#somehow I still have an A in that class... for now

[eveningcherryblossoms]

It's A Beta Life, Not A Better Life | Part 11

A platonic yandere Batfam x neglected beta reader story

In the end, you didn't tell Duke what you were.

It was cowardly of you, perhaps. Disrespectful of Duke's person. But when you looked straight into his eyes and remembered the boy you protected back then, remembered how he hadn't forgotten you either and now chatted with you so happily...

You didn't want to–sully it? Ruin it? By telling him how now you were a beta too. You didn't want to stop chatting like this, you didn't want to start empathizing with Duke over how awful it was to live as a beta in this world, you didn't want to put Duke at risk for knowing what you were.

But you didn't want to lie to him either, so in the end you asked Duke, "Actually, I'm... Well, I kind of miss you? Can we... if you don't mind, can we hang out, from time to time?"

Duke looked a bit surprised, then abashed, then eventually–pleased. He beamed. "Sure thing! It'd be great to hang out with you again, Reader!"

The two of you traded smiles, followed by phone numbers. Starting that day, you and Duke began to hang out–only from time to time, considering you still had to prepare and Duke himself had his own thing to do, but whenever you couldn't meet you still messaged or called each other.

It was nice.

It was fun.

It was, unbeknownst to you, the last month you could spend peacefully before the worst happened:

The Waynes found out.

The Wayne pack did not care about you.

For the past nine years, ever since they knew of your existence and you came to live at the manor with them, all the pack members from that time and subsequent ones had displayed their lack of care for you openly. Shamelessly. Guiltlessly, as neglecting you wasn't a wrong thing to them.

But when Bruce summoned his chosen children to the manor for a pack meeting concerning you, they all turned up.

Damian returned from school as soon as class ended–although that was his regular habit. Tim shambled down the stairs from his room where he'd been sleeping off the high of solving three cold cases. Jason arrived accompanied by the loud revving engine of his bike. Dick burst in at the last minute, hair askew despite still looking as though it had been artistically arranged that way, before all but throwing the whole length of his body on a chaise.

"This better be super important, B," groaned Dick, half-muffled into a cushion. "Oh my God. When I meet whoever it is has been leaking all those stuffs I'm gonna kiss them. Kill them. Both. Either. Oh my God I'm tired."

"We do not kill," reminded Bruce. Dick flipped him off.

"We do not talk about Reader at pack meetings either," added Tim evidently without thinking, judging from how he winced after blurting that out. Though the way Damian glared and flashed a knife his way likely also contributed.

Jason snorted. "So what's this about, B? The pup finally bit off more than they could chew, or did they chew your handmade Italian leather shoes?"

"Refrain from equating my sibling's behavior to a dog, Todd," Damian snarled. Jason sneered and opened his mouth likely to provoke Damian, but was cut off by Alfred coughing pointedly.

"If you two young gentlemen would be so good to listen to Master Bruce's answer, please?"

A mumbled sorry Alfie and similar sounds were uttered by not only Jason and Damian, but also Dick and Tim. Bruce observed all but one of his children and felt a mixture of fondness and pain.

Fondness for his children. Pain for you, who somehow had been overlooked by everyone in the pack including himself.

But not anymore. Nevermore, Bruce swore to himself.

He spoke, "It has come to my attention... at the very least, that I have been neglecting Reader."

A series of frown answers him.

"You, Bruce?" Dick paused, rising from his prone position on the chaise. "...I might have been the same. In my defense, well. You guys know what is happening in 'Haven right now."

Tim nodded, hesitantly adding, "I've been trying to talk with them these past few months, but... I never did before..."

Jason scoffed, but self-consciously averted his gaze. "I took it for granted you'd take care of your biological kid yourself, B. I–the me from–before, wouldn't want to discover how welcome he'd be. And after... Eh." He shrugged, still not looking at anyone.

Damian alone looked at his brothers one by one, clearly confused in spite of the forbidding scowl on his face, before directing his gaze to Bruce in disbelief.

"Am I meant to conclude that you not treating Reader as pack member was not deliberate?"

Everyone exploded at that. Bruce reeled despite remaining seated on his armchair.

"Gods, Dami, of course it wasn't?!"

"Hold on, hold on. You knew?"

"Old man!" Jason snapped, eyes now flashing fiery and green at Bruce. "Tell me you didn't!"

Bruce slowly blinked once, twice, like a man concussed. His face pale and his voice hoarse when he finally spoke, "Yes, Damian. I didn't–sincerely, I didn't notice."

The disbelief on Damian's face was now mixed with anger and disgust. "So you are telling me," he intoned, "that I could have laid claim on my blood sibling from the start?"

"You were going to...?" Dick's voice faltered as a thought struck him. "Guys," he called, "who assisted Reader back when they presented?"

Tim, Jason and Bruce traded uneasy glances with each other. Bruce paled even more at this and hurriedly sought Alfred, silently pleading that at least his always-reliable butler, his sole caretaker after his parents' passing, his pack omega had been there for you when no one else was.

His heart sank when Alfred pressed his lips and refused to meet anyone's eyes.

Dick began to tremble. "Nobody did? None of you did?" He whirled towards Bruce. "B, how could you?! You know how dangerous a first heat can be! You told me all about it when you sat through my first heat!"

Tim shrank into his seat, palm over his horrified face. His brain very likely going at mach speed at the implication and various possibilities while his mouth was only able to mutter "Oh my God, oh my God–"

Bruce himself seemed to be experiencing the same thing as Tim, before he belatedly realized something odd.

"Heat?" Bruce looked back at Dick, bewildered. "Dick, Reader is an alpha."

"They're what?"

Not only Dick, but Tim stopped at that. Jason blinked the green off his eyes, confused as well, but in opposite direction.

"Of fucking course kid's an alpha? They snarled at me when I–hold on." This time, it was him who turned to Bruce. "Hey, B, did you know Reader is attending Park Row High?"

"They what?"

"Attending Park Row fucking High. According to their files, they'd been there since freshman year. They're a junior now. I confronted them about being there in Crime Alley to keep an eye on me under your order or something, and they told me you probably knew nothing about it."

Tim all but leaped to his laptop, fingers rapidly clicking to hack your academic files. Meanwhile, Dick shook his head, unable to come to terms with the concept of you being an alpha instead of an omega like your mother.

"Reader is not an alpha. They never said they were–" Suddenly he stopped, realizing that you never explicitly said you were an omega either.

But. But if you weren't an alpha... or an omega...

"Tt."

As Damian clicked his tongue, for some reasons everyone fell silent. Even Tim paused his hacking to look at Damian, whose eyes swept the great room and all its occupants with condescension before he went on,

"I don't care what my sibling is. Now that I know I did not need to wait until I become pack alpha, I shall claim Reader as my beta."

A literal bomb could not stun the rest of the pack more. They either stood or sat still, stupefied. Until an alarm set to their respective phones or other devices suddenly rang, alerting them to an even more urgent matter.

An Arkham breakout.

Despite the alarm blaring through the whole city, you remained rooted to your seat, earphones on from when you listened in on the Waynes via the bugs you made yourself.

You still felt the figurative icy water down your spine hearing Damian state his intention for you. Your hands shook. Your eyes stared without your brain registering anything. You had no idea how many times in a minute you thanked fates for deciding to plant those bugs and make the program to alert you exactly for a situation like this.

Had you not done so, had you cluelessly been there...!

Blindly, you groped for an inhaler. You wheezed to yourself, remembering how you thought that had to be excessively prepared of you to get an inhaler alongside the rest of your med supplies. Dimly, you wondered if you were dissociating.

You had to leave. Run away. Hide? Fake your death? The timing was perfect actually, what with Joker out there.

You wheezed again until you choked. For a brief moment, you scolded yourself for not having the forethought to prepare a fake corpse to dump. Was this a panic attack?

Wait, you heard them speaking again.

"–suit up."

"Robin, you're with me."

"Red Hood–"

"I'm fucking peachy, Nightwing. Shut it."

Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a freaking minute.

All those names–weren't they...? But wouldn't it mean the Waynes–legally your family members–were the vigilantes of Gotham?

You hadn't even finished wrapping your head around the idea when you heard something else. Something almost as terrifying, actually.

The window nearest you shattered by the swing of a crowbar. With a stifled gasp you rolled away, arms shielding your face from the glass shards. Before you lowered them, you could already tell who it was from their speaking.

"WHAT'S THIS?! A LITTLE BIRDIE FALLING OUT OF THEIR NEST! C'MON, BIRDIE, LET'S PLAY A GAME WITH UNCLE JOKER!!! HAHAHAHA!!!"

A/N: *evil dramatic music intensifying*

We're getting to the climax, folks! Brace yourselves, I predict about three to five chapters left!! This one is kinda rushed in pacing I think but hopefully you guys still like it. Please send asks and replies to motivate me! 🙏

Btw in case it was unclear, the scene with Duke in the first half happened on the FIFTH month mark right after Damian left Chinatown. So reader still had one (1) month left with Duke before the Batfam found out in the second part on the SIXTH month mark. Yeah yeah I know it was unnecessarily complicated, my bad 💕

Also catch Alfred trying to avoid confessing he had been deliberately neglecting reader lmao

P. S. Question. Does the tag still work if it can't be clicked? Like it's just the name with the @ symbol, does it still work or is there a limit to how many people I can add to the tag list?

Taglist: @randomlyappearingartist @bellethesleepypotato @nirvanaxx1942 @tenswife @galaxypurplerose @shycreatorreview @cupid73 @time-shardz @mikusamsan @simpingpandas @kore-of-the-underworld @elmichi0 @mirabilis-polaris @farsketch @altumsomnum @hai-there-how-are-you @vanessa-boo @ashjade19 @yandere-enthusiast @a-lurking-fae @hyperfixatedcatlover @leeiasure @luckynemi @lowkeyjarrr @lunoorbonoor @deathbynarcisstick @tacendxx @staarflowerr @anonlikesfics @magical-panda2 @whognuthis @arwenyukiamoto @hon3ydewcaram3l @lilyalone @jazzyspaceghost @teabutnerdy @bunbunbread @darktrashpoetry @conqcakes @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @unrelatedlily @ciatin @ratchetprime211 @mybones537 @anonasatoruu @vikkus-main @shqyou @sitepathos @ee-1ovelifedownthedrain @totallynotacat13 @ratterpatter @hayourdadgon @justannie18 @jungkooks-tiny-waist @holderoflostmemories @woodscranesbill @neverdead2 @iansimpsforeveryone @numbu5 @eas-kat @hanz-176 @alishii @holyfishbailiffpeanut @type-ink @mysh-lynnn @juskonutoh

[mysticmoosenger]

class crush on loser!choso pt.2! ⋆˙⟡♡

synopsis: you finally invite loser!choso over for some shots because hes hot and you can’t keep your hands to yourself!

wc: easily like 5k, I’m too lazy to check sorry I’m on my phone

cw: lots of tension, nervous kinda sub choso, alcohol, mention of smoking, heavy makeout, begging

part 1 here!

the walk back to your dorm feels like a blur, and the state of shock and slight disbelief you are in is hitting you like a semi. theres no way the universe had just blessed you with the perfect opportunity to see this sexy as fuck man outside of class… right? You bump your acrylic nail into the keypad wrong when shakily entering your passcode into the door, snapping it back justtttt enough to remind you that somehow, this was actually real life. and that that fucking hurt.

~

the sharp bing! of the elevator jolts you back into reality. you exit when it finally reaches your floor and walk down the hallway to unlock your room in a daze. the second you step through the door you drop all of your bags and books and giddily jump onto your bed, still riding the wave of euphoric bliss that you are blessed to be able to bask in for the night. glancing down at your phone and staring at the new friendship profile you have with Choso, you notice his snap score. …what do you mean its only 5,000???

surely someone as hot as him would have a higher snap score than that, right? again, it was like the universe had blessed you. an unbelievably hot class crush that isnt just some frat asshole? you almost arent complaining about not finding anyone but Choso attractive anymore. you realize that now that the first step of getting his number (and his snap!) has basically been made for you, its game time. time to lock in… what should the first snap be? innocent? risky? straightforward? friendly? testing the waters?

your mind is buzzing with so many ideas that you almost feel dizzy. despite being so into him and being fairly confident in yourself and your flirting abilities, the anxiety is eating you alive. you get snapped back into reality by the short buzz of a notification.

nobara <3- hey girl i’m going to be staying over at yuki’s tn, we are going out to the bars so the room is all yours! do something fun and tell me all about it when i get back tmrw morning ;)

wow, maybe the universe is really forcing you to do this, because this situation is perfect timing. thanks Nobara! you open snap back up and take a few selfies, none of them looking good enough to send. you huff to yourself and lean back against the cold cement wall of your dorm room, trying to think of your options. you eye the half-empty bottle of titos on your windowsill and have a brilliant idea. this wont lead anywhere… right? its totally innocent! just inviting him over to drink! as friends! very normal!

to test the waters and see if he will even respond to you, you send him a simple mirror selfie with a short and sweet “heyyy”

you feel like your heart is about to explode out of your chest as you hit send and stare at the delivered status. shockingly, within less than a minute he opens it and responds. that was really fast, maybe he was just on the app or something? no… his snap score hasnt moved in the past hour, theres no way.

“hey whats up” over a mirror selfie of his own. he was in an old band tee with the sleeves cut off into a muscle tank. oh my god. his tattoos, his built arms, his hair down, and his insanely fast response time… was he trying to kill you? at this point, fuck small talk. he needs to be in your room. right now. a sudden surge of confidence and sheer thirsty bravery overtakes you as you snap him a picture of the titos resting on your lap, “you up to anything tn? if not, you want to be? :)” your brain nearly short circuited when he quickly replied, “nah, my roommate is having a girl over so I was planning on just spending most of the night at the library. i’d be down for whatever, beats falling asleep in a study room, wya?” over yet another jaw droppingly sexy selfie, this time with his massive, tatted arms resting on the doorframe behind him and flashing a stunning smile. oh my god.

you quickly send him your dorm hall and room number, then throw your phone onto the nightstand, jump off the bed, look around, and attempt to franticly clean up your room. the random gooner anime figures cannot be in sight. if someone had told you that this was how your night was going to go, you wouldnt have believed them.

~

several minutes pass and you hear a few short knocks on your door. your anxiety skyrockets as you process the current situation. the guy you have been borderline obsessed with is going to be here. in your room. sitting on your bed. drinking. with you…. alone. your hands tremble a bit from the nerves, fixing your hair and nodding to yourself in the mirror.

you gather your courage and open the door with a shaky hand, being greeted by the most gorgeous man you have ever seen. he’s wearing grey sweatpants that hug the curves of his legs just right and that same muscle tee from earlier, but with the addition of a black zip up hoodie. he gives you a shy smile and hello while making quick eye contact, looking away almost just as fast as a faint blush reaches his face. you have to shove all of your dirty thoughts about what you’d love to do to that face to the back of your mind as you step aside to let him into your room.

immediately, the tension is high as you jump onto the bed and motion for him to join you. he sets down his bag and skateboard and follows you, making your heart skip a beat at the feeling of the mattress sinking next to you. oh, all the things you’d let him do to you on this mattress… no stop! no dirty thoughts! you are friends! drinking and hanging out as friends!

you turn on your TV and reach over to the windowsill to grab the bottle of titos and two shot glasses. Choso’s eyes scan your dorm room and lock onto the anime posters that you have hanging by the door. “Oh, you watch Bleach too? What did you think about the ending of the last arc?” he quietly questions, attempting to break the slight awkwardness of the moment, clearly nervous. he takes a sharp inhale of breath at your reply, “yeah, I’ve loved it for years, didnt know you were into it too. it was really good, animation was gorgeous.”

You try to calm down your heart by engaging in small talk, but lets be real, the tension isnt going away. why would it? know what would help? shots!totally!

Your hands are shaking while you pour the shots, almost overflowing them due to the prickling feeling of his eyes boring into you. Setting the bottle next to you, you hand him his shot, brushing your finger against his, catching the cold metal of one of his rings. …oh my god his hands.. wait! no! fuck! dont stare at his hands! Your breath catches in your throat as you nearly drop the glass, luckily he had already gotten a good grip on it. your eyes catch the small drops of titos that managed to slosh out of the glass and onto his muscular thigh, marking their territory with a dark grey stain. “shit, sorry-“ you start, as you reach down to try to swipe off whatever hadn’t soaked through the fabric yet. you note the way his quad flinches at your unexpected touch.

“cheers!” you start, raising your shotglass out in front of you. “ch-cheers”, he echoes, meeting your glass with his. you both bring the shots to your lips, and quickly chase the burn away with some orange juice stolen from the dining hall. your nerves finally catch up to the moment and realize that Choso had just physically shivered from the slight touch of his thigh, you immediately grab the bottle and pour both of you another generous shot.

you cheers once again, down-up-down, and raise the glass up to your lips, tilting your head back to let the burn of the tequila soothe the chorus of “whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck” echoing in your internal monologue. you take a quick glance at Choso, who was still mid-shot, and catch onto the delicious bob of his adams apple, the cute scrunch of his nose, and the tiny dribble of liquid down his lip that had missed his mouth.

As Choso is reaching across you to the nightstand setting down his glass, he brushes up against you and slightly looses his balance, his shoulder knocking against your own, and his spikey black hair tickling at your cheek, sending electricity chasing down your spine.

