arm, then his back. He smelled like smoke. What was he after. 

Cross’s face grew warm. His shoulders tensed. But he averted his eyes, kept his focus on the crowd. 

     His gaze landed on one woman in particular, not far from the table. She was surrounded by her own group of people, but for some reason she was staring directly at him, both of them. With this look in her eye.

      Her lips, which were covered in a red smothering of lipstick, ticked down in a grimace. 

What a sight they must be. 

      A wildfire of anger burst up through Cross. His bones grew hot, like he was being burned by it. She made him so fucking mad. He couldn’t process why.

      She hadn’t even said anything. Not yet. But he knew she would. It was a matter of time, with the way she was  looking at them. 

     Cross searched her, trying to gauge her. He knew these kinds of people all too well. 

   He returned her look in a blank stare. In it, he silently poured out every bit of desire he had to wipe that look off on the wall behind her. He doubted he’d actually do something, though. It wasn’t worth whatever hell would come of it. 

Still, it leaked into his voice.

“Someone’s staring.” He said, quietly, and Killer retracted slightly.

      He followed Cross’s gaze. His grin fell. The soul in front of his chest flickered, becoming an unstable ever-shifting shape far from a circle. To Cross it resembled a star nearing on a supernova. 

      He wasn’t being nearly as discrete as Cross; he glared back at her with just as much anger. If not more. Like a dog with teeth bared. 

 His voice dripped venom. “I’ll deal with ‘er.”

     Cross’s companion pulled away from the table and over to the woman. Each step carried a buried intention, buried fury, with it.

Cross felt like someone’s gonna die. 

     Cross blinked and Killer was already in front of her. She said something to him, and he heard Killer shout back at her. He blinked again and Killer’s fist was flying. The woman’s head skewed to the side unnaturally, awkwardly. Then she fell to a heap on the carpet; A painted lady sprawled across the floor like a body bag. 

       She struggled to her elbows, coughed blood onto the carpet. The tease of a grimace became a full-fledged snarl. Her pretty prim lipstick was smeared. 

Cross didn’t hear anything. Hardly even saw anything but Killer and the woman. Only the pounding of blood in his ears and flashing lights in the corner of his vision. 

A needle of sudden anxiety, anticipation, stabbed Cross. Nothing good was gonna come from this.

If they hadn’t been before, everyone was certainly staring now. 

     The few nearest were on Killer like a pack of wolves to a carcass.

Someone was gonna die. 

       The surge consumed Killer. Shouting roared over the music. Cross barely saw him as he clawed, fought, screamed. Grinned. The suddenness of it all startled Cross out of his anger. 

     Two attackers were thrown back, blood streaming from their noses. Two more took their place. 

       At some point Killer’s jacket slipped,  leaving shoulders exposed. And one of his sleeves was torn now. Bits of bleach-white bone were visible like Cross was peaking through a break in the blinds. 

         For a moment, he just stood and watched. Watched Killer fight like an animal. Admired the fluidity of his movements. Stared into the flames. 

God,

He couldn’t help it. 

Maybe this is what he came to this dumb party for. 

       Killer got tackled by two guys much larger than him and Cross, simultaneously, was thrown into the mess by someone behind him he didn’t see. It was like he was in a hornet’s nest. It was confusing, loud, violent. He didn’t know what to do, how to do it.

        Somehow, he gathered himself and he and Killer managed to push back the swarm. Everything broke like oil and water, if only for a moment. 

        Killer now stood on Cross’s right, clutching his wrist tight in his hand. On the other, his left, was a smear of red lipstick. He held it curled in a fist. 

Cross’s magic pounded in his ears.

    There was a single heartbeat of still, then they were on them again, just as quick. They tore at them, stampeded over them. Except now Cross was in the middle of it. And at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. But he didn’t really, either. This was where Killer was. 

It became war.

     Like with dancing, Cross wasn’t as confident a fighter as Killer. And he doubted his skills. But he wasn’t harmless, he hoped. 

      He tried to stay close to Killer, to not lose him to it all. That became his only goal. To not lose Killer, and to survive. 

      Cross grabbed another guy by the shirt and pulled him off of Killer, then had to spin to push someone different back with a strike from the elbow. It was overwhelming, smothering. Everyone on every side at all times. 

        Occasionally he got glances of Killer as he would stumble backward, only to run back in, laughing. He never stayed in range of who he fought, always jumping in and back out. Circling, a wolf nipping at the ankles of an elk. But he hit hard, knew what he was doing. 

          Warm blood ran into Cross’s eye, obscuring his vision. He must’ve busted an eyebrow. 

         Even before that, his vision became blurred. All he saw were movements. He focused everything on not drowning. Where was Killer? He had lost sight of him at some point. But the thought was ripped from his mind as he sustained a kick to the back and staggered. He gritted his teeth and returned the hit, pushed someone he didn’t see long enough to identify away. He rammed someone else with his shoulder. 

      Then he took another, harder, blow. This time to the side of the head. He felt like his whole skull was jarred and he staggered again, almost falling this time. 

Someone grabbed his wrist. 