Your heart is beating out of your chest with the thick air of anticipation surrounding you. Choso sets down his glass and pushes off the mattress to lift himself back upright. while the titos had certainly started to hit your system, you didn’t want to overdo it. after all, he was just a friend!

you gesture to the worn-out friendship bracelet tied to his wrist, “thats cute, is it from anyone? or just your fav colors maybe?” you internally cringe at the shitty attempt at small talk. honestly, it feels better than nothing, unable to sit in the loud ringing of silence between you both anymore.

he gives a shy grin and twists at the knots absentmindedly, “thanks, my little brother made it for me when I left to come back here from break. he learned at a camp we both went to. he was really excited to give me his first one.”

“you both were at a camp?” you ask, intrigued, a little charmed, and very glad that the small talk topic had amounted to an actual conversation.

he lets out a quiet chuckle that shoots directly to your nervous system and responds bashfully, “yeah, I’m a councelor there every summer. it was the first year he was old enough to come too. he was super anxious about it, it was really cute actually.” the way his eyes light up when he talks about his brother is precious, dissipating a little bit of the strange tension crackling between you two. “while it was nice to have my brother there, it kinda sucked though because that meant I’d actually have to be on good role model mode the whole time.”

wait, the hot, quiet spoken, nerd Choso had a bad role model mode? “elaborate, you have my undivided attention sir”, you joke with him, only realizing how flirty this came out after it had already left your lips. do you regret that delivery? nah. the look on his face in response to your “sir” was worth it.

Choso drew in a quick breath and scrunched up the comforter with one of his fists. He sheepishly sighed, “yeah… I kinda used to just work there to get paid doing easy work during the day. since its a sleep-away camp we stay there for a few weeks in a councelor’s bunk. but to be honest, it was definitely just an excuse to sneak off with my friends at night to get stupid high in the woods without worrying about our parents. my dad’s a dick.”

You let out a surprised laugh, leaning a bit closer subconsciously, “I had no idea you smoked!”

His brows quickly scrunched with worry, “why? do you not? I’m sorry if-“

You cut him off, “nonono! you just didnt strike me as that type of person. honestly in retrospect I dont really know why I thought that, you have the whole hot stoner boy thing going o-on…” you stuttered out the last word as you realize what you had just said. Face burning, you quickly look away to hide your embarrassment from him. FUCK! whywhywhywhy tequila brain!!!

somehow, only now had Choso gotten any hint that you were at least a little into him. the crackle of tension in the air had just been plucked like an overly wound guitar string. His mouth hangs open for a second, drinking in your little slip of the tongue. “d-do you smoke? I brought a J…if you… you know… you want to uhm.. I don’t know how your RA is with it…” he trails off, hoping to get you to turn your face back around to show him your pretty blush.

To his delight, you shake yourself from the mental horny jail you had been trapped in, tilting your head back to face him, the blush still faintly on your ears. “…yeah fuck it that would be great. the RA smokes all the time it’ll be ok. thanks Cho.” did I seriously just call him a pet name? maybe I am a lightweight. fuck. theres no way I can be this tipsy from 2 shots, what the fuck?

You don’t miss the way his eyes drop down to your lips as the nickname rolls off your tongue. distracting yourself, you reach for the remote and click onto youtube, throwing on a random music video and scanning the counter for your lighter. realizing that its not there, you assume that nobara probably stole it again. luckily, you keep a few in your lockbox under your bed.

“fuck sorry, I think my roommate grabbed our light, I have more, gimmie a sec” you mumble, absentmindedly hopping off the bed and dropping down to your knees to reach under for the lockbox. clumsily slipping your fingers through the handle, you give it a soft tug to release it from the pile of clothes you had shoved under your bed in hiding. you fidget with the lock, aligning the numbers and flipping open the lock with a sharp pop! rummaging through the stockpile of loose half smoked joints, dead batteries, and clogged carts you manage to find a purple lighter. closing the lid and flipping back the lock, you reach to shove it back under the bed, slightly grazing Choso’s knee in the process, making you both jump.

you had just noticed the position you found yourself in. on your knees, in between his thighs. while almost too cowardly to look up at his face, you could tell he noticed too by the way his hand reached out to steady your shoulder. “…sorry. fuck.” he rasps out under his breath, catching your eyes as you look up at him, through your pretty long lashes, with your cheeks faintly flushed from the titos. he was a beautiful, pitiful mess. his breath had caught in his throat, his face suspiciously too red to be from just two shots, his eyes glued to your lips.

You react without a thought, grabbing his shoulders before he could sit fully up. “…fuck it” you mumble to yourself, and trace your hands up his shaking arms slowly and bring them to the base of his neck and side of his perfect jaw. Choso is nearly frozen in place, his eyes going wide as he felt the firm, confident pressure keeping his face directed towards yours.

You dont give yourself the opportunity to chicken out, figuring that if things go badly, you can always blame it on the alcohol. with a short breath you whisper, “…can I…?”, leaning closer.

Choso’s eyes go wide for a second, realizing what you are asking. “…please-“, he breathes out, already leaning into you, nodding his head with cute nervous enthusiasm.

You don’t waste time, crashing your lips to his and pushing him backwards down onto the bed. He lets out a groan as you straddle him, giving his jaw a gentle squeeze. His hands tentatively find your back, creeping under your shirt and tracing hesitant circles over your spine.

You break the kiss for a second to catch your breath, letting your body weight fully rest on him. Only then do you notice the massive tent in his sweats, pressing directly into your core. His face turns a shade of scarlet as he tries to stop himself from bucking up into you. he tries to turn his face away and hide, but you tighten your grip on his jaw, refusing to let him, “nononono, stay right there Cho…”

You dip your head down to his neck, tilting his head up to give yourself better access. your lips graze against the tattoos marking his skin, giving him goosebumps and eliciting a shudder from him, as well as a delicious moan, “…fuckkkk… y/n… p-please… I….mpfh!!”

You grin, nipping his neck just enough to leave a little love bite, marking your territory, “hmmm? you what Cho…? I cant hear you…”

His breathing is ragged when he manages to groan out a little whine, “I- I can’t… I- ahhh! I need…”

Dragging your tounge up his neck to his ear you purr out, “tell me what you need Cho…”

“I-umph!! I n-need… you… please…”

smut to be continued in pt. 3 ;)

hope yall enjoy and sorry this took me 1000 years, my laptop decided to stop working and having to type this all out on my phone felt like torture lmfao. been uninspired for the past few months

comment to be added to taglist! current tags requested in dec 2024, sorry for taking so insanely long to get this up!!

@adanfore @getosshampoo @femaholicc @supercoolrawr @mima0127 @vantedaes @munch3025 @hyookka @channnee @tlissablr

[foodiegoogie]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝟏.𝟓𝐤

from 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | a james potter x fem!reader series

summary: how james became class president while doing nothing (but look at you)

cw: fluff, james-centric pov, unedited bcoz tumblr hates me. reader has little screentime, vague jily moments, the class election system was based on my high school experience. lmk if i missed anything <3

note: if tumblr somehow makes this one disappear too istg

main masterlist

James Potter, when you strip away his loud personality, is actually a pretty chill guy. 

He was staying up late just last night because he couldn’t decide a better time to watch the latest NBA highlights of the season. Now, he has to pay the price for the consequences of his actions— that is, he’s low on sleep, and he plans on making up for it while in class.

It’s not like James fails at anything, anyway. All the professors adore him, no matter how annoying or obnoxious he can get. 

But to hell with sleep with the state of the classroom right now as they’re deciding the class officers for the rest of sixth term. James wants more than nothing to walk out and simply steal a nap in the quiet, cozy library. But nay, he has to stay because he’s required to. 

“Alright, alright. Settle down, please!” Lily exclaims, clapping her hands to get everyone to quiet down and pay attention. James reluctantly pays attention, but it certainly helps him that the redhead is pretty. 

She continues when everybody quiets down a fair bit, “We can all end this election as peacefully and as fairly as we all want as soon as we all come to an agreement. Okay?”

There’s mixed murmurs from everyone in the classroom. James murmurs alright himself, but he really couldn’t care less who’s going up as a class officer. He always ends up leading the class at some point, anyway. 

At the moment, there’s a list of the officially elected class officers written in chalk, neat and organized:

President: 

Candidates: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black

Vice President:

Candidates: Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, Sirius Black

Secretary: Y/N Y/L/N

Candidates: Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald, Y/N Y/L/N

Treasurer: Remus Lupin 

Candidates: Remus Lupin, James Potter

P.I.O.: Marlene McKinnon

Candidates: Marlene McKinnon, James Potter, Lily Evans

Peace Officers: Peter Pettigrew and Mary MacDonald 

Candidates: Mary MacDonald, Peter Pettigrew, Dorcas Meadowes

*NOT OFFICERS. JUST TO PREPARE FOR SPORTSFEST

Muse: Lily Evans

Candidates: Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, Y/N Y/L/N

Escort: Sirius Black

Candidates: Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin

Half of the nominated candidates were a mix of those nominated rightfully, and those nominated just for the knick of it. A little while ago, when James was still running on the sugary orange juice from the cafeteria, he had nominated Sirius Black for President (just for fun), Lily for Vice President (because he personally thinks she’d do her job well), and you for Secretary and Muse (because you’re good at what you do—being responsible, smart, and pretty).

Presently, you’re standing beside Lily in front of the blackboard, already taking post as Class Secretary. It looks like you’re zoning out while you’re rolling a piece of chalk between your fingers. James can’t help but sigh because he can relate. Under different circumstances, he’d have walked up beside you and whispered a joke into your ear just to make you laugh. That would have woken him up instantly.

But alas… his eyelids feel like they weigh a ton, and his whole body is paralyzed by sleep-deprivation.

—

James doesn’t know how long he slept for, but it was definitely not enough for him.

Sirius Black has just been ruled out as candidate for Class President, and now most of the class is following his lead—campaigning for James to be President instead. But the rest of the class is adamant on voting for Lily, as she’s already shown more than enough examples of good leadership and such. 

So, one can only imagine the absolute chaos that the classroom has once again found itself in.

“Potter for President! It only makes sense—they both start with a P!”

“Oh, I know what else starts with a P. Must be what you’re thinking with, you know? Your pe—”

“We all know Evans is the only capable one from the candidates! What’s not to see, guys? She’s smart, willing to lead, and kind!”

“Yeah, but she’s also got a lot on her plate already! She’s got like— what, that journalist thing? Not to mention, she’s already part of the Student Council!”

Oddly enough, it feels like the perfect chance for James to make himself known again by shutting everyone up once and for all. The boy just wants to sleep, for Pete’s sake. Was that not a luxury he could afford anymore?

The noise gets louder and he sees all the appointed officers in front— you, Lily, Remus, Marlene, Peter, and Mary (Sirius was still busy debating with someone about why James makes a fine leader). You’re all cooped up in a circle, probably discussing how to handle the mess, and James can’t help but wish that you’d hurry it up a bit. His patience is dangerously close to diminishing altogether.

“PRESIDENT POTTER! PRESIDENT POTTER!”

“No, it’s Lily! Has to be Lily—”

Three loud bangs on the blackboard disrupts the discord in the classroom. It startles James, alongside everyone else in the room, and all eyes are on Marlene Mckinnon in front, arms crossed and stance menacing. James doesn’t think he’s ever seen her that pissed before.

“Thank you, Marlene,” Lily breaks the silence, sending the blonde a wary glance. Marlene acknowledges her thanks with a nod, then shakes her head disapprovingly at her classmates. 

“Now, if everyone is quite done arguing—” The redhead continues. “We've decided to do a raise of hands to settle the votes for President and Vice.”

“But we’ve already done that,” someone brings up, voice raised in a tone that rubs James off the wrong way. “What makes it any different this time around?”

Lily furrows her brows at the tone, but doesn’t comment on it. “This time around, you’ll only get to vote for one person.”

Once again, there’s mixed murmurs from the class. Most have significantly quieted down, unable to deny the logic behind only voting for one person. Meanwhile, some are still stubborn, letting whoever’s close enough to know that they think the system’s rigged. Regardless of this, Lily announces that the candidate with the highest number of votes will be deemed Class President, while the one with the second-most highest number will be deemed Vice. 

“Right then. Let’s start,” She says, a heavy exhale slipping past her lips. “Raise your hand if you want James Potter to be President.”

With his name being mentioned, James feels inclined to actually be interested in how the votes will turn out. So, he rests his chin on the palm of his hand as his gaze leaves Evans, and drags over to the rest of his classmates. Most of them have their hands raised without any hesitation—Sirius Black included, of course—while others raise their hands by influence of the majority. 

James sighs, already dreading the impending weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But he doesn’t complain about it. If anything, he should be used to it; being elected as class president consistently throughout his entire high school life should set some expectations for yourself. 

Welp. Suck it up or fuck it up, bruv. 

With that in mind, James turns to face the front again and— oh.

You have your hand raised as you’re helping Lily count the votes for his candidacy. And for some reason, it makes his heart skip a beat.

It also makes his mouth hang slightly open, eyes wide with imaginary sparkles, and cheeks feeling just the right amount of flushed. 

“Psst, Potter,” James hears Sirius’ familiar whisper from behind him.

“Huh?” The man in question whips his head around to face him, gulping nervously. Though, James isn’t sure why he was feeling nervous all of a sudden. Why was it also hot in the classroom right now? He hopes the air conditioner didn’t randomly give out.

Sirius gives him a curious look, smirking, “Why’re you sweating so much?”

“S-Sweating?” James lifts a hand and wipes at his hairline. His hand comes back in his line of vision completely dry. He gives his best mate a deadpan stare.

“Ha-ha. Very funny, Pads,” He rolls his eyes.

Pads snickers, nudging James’ shoulder playfully, “Chill out, bruv. S’just Class President, yeah? You’ve been there, done that and— all that.”

Just the Class President? 

So not you, then? 

“Just—yeah!” James nods vigorously, brows knotted in fierce determination. “Yeah, you’re right, I’ve done this before. Totally have.”

“Okay. That’s exactly what I just told you,” Sirius chuckles, amused by his friend’s sudden show of energy. 

In hindsight, Sirius wasn’t totally wrong about what he told James. He has been there, and done that. But what Pads doesn’t know is that his friend was thinking of an entirely different thing—or person, rather. 

James hasn’t felt this shy and perplexed in a while, and he personally thinks he hasn’t done anything worth his blushing or heart-skipping before.

He finds it hard to put the blame on you, though.

[vivieenee]

Flowers? In Gotham?

Jason Todd x flower shop owner! reader

Pt. II

"You're What?!"

"How the hell does that work?! You're fucking dead! It was all over the news!" She was still processing on how a dead man was now in her home, wearing a dirty suit, full of scars, and chipped up fingernails, which somehow made sense the more she thought about it.

"I don't know either, okay? It just kinda happened." He answered as he pinched his nose. "I just woke up suddenly I'm in a damn casket, and next thing I know is that I was dug myself out.

She blinked "Okay now that's odd. One, you're dead . Two, you're pretty strong if you're able to dig yourself out considering how compact the dirt would be. And three, you just woke up?" She crossed her arms still not believing him.

"Was, thank you, and yes." He answered all three of her questions.

Her brows furrowed "So what now? Do I call your family? Do I go to the police? What the hell do you want me to do in this situation?" She awaits his answer.

"No!" He paused realized that he was losing his cool, he took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, I know this isn't the usual weird gothamite situation you were expecting but... I don't want to go back to them. Before my supposed death, me and B has a disagreement..." His tone calm yet you could practically see how frustrated he was.

"Disagreement?" she her eyebrows furrowed. "How exactly did you die?"

That caught him off guard. He can't reveal to this stranger that he died from the hands of the joker, especially when he used to be Robin at that time.

She noticed the tension filling the room as she lets out a soft sigh. "Look you don't have to tell me if you don't want to... after all, you've been through a lot and would probably not want to talk about it. Not yet atleast... But just know... If you're ready... Im here for you..." she said as she avoided his gaze.

Jason's gaze softened as he acknowledge her words. "I'll keep that in mind."

She smiled before she spoke "Now what? What do you plan on doing?" she questioned.

He thought for a moment. "As long as it doesn't involve me going back to the manor, I'll cooperate" He answered calmly as he leaned back onto the kitchen counter.

She hummed in response. "I see, got bored of your luxury huh, rich boy?" she teased.

Jason rolled his eyes at the playful comment "Just because, I was adopted in some upper class family doesn't mean I enjoy the benefits." He retorted.

The girl grinned before playfully raising her hands dramatically "Okay rich boy..." she looked at him "How about... you crash with me for a while... and work at the shop if you're interested." she offered with a glint of amusement.

That... didn't seemed like a terrible option... Jason thought for a moment before letting out a chuckle. "You got yourself a deal, sweetheart."

"But first." She leaned closer to him. "Have you ever taken care of plants?"

Jason smirked. "Oh please, have some faith in me. I may be some socialite, but I know my way around plants." His tone, full of pride and confidence.

Well... it's safe to assume that he doesn't know his way around plants. Because, just within a week, Jason has managed to make every bouquet in his wilt.

"I can't believe you actually managed to kill all four of those bouquets..." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have no idea how to take care of plants... Huh?" She glanced at him.

Jason couldn't look at her. He was drowning in his own guilt and embarrassment at this point.

He responded with a short nod.

She sighed. "Alright... Let's start with the basics." She stretched her arms in front of her.

Dividers by: @uzmacchiato

A/n: chapter 2 doneee. Hopefully it's decent enough... Anyways if you guys have some tips, suggestions or if I should continue this story, let me know!

@lettucel0ver

[threetone3]

Chapter 1: Adventure Is Out There

Kang Haerin x Male OC

Words: 2.4k

What We Don’t Say: 

Everyone holds their secrets, and everyone has things they don’t share. As friendships form and feelings grow, secrets begin to unravel. And sometimes, the most complicated things aren’t what we say, but what we never do.

“You’re that hagwon girl, right?” In which Kang Haerin starts a new school after everything falls apart—and meets a bubbly Aussie girl who decides she's going to fix it all. Or at least make her watch Up.