It was Killer.

     He ripped Cross from it all, fingers dug into his arm. Then they were running. He knew they were being followed. Killer shouted something. At some point they were in a stairwell, descending. Pounding in his skull was all he heard. 

Suddenly, cold night air.

They were outside. There was Cross’s truck.

       They ran to it and pulled the door’s open so hard he was surprised they weren’t thrown off their hinges. They were slammed closed just as hard.

       Cross stuck the keys in the ignition and turned as fast as he could manage. 

       Six remaining pursuers flooded from the apartment. They tried to follow, yelled curses and profanities. 

“Go, go, go!” Killer shouted.

“I’m trying!”

     They pulled out and ended back on the road. 

      Finally, things started to slow back down. But Cross still felt like he wasn’t there. He felt like he was still at that party, busting his knuckles on strangers out for his blood. He didn’t even feel relief yet, that they were in the safety of Cross’s truck now. He didn’t feel much of anything.

    The first thing Cross fully registered was Killer slamming his arm on the side of the door four times. “Holy shit!” 

He put his hand to his head. “Holy shit.” 

    He was making an expression Cross couldn’t read, or place. Was it excitement? Surprise? Detest? Fear? Maybe just adrenaline. He was grinning. But he always was. His eyes were wide. Like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster. 

Cross glanced at him again after checking the road. “You’re bleeding.”

He was, from the nose. 

“So’re you.” 

     Cross put a finger to his eyebrow and felt warm liquid. The wound stung, he just now noticed. He wouldn’t notice the rest of his pain until much later, when the adrenaline was out of his system. 

“Dude that was fucking insane.” Killer breathed. He almost laughed as he said it. 

“It was worth it, though.” He added. “God, getting to wipe that look off her face,” 

“Mm,” Cross hummed absently. Was it worth it? Part of him agreed silently. 

“Showed her. Fucking showed her.” Killer continued, mostly to himself.

      “You’re alright?” Cross asked, eyes pinned to the road. He still felt jittery. He hated having to sit here this long. 

“Oh, what, me? Yeah I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Killer replied. He wiped at his nose, then cleaned the remaining lipstick from his hand on his jacket. 

He was so… unaffected. Like this was an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it was. 

      Cross rubbed the blood from his brow again. It hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. He wondered how bad it was. But he didn’t check the rearview mirror for his reflection. 

He felt Killer’s eyes on him.

“It’s a look, y’know.” Killer quipped. 

Cross laughed quietly. “What, having dried blood on my face?”

      They drove in silence for a while. Cross’s soul was still pounding. At some point he collected himself enough to remember to put on his seatbelt. He listened to the occasional clicking of the turn signal and Killer’s mindless tapping. It grounded him, pulled him away from the party. 

“I didn’t know you could fight like that.” Killer said eventually. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.” 

“I was just trying not to get killed.” Cross responded dryly, like it was a fact. He hadn’t thought it was that impressive. 

Killer laughed. Even though it was the truth.

“Wasn’t too bad, either. I could teach ya a thing or two, though. If you wanted.” 

Killer offered with a grin.

Cross considered it just for a moment. “I think I’m fine.”

“Your loss. You think about it, ‘kay?” Killer replied. “I’d love t’see what you could do if you knew what you were doin’” 

Cross just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in a situation where he needed to know what he was doing.

      Killer leaned forward to start messing with the truck’s radio. He flicked through stations and static. 

“I didn’t expect that many people to come after us.” Cross said. 

“Yeah, god, it was like everyone at that party was pissed.”

“What’d she say? I saw her say something to you.” Cross asked.

“What d’you think? Some stupid shit about us. I dunno, I don’t remember.” Killer said, scowling at the radio. Cross knew he remembered, but he didn’t press. 

Killer eventually found a station he was satisfied with and leaned back. Now a loud, quick, shouty rock song Cross hadn’t heard quietly filled the background of the cab. 

Killer stretched out his arms. “Well, I’d consider tonight a success.” 

Cross stared at him.

Killer laughed. “Eyes on the road, sweetheart,”

———

        After what felt like an eternity they ended up at Cross’s apartment. Cross fumbled with keys to unlock the door and they stumbled inside. Everything was dark, lit only by the lights of the street and a standing lamp near the door Cross bothered to flick on as they entered. 

        The first thing Cross did was go for the fridge in the conjoined kitchen. It was mostly empty, but he found a cold canned drink and tossed it to Killer. He pressed it to limbs, to his face, soothing the bruises he had acquired. 

         He had a faint, dark ring around one of his eye sockets in the start of a black eye. Cross took his wrist and slowly, firmly, guided his hand to the socket. 

“You caused a lot of trouble.” Cross murmured, sighing, as he held his hand there. 

“You saw the way she was looking at us.” Killer replied sharply.

Cross retracted his hand, stood there to look at him. “Still,” 

“She was basically just askin’ for it, anyway. No one else was gonna do it.” Killer argued.

“I think I’m gonna have a headache for a week. Thanks to you.” Cross said, though he was just barely smiling.

“You’re welcome.” Killer grinned.