Kang Haerin

I was a few months into my third year in high school when my dad lost his job due to taking bribes, and we had to compensate for it by relocating to a completely different district so that he could find new work. I know it sounds harsh, but thanks to him, I had to transfer to a different school in my senior year—something that might ruin my chances of getting into my dream university. But whatever. What’s done is done. 

As the day I’d been dreading approached, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. The thought of starting at a new school filled me with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty, maybe just a slight twinge of anticipation as well. The conversation I had on the phone last night, with words of confirmation and reassurance from my best friend, came drifting back.

"Don't worry, you'll be completely fine there. You're Kang Haerin—straight-A student, vice president of the student council, and last year you received a record-breaking 87 confession letters on Valentine's Day, yet somehow you managed to reject every single one of them. I think you’re gonna be just fine, girl."

Ban Heesoo. Some would describe her as comic relief; the weird girl with the giggly and loud personality in class, perpetually cracking her jokes and being the only person who would laugh at them with her weird guffaws. But to me, she was my trustworthy partner in crime, the only one who understood me and the only friend I ever made. I couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at her words. It was indescribable; she would say things that always managed to make me feel better about myself, but she never made any requests in return. Our relationship dynamic was almost like she was my therapist, and I was her customer who had no idea what was going on with her. But somehow it worked. 

“Thanks, but I don’t know if I can readjust to a new school and catch up on their syllabus at the same time.” I sighed into the phone, questioning whether this was even a good idea.

Heesoo’s reply came fast. “Dude, you were sick and hospitalised for almost a whole month last year and still ranked first in the finals. I don't think you have anything to worry about when it comes to grades. Romantic relationships, however…”

I rolled my eyes as she laughed mockingly.

“First of all, you know how my mom feels about me getting into relationships now. Secondly, every guy at our school was either a hardcore delinquent who didn’t care about studying or a complete nerd who could barely eke out a sentence in front of a girl. There’s a reason why I got 87 letters and not a single face-to-face confession.”

“Okay, counterpoint: they probably didn’t dare approach you anyway because of your stone-cold demeanour. I mean, you were basically known as the Ice Queen in school, and your stage-four terminal case of RBF might be the worst I’ve ever seen. Also, I don’t think you get to say anything about romantically uninclined nerds.”

Damn. Sometimes, Heesoo really knew how to humble me.

“Okay, fine, you’re right. But don’t expect me to show up after graduation with a boyfriend on my arm,” I grumbled.

“I’m counting on it! No boy’s gonna steal my ice-cold Kang Haerin’s heart anyway!” I could imagine her winking at her phone. 

After we said goodbye, I thought about the prospect of having a boyfriend. It was a thought that had been lingering in the back of my head for the past two or three years. Romantic relationships were a national obsession in Korea, despite the overwhelmingly stressful education system. But it was a trend I never got around to joining—probably because I never felt the need. All I focused on were my grades. Maybe that’s why I only ever made one friend in school.

As I started drifting to sleep, I found myself wishing for a different experience in my new school.

“KANG HAERIN! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

My eyes shot to the clock again, which read 7:15. Another thing I hated about my dad losing his job: the travel time. Our new house was a 35-minute walk from school with no direct bus—unless I somehow learned to ride a bike in the span of a few weeks.

As I reluctantly got up and started my morning routine, I noticed a weird uneasiness in my stomach. Even my body was physically dreading the thought of meeting new people. Curse this extremist introvert mindset.

🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈

I’d never been late for school before. I’d never missed a day without a valid reason either; it was part and parcel that came with being vice president of the student council with a reputation for keeping a perfect record. So I was already off to a bad start as I trudged toward the front gate, practically dragging myself there after an attempt (albeit a failed one) to run to school, then a Hail Mary sprint once I caught sight of the pearly gates. I glanced at the clock tower: 8:02. There goes my streak. Maybe learning to cycle wasn’t the worst idea after all.

Even just pushing through the rotating door took every last ounce of my strength. As I stepped foot on school grounds and looked around, my eyes met a pair of gorgeous brown ones, flecked with sea-green and a glint in them. 

“Are you the new transfer girl?” Ooh, thick Aussie accent.

“Yeah… Th-That’s me.” I could barely catch my breath. God, running for 30 minutes made saying three words feel like a marathon.

“Ooh, you might wanna take it easy there. You sound kinda out of breath. Don’t worry, it’s your first day, so there’s no punishment this time.”

“Punishment?” I did a double-take. She pointed to a line of about ten students at the side of the gate, where a stern-looking teacher stood holding a clipboard.

“Mr. Choi takes down the names of everyone who’s late. Every time you’re late, you get a demerit point. Ten demerits gets you the grand prize at the gift exchange: ten laps around the track.” The girl explained casually. “There’s also different offences you can get demerits for.” 

I hummed and nodded before noticing a tall student waving at her. Her eyes lit up.

“Third time this week?” she called.

“Nope, fourth. You forgot Monday—I got caught riding Bull to school,” the boy replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

I got a good look at him: natural wavy hair, parted in the middle, a bandage on his nose bridge, and what looked like an earring on his left earlobe.

“Are guys allowed to wear earrings here?” I asked.

“Nope. Guess that’s gonna be his fifth strike.” She shrugged. “But honestly, Mr. Choi’s probably given up on him by now. He’s kind of a legend for breaking the record on demerit laps.”

I raised an eyebrow. His vibe definitely fit the high school delinquent stereotype.

“Does he get into trouble often or…?”

My question made her laugh—a bright, open laugh that answered for her.

“His record was 120 laps in one term, I think.”

I would’ve been more shocked at that accomplishment, but her laugh actually took my breath away. It was only our first interaction, and already she felt like the embodiment of a guardian angel, whose mermaid voice could hum a lullaby and put an entire city to sleep.

“Oh, sorry! I completely forgot about your introductory tour. I’m Danielle. I’ll be showing you around today, helping you get settled in. What was your name again?”

“Haerin. Kang Haerin,” I said, finally managing to steady my breath — and my nerves. Spoken interaction had always been something I dreaded, but this girl’s vibrant smile somehow made it manageable. Not that I felt any kind of attraction to her, it was more like watching the sun laugh.

The vibrant smile I received in response to my introduction only further proved my point. “Well, Kang Haerin, let’s get you acquainted with the people here, you’re gonna love them.” A playful frown creased her forehead. “Well, most of them anyway. Follow me—lots of fun stuff awaits. Adventure is out there!” I blinked at her bubbly outburst. Was that a reference I wasn’t getting? 

My expression must’ve given it away, I realised, as she stared at me incredulously. “Are you just shy, or do you really not get the reference?” I didn’t know how to answer her, so I just stared blankly even more. Like I said, spoken interaction queen over here. “Charles Muntz from Up… you know, the saddest movie of all time?” She was practically praying that I would somehow magically understand. I shook my head no, prompting a reaction from Danielle where she all but lost her mind in the kindest way possible, “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s fine, I’m kidnapping you after school today. We’re gonna do an animated movie marathon and a pop quiz right after. I can’t have you not know movie references, imagine what’s gonna happen if you meet Hanni.” She looked genuinely horrified at the thought of me meeting this Hanni girl without studying movie knowledge, as if drawing a comparison to taking the CSAT on one week's notice. 

I wasn’t used to this type of interaction. Maybe only from Heesoo, but never from someone I just met. I couldn’t even sense any animosity coming from Danielle, just playful banter. She was even suggesting that I go over to her house, and she spoke as if I were already part of her life, and she was already planning to introduce me to her other friends, like this Hanni girl. A warm, fuzzy feeling settled in my stomach, as if my body was saying, “She’s nice to you. Don’t screw this up.”

Danielle, on the other hand, has seemingly already forgotten about the interaction that happened just ten seconds ago, as she now has the warmest smile ever plastered on her face. She gestured forward, leading us across the field.

The school grounds were already buzzing. Students milled about in loose clusters, bags slung lazily over their shoulders, loud laughter mixing with the occasional whistle from the PE teacher across the pitch. I followed her in silence, adjusting the strap on my shoulder, with mild stitches in my stomach as a result of my attempted run, which spoke volumes about my athletic ability or lack of it.

“That building’s the gym. You’ll probably hear Coach Baek yelling even when he’s not,” Danielle said, pointing to a tall, white dome-like structure. “And behind it is the boxing club. That’s where Jay practically lives. You’ll get used to the sound of gloves hitting pads before class ends.”

“Jay’s the one with the earring?” I asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

Danielle nodded. “The one and only. Five-time inter-school demerit champion. Our resident ‘bad boy with a surprisingly soft centre’... probably. Don’t tell him I said that.”

I let out a quiet snort — a sound I didn’t even realise escaped.

She turned toward the main building. “You’ll spend most of your time there. Classrooms, labs, the library… and the music club, if you’re lucky.”

There was a brief pause before she added, “I’m in it, by the way—the music club. We write songs, sing, play a little. Nothing formal. Just vibes, really.”

It sounded so easy the way she said it. Like breathing. Like freedom.

We were halfway up the stairs to the building when she suddenly slowed her pace.

“Wait a sec,” she said, peering at me, eyes narrowing slightly. “What did you say your full name was again?”

I blinked. “Kang Haerin.”

Danielle’s eyes widened, then lit up with something between amusement and disbelief. “Oh my god—you’re that hagwon girl?”

I froze. Here it comes.

“Wait, wait, wait—Kang Haerin from Arae Tuition? Your mom’s that insane Korean language tutor with like three YouTube channels and test prep books in bookstores? You’re that Kang Haerin?”

The question — the way she said it—wasn’t cruel. It was just… shocked. And a little fascinated.

I pressed my lips together and nodded once. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She let out a slow whistle. “Wow. You’re kind of legendary. There was this rumour that you did six practice exams a week and scored full marks on all of them. One of my friends used to cry after watching your mock papers.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

Danielle must’ve noticed my silence, because her expression softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just… didn’t expect you to be you.”

“It’s fine,” I said automatically, even though it wasn’t.

People always had a reaction. The hagwon girl. The daughter of the ‘famous’ tutor. The perfectionist who got hospitalised from overwork and still topped the finals.

They never saw the real part. The part where I couldn’t sleep because I was too scared of letting my mom down. The part where my mom smiled at my report card like it was a business win. The part where I listened to her and my dad fight in whispers past midnight, because yelling might damage the brand. 

They just saw the name—the image. 

“Well,” Danielle said, and her voice was quieter this time, “you don’t seem like a hagwon robot. You seem… kind of cool, actually.” 

I wasn’t sure how to respond. So I didn’t. I just looked at her again, that wide-eyed smile and natural warmth. Something about her felt like a direct contradiction to my life. A breath of air when I’d been underwater too long. 

My phone buzzed in my blazer pocket—a message from Heesoo.

Ban Heesoo

u better not be late on ur first day, loser 🙄

also, pls try not to make everyone fall in love with u again 

or do, up to u

I laughed under my breath. 

Danielle peeked over. “Ooh, who’s that? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” 

“She’s my best friend,” I said. “Ban Heesoo.”

Danielle grinned. “She sounds fun.” 

“She is.” 

The silence that followed was easier, less loaded. Like we’d crossed an invisible line — from polite strangers to maybe, possibly not-strangers. 

“Come on,” Danielle said after a moment, tugging me toward the glass doors. “Let’s go find your homeroom. And don’t worry about the hagwon thing. This place? No one’s perfect. That’s kind of the point.” 

And for the first time that morning, I wasn’t sure if I felt dread or something else entirely. 

Please let me know what you think! I learn pretty quick and I'm open to all sorts of comments, feedback, advice, constructive criticism or compliments 😉

[oopsiedaisydeer]

how to lose a guy in 10 days

slow burn, mutual pining, dual pov, fake dating, angst, comedy, miscommunication, fluff, enemies to lovers (kinda), kissing

day zero one two three four five and six

disclaimer: @whor3ing has an au also inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days which you can check out here!

word count - 2k

day seven

Matt couldn’t stop pacing his room. Seven days in, and she was still an enigma wrapped in chaos. One minute she was clingy, the next she wouldn’t respond to his text for hours.

Why the fuck was he wasting his time with a fake girlfriend who left him on read? He should have just fake dated a fan, because, honestly, the career blowout was ideal at this point.

Yet somehow, he wasn’t running.

She was pushing all of his buttons. And him, the self-proclaimed King Chill, was fine with it? Fuck was he pussy whipped.

He flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. The bet — $15,000 if he got her to fall in love with him in 10 days — was starting to feel less like a joke and more like a looming deadline. Nick and Chris had been teasing him mercilessly, smug with confidence that he’d crack before she did.

Not happening.

He grabbed his phone and sent the message before he could second-guess it.

Pack a bag. Cape Cod for the weekend with the fam. You in?

The reply came a few minutes later.

Only if there’s pie. Or brownies. I’m flexible :)

He smiled. That was a yes.

The family house in Cape Cod sat just off the water, with peeling gray shingles and wind-chapped shutters that had stood the test of every summer since Matt was a kid. The place hadn’t changed. That’s what he liked about it.

It was a constant, a place of refuge and laughter and bad internet but decent cable. And it was right off the beach and it made him remember the taste of bubbles on his tongue when he was a kid, and glancing over at her next to him made him almost remember that feeling twice over.

Fuck.

No, he wasn’t doing that. He could be sentimental and she could meet his family and see one of his favourite places on earth and she could still be who she was to him.

What was she to him? He didn’t have a clue.

She stepped out of the car and looked around, squinting into the early evening sun. “So you were raised upper middle class, got it.”

Matt smirked. “Don’t get too excited. The plumbing sucks and my brothers are here.”

That was when the front door creaked open and Nick popped his head out. “Ooo! Loverboy’s here!”

Chris followed right behind him, mock-squinting into the driveway. “She exists! I thought we made her up after that performance.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled kindly as they approached. “Hi. I’m real. Disappointing, I know.”

Nick grinned. “Not disappointing at all. I’m Nick. This is Chris. You’ll learn to tell us apart eventually.”

Chris held up a bag of chips, mostly eaten. “There’s only one bathroom and I already claimed the best shower time.”

“Fantastic,” she muttered, smiling despite herself.

Matt’s parents came out a few minutes later, warm and casual — his mum hugged her like they were already old friends, and his dad offered her a cold drink before Matt even introduced them properly.

It was weirdly normal. Which, for her, was unsettling.

Dinner was loud — classic Sturniolo chaos, it seemed. Everyone talking over each other, Matt’s mum insisting on passing dishes in a specific order, Nick reenacting an absurd dream he had, and Chris trying to convince everyone he could surf now. “No, like actually, for real this time”.

She mostly listened, laughed when appropriate, and let her guard down little by little. Every now and then Matt glanced over at her — not to check if she was behaving, but like he was trying to figure her out. His stare got longer each time, and even if only by milliseconds, it was nice to be looked at how he was looking at her now.

She hadn’t noticed it before.

And for the first time, she wasn’t putting on a show.

After the plates were cleared, the family filtered into different parts of the house. Chris and Nick disappeared to set up some movie, their voices echoing down the hallway in half-arguments about who got the bigger couch cushion. Matt’s mum went upstairs, and his dad followed, giving her and Matt a wise smile as he went.

Matt lingered in the kitchen with her, watching her try to sneak another cookie from the tray.

“Those are for breakfast,” he warned.

“Well now I know you’re lying already, because who eats cookies for breakfast?”

“We do.”

She laughed and he did too, and she held it in her mouth like a dare regardless, talking around it. “Then you shouldn’t have left them unattended.”

He leaned against the counter, close to where she stood, fingertips brushing the edge like he was going to reach for something. Her hand maybe? “You were quiet tonight.”

“Was I?” She shrugged. “Your family’s… a lot. In a good way. I didn’t want to interrupt the Nick Show.”

He laughed. “Yeah, he thinks he’s the star.”

She hesitated, then said, “They’re really nice. All of them. It’s a bit annoying, honestly.”

Matt smirked. “Hoped for dysfunction?”

“Kind of.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She smiled and looked down at the half-cookie in her hand. “I think I’m still waiting for something to go wrong,” she says tentatively, looking back up at him.

“What could?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood with a smile, but irony hits him with a shit ton of bricks.

She looked at him for a moment, like she didn’t believe him, but wanted to.

Later, she stepped outside to find him sitting on the back porch, hoodie on, his knees pulled up as he looked out towards dark water. The sky was dusted with stars. Everything smelled like salt and pine. Like him. No wonder the place was so relaxing.

“You always sit like this?” she asked.

“Only when I’m thinking.”

“That’s a difficult task for you, I imagine.”

Matt chuckled at the joke, as if he had finally let her deadpan affection through. He glanced up. “You tired?”

“No,” she said, settling beside him. “Too many thoughts.”

“Like what?”

She gave him a look. “You know I’m not telling you that.”

He chuckled. “Fair.”

A beat passed. The wind brushed through the trees behind them. She glanced at him, then out at the water.

“Your mum’s sweet,” she said. “Talked to me like I was already part of the family.”

“She does that.”

“I could be a total weirdo.”

He shrugged. “You are.”

She raised an eyebrow, and Matt bowed his head, correcting himself.

“Sexy weirdo, my bad.”

She laughed, and the smile her mouth made when she did lit up her entire face, and for a couple of seconds it lit up his entire world — was that cheesy to say? Most definitely, but it was still true. Billions of stars shing in the sky, so helpful for someone lost in their thoughts, and they were stars Matt had looked at every once in a while his entire life, to try and gather those thoughts. But this one star, right next to him on the porch steps, she wasn’t millions of light years away. And he was glad.

He looked at her. “I think they like that I brought someone home who’s not pretending to be something they’re not.”

She raised a brow. He’d spoken in a way as if he hadn’t done that before, and it made her curious, in that stupid way when you like someone and need to know everything about them in order to make sure you don’t do something completely irrational. And also just because you like them, so obviously all rational thought goes out the window.

“You think I’m not pretending?” she asked finally.

“Not right this minute, I don’t.”

That made her pause.

“Well at least, I hope not,” Matt added, and her eyes locked on his as she felt him slowly but surely take her hand in his. And it was nice, the feeling of his thumb brushing over her skin. It kind of made her want to cry.

Matt’s voice softened. “Thank you for coming. I’m really glad you did.”

She looked at him — really looked — and something shifted in her chest. She didn’t know if it was guilt, or fear, or maybe something worse: the possibility that he was being truthful.

He stood suddenly, letting go of her hand in the process. “Come on.”

She blinked, briefly upset at the loss of contact. “Where?”

“Follow me.”

The path to the beach was quiet, pine needles crunching underfoot. The moon hung low and full over the water, silver light painting the sand. It was almost terrifying how worried she was for next week, because it was becoming increasingly difficult with every passing moment to separate the thought of natural things, like pine needles and the moon, and what sand looked like at night, from him. Fuck fuck fuck, she thought.

They walked for a while in silence. Not awkward, just quiet, reflective. Fearful, but the kind of apprehension you get when you’re about to kiss someone for the first time. Which was stupid, since they'd already kissed.

“I used to come here a lot more,” Matt said. “Just drove up for the day. When everything felt like too much. Like mentally.”

“How old were you when—?”

“Seventeen.”

She whistled. “Damn. I was still figuring out how eyeliner worked at seventeen.”

“Were you always writing?”

She nodded, a slight unease in her stomach, like a kind of nausea, at how normal these questions felt. They were the kind you asked someone on a second or third date. Small talk. Not someone you were dating. But still, a lot can be said, even in response to such a simple question. “Always. I just didn’t think anyone would pay me to do it.”

He nudged her lightly with his shoulder, teasing. “So... you write and you prank your boyfriend for fun?”

She smiled at that, but didn’t answer. God. She didn’t know what to say. Fuck. She always knew what to say.

He stopped walking, turning toward her. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” she mocked, biting her lip. Haven’t lost it yet.

Matt rolls his eyes, “I’m serious.”

She looked up, cautious now, scanning his face. “Depends.”

“Have I... scared you off yet?”

“What?”

“I mean — with the family, the chaos, the... normal stuff.”

She blinked, but responded without hesitating. “No. Not even close.”

He stepped a little closer, forced a jovial tone to try and hide his ambivalence. “So... what’s going on with us? With…you?”

She hesitated. Her heart beat louder than the waves.

“I like you,” she said finally. It was true, after all. In some capacity, she did. Like him.

“That’s not what I'm asking, though,” Matt pointed out, looking down at the ground.

She didn’t know what to say, didn't really know what he meant, what he wanted her to say, so she just stayed really still, hoping the moment would fade. She rubbed her arm awkwardly, feeling slightly chilly in the nighttime air.

He studied her, watching from the corner of his eye. “I believe you, anyway.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he said softly, “sometimes you look at me like you mean it.”

He didn’t wait then. He just leaned in. Slow, deliberate, waiting for any sign she’d pull away.

She didn’t.

The kiss was quiet at first — like an exhale, tentative, uncertain — then deeper. Real. His hand cupped her cheek and then both arms slid to her waist, pulling her flush with him, her fingers gripped his hoodie, and for the first time in seven days, neither of them were pretending.

He slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring it as she tugged on his bottom lip, suddenly filled with an intense wave of desire for him that she hadn’t let herself feel properly before. Their breaths mingled and she felt very hot but also cold at the same time, and she couldn’t quite believe his mouth was moving against her lips with such passion. Or that she was reciprocating it.

And then before she really understood what was happening, they pulled apart, faces still too close.

“Matt…” she whispered, but she didn’t finish the thought.

He just smiled, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask for an explanation tonight.”

She nodded, uncertainty still bubbling in her gut.

But they both knew, in their way, what the truth was. And it was barreling toward them like a wave.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws ꨄ

a/n: 3 days left oh my god!!!! what will happen???

thanks so much for reading!!!! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 💌

[sharkbitten-sailor]

GUESS WHAT GRIMS BACK FOR SECONDS.

Alright imagine this for the one of a kind au

The forsaken group end up in sonaria kinda like the thing you made

But we just go absolutely feral and go into hunting mode, why? Because we are basically a apex predator and we haven’t ate in who knows how long, AT THIS POINT WE DONT EVEN CARE WHAT SONARIAN CREATURE WE KILLIN WE GOTTA EAT.

And then Those fuck ass meteor showers, acid rain, thunderstorms and etc happen cuz we can’t have a day of peace.

But at least we can finally go into tier 4 and 5 creatures with out destroying anything

Anyway in the nutshell the killers and survivors have to hold us back from going completely feral (which doesn’t work to a point) cuz technically they are tier one (tiny) and we I honestly don’t know AND OH THEN WE GO FIGHT A WARDEN AND SOMEHOW WIN ALTHOUGH WITH A LOT OF WOUNDS BUT WE KEEP GOING NOT GIVING A THOUGHT ABOUT OUR INJURIES BECAUSE WE ARE RIGHT NOW FERAL.

Eventually we calm down and pick all of them up and go to a cave somewhere to not get hit by the acid rain, and after we just kind fly, swim and run around with the survivors on our back around the world of sonaria while dodging molten lava, avalanches, acid rain, meteor shows, tornadoes and etc cuz this world like forsaken can’t give us peace, after all its

Kill or be killed

That’s the bitter truth which the forsaken crew learns and something we have known for some time now

welcome back grims anon! honored to have your madness return to my inbox with another certified peak masterpiece 🫶

to say, your creativity is on a whole other tier/gen. like, GENIUS.

but this is so real im crying/j. if i had 10 deaths, half would be from those stupid disasters💔

anyway lets dive into survivors / killers’ reactions before i have to go to my extra class. also deepest apologize if i got your ideas wrong i dont have much time atm（；´д｀）ゞ

the common reaction across survivors would be absolute fear / caution. not because you’ve done anything intentionally, but because you growl, hiss, and your eyes have that “i’ll bite first, ask never” look constantly. they’re living beside a living tempest.

the sentinels (minus a certain cultist) try their best with cautious gestures, such as PHYSICALLY KNOCK YOU DOWN (dw it’s not hurt it’s just like sibling bonk. at least to you ig,,) problem is, they’re never sure if it’ll settle you down or make things worse instead of better. they’re walking a tightrope every time you twitch.

007n7 and elliot cling to diplomacy. “...hey- maybe take a breath?...” while your claws are halfway through stone.

builderman and dusekkar keep their distance. thankful, sure, but still wary of you. they keep to an arm’s length most of the time.

jane doe stands somewhere in the middle. still, others can tell there’s a quiet worry in her eyes.

noob does the same, though it’s purely out of fear. they need comfort patrol on duty 24/7. poor lil pal.

two time? yea no. they’re on divine dial-up, praying to the spawn for disaster control. or at the very least, a bit of breathable air.

taph, like a sweet soul he is, gets it. understands your rage on a molecular level. offers rocks, sticks, soft leaves, and even preens your wings if you let them. they do it gently, like trying to remind you what tenderness feels like.

and the disasters... don’t even start. floods and earthquakes are the absolute worst (im projecting) they move, and they force you to move, dragging half the crew behind you

transport logistics are wild: some survivors ride on your back, some cling like windblown flags, and the unlucky few (aka guest, chance, and 007n7) get the collar grab treatment. looks like a mother cat relocating her kittens.

shedletsky’s living the dream. sits on your head like it’s the best seat in sonaria. surprisingly, you allow it

... when you’re stable i think,,

as for the killers? well, they will have their own way to solve problems. perhaps.

things would go like: 1x and azure brawling in some random corner, c00lkid trembling (thunder and meteors freak him out) while jason pats his back, john doe zoned out nearby (not even blinking), guest 666 staring blankly at the acid rain like a dog watching water fall, doombringer’s one twitch away from total annihilation, mafioso hating every second here and noli off to the side, joking memes to himself or whoever happens to be nearby.

[that’s it for now, i’ll expand it later in the future / gotta save up contents gang]

unless they stick with you, someone who’s lived this hellscape. but then they’ll have to face the survivors gang head-on.

ironic, right? there’ll be an entire circus trust

you’re the wall now. the last barrier keeping them from ripping each other apart before your own hunger kicks in. wait who said that-

i imagine you’d shapeshift into ardor warden (or something close enough) low budget, obviously. not that it matters tho. you’re massive just enough to stretch across the cave floor and block every frantic climb attempt from either side.

... except shedletsky & 1x / azure & two time. they never stop detest each other’s breath like it’s poison. you have to either shake your body or grab them down like misbehaving cats when they get too rowdy. they always hiss back, claws out, trying to tear through your skin / fur. somehow it never works.

jane huh? just block john out of her view and let her settle into the madness of your fur. she’s been through enough, and you’re the closest thing to peace she knows here.

the killers may be the pain in the ass most of the time, but at least they’re useful. 1x and noli can scout for supplies during acid rain. for some reason, that mess barely affects them.

guest 666 is your swim champ whenever flood hits. you could go yourself, sure. but then who’s babysitting the two gangs trying to maul each other?

that said, the actual problem is: it’s not what they can do, it’s whether they’ll actually listen to you when it counts.

but there’s one thing they all know for sure.

this ain’t forsaken anymore. no more respawns or endless loops. they used to call this freedom, sweet release of death; but now? they’ve got bigger problems.

and you’re the only one here who doesn’t want to devour them alive. the only one who’s willing to help them survive.

after writing all this shi i just realized the spectre doesn’t even no-clip into sonaria which means all the nerfs vanish UGSHDHSD OKAY fine. just imagine the nerf still sticks to them for a little while AUGHGHGH

the tags are so long im crying

edit; have to tag again because DHUXHHUBCLELCBSH/ gen anger

[charmed-quill]

Maybe it was Then// J.P x Reader

author's note at end.

Summary: James Potter didn’t mean to fall for her —it just sort of happened. Maybe it started back in third year when she dominated a Quidditch match as Ravenclaw’s reserve Beater, or maybe it was all the quiet moments she spent in the Gryffindor common room, smiling shyly when her eyes met his. Either way, Sirius knows, Lily knows, everyone knows… except James.

Word count: 3.3k

He wasn’t exactly sure when it had started.

Probably somewhere between the Charms classes he’d shared with her since first year—when she’d accidentally set her quill on fire trying to master a Switching Spell and had laughed so hard she nearly cried—and that Gryffindor party she’d somehow snuck into, hair a little too neat for someone who claimed she wasn’t “really a party person.”

Somewhere between then and now, James Potter had fallen for Y/N.

And it had crept up on him slowly, like the way sunlight fills a room without you noticing until it’s suddenly everywhere.

She was on the other side of the common room now, framed by the flickering firelight and the soft, lazy glow of enchanted candles floating near the ceiling. She was dancing with Lily Evans to Dancing Queen, which Mary Macdonald had all but threatened Sirius’s life to let her play. The two girls twirled in the centre of the room, skirts spinning like petals caught in a breeze.

James felt an odd warmth crawl up his neck as he watched her.

Her long-sleeved shirt clung and flowed all at once, the fabric loose and airy, sleeves trailing like ribbons as she spun Lily around. His gaze flickered—just for a second—to the knot at the centre of her chest where the two halves of her top met, then darted lower to where the patterned fabric of her skirt matched perfectly, cinched with a belt that had a tiny daisy buckle winking in the light. Her white boots, polished but a little scuffed from wear, hit just below her knees.

She looked—Merlin help him—she looked hot. But more than that. She looked alive. Carefree. Like she belonged in that moment more than anyone else.

Her hair was down, loose and unrestrained, something he’d only seen maybe three times in the seven years he’d known her. It framed her face in soft waves that brushed against her shoulders when she laughed—a laugh he could feel even across the crowded room. It bubbled up bright and unselfconscious, louder than the music for him, though no one else seemed to notice.

And he found himself smiling. Just… smiling. Like an idiot.

“What are you staring at?”

James startled hard enough to nearly spill his drink. He tore his gaze from Y/N’s face—her flushed cheeks, her gleaming eyes—and turned sharply to see Sirius grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“Nothing,” James muttered, a little too quickly.

Sirius leaned forward, squinting at his best mate with that wolfish curiosity he reserved for moments of mischief. He shifted his head beside James’s and followed the same line of sight.

“Evans?” he guessed, downing the last of his Firewhisky in one long gulp. “I thought you were over her.”

James made a sound—half scoff, half sigh—and took a sip of his lukewarm drink, if only to have something to do with his hands.

“I am over her,” he said, quieter this time. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed him—they had already wandered back.

Sirius frowned slightly, his sharp, angular features screwing up in mild confusion. His grey eyes flicked toward the girls again. Lily, Mary, Marlene… and then—

It took him a second. Then his mouth curved into the kind of slow, dangerous smile that always preceded trouble.

“Y/N!” he shouted, far too loud, the name cutting through the music like a curse.

James panicked. He slapped his hand over Sirius’s mouth, eyes wide, heart thudding so hard he was sure it was audible.

“Shut up,” he hissed, his whisper still frantic enough to draw a few curious glances.

Sirius’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. He leaned back slightly, this time dropping his voice into a conspiratorial whisper.

“Y/N?”

James groaned and rolled his eyes skyward. He could already feel the flush creeping up his ears. Merlin, why was he even friends with Sirius Black?

It was obvious Sirius was drunk. But even a drunk Sirius was dangerously observant. Perhaps spilling his secrets at a Gryffindor Quidditch party hadn’t been his brightest idea.

“When did this happen?” Sirius asked, his grin wicked, his tone more amused than judgmental.

James exhaled slowly.

That was a great question.

When had it started?

It could’ve been third year.

That might’ve been the start of it.

She’d just made reserve Beater for Ravenclaw—a position she’d laughed off, claiming she’d never actually have to play. But then came that match, the one etched in his memory clearer than most Gryffindor victories.

The sun hung high and golden over the pitch, the light reflecting off broomsticks and casting long shadows across the vibrant green. From the stands, the crowd was a restless sea of colour—scarlet and blue waving in ripples, the noise a constant thrum of anticipation.

James watched from his broom as the team captains shook hands at the centre of the field. The whistle blew, shrill and sharp, and the game burst into motion.

Within minutes, Gryffindor had the crowd roaring. Three goals in the first ten minutes—clean, easy, the kind of game that made you feel invincible.

Things only got better from there.

Ravenclaw was unprepared, disjointed. They played like they hadn’t even practised. And then—

It happened.

An hour in, Gryffindor was ahead by sixty points, and Ravenclaw’s starting Beater had taken a nasty hit, tumbling clean off his broom. A medic team whisked him away.

And she came in.

Y/N.

James remembered the way her hair caught the sunlight as she flew out onto the pitch, broom clutched tight, her expression calm and determined in a way that made his chest feel oddly tight.

And then everything changed.

As soon as she entered the match, it was like facing a different team. Ravenclaw sharpened into something fierce, precise. Every time a Gryffindor Chaser touched the Quaffle, a Bludger was already barreling toward them. And it wasn’t just mindless force—no, she played smart. Redirecting Bludgers with a twist of her wrist so clean it looked effortless. She moved like she could see the game five steps ahead of everyone else.

And Merlin, it worked.

It was chaos. Gryffindor couldn’t keep the Quaffle for more than a handful of seconds. Their formation broke down. Even their Keeper was rattled. Meanwhile, Ravenclaw players seemed untouchable—like the Bludgers themselves refused to strike them.

She was fantastic. Absolutely brilliant.

Even though Gryffindor’s Seeker managed to catch the Snitch, it didn’t matter. Ravenclaw still took the match by a landslide on points.

Needless to say, she wasn’t a reserve after that. She became the Beater everyone dreaded facing.

Maybe it had been then. Maybe that was the moment something unspoken settled in his chest—an ember waiting to catch.

Or maybe it was fourth year, when she and Lily Evans became inseparable.

Suddenly, Y/N was everywhere.

She’d made a home in the Gryffindor common room without even trying. Any time James walked in, she was there, lounging on one of the squishy sofas by the fire, warming a piece of toast on a stick like she owned the place. Or she’d be curled in the corner chair, her quill scratching furiously over parchment as she pored over some essay full of complicated Arithmancy theories that made James’s head ache just looking at it.

Maybe it was the proximity. The way her presence felt so natural, like she belonged. Maybe it was the shy, fleeting smiles she’d give him when their eyes accidentally met. Or how she just… fit with his friends, laughing easily with Sirius, even managing to get a smirk out of Remus on his grumpiest days.

Maybe it was that.

Or maybe it was today.

Today, when Ravenclaw lost the Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor.

James knew how hard she’d worked for this match. He’d seen the Ravenclaw Quidditch schedule pinned in the library and noticed how she practically lived on the pitch in the weeks leading up to the game. He’d even caught glimpses of her in the library, hunched over play diagrams and tactical notes long after everyone else had gone to bed.

And when it ended—when Gryffindor’s Seeker caught the Snitch and the Gryffindor team lifted him onto their shoulders in a blur of scarlet and gold—she was devastated.

He saw it in the way she threw her broom down, her shoulders stiff, her jaw set tight. She didn’t look at anyone as she strode ahead of her team, retreating to the changing room.

For a fleeting moment, James thought—if it hadn’t been Gryffindor they were playing, maybe he would’ve felt bad. Maybe tomorrow morning, when the euphoria of the win faded, he would feel bad.