“Mm.”

          After, the can was handed back to Cross. It was just barely warmer, just barely flecked with blood. He pressed it to his own bruises, and to his eyebrow. The start of a headache stabbed at him. 

            Cross watched Killer as he fixed his jacket from where it had fallen off his shoulders. Just as closely as when he had watched him fight.

He felt both of them linger there, unsure. Awkward. Mutually asking “what now?”

“Well, it’s been a hell of a night, but I better be gettin’ outta here. I’m a busy man, y’know.” Killer said finally, flicking up his hood over his head. 

“Already?” Cross asked. 

Of course.

“Don’t worry, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy. I’ll be back.” Killer said, brushed up against Cross as he headed for the door, grinning up at him. He caught Cross’s hand and held it in his for just a moment. 

      ‘I’ll be back’ could’ve meant a myriad of things. Cross could see him tomorrow. Maybe in a few hours, even. Or he could see him next in however many days.

      Cross’s mouth teased a smile and he shook his head. He followed him to the doorway, where Killer lingered, holding the door open with one hand. 

It sounded like it was raining outside. 

     For some reason, in that moment Cross remembered what Killer had said at the gas station, before they left. 

His eyes widened, then narrowed at him. “You’re such a liar. You said nothing would happen.” 

“Your favorite liar.” Killer grinned.

    He leaned farther through the doorway toward him and pressed a kiss to Cross’s teeth, as if it was some kind of weird apology. It tasted like smoke. And blood. Cross let it happen, didn’t want it to end as quick as it did. 

“We should do this again sometime.” 

Then it was over, Killer was gone, and all Cross saw was the door as it clicked closed.

[2old0voldy0moldy7]

I really need one history where Constantine is just chilling with the JL and Danny Pahntom just comes from nowhere and says he owns Constantine soul.

Constantine is like: Ya go to the end of the line you don't want a war with all the demons i sold my soul to.

Then Danny just says: I own 100% of your soul the demons were paying Taxes with your soul.

Then Constantine realises he's fucked up.

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hii! Can I request txt being the big spoon? (Like they’re usually always the big spoon)

Txt reaction to being big spoon

genre: romance; fluff

warnings: none

description : The txt members reaction to being the big spoon while cuddling with you.

Thank you for your request lovely! Hope you enjoy :)

Yeonjun

- he has been WAITING for this moment fr

- He’s so happy, like he’ll just be scooting closer to you with a big smile on his face the whole time

- hands on your waist at all times

- he would place little kisses up and down your shoulder area to calm you

- he’s the type to whisper sweet little words into your ear while you fall asleep

- “I love you honey, I hope you sleep so well” AHHH 😫

- His grip on you would be so tight, like man does NOT want you to leave him for one second 😭

Soobin

- “Are you comfortable? do you want me to move any?” He’s so respectful omg

- he’s got a smile on his face the whole time, he’s so happy

- Honestly is scared to move because he’s scared he’s going to make you uncomfortable

- He would talk to you for a while, asking you about how your day was and all of that, he just wants to know all the little things about your day 🥺

- he would definitely fall asleep talking to you like it’s so cute because he would try and keep himself up talking to you

- his head would be placed right in between your neck and shoulder

- It would honestly be the best sleep you ever got in a while, bc he’s just so big and comfortable omg

Beomgyu

- gyu wastes no time getting comfy LOL

- he’s probably got like one leg hiked up on you, and an arm draped over your shoulder 🤣

- “How are you, am I too close?” He now wants to ask how you are 🤨😭

- oh he’s so snuggly though, like hes got his arms fully wrapped around you and just snuggled into your back (it’s actually so cute omg)

- One thing he will try to do : tickle you while being big spoon, yes you heard that right, tickle you

- he just has to do it at least once, he loves hearing your giggle before going to bed

- he falls asleep so fast too, like you will hear him snoring like 3 minutes into him being big spoon

Taehyun

- probably the best big spooner ever

- he’s all giddy inside, because like, he just loves cuddling you omg

- you could probably feel his heartbeat on your back, he would be so nervous at first but loosen up once he got sleepier

- He would caress the side of your body up and down in attempts to make you as comfortable as possible

- he would be so comfy and warm too, and he would smell good, falling asleep would not be a problem when you’re cuddling tae

- omg and just imagine cuddling with him, and his big muscles are wrapped around you 😫

- He honestly loves cuddling with you though, he gets like a major boost of serotonin when he’s with you in general

Huening Kai

- babes is so happy every time he gets to cuddle you (especially being big spoon)

- he also gets so sleepy so quick

- He just can’t help it though because he feels so comfortable with you 🥺 and when he holds you he just feels so relaxed enough to fall asleep

- has his arm wrapped around you the whole time, either that or he’s caressing your waist

- and be prepared because he will give you so many cheek kisses it’s absolutely adorable

- he loves playing with your hair too while being big spoon, he thinks it’s just so soft and it helps him fall asleep a bunch

- He loves being so close to you, he likes physical touch and it just really makes him feel complete when he’s got you in his arms 🥹 “I love you y/n, I always will”