But then—

She caught him on his way up to the castle.

She was already changed out of her Ravenclaw robes, back in her neat uniform, her broom perfectly polished and balanced over her shoulder. She looked fresh-faced, like she hadn’t just fought tooth and nail for a Cup and lost it.

“Hey, James,” she said.

He stopped in his tracks and turned.

Behind her, Lily, Mary, and Marlene were a few steps away, trailing along like a little chorus of mischief. Marlene was still in her Gryffindor robes, and all three wore the same amused, conspiratorial look, like they were waiting for something.

“Uh,” she hesitated for a beat, then smiled—small, soft, almost shy. “You guys did well out there today.”

The girls behind her giggled. A sharp, high-pitched little sound that made James feel vaguely like he was on display.

“Uh—thanks,” he stammered, and for some reason, it came out awkward, rougher than he intended. “You… you did great as well.”

And there it was—her smile widened, just slightly, before she turned on her heel and ran back to her friends.

They dissolved into manic giggles, whispering furiously to one another, and for the life of him, James couldn’t stop watching her retreat.

He didn’t even know why.

Maybe it had been then.

Or maybe—maybe it had been all along.

“Sometime between third year and now,” James admitted, his voice quieter than usual, almost begrudging.

Sirius blinked, then grinned slowly and sharply, like a cat spotting prey. “Wow. So this is, like… super serious.” He paused dramatically, his lips twitching before he couldn’t help himself. “Actually—Super Sirius.”

He burst into laughter at his stupid joke, clutching the edge of the table for balance.

James just stared at him flatly.

“Merlin’s sake,” James muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you’re insufferable.”

They sat in a rare pause, the muffled thrum of music and party chatter filling the space between them.

“You should ask her out,” Sirius finally said, like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he’d just handed James some kind of groundbreaking revelation.

James let out a sharp scoff, rolling his eyes and tipping back the last of his drink. It was warm now, the mystery punch from the refreshments table tasting faintly of Firewhisky and regret.

“I would,” he said after a beat, “but I just don’t think she’s into me.”

Sirius tilted his head, his grin fading slightly into confusion. “C’mon, Jamie, you’re a total catch. What makes you think she’s not into you?”

James flinched at the nickname—Jamie. It only ever came out when his friends were either drunk, teasing him, or deliberately trying to get under his skin. In Sirius’s case, it was always all three.

But the question lingered.

What made him so sure she wasn’t into him?

James’s mind drifted, unbidden, to a handful of moments over the years—tiny instances that had carved themselves into the corners of his memory for no reason other than how uncomfortable they’d made him feel.

There was the time he’d tried to be her Charms partner, sitting beside her with what he’d thought was a friendly grin, only for her to barely speak the entire class. Instead, she scribbled her thoughts onto parchment and slid it toward him without looking up, like even eye contact was too much.

Or the time in Transfiguration when she’d traded seats with Mary Macdonald—traded seats—just so she wouldn’t have to sit beside him.

And then there was the Quidditch practice. He’d hung around after Gryffindor’s session, hoping to catch her coming out of the Ravenclaw changing rooms, maybe talk to her about the upcoming Cup match. He’d waited. And waited. And when her team finally emerged, laughing and chatting, she was nowhere to be seen. She’d slipped out the back to avoid him.

James exhaled heavily, shaking his head.

He didn’t know why. Didn’t know if it was something he’d done—or something she’d heard. But the conclusion always came back the same.

“Y/N L/N doesn’t like me,” he said finally, the words heavier than he wanted them to be.

“She just… doesn’t like me the way I like her.”

He brushed Sirius off with a shrug and turned toward the refreshments table, pouring himself another cup of whatever potion of alcohol and fruit juice the upper years had concocted.

Sirius scoffed behind him.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” he said, casual, almost sing-song.

James froze, his fingers tightening slightly around the ladle. Slowly, he turned to look at his friend.

“What does that mean?” James asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Sirius was smirking now, the kind of smirk that spelled trouble. He shook his head dramatically, his long black hair bouncing into his face before he flicked it back with a practised toss.

“No can do,” Sirius said lightly, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy by Evans.”

James blinked. “You—what? You heard something from Lily?”

Sirius reached for one of the smaller Firewhisky glasses on the table and downed it in one smooth motion. His face scrunched up for half a second as it burned down his throat, but he recovered quickly.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “We were talking the other day. About her massive crush on you.”

James’s heart tripped over itself. “Lily has a crush on me?” he asked, almost reflexively.

Sirius blinked at him like he was the stupidest person alive, then shook his head again.

“No, you prat—Y/N’s massive crush on you.” He reached for another shot, pouring it with slow precision. “But I promised Evans I wouldn’t tell you.”

James’s brain stalled. “You’re—you’re joking.”

“Nope.” Sirius tossed back the second shot and let out a soft ahh as it hit. “Apparently, she’s super shy about this kind of thing. Doesn’t want us making fun of her or anything.”

James just stood there. Gobsmacked.

This whole time.

This whole bloody time, she’d liked him back—and it took a drunk Sirius Black to tell him.

“So…” James started slowly, almost afraid of the answer. “If I go ask her out now, she’s not gonna, like, yell at me?”

Sirius laughed, loud and unrestrained, leaning back on the table for support.

“Mate,” Sirius began, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper, “from what Evans told me, all you’d have to do is say please, and she’d be under you in a second.”

James choked on his drink.

“SIRIUS!” he hissed, his face turning crimson.

Sirius only grinned wider, clearly delighted with himself.

“Shouldn’t you be annoying Moony or something?” James asked, his tone just a little too sharp, an attempt to deflect Sirius’s relentless grin and the way it was making his nerves buzz.

Sirius lit up instantly, his smile wide and wolfish. “Oh, yeah. Haven’t seen him in fifteen minutes—he’s probably worried sick,” he said with mock seriousness before sauntering off with a lazy wave.

James watched his friend bounce away, leaving him with a half-finished drink and a pounding heart.

He downed the liquor in one go. It burned all the way down, but he welcomed the sting—anything to give him courage. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he headed toward the cluster of girls gathered near the fire.

Mary was the first to notice. She arched a brow, smirking as she nudged Lily. Lily leaned in, whispering something to Marlene, who turned with a spark in her eye to Dorcas, who then leaned toward Y/N.

She turned just in time, her expression shifting into a wide, startled grin.

James felt his pulse jump. She always did that—smiled with her whole face, eyes soft and bright, cheeks warming just slightly. And it always made his chest feel too tight.

“Hey, ladies,” he said, forcing every bit of his practised confidence into his voice. He could feel their eyes on him, like he was stepping into a trap they’d all set and were waiting for him to trigger. “Mind if I steal Y/N for a moment?”

The group immediately dissolved into giggles. Lily bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh outright. Marlene, of course, didn’t even try to hide her grin. Before leaving, she leaned down and whispered something in Y/N’s ear.

Whatever it was, Y/N gasped softly, scandal written all over her face. She swatted Marlene’s arm, shaking her head as the other girl just smirked knowingly and sauntered off.

James didn’t catch the words, but judging by the way Y/N’s eyes darted anywhere but at him and how her cheeks had turned crimson, he had a good guess.

He turned his attention fully to her. She was already red-faced, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, and avoiding his gaze like it were dangerous.

Merlin, she was beautiful when she was nervous.

“So…” James started, his voice dropping softer than he meant. “Sirius said he was talking to Lily the other day.”

Her head snapped up just a fraction, and her blush deepened, if that was even possible. She made a tiny sound—half groan, half laugh—and immediately covered her face with her hands.

“Oh god,” she muttered into her palms, her voice muffled. “What did he tell you?”

James’s composure wavered instantly. He took a quick step closer, hands raised slightly in reassurance. “Nothing bad,” he hurried to say. “Well—I guess it depends on your definition of bad.” He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

She still hadn’t moved her hands.

Her shoulders were hunched, her posture small, like she was trying to disappear into herself. He couldn’t tell if she was mortified… or just shy. And somehow, that made his heart race even faster.

He was losing his grip on the fake cool, the easy confidence he’d always used like a shield.

“Do you—” James’s voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go on a date?”

The words slipped out quicker than he planned, almost breathless.

She froze, hands still over her face. Slowly, finally, she dropped them and looked up at him.

“Right now?” she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion, her lips parting just slightly.

James swallowed. Her eyes on him were softer than he expected, curious, almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steadier this time. He managed a small, hopeful grin. “Why not?”

Before she could talk herself out of it, before he could, James reached forward. His fingers brushed hers, featherlight at first, then more certain as he laced his hand with hers.

Her skin was warm against his.

He didn’t let himself overthink. He just gently tugged her toward the portrait hole, leading her out of the common room.

Behind them, the girls erupted into delighted shrieks and whoops, the kind that made Y/N groan under her breath.

She quickened her pace slightly to fall into step with him, her shoulder brushing his. Their hands stayed connected, neither of them pulling away.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice quieter now, the initial confusion melting into something softer.

James glanced down at her, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the thundering in his chest.

“Just trust me,” he said.

a/n: Another fic from my archive that I did up a bit. This is also posted on AO3, but I orphaned the fic bc I gave my friend that account lol. But this is bigger and better.

[neobunnydoy]

Deep Sleep | Jung Jaehyun (M)

You've been having trouble sleeping and jaehyun's determined to solve your problem. pairing jock! jung jaehyun x tutor! fem! reader

genre and content college au, kinda friends with benefits (?), fluff, SMUT MDNI, unprotected sex (be responsible pls), soft dom! jaehyun, pwp but with feelings

word count 3.3k

author’s note can ya’ll tell I’ve been having trouble sleeping………

The study guide laid open on the floor, your laptop screen dimming from inactivity, the only light in the room now a soft, golden glow from your desk lamp. You sat cross-legged, spine slightly hunched, a highlighter limp in your fingers. Another yawn slipped out, long and silent, your eyes blinking slowly like they had to remember how.

Jaehyun noticed.

You’d been unusually quiet tonight. No nagging. No dramatic sighs when he got an answer wrong. No sarcastic quips about how he might just fail Econ and take you down with him. Instead, you looked like you might drop dead any second.

"Baby, you okay?" he asked gently. You blinked slowly, looking up like it took effort to focus. “Yeah. Sorry. Just been having trouble sleeping lately.”

He frowned. “Why? Is there something going wrong?”

You smiled a little. Tired, but fond. He was always like this. Gentle. Curious. Even when you were just partners for a class project last semester, he’d stuck around. Jaehyun, the literal captain of the basketball team, campus heartthrob, the one whose name floated around with rumors and girls’ giggles… had somehow become your study date partner. And now your actual friend.

“It’s nothing. Just... student council stuff,” you muttered, waving it off.

His frown deepened. “Are they working you too hard again? I keep telling you, you don’t have to do everything by yourself. Can’t you just sit back and tell your minions to handle things?”

You huffed out a laugh at his expression. In his head, being the president of the student council was just you sitting at the head of the table bossing people around. Which, you guessed, some presidents probably do. But you were an overly ambitious perfectionist, and this role of yours? You took it maybe a little too seriously. So no, bossing around your “minions” was not an option. “Yeah, but still. The festival’s coming up, and it’s just a lot. Not really the work, more like… the pressure I guess. Can’t seem to turn my brain off even when I try.”

Jaehyun pouted at that, hated hearing you suffer like this. “Well you have to sleep, still.”

“I know, but I’ve tried everything....” And that, Jaehyun took as a challenge. He was always so competitive about the most trivial things, you could immediately hear the gears in his head turning.

“What about hot milk? Chamomile tea? I can go get some—”

“Tried it.”

“Okay, back to basics. Counting sheep?”

“I counted to a thousand once.”

“Scented candles? Podcasts?”

“Jaehyun.”

“Oh, what about ASMR?”

You gave him a look. Trying to tell him that there was literally nothing he could say that you hadn’t tried already.

He groaned. “Baby, come on. When was the last time you actually slept?”

You hesitated, pressing your fingers to your temple like you had to calculate. “I don’t know. Two weeks ago? I passed out after you dragged me to that charity run…”

He looked horrified. “Baby, that was almost a month ago.”

“Oh—really?” Your eyes widened. “Oh god. I… I don’t even know anymore.”

“Okay, wait, that's good. So you’re saying the marathon worked…” he said slowly, straightening. “Maybe we just gotta get your body moving.”

You gave him a blank look. “Jae, I don’t even have the energy to stand for more than 5 minutes. There’s no way I’m running another 5K.”

He sighed, recognizing the fault in his logic. He was wracking his brain again—and he was thinking so hard you almost let out a laugh. You should tell him to stop worrying. And honestly? At this point, you were convinced you were already past saving.

Then suddenly—like a light bulb went off over his head—you saw his eyes widen as he turned to you.

“Didn’t you pass out after we had sex?”

Your body froze.

Your brain literally short-circuited for a few seconds. 

He had said it so casually, like it was just another memory. Not something you’d been trying to bury in the deepest parts of your brain ever since it happened.

It had been a one-time thing. A slip. You’d both had drinks. You’d blurted out that you’d never had an orgasm before. And Jaehyun—stupidly competitive, golden-retriever Jaehyun—took it as a personal challenge.

He won.

And then neither of you brought it up again.

Until now.

“Wha—Jae. What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying,” he said matter-of-factly, “that it worked last time. You passed out like a minute after I made you come. You’re welcome by the way.” You continue staring at him, not knowing what to say. 

He smiled softly, hands patting the top of your head. “Look, I’m not saying we have to. But baby, you haven’t slept in weeks. That’s not okay. And I mean... maybe I can help.” Fuck, he’s actually serious. You were now realizing that no, you hadn’t magically fallen asleep and started dreaming. Jaehyun was actually sitting in front of you, offering to fuck you to sleep.

Was this a bad idea? Did you even have the energy to say no? You’d been desperate for the past month, trying everything to get a good night’s sleep. God knows you needed it.

But what ultimately made you actually consider it… was the way he was looking at you. He wasn’t joking or saying it to get into your pants. You could see the genuine concern, the quiet resolve. Like he would do anything for you.

You swallowed. “I mean… I—okay.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows perked up like he didn’t expect you to agree. “Yeah?” You sighed in defeat. “At this point, I’ll try anything.”

He smiled, then stood up. “Okay. Go lay down.”

“Wait, now?” Your voice came out higher than you expected, cracking slightly at the end.

Because suddenly—it hit you. He was standing there, already tugging you gently to your feet. This is happening.

It had been literal months since you slept together. Months since you’d slept with anyone. And this wasn’t supposed to happen again.

Except now… it was.

Your thighs instinctively pressed together, the memory sending a hot, low ache right to your core. Your pulse kicked up, fluttering in your neck, in your wrists, in every inch of skin he was about to touch.

“We haven’t even finished this last chapter yet.” you continued, still trying to stall for more time.

“Baby.” He reached for your hand, gently pulling you up. “You think I can focus on test prep knowing you’re one more yawn away from a coma?”

He started guiding you to your bed. “Now be a good girl and let me put you to sleep,”

You froze.

That sentence should not make your knees weak. But it did. Badly.

You slowly sank down on your bed, eyes darting anywhere but his. Suddenly not having the courage to look up. Still shocked at how... determined he was. One thing about Jaehyun—he was competitive, and when he set his mind to something, he was going to get it done.

But you were just... nervous. And Jaehyun could read you like a book. He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Nervous?” he asked.

You nodded slightly. “It’s just… been a while.”

“That’s okay. We'll go slow, yeah?”  His voice dropped to a murmur, lips brushing against yours.

“I’ll take care of you, baby. You don’t have to do anything.”

You barely managed a breathy, “Okay…” before he gently eased you onto the bed, pressing you into the mattress with the soft weight of his body, his lips slotting over yours for the first time in months.

He kissed you like he cared. Like you mattered. His lips moved slow, his hands cradling your jaw, thumb brushing beneath your ear. His body angled over yours, coaxing you back into the pillows, one kiss after another until the tension in your chest began to unravel.

“Let me,” he whispered against your mouth, already sliding his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “You don’t have to lift a finger tonight, baby.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as he eased the fabric up over your waist, then higher—slow, steady, reverent. His palms grazed your sides like he was memorizing you all over again.

And when he finally pulled your shirt over your head, his breath caught. Revealing nothing underneath. 

“Knew it.”

Your cheeks flushed, chest rising with a sharp inhale. “I—It’s just… we were studying, I didn’t—”

“I know, baby” he said quickly, cutting you off, voice softer now. “I know you’re not teasing me on purpose.” He shaked his head, murmuring to himself. “You don’t even realize what you're doing to me.”

Your stomach fluttered, thighs pressing together instinctively.

Then he dipped his head and licked a slow stripe over your nipple. Your back arched with a gasp, hips twitching beneath him.

He chuckled softly against your skin, closing his mouth around you, tongue flicking before sucking gently. His free hand came up to cup your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmured, switching sides, lips wet and warm. “Love how pretty you sound for me…”

He circled your nipple again with his tongue, and your whole body trembled in response.

"Jae—" Your fingers tangled in his hair, breath caught in your throat. Every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his palm sent pleasure crackling down your spine. You could barely think—barely breathe—under the weight of his attention.

His mouth found your lips again as his hands slid beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, yeah? Tell me if anything feels too much.”

You nodded.

His hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers sliding under the hem of your underwear, finding your clit like he’d done it a thousand times. The first touch made your whole body twitch, breath snagging hard in your throat. You didn’t even realize you were clenching your fists until you felt the sheets bunched up in your grip.

His fingers moved slow—gentle circles, featherlight touches—drawing your arousal out until your hips were tilting helplessly into every pass of his hand.

“So wet already, baby.”

Your cheeks burned. “Jae…” your voice came out breathless, cracked and needy.

He kept working you open, fingers finding its way inside you, thrusting slow and steady, never too much. Just enough to keep you hovering. Your back arched into him as his mouth returned to your neck, your hands fisting his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Doing so good for me,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses between every word. “So pretty like this, baby. So fucking soft.”

The pleasure was building too fast. Your thighs shook around his hand, hips grinding down like your body had taken over. He knew exactly what you needed—when to press harder, when to ease back. And he never once looked away from your face.

“J-Jaehyun—please—” You gasped, voice pitching when he curled his fingers just right.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” You couldn’t even answer.

Your body gave out first. The pleasure hit all at once—hot, sharp, and overwhelming. You came with a cry, thighs clenching, back arching as the waves of release rolled through you. Jaehyun didn’t stop—he slowed, fingers gentling, coaxing you through it as your body trembled beneath him.

Your lashes fluttered. Dazed. Breathing uneven.

“You came so fast for me, baby,” he said, voice soft as he nuzzled your cheek. “Guess you really needed that, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still catching your breath, your body still tingling. But he didn’t move away. His hand slid down your side, grounding you, soothing you. Then he leaned in, pressing another kiss to your lips—slow, sweet, lingering.

“Sleepy?” he asked, lips still grazing yours.

“Yeah…” you murmured. “I think so.”

“You think so?” He leaned back with a teasing scoff. “Yeah, no. That’s not gonna cut it.” He sat up, stripping off his shirt. “Let’s make sure you pass out for real this time, yeah?”

You blinked, already flushed again as his hands slid down to tug your shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion. He tossed them to the side without looking.

“You need my dick to really knock you out, don’t you?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

He looked up at you, smirking.

“Is that it, baby?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out—your brain scrambling, your body still floating.

“Say it,” he said, tone warm but firm. “Tell me what you want.”

Your throat tightened. Your heart was pounding again. He was so close—so steady, so patient—but he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said it.

You swallowed. “Please,” you whispered.

Jaehyun leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth—slow and deliberate.

“Hmm, please what?” he asked softly, dragging his lips down to your jaw. 

You felt your whole body light up again, breath catching in your throat.

“Please… I want you,” you breathed. “Need you, Jaehyun.”

“Good girl.”

He removed the rest of his clothing, then climbed over you. His lips capturing yours in one last kiss—deep, needy, before he pulled back to look at you. 

“Deep breath, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, trying to soothe the tension that had built up in your body. “I’ve got you.”

His hand cupped your cheek as he positioned himself carefully, and then, finally, you felt him pressing slowly into you. 

You gasped, your body instinctively arching as you felt the stretch. He pulled out before thrusting himself deeper this time. You could feel every inch of him now. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjusted.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Jaehyun whispered, his voice tight, strained as he fought to hold himself together. “Just like that, baby… Just like that.”

He moved slowly, carefully. His thumb brushed over your ribs, his lips trailing tender kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your temple.

“You’re doing so good, baby” he breathed, his voice thick with the strain of holding back. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Jae—” you whimpered, voice cracking as your walls fluttered around him. “Feels so—so full…”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice strained. “You’re taking me so well. You’re doing so good for me.”

You clenched around him, body pulsing without meaning to, and he let out a guttural moan, jaw tightening as he tried to control himself. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, too breathless to speak, but your hands clawed at his back, and your hips lifted again, chasing his movements, begging for more.

“Use your words, baby,” he said gently, lips brushing your cheek. “Please,” you whined, eyes glassy. “Please, Jae—faster.”

That made him groan—long and low, right against your throat.

He started to move. Faster, more deliberate. Hands gripping the inside of your thigh keeping you open for him. Each roll of his hips hit that perfect spot, coaxing desperate little moans from your mouth every time he bottomed out.

“Ah—Jae—feels so good, I—” Your words tumbled out, useless, wrecked.

“I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you.” He kissed you like he was trying to steady you, but he was shaking too—cursing under his breath with every clench of your walls around him. “You feel so fucking good—fuck.”

His hand on your thigh were gripping it a little tighter, using it for leverage as he began thrusting a little harder, a little deeper.

You gasped, head falling back against the pillow. Your body was already fluttering again, overstimulated, the pleasure rising too fast.

“Shit—baby—are you gonna come again?” he rasped, eyes locked on your face.

You nodded, choking on a sob. “I can’t—can’t help it—feels s’good—” “I know,” he gasped, hips stuttering as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His words worked like magic. Every ounce of worry, every bit of the pressure in your chest, started to melt away. You felt the weight in your heart lift, like he was taking it off of you with each slow, precise movement.

And then, just like that, your body gave in—shuddering beneath him as the pleasure washed over you in a crashing wave.Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper as you shattered beneath him, body pulsing, crying out his name.

“Shit—fuck—baby—” Jaehyun choked on a moan as your walls clenched around him, dragging him straight over the edge. His rhythm faltered, muscles locking up, arms tightening around you.

He buried himself deep, hips pressed flush to yours as he came with a low, guttural sound—his release spilling inside you in hot, slow pulses.

He slowed his hips, gradually easing down, his lips ghosting over your jaw, your neck, anywhere he could reach. Your chest rose and fell, fast at first—but soon it evened out. Deepened. Your fingers went limp against his shoulder.

Jaehyun stilled.

“Baby?” he whispered, brushing his nose against your temple.

No response. Just soft, warm breath at his collarbone. Completely still.

He smiled.

You were out cold.

Carefully, like he was handling glass, Jaehyun slid out of you and gathered you into his arms. You made the tiniest sound—something like a sigh—but didn’t wake. He guided your body gently, positioning you to lie half on top of him, one arm curled around his middle, your cheek against his chest.

Then he reached for the blanket, tugging it up to your shoulders and tucking you in. His fingers brushed the damp strands of hair from your forehead, smoothing them back with quiet care.

And he just… looked at you for a moment.

You looked so peaceful. No tension in your brow. No pinched exhaustion in your features. Just… soft.

God, you were so soft.

He didn’t know exactly when he started caring about you like this. When tutoring sessions turned into late-night check-ins, or when “project partner” stopped being the only thing you were. But it happened fast. Maybe too fast. And quietly.

You made it easy.

Everyone said Jaehyun was the popular one, the guy everyone knew. But knowing someone and being known were different. Most people liked the idea of him. Liked how he looked in a jersey or how his voice sounded during a campus party.

But you?

You saw him.

Beyond the game schedules and the girls that flirted too loudly. You stayed up with him when he panicked before a test. You brought extra pens. You shared your notes. You actually gave a damn whether he passed or failed, not because it affected your grade—but because you wanted him to do well. You believed he could.

He’d never had someone like that.

Ever since he met you, he saw you doing everything for everyone. Fixing things. Helping. Showing up. You didn’t know how to stop giving. But never once had he seen you give that same effort to yourself.

Until tonight.

Until you let him take care of you—even if it was ridiculous, even if it meant getting you to sleep the only way he knew how.

Jaehyun smiled to himself, heart swelling as he looked down at you.

You were completely dead to the world, one leg tossed over his thigh, your lips parted, hair a mess, breathing slow and steady. The cutest little expression on your face—like you were finally at peace.

He brushed your cheek with the back of his knuckles, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Good night, baby.”

Then he wrapped both arms around you and finally—finally—closed his eyes, too.

[adoresia]

YOU MADE ME MALLEABLE : CHARACTER PROFILES

— TOLY HITS !!

SERIES M.LIST ᧔࿔᧓ MAIN M.LIST

Y/N :: emotionally detached from reality , ghosted your therapist , used to believe in soulmates but now you believe in nothing except caffeine and the dopamine hit from ignoring your feelings , balancing uni and work terribly , radio static , over sweetened coffee , headphones at full volume , spontaneous side quests in the middle of the night , worn out hoodies , karaoke at 2am , collecting weird flyers and stickers , forgetting things on purpose

NAGI SEISHIRO :: skips half his classes but somehow still passes , sleeps like its a sport , always has snacks , casually emotionally unavailable in the way that makes people fall for him , video games at 3am , deadpan one-liners that accidentally hit too hard , shrugs in place of apologies , will ghost you and ask if you’re mad three days later , actually cares but doesn’t know how to show it

REO MIKAGE :: looks expensive because he is , says hes emotionally stable but has cried during a business pitch , lives off validation from nagi and overpriced matcha , very unhinged and gives into you easily

CHIGIRI HYOMA :: your emergency contact and only source of rational thought , late night drives in silence , says ‘your better than this’ while passing you a drink , swears up and down that he doesn’t care but memorised your schedule anyways , biggest pretty boy rights advocate , knows everyones intentions with you but you never want to listen , wants better for you and tells you to stop playing people like you don’t care

ANRI TERIERI :: emotionally intelligent but like in a deeply concerning way , tells you the truth even when it ruins your week , graphic tees with existential slogans , works the same shitty job as you but never ever complains , would never hurt a fly , quietly knows everything

KARASU TABITO :: knows you dont see him more than what he is but wont stop trying anyway , lingers in doorways like a question waiting to be answered , shows up unannounced and overstays , gentleman but cheeky , voice note philosopher who overthinks your silence; but in silence , buys you food in an attempt to figure out more about your past , everybody can see how badly he wants you but you dont want it back , trapped between a friend and something more , caught in the drag of unrequited fixation , knows about all the guys you’ve been around with but still tries anyways

BEHIND THE SCENES :: 🎬

First day of the semester yay lets get drunk!!! 😊😊😊😊 - y/n

security cameras caught them running down the street without shoes on uh oh

karasu was following after them in his car (he almost ran them over)

people actually buy from reo believe it or not (the rich are unfortunately getting richer your so right karasu 💔💔💔

Nagi lives of mountain dew can you tell? it gives him energy + hydrates + nourishing (according to him) so what more does he need?

he spills some into choki’s plant pot and then wonders why it’s dying

Reo has to water it for him because he’s so silly

Reo also bought nagi all his followers but like some of them are actually from streaming but theyre still paid to watch… he doesnt really care though but for Reo its income for nagi so #winwin

Reo pays for everything as you may have guessed

karasu stop being a beg challenge failed sorry hes probably ooc actually idc

anri is a year above them btw

TAGLIST ;; 13/50

⤷ @s6rine @pumpkintoad @howtfuspellgorjous @kiss-my-asscheeks @masterrbaiter @matchaveins @andysdrafts @kaalwanan @jellychee @peaktora @vinzcoke @tlissablr @soph1sticatedly

a/n :: hi lina if you are reading this i stole the ‘why is he lying’ sticker from you please dont punch me and punch me and punch me

[prettyboystories]

Izuku // Support Course

688 words Premise: Izuku Midoriya is a(n adorable) support course student and your suit just ripped Warnings: none I can think of

Begrudgingly you dragged yourself through the halls to one of the workspaces of class… 2F, you thought, maybe? 

Your hero suit had ripped. Honestly, it was impressive it had held out this long but you were still miffed at having to miss out on the end of class to get it repaired. Granted, at least you’d only miss five more minutes of fighting and then the majority of assessment but Midnight-sensei’s assessments were actually useful (unlike some other teachers’ but who were you to point fingers).

The door to the workspace wasn’t closed, you’d been able to hear the tinkering as soon as you entered the hallway, but you still knocked on the doorframe to get the attention of the single student who was working here right now.

You gave a wave when he turned to you. He was cute.

Soft-looking locks of green bounced as his head turned and the freckles on his cheeks stretched when he gave you a wide grin, adorable little smudges of grease joining the freckles on his cheeks and nose.

You watched as he removed his gloves, fumbling with them for a few seconds. You saw a firm blush spread over his cheeks at his fumbled attempts and had to bite your tongue to not show any outward amusement. He probably wouldn’t manage well with that.

“H-hi, can I help you?” he asked, stumbling towards you.

You gave him a smile, your prior grumpy mood already vanished in thin air, and nodded. “I was hoping for some help with my suit-”

“Of course! What do you need? New bracers? Reinforced boots? No, you’re probably here to finally remove that weak spot over your support item carrier. Oh, actually while you’re here, I have schematics for a support visor that I think would work even with your quirk! I know some heroes prefer their vision clear but there’s so many possible upgrades for visors nowadays that I think it’s worth a try! I mean, if you want to, that is.”

He looked at you with those wide, hopeful eyes that made your brain stutter and want to promise him he could design you a whole new suit if he wanted. But you refrained, thankfully. That would have been embarrassing.

“...uhm, I accidentally tore the suit at the back during today’s sparring and was wondering whether the Support Course handled such minor damages or if there’s somewhere else I should go for that,” you offered with an awkward smile instead.

“Oh.”

“But I’ll happily hear your ideas for improvements!” you rushed to add at his disappointed look. He looked so sad. Don’t do this to me, cute freckles. “From the sounds of it my equipment is far from optimal.”

“N-no, your hero suit is really good! I love the design,” he quickly amended though you hadn’t taken offence before. “I just like to think a lot about how I can help heroes be even better than they are and I have so many notes on pro heroes too but mostly all of you guys because you’re here and I can offer suggestions. Uhm, not that I tend to do that. I don’t know how to approach you guys… but if you say you’re willing to try, I would love to give you a prototype for that visor I mentioned. I can have it done in three da- no, tomorrow.”

You wanted to bite those cute cheeks. Uhm-

“Okay,” you offered a little dumbly. “Uhm, and about that rip?”

“Yes!” he said, eyes somehow widening even more. “I can do that too! And remove the weak spot while I’m at it. Just leave the suit with me. You can pick it back up tomorrow morning before your Hero Lessons.”

“Great. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” you told him with a giddy smile. “And your name? You know, in case I need someone to fetch you.”

“I’m Izuku Midoriya,” he told you and you repeated the name a few times in your head to make sure you’d remember it. Though realistically, how would you forget him?

“Midoriya,” you repeated. “I look forward to working with you!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! Remember to send in requests or asks if you want!

[diamondsinterlude]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝

chapter two

pairing: Sammie Moore x OC (Robin Welkins)

word count: 3307

summary — 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘰. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 1933 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 1932.

warnings — period appropriate racism, violence, trauma, use of N-word, angst, depression, ptsd, talks of sex, (idk if I’ll write smut yet but if a chapter includes it there will be a warning) pro has spell or grammar errors

author’s note: Sorry for the wait, guys. I haven’t been feeling the best mentally lately, plus working and getting ready for classes next month. But I felt good enough to finish the chapter and get it out to you guys. Again, I do take constructive criticism because I’m not the best writer, but please be nice (I’m sensitive) hope you enjoy!

‘How could I forget to ask her name?’  All that talking on the bus and he forgot to ask her for her name! He thought about that while at work, even on the way home.

He didn’t think about how she told him she was picking up a shift for her friend until he finally got back to the apartment. So, he can’t even see her on the bus the next day because she was only picking up the shift for her friend for that day only. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe she was just supposed to be a good encounter for how shit his week had been going thus far. And did he really need to be talking to a girl with the shit he’s gone through? He wakes up on the verge of a panic attack almost every other night.  But the thought of not seeing her again made him a little sad. 

Besides her beauty, from the short time they were talking he could see her personality a bit. She was funny, had humor, confidence, obviously if she looked him in his face then decided to sit next to him and talk. She was a nice gal, complimenting him and somehow making him comfortable. He wondered what she sounded like singing, and was her voice loud? Did she sing in a quieter tone? Or does she switch it up? Sammie thought all this, but he still doesn’t know her name.

“How was work today, Sammie?” 

Finally, out of his thoughts. He looks up from his plate at the table to see Mrs. James looking at him from his side at the dinner table. He had been eating a little slower and she had noticed. I mean of course she noticed when he and her oldest usually have an unsaid contest on who will finish dinner first. 

“It was decent, had a good day.” He shrugged while finally using the fork he was playing with his food with, to put some in his mouth. 

“How about ’chu?”

“I had a pretty okay day, besides taking care of a sick five year old. I just cleaned around here. Made Otis’s food for his shift tonight. The baby’s been giving me that morning sick but nothing a little hot tea can’t help.” She responded to him. 

“What’s morning sick?” Jojo, who was the second oldest with him being 10 had a bad habit of talking with food in his mouth. So of course, he asked this question mouth full of the cornbread his momma made for dinner that night. 

“Boy what I tell you about eating with your mouth open?” She looks at him with a stern eyebrow raised.

“Sorry momma”

As she gives him a little run-down on what morning sickness is, Sammie looks over at Mr. James.

Otis didn’t really talk too much, he realized. Kind of only talked to his wife and said things here or there but mostly remained quiet. Even though he gives Sammie that side eye that makes him think he doesn’t really like him, the older man reminds him of his big cousin. Not a man of a lot of words, but more so actions. Even though Otis doesn’t speak too much, you could tell he loves his wife. Her hand rests on top of hers while they eat at the table now. He saw that with his cousin also. Didn’t talk but was somehow touching his wife, If he was near her. Makes him miss him. Even though sometimes he doesn’t think Smoke liked him also. He knows he cared about him, though. Protected him till the morning before deciding to go be with his wife and baby in death. 

“Otis, honey, after we finish dinner, I’m putting the food up you want me to add any of this to your lunch?”

“Naw baby I’m good. I’m actually finna get up and start getting my stuff together for work.” Otis replies getting up and putting his empty plate in the sink.

“Mkay.” Ida goes back to finishing her plate and before heading to the bathroom Otis gives her a kiss on the head.

“I’m finished with my food momma, I even ate the beans!” Bobby replies back showing his mom his plate. There were still beans, but you can tell he ate a lot of them compared to the last time she cooked them. So, it was a start.

“Okay, it looks like you’re good. Jojo, baby, go with your brother to brush y’all teeth for bed. I’m sure Papa will let y’all in the bathroom.” She says getting up to get the empty plates off the table but leaving Sammie’s because it looks like he isn’t done. 

Both of the boys run to the separate rooms to grab their tooth brushes. Bobby going to him and Sammie’s room and Jojo going to the room he shares with his parents and their baby sister. Before both boys left the apartment to go to the shared bathroom.

“Let me go get Martha so she can take her medicine and see if she’ll eat. Hopefully that will keep her good for the night.” Ida walks into the room Jojo headed out of before he left. She walks back out with a 5 year old with leant into her neck.  Grabbing their homemade medicine off the counter, she sits back at the table baby sitting in her lap. She reaches for the piece of bread she left on the table for when her daughter woke up. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to stomach too much food. 

“Alright Mimi baby, can you eat a little bit for mommy?” Sammie could tell that the five year old was definitely doing better than this morning but still needed at least one more night’s sleep. She looked a little sweaty but thankfully her mom had turned on the fan in the room she was sleeping in previously. 

Martha peeled her eyes back, looked at her momma, and grabbed the pieces of bread from her mom before eating them. She looked tired still, and was definitely only eating it so her mom would let her go back to sleep. Finishing the bread, her mom pushed her to drink the cup of water she had on the table for her, then gave her a spoonful of medicine. The little girl winced, then grabbed the cup off the table again to get the gross taste out of her mouth. After she lay back against her mom. Once Ida heard snores, she turned her head back to Sammie again and see’s that he’s finally eating more of his food.

“So..you gonna tell me what happened today?”

“I already told yo- “

“Sammie, you still eat like a boy going through puberty. I’m gonna notice you not eating like how you usually do.”

“Nothing happened Ms. Ida.”

“Sammie.” She gave him that look that his momma would give him when she knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Okay! There was a girl- “

“Ooo a girl~” adjusting the 5 year old she wiggled her eyebrows with a smile.

“It’s not even like that.” Sammie has a little smile on his face saying this

“I wanna get to know her as a friend”

“Sure, a friend~”

“I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this” He goes back to finishing off his plate.

“Okay, okay, I’m just teasing, I’m listening! Tell me what she looks like.”

“Dark brown hair, brown skinned, and big brown eyes.” As he’s saying this, he’s looks up like he’s remembering her beauty. Don’t think he knows he’s doing this, but Ida sees this and smiles.

“She caught me looking at her on the bus after I noticed her humming, then she sat next to me, and we started talking.” He finished with a shrug

“Okay, so what has you in a mood then if you met a nice girl?” 

“I don’t know her name.” He winced 

“Sammie, you talked to the girl half of the bus ride and didn’t ask her her name??” She asked confused 

“It slipped my mind somehow.”

“Okay well, just ask her for her name when you see her on the bus tomorrow.” Ida huffed

“I don’t think I will see her anytime soon...”

Eyebrow raised at that Ida asked 

“And why is that?”

“…because she was just covering for her friend that was sick for the day and doesn’t even take that bus route” he winced

“Boy, I thought you were smart.”

“Sammie how the hell you knew that and still forgot to ask that girl her name, and where to find her again?”

“I know, I know, I know... wasn’t thinking”

“Obviously not.”

“We’ll all you can do is hope you see her again” 

Sammie sure hopes he does.

He didn’t see her the next day or the day after that. 

He just spent the next few days going about his usual schedule: work, then home, then work again. Since working at his job, he has made work friends. A lot of the men he’s worked with has been working at the factory for years. Thankfully, there were some guys around his age that worked there too. Terrance was one of them; they don’t really hang out outside of working and eating lunch together here and there. But when they did talk, they usually talked about music. 

Singing himself was something Sammie didn’t do as much anymore not because he didn’t love it but the last time, he put his all into his singing he lost a lot of people in his life. So, he still sings just not much. But he missed playing his guitar, too badly he broke it on that devils head. Besides trying to put enough money up for his own place (which was hard with his pay checks) he also was saving up enough for a new guitar. Wanted to also eventually get a new one made with his old guitar handle but that will probably cost a pretty penny. 

But Terrance would always say Sammie should come to this underground club for color folks that his cousin Dennis owned. It was in his big cousins basement. Basement apartment was left abandoned by the landlord and Dennis wanted to create another space in Chicago for colored people who not only loved blues music but just loved music in general. All types of talent would play at their open mics on Saturday’s. They called the place Sarah’s, which was named after Dennis’s mother who loved music also when she was still in the land of the living. Always saying that he still has an extra guitar he could borrow, it was very old, but it still worked. 

When the next Friday rolled around, Terrance asked for a favor.

“I know you probably gone say no but you think you can do me a huge favor?” T asked him at lunch

“How big we talking?” Sammie responded after taking a bite of his sandwich Ms. Ida made him. 

“Like I need you to play for the band tonight…” 

“Man, you know- “

“Sam, I know you've been itching to pick up a guitar again! Did you tell me it’s been months since you played?” Terrance was trying to convince.

“Exactly! Months! I’m sure I’m real rusty!” He says with his hands out and shoulders shrugged trying to convey his point.

“So why don’t you just come early and practice? Dennis needs a new guitar player for the band anyways.” 

“He sees you playing amazing with me and the boys, then he gives you a job. another job means more money, more money means you actually have money to save to get a place of your own or a brand new guitar!” 

That does sound good. Finally having enough to get him a small place, finally being able to afford a guitar of his own. Sammie already knows his answer.

“Let me think about it.” He huffs

“Yes! That really means you’ll come!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thinking it though- oh also we playing for a girl that’s a regular at the club always preforming for open mic.”

“Pretty girl too. She lucky I told Linda I wouldn’t be with any woman beside her… anymore at least.” 

After Terrence gives him the address they get off lunch and work till the late night shift people come in at 5:05pm 

On the ride back home, Sammie can’t help but think about what he committed too. As long as he doesn’t sing for too long, he should be fine, he thinks. It’s just playing the guitar. No big deal. 

“T, asked if I could help with this band gig with him at his cousin’s club...” Sammie was trying to get Ida to tell him that going was going to be a bad Idea, when he told her though she said

“I say do it, wouldn’t hurt you to get out the house. Life is more than working till ya die.” 

To be fair, Ida didn’t know about what happened in Clarksdale, all she knew was Sammie was from Mississippi. She didn’t know that for a while he was scared to make friends because of what happened. Thought he brought death on people because of his voice. 

Seeing the dubious look on his face, she added on.

“Look Sammie I know that whatever happened to you before you got to Chicago put something heavy on you, but honey you deserve to be happy! You’re 20, this is the time for you to have some fun besides work and maybe find love.

While they were talking, she was cooking dinner, she turned and faced him so he could really hear what she was saying. 

“Besides, who wants to be hobbled up in an apartment with a family of five on a Saturday night?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Boy I know I’m right”

After the conversation the rest of the day went on like usual, Sammie ate with the family, then went to bed.

He went to work the same the next day with Terrance making sure he was coming that night. 

“So, when you come you have to say a password to get in. The password is music on the moon. After that you will probably see some people by the stage area if you don’t see me yet just tell them who you are.”

Sam had butterflies in his stomach not the good nervous kind, but the ones where he felt like actually throwing up. What if he messed up the song? He definitely wouldn’t get the job then. Putting his fears aside, after changing into more comfortable nicer clothes he headed to the club where Terrence told him. 

When he walked down some stairs to the basement club he knocked on the door and an eye slot opened looking at him.

“What’s the password?” The deep raspy voice questioned 

“Music on the moon.” With that’s the door opened and he was let in. 

When he walked in, he noticed there were a decent amount of people he figured more would come in once open mic started. He spotted Terrance by the stage with a couple of men. As he was walking up Terrance spotted him. 

“And there’s are guitarist for the evening y’all!” As he said that everyone turned and looked at Sammie.

Terrance introduced him to all the typical band members. Then showed him the guitar that he would be using that night. It was right that the guitar was old, looked like it’s been some years since someone used it. But with a little tuning it was up to standard. 

Sammie was a little rusty like he thought but a couple minutes practicing with the band he was back in action.

“See I told you, you just needed a little practice. You’re all back in shape, you got this.”

Not seeing this girl that Terrance was talking about, Sammie asked.

“Hey, where’s that girl we supposed to be playing for tonight mainly?” While strumming his guitar a little bit wanting his hand to get used to it again. 

“She should been here like 10 minutes ago, I don’t know what’s taking that girl so long” Terrance responded while pausing with his own guitar to look at his watch in his pants pocket. 

Then came a girl running in. She had a long purple dress with some black heels. She stopped in front of the band out of breath, trying to catch her breath with her hair covering her face. 

“T! I am so sorry I’m late y’all my momma was taking her time trying to press my hair for me!” She finally looked up at that when Sammie saw his face. The songbird from the bus. 

The girl felt him looking at her and she turned to him after finally catching her breath. 

“Preacher boy, right?” She asked pointing at him

“Who the hell is Preacher boy?” Terrance asked, confused with his brows furrowed.

“I am, it’s a nickname.”

“Well shit you ain’t tell me about it. Thought we was boys?” Terrance had this fake hurt look on his face, but you could see his grin sitting in the corners of his mouth. 

“So, if Preacher boy isn’t what your typically called anymore, what your real name?” she asked, pulling his attention at once back to her. She looked just as pretty as she was when he saw her on the bus. It was different than the work uniform. Her hair was a bit straighter, but you can tell layers of her hair were curled at the ends, adding volume to her hair a bit. That purple dress she had on only showed off a bit of cleavage, but the dress fitted to her shape just a bit. You could see her shape under the dress, she was skinny, but she had love in the right place. Finally realizing he hadn’t replied yet with how she looked at him. 

“My name is Samuel Moore. But people call me Sammie.” He put his hand out for her to shake, with a smile. She smiled back, grabbing his hand for the shake and spoke.

“Robin Welkins.” After she said her name, he pulled her hand up to kiss it. He saw his cousin used to do this with women he was after all the time when he would see him. But he wasn’t after her because of what was between her legs, he just wanted to get to know her. 

“How y’all know of each other anyways?”

“I met Sammie on the bus, like a week ago.”

“Oh, that’s coo, now y’all know each other. We just gotta wait for Robs turn to be called up so we can play her song for her.” 

After a couple performers did their acts, some weren’t that good and got booed by a few people off the stage. It was Robin’s turn.

She stepped on to the small stage and Sammie and the rest of the band got into their places.

“How y’all doing, tonight!” The crowd responded with a yell and some clapping, place filling out more almost like people were coming just to hear her sing. 

“As some of y’all already know, my name is Robin, and tonight I decided to sing y’all a little older song of mine tonight. I hope y’all enjoy.” With that, she clears her throat before singing. And man, did she sing.

The more she sang the more people danced, it was like she had put a spell on the whole room. Sammie hadn’t had this feeling in a long time. It felt like his soul was dancing to the music too. She looked so beautiful. Sammie wanted to hear her actually sing since being on the bus and man!

She sounded like an angel.

divided by strangergraphics-archive

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[weixuldo]

Knowing Me, Knowing You

Bruce Wayne/Batman x Surgeon!Reader

Chapter 1: The Prince Returns

A/N: So I don't really have one single vision of Bruce in mind when writing but I see mostly somewhere between Battinson and Bale's rendition. But feel free to see him however you want- I will say that later on... I def see Battinson's take on Batman more representative of this guy, but yk, imagine whatever u want- I've been consuming so much DC content, but I feel like I still have a better grasp on the StarWars universe, so I hope you still enjoy the new territory haha

You've known Bruce Wayne for a few years now, all be it, not very well, but well enough to feel some tention between your two. Somehow the Prince of Gotham keeps landing in your office amd every time he does you become more drawn in. Too bad he's a womanizer and always dissappearing.

CW: EXPOSITIONNNN ugh, mention of surgeries

Wc: 2.8k

Gotham is cold and rainy today, nothing new. You begin closing your umbrella when you reach the pavilion covering the entrance to Gotham General Hospital- lightly shaking it before grabbing one of the plastic umbrella bags by the door.

You keep a neutral face until you reach the reception desk where you flash a smile at one of your coworkers before calling the next elevator. 

Luckily, you secure an empty cabin and sigh as you settle in for the decently long ride up to your office. It was only Wednesday but the week had already felt like an eternity. There had been a major explosion on the upper east side (extreme enough to involve the Bat, himself) earlier in the week which brought in a flood of patients- so much so that you were called into the ER for back up after you were finished with your last operation of the day.

All things considered, today should be relatively tame; it was a consultation day which meant your time would just be occupied meeting with patients to check up and get their surgeries scheduled. 

You had been in the health care field as long as you could remember and had tried your hand in many departments. You graduated high school two years early at the top of your class, continued to undergrad, and swiftly began medical school, quickly gaining a reputation as you did so. 

During your time as a college student you interned with Gotham General and even earned your EMT license. Back then you wanted to try everything you could because you wanted to be able to help anyone in any circumstance, however unrealistic that might have been.

Things changed after you worked a summer in the ER, for whatever reason that time seemed to align with one of the Joker’s worst crime sprees to date. Everyday you were met with suffering and patients you weren’t able to save. You realized that no matter how much passion you had, you couldn’t just will someone to stay alive and as much as that work mattered, you wanted to do something that would have more permanent effects. 

You moved to general surgery with a specialization in orthopedics where you would at least be able to improve some lives and not have to worry about the patients coming in already half dead and begging for the end. It just wasn’t a field you could personally continue in. 

The elevator dings as you reach your floor; adjusting your posture, you walk down the familiar hall. You were about to turn a corner into your office as your assistant, Olivia, stopped you, barely containing a wide smile. 

“Good Morning Liv” you say, a smile of your own creeping onto your face, “you seem awfully happy about something”. 

You take your keys-  an assortment of random keychains and expired coupon cards- and unlock your office as the younger woman follows in closely behind you, gripping onto the manilla patient folder in her hands. 

“Good morning and maybe just a little… Oh! And here’s your first consultation for today, he’s already in room 5” she hurriedly says with a small giggle before handing you the file. 

You arch your brow curiously at her blushing face before opening the (rather thick) file.

‘Bruce Thomas Wayne’

Aha. 

You look up from the folder with a knowing smirk as Liv giggled more, “Now I see what you’re all excited about”. 

Liv had the biggest crush on Gotham’s own, Bruce Wayne; once she started working under you and realized he was one of your patient’s, she about had an aneurysm on your office floor. 

“Okok! Ugh I know he’s a flirt with everyone, but c’monnnn, you can’t tell me you don’t get a little excited when he comes in?”. 

Smiling, you shake your head and sigh; unfortunately you did get a few stray butterflies when you read his name. 

“The only reason I get excited to see Bruce Wayne is because I know I’ll be snacking on fancy chocolates for a week after his appointment”. 

You had met Bruce Wayne for the first time years ago when you were still in residency and was pulled to run a nurse shift one month. Ever since then you have run into the famed “Prince of Gotham” a handful of times when he’s had minor surgeries. You had learned that he was quite the fighter and had a particular interest in mixed martial arts, though he had some very odd injuries for that type of sport. 

After the second surgery you performed on the man, he began sending delicious chocolates from all over the world to your office after the operations. He had never been in your office of course, but you had the intricate boxes displayed on the tops of your cabinets; London, Paris, Istanbul, Tokyo, Brussels, etc. Though, you hadn’t seen him in quite some time. 

“I just don’t get you, if Bruce Wayne got me chocolates I think I’d die on the spot!”

“It’s just a thank you for not screwing up his body even more” you joke. 

Liv shook her head before bouncing out of your office to (unnecessarily) inform him you would be with him shortly.

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t make you blush too, how could he not? He has the mystery but also the charm; a perfect gentleman, a generous philanthropist, a flirt, and insanely handsome. 

But he’s your patient- also there’s always news of some new supermodel or actress clinging onto his arm at galas or charity events.

‘No use in fantasizing’ you think to yourself as you open his new file report. 

Having trouble with the left knee, below average articular cartilage reserves, slight swelling. 

You sigh as you close the folder, this man just can’t keep himself out of trouble. 

__________________________________________

(~7 years ago)

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you checked the chart of the next room you have to go into. was your first day assigned to this particular floor and you were already not very fond of the work; the whole checking vitals and constantly having good bedside manner and all was never your thing. 

Bruce Wayne

Holy shit, the billionaire playboy himself; how the hell did no one tell you he was up here? 

Your eye twitched as you read over the name once more as nerves began to pool in your stomach. You could care less about the Wayne’s, the tragedies had been plastered all over Gotham since you were a child and other than crime, Bruce’s lavish lifestyle was all the news ever talked about.

Though, as much as you were tired of the constant articles and tabloids about Gotham’s Prince, you had never met a celebrity before. As much as you hated to admit it, there was no doubt that Bruce Wayne was one fine motherfucker. 

No, you were nervous about offending him or messing up; he had the money, power, and influence to get you fired if he didn’t particularly like how you acted. It didn’t happen often, but you knew the stories of Mr. Wayne firing people, seemingly on whims, in his company or even at restaurants he had purchased. 

Broken ribs, punctured left lung, mild lacerations on back

The patient is stubborn, but generally cooperates- though not happily.

The comment on his chart made you laugh a little. You shrugged off some of the anxiety when you took a minute to actually weigh the likelihood of that happening, though it wasn’t completely gone.

The room’s temperature was kept low and you shivered as you enter the dim space; the curtains drawn and television off. Once your eyes adjust, you see him; his eyes are shut, breathing a bit ragged, and his face is slightly twisted into a scowl.

The bed was tilted up, somewhere between lying down and a sitting position, the blankets ended right above his hips and his exposed torso was wrapped in bandages. Bruce’s chest was massive and you couldn't help but look at it in awe. Soon your eyes trailed back to his face only to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you. 

A warm blush crept up your neck as you blink away for a moment before addressing him, “Hello, Mr. Wayne, I hope you’re feeling well. I’m here to check your vitals and check your pain levels”.

The muscles in his jaw clench before he nods. You make your way closer to his bedside, all the way, his sharp gaze following you. Once you’re closer the scars on his skin become all the more noticeable, it looks like a battlefield. 

“They look worse than they are”.

You meet his eyes again, he spoke in such a way that made you feel as if he were examining your every move. 

Ignoring his statement you kindly ask for his arm to get his blood pressure; he obliges but as he attempts to raise it, he winces in pain, letting it fall to the bed. 

“I can get it for you, if that would be easier” you offered, feeling bad for the guy. 

He said nothing as he attempted to raise it once again, slower, more careful. His arm trembled as you wrapped the cuff around his large bicep, before gently placing his arm back by his side. 

The rest of the check up was mostly silent, save for a few grunts or groans from the man. You noticed his right fist clenching tighter and tighter every time he was pained. 

“Alright Mr. Wayne, before I leave, I just want to ask about your pain levels; on a scale from 1-10 what would you rate your pain?” you asked, standing near the foot of the bed. 

“Four.” he says shortly, his jaw fixed and tight.

Your eyes travel down from his face to his right hand, its back in a fist and shaking. Of course he’s lying; most of the staff were too nervous to challenge or call him out and to be honest you were still weary of acting out of line too, but it was so painfully obvious that he was in pain. 

With a sigh, you placed a manicured hand on the end of the bed, “You know, you don’t have to be tough with me Mr. Wayne. You’ll exhaust your body even more and delay your recovery if you’re unnecessarily straining”

His eyes narrowed as you walked towards the rod holding the morphine bag connected to his IV. 

“I’m fine.” 

“It will make you feel better and then maybe you won't give yourself a tension headache… because based on the way your jaw is clenched, one’s not too far away”.

You watched with soft eyes as his, much more skeptical ones bore into yours as he calculated something in his head. Suddenly he drops his eyelids and turns his head to face the ceiling. 

“Mr. Wayne?” you asked quietly.

“Go ahead.”

No time is wasted between his command and your action, soon the dosage is coursing through his veins and he immediately relaxes with a sigh. 

“Better?” 

His blue eyes are already closed as he gives an exhausted nod.

____________________________________

You give three quick knocks to the door before turning the knob and entering the exam room where you immediately make eye contact with the impossibly handsome man. Your breath slightly catches in your throat under the intense gaze of his bright blue eyes (some things never change). A small smile maneuvers itself onto his face.

Quickly, your eyes flicker down to the polished black cane he is holding between his strong hands, the handle has a fancily embellished silver handle. 

“Good Morning Mr. Wayne, I see you didn’t take my advice for too long” you say as you pull over a stool to sit on. 

His eyes look up to the right as he recalls your last words to him.

“As much as I appreciate the chocolates, I really don’t like having to fix you up just to get them. Now, why can’t you just take it easy and stay out of trouble”.

He huffs out a small laugh as the corners of his mouth point in a downturned smirk, as if he got caught doing something he shouldn’t have. 

“Well you know Doc, what if I just wanted an excuse to see you again?”

There it was. That stupid playboy attitude. 

“Well I would say that’s a faulty claim, because your new little accessory tells me that you have an issue you need fixed” you say back to him notioning to his cane. 

His smile fades just as quickly as it appeared and he adjusts himself on the exam table, “Yea, I guess so, it is pretty bothersome”.

You click your pen and ask him some general questions before asking him to walk the perimeter of the room to observe his gait. 

As soon as his polished shoes hit the ground you can see him slightly wince and grip the handle of his cane. Bad sign. 

He slowly begins to walk as if he needed time to warm up; once he sets a pace you can see he’s heavily favoring his left leg and leaning most of his weight on his cane. His lips are  pressed into a straight line and his brow is furrowed as you watch him intently. Yea, bad sign. 

You see, Bruce Wayne had an incredibly high pain tolerance, so if he was struggling this much, you knew it was pretty severe. And no matter what he said, after years of treating him on and off, you could see his tells quite clearly. 

You begin jotting down some notes of your clipboard before humming, “you can sit back down now”. 

He complies and takes a seat, but you don’t miss the sigh of relief he lets out as he does. 

“Alright, now would you roll your pant leg up for me?” you say as you bring your stool closer to his legs. 

Surprisingly he does so without making a quip and you soon see how bad it is. His kneecap is badly swollen and red, you frown at the sight before asking permission to touch. He nods and you gently place your hands on both sides of his knee and slowly begin to massage around the area to feel for any indents. 

Bruce’s jaw tightens and his eyes clench shut for a brief second as you find the side lacking the cartilage. You gently apply pressure on his knee cap and he sucks in a sharp breath before saying, “You having fun down there?” with a pained half-laugh, half-exhale. 

You sit back and grab his file once more, “Not particularly. Well Mr. Wayne you are definitely going to need surgery if you want that to get better”.

He sighs as he swipes away the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, “I figured as much”.

“I’m going to schedule you for an osteochondral autograft, basically I’m just going to take some of your healthy cartilage and transplant it into the damaged area. Shouldn’t be anything too crazy”.

You watch him closely as he seems to be pondering something before nodding, “I need this done as soon as possible, do you have time later this week?”.

Of course he wants to streamline this, the sooner he’s healed, the sooner he can go back to his eccentric and active lifestyle. Luckily for him, you did have a pretty open day on Friday and wouldn’t be opposed to squeezing a few more operating hours in. 

“I’ve got a slot open on Friday around 9:30 am, does that work with you?”.

“Perfect, I’ll have my people get in contact with your people” he says out of habit.

“Well by my people you mean either me or my assistant, Olivia”.

“Who?”

You tilt your head and give him a dissatisfied look before he feigns an epiphany. 

“Ohh yes, shorter girl, sandy blonde hair, has a massive thing for me?”. 

You roll your eyes, “yea, that one”.

He flashes you that billionaire smile and confirms that he’ll be in.

“I’ll go get your pre-op instructions, just sit tight”.

You return and hand him the papers, his larger hands brushing yours as you pass them. As normal, he listens as you explain some rules for him to follow and what to expect in regards to recovery after the operation. 

“Well if you don’t have any more questions, then you’re free to go Mr. Wayne”

He slides off the exam table and rises to his full height, making your heart rate increase; he was so close to you. He took a moment to adjust his tie before looking down at you, “The only question I would have would be for your number, but you never give it to me. So, no further questions, Doctor” he smirked at you. 

You scoff with a small smile and turn to head out of the room, “as charming as ever Mr. Wayne, but you’re correct about that”. 

Once you reach the handle, you turn briefly and unconsciously give his tall figure a once over; peering through your lashes you wish him a good day and promptly leave. 

Behind the door, he huffs out a laugh as he leans on his cane; you were disciplined, he’d give you that. 

a/n: There will be more going on in the other chapters but I wanted to establish a basis of whats going on lol- also im noticing I do a lot of medical themed stories, guess I’m projecting my major haha but this one will be less hospital heavy as the other series I have w Anakin

[kaleidodreams]

Lots of great fics recommended already! You can find my personal rec list here, but I'm gonna focus on some of my top, top favorites, with more of a slant toward other pairings since a lot of Victuuri recs have already been made (although I still mention a few):

All That I Want by ratherunnecessary (Mature, Mila/Sara)

Mila just won bronze at Worlds. Her best friend is newly engaged. Viktor’s determined to pull off a skating exhibition like no one’s ever seen. And Mila’s starting to realize that her initial judgement of Sara Crispino as a boy-crazy bubblehead was very, very wrong. This should be the best summer of her life.

So why does Mila feel more alone than ever?

Half A Chance by ratherunnecessary (Mature, Yuri/Otabek, Victor/Yuuri, and one-sided Yuri/Yuuri):

Yuri has never cared about anything as much as he cares about skating. Until, one day, that changes.

Or, Viktor falls in love with Yuuri, Yuuri falls in love with Viktor, Yuri falls in love Yuuri, Otabek falls in love with Yuri, and somehow everything turns out okay.

A Practical Guide to Winning the Olympics (Dos and Don’ts) by Anna (pineconepickers) (Explicit, Victor/Yuuri)

When pair skater Yuuri Katsuki’s career comes to a scandalous end, he does not expect the retired pair skating legend Viktor Nikiforov to suggest that they compete together. But taking on a new skating partner is full of trial and error, and the skating world doesn’t know how to react when the Katsuki-Nikiforov duo, against all odds, starts doing well. The last thing either of them should do, as they strive for their last chance at greatness, is to fall in love. Yuuri knows he is damaged goods, and Viktor knows his body is starting to fail him. They have competitions to survive and medals to win. No, falling in love is out of the question; they’re just very good friends. And even if Viktor felt something, he’d never act on it, and even if Yuuri happened to be hopelessly in love, he’d be mortified if Viktor ever found out.

empty spaces between stars by astudyinrose (Explicit, Victor/Yuuri)

Victor gets just as drunk as Yuuri at the Sochi Banquet, and they disappear together after the dance-offs. They wake up the morning after with rings on their fingers, and pictures of them kissing after getting married the night before are all over the tabloids... but neither of them remembers a thing. They decide to stay married for a while for the sake of Victor's sponsorships, and in exchange, Victor coaches Yuuri through nationals...

Find the New World in You by opalish (Teen and Up, Gen)

Yuri Plisetsky was recovering from a bad fall and had been drafted into playing announcer.

It was guaranteed to be the greatest ice show ever.

Here's to the Mess We Make by fakeplasticsnow (Teen and Up, Otabek/Yuri and one-sided Otabek/Mila)

Puberty sucks. Feelings suck more. In the wake of a post-Worlds meltdown, Yuri accidentally discovers his artistic identity in a jazz dance class with Otabek and Mila. Along the way, Otabek unleashes his inner Channing Tatum, Yuri gets in touch with his inner Georgi, and Yakov probably loses more hair. Welcome to the madness.

it's the life we're living now by vivevoce (Mature, Otabek/Yuri)

“... Did you know you still give me boners?” Yuri asks seriously. Otabek is startled into an incredulous snort. “Don’t laugh, you asshole! It’s tragic and inconvenient and probably going to last until we’re old and can’t get it up anymore.”

“I’m touched,” Otabek replies tonelessly. “You have such a way with words.”

“Yeah, I know.” Yuri grins, all sharp teeth. “Feel free to swoon a little closer into my arms. And on top of my crotch?”

“Fuck off.” Yuri can hear Otabek’s grudging smile, even with his back turned.

“Baby?”

“No.”

“Zhanym?”

“Gross.”

i've told a hundred lies by persephoneggsy (Teen and Up, Yuri/Minami, Otabek/Mila, and one-sided Otabek/Yuri)

When Otabek and Mila start dating, it feels like Yuri’s been punched in the gut. No, correction: it feels like Otabek’s punched him in the gut, and the guy doesn’t even realize it. Worst of all, it’s all Yuri’s fault. He’d been the one to encourage them, after all.

Then this hyperactive little nugget of a skater comes out of nowhere and barrels into Yuri's life and just makes things worse.

Or better.

Yuri hasn't decided yet.

No Nut November by WhiskeyDreams (Explicit, Otabek/Yuri)

"I can't do it." "The 4Lz?" "No! The stupid challenge." "...it's been 3 days, Yura."

- - -

The skating circuit had somehow come to the collective conclusion that doing the No Nut November challenge was a good idea - and turning down a challenge had never been something Yuri considered to be an option. So here he was, three days in, and he had no idea how he was supposed to survive another twenty-seven.

on growing; by crossroadswrite (Teen and Up, Victor/Yuuri)

Yuri Plisetsky glares at him with all the righteousness five year olds possess, and says in heavily accented and clumsy English. “Be more gooder, stupid!”

And then he storms out in a sweep of blond hair and blue and red lights from his Sketchers.

(Or: in which Yuri Plisetsky is Victor Nikiforov's bratty five-year-old and nothing is the same.)

The Next Level by azriona (Explicit, Victor/Yuuri)

The skating season continues (as skating seasons are wont to do), while Victor and Yuuri negotiate the shifts in their relationship, their careers, and their home rink.

Sometimes, things even go as planned.

took me knee-high to a man by thewalrus_said (Explicit, Christophe/Mystery Man and Christophe/Victor)

Christophe Giacometti, ages 14-22. Skating; sex; friendship; love.

Undiscovered Country by shysweetthing (Explicit, Victor/Yuuri)

Yuuri wakes up in Victor’s room the night after the Sochi Grand Prix Final banquet. Did they sleep together? No. Instead, last night, Drunk Yuuri taunted Victor that he hadn’t earned the right to get in his pants…and spelled out exactly what Victor would have to do to get there.

Now, Victor intends to do everything on that list…

Watch The Young Hearts Fade by kiazareni (Teen and Up, Otabek/Yuuri)

Yuri is forced to deal with a lot of issues from his past, when after five years of silence, Otabek is suddenly back in his life. It might be just what he needs to move on, but that doesn't mean it isn't hard, and sometimes, Otabek doesn't make it easy either, especially when Yuri's feelings for him resurface. He refused to go down that road once before, but he is not sure he is strong enough this time.

Winter Song by proantagonist (Explicit, Victor/Yuuri)

The set of Yuuri’s mouth softened into a private smile as Victor squeezed his knee beneath the table. His hands were bare, free from the gloves he so often wore when they were together on the rink, and the heat of his palm burned straight through the denim of Yuuri’s jeans. He slipped his own hand beneath the table and found Victor’s. Hidden from sight, their fingers began to flirt and play. A secret conversation all their own that needed no words.

Yuuri was aware that at some point—a moment in time he couldn’t quite place—Victor had become his boyfriend.

There wasn’t a single instant when it happened. It was a slow awareness, as if Victor had silently been asking the question for months now, and Yuuri had been giving him the answer a little more with each passing day.

And pretty much everything by Allekha!

(For a little self-plug, you can find my YOI fics here. I most recommend the "It's Complicated" series (G to Mature, Yuri/Otabek/Mila), The Baby Question (Teen and Up, Victor/Yuuri), and Good Catholic Boy (JJ/Isabella).)

need your best yuri on ice ao3 fics or fic writers rn this is an emergency

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 55 — LIKE BREATHING

wc — 600+

prev — masterlist — next

The morning light was soft, filtered through the sheer curtains of your shared apartment. You stood in front of the mirror, pulling on his hoodie over your outfit worn in, warm, and still carrying the scent of his cologne. It didn’t match anything you were wearing, but it didn’t matter. It was his. That made it perfect.

Sunghoon emerged from the bathroom, ruffling his damp hair with a towel, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "You're wearing that to class?" You gave him a smug look. "What, jealous?" He grinned. "Only a little. You look better in it than I do."

The two of you left together like always, fingers brushing, swinging your arms in sync until his hand found yours — steady and warm. It wasn’t an occasion. It wasn’t a dramatic moment. But it felt like everything.

He dropped you off outside your building, pulling the car to the curb. You paused before getting out, turning to face him. There was no goodbye kiss, no lingering dramatics. Just a wave, a smile.

“Text me when you’re out,” he said. “You’ll be in class too.” He raised an eyebrow. “Still. I want to hear from you.”

You gave him a mock salute before stepping out. As you walked toward the building, you turned back — and there he was, still parked, still waving. Like you were a scene he didn’t want to end.

Classes were uneventful, but your phone buzzed with messages from him throughout the day. Dumb memes. A selfie of him half asleep in another lecture. A reminder to drink water.

And when you walked into your final lecture of the day, your friends did a double take.

“Is that Sunghoon’s hoodie?” one of them asked. You only smiled, tugging the sleeve over your hand. It was.

Later that day, the two of you joined your friends for a group hangout. Someone had brought a camera, and amidst the chaos, laughter, snacks, a movie none of you were really watching — someone snapped a photo.

Everyone was smiling.

You were curled into Sunghoon’s side, and his hand rested absentmindedly on your knee. The photo was candid, effortless. And somehow, it felt more important than all the chaos that had come before it.

At some point during the movie, you felt his head drop gently onto your shoulder. He didn’t move again. His breathing evened out, slow and soft. You tilted your head slightly, watching the way his lashes brushed against his cheek, the way his mouth parted in sleep. You didn’t dare move.

Your friends whispered around you, giggling about something. But their voices faded.

Because all you could think about was this: the boy who used to avoid eye contact with you in hallways now felt safe enough to fall asleep on your shoulder. You didn’t need declarations. You didn’t need the adrenaline or the heartbreak.

Later that night, as you two walked home, he laced your fingers together without a word.

Under the streetlights, you turned to him, bumping your shoulder into his.

"What?" he said, grinning. "Nothing. Just, you make it really hard not to fall in love with you all over again every day."

His smile faded into something softer. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

He walked you up to your door, and when you paused to unlock it, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. Gentle. Purposeful.

“Night, you,” he whispered.

You didn’t sleep right away that night. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your chest full of quiet warmth. You thought about every moment you’d chased the wrong things, every time you thought love had to be chaos to be real.

But now?

Now it was Sunday mornings and hoodies and sleepy shoulders. Now it was choosing the same person, over and over.

It wasn’t a high.

It wasn’t a crash.

It was Sunghoon.

It was home.

And it felt like something even better than breathing, it felt like finally exhaling.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[sincerely-sofie]

Interpret this as you must. It matters not

Me doing my web dev homework when the material defines a complex concept in two lines or less and then says "Okay! Now do it. Loser."

I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to put a hole through my monitor. It has been many, many times.