#while the rest of his friends get to go to school and learn and socialize and attend classes everyday without him . sounds so lonely

[astrolavas]

it's sound weird, but i have headcanon that Hunter didn't go hexside, because he too old to shool(according to my feelings, at the end of the he is 16-17 y.o (except for the post-credits scene), and at that age it is already too late to go to school):p

i mean, well- in my opinion he rather certainly did go to hexside, since one of the things he'd said during his TTT monologue was "i'd like to attend hexside like a normal student and play flyer derby with my friends" and all of his "wishes" were supposed to sort of foreshadow his goals and his future (carving palismen, studying wild magic, etc etc) so i feel like it's safe to say he succeeded in becoming a hexside student as well. we also know he attended grom with the rest of his friend group, and like- since he's 16 before the timeskip (no canon certainty whether he's recently turned 16 or is going on 17 already though, but like... around 16 canonically) that means he'd get at least 1 year of school, but most likely 2+.

my personal headcanon is that he went to hexside for around 2 years (full or not quite, depending on when the school year starts in the boiling isles and how long it lasts; possibly even 3), and during that time he picked up a mentorship/apprenticeship at del's palisman carving shop, and after he graduated from hexside he started carving palismen professionally with the clawthornes (i like to think that he also takes some courses at eda's wild magic university in his spare time, simply cuz . funny uni hexsquad shenanigans)

[orimuraa]

• I could be the rest of your life or whatever - 西村力 ↳ ┊: handlebars (feat. dua lipa) - jennie

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆nishimura riki was known as the school’s bad boy, but somehow, he managed to get his heart stolen by you—the school’s nerdy sunshine ⨾

۶ৎ bad boy!ni-ki x fem nerd!reader┆fluff┆cursing, petnames, one kiss┆wc 952

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: thank you to the @nodoubtily for requesting this! i love the idea of explaining how they met and how their relationship bloomed ^^ i hope you enjoyed!!

part 1

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

the first time you ever ran into ni-ki was in freshman year. you were all getting used to high school and the new environment. as usual, you were off in the library studying, not having anything better to do in your time.

that’s when he walked in. clad in a black sweatshirt and some grey, baggy jeans, he was so pretty. he gave off a serious “don’t talk to me or i’ll fuck you up” vibe, but you couldn’t help but watch as he navigated his way over to the studying tables where you sat.

you tried to focus on your work—you really tried—but he was too distracting! his pretty moles that scattered his gorgeous face, his duck like lips, and his dark and mysterious eyes that were focused on the paper below him.

you were about to introduce yourself when he stopped you.

“if you’re about to speak, i request that you don’t. i don’t have time for shit like this,” he said curtly, not even sparing a glance.

that made your lips seal with shock. this guy was nothing but a jerk yet for some reason, you wanted to know more about the mysterious pretty guy.

so you did. the next few months were spent with you running around the school to be with him, practically forcing him to be your friend.

at first, he cursed you out for following him, saying he didn’t need a new friend.

“god, piss off! i don’t need a fucking fan club,” he growled, but it didn’t faze you.

you continued to stay right by his side whether he wanted it or not, slowly learning new things about him.

you learned that he had two sisters and that he was actually from japan, making you swoon for him even more.

it wasn’t until one day (the only day in the whole year that you were absent), ni-ki realized that he actually enjoyed your company and relentless nagging.

he had no idea where you were and it worried him that you were in danger. he also missed the way you would appear when his classes finished (despite him never actually showing up to them) and the way you would chat his ear off about certain things.

he kinda just accepted it and let you stay by his side. you two would walk through the halls as you chatted about something that was going on in your life while greeting your fellow classmates. he admired your social ability and it definitely made his heart flutter seeing your adorable smile. you had done something to his heart and for the first time, ni-ki wasn’t scared of the feeling.

so when you showed up the next day, looking exhausted yet still so radiant, ni-ki tried not to make his panic visible.

“where were you?” he mumbled, wanting to stay nonchalant but also not being able to hide his concern.

“sorry…i was sick for the weekend,” you frowned at the tall boy, your voice still not fully recovered.

“don’t apologize. there’s nothing to apologize for. just…i’m glad you’re better,” he said shyly, the tips of his ears getting red.

“thanks,” you smile, choosing not to tease him.

you both walked in your usual way, you chatting his ear off despite your sore throat, but this time, ni-ki actually conversed back. he only chimed in small comments, but they were enough to keep the smile on your face.

you were shocked when you saw that ni-ki was the one waiting for you after class instead of you going to wait for him. he had your favorite drink in hand and the smallest smile on his plump lips, yet you still noticed.

“hi ki,” you smile softly, the nickname slipping out.

“ki? hmm, i like it,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair to which you scowl at. “maybe i’ll have to make a nickname for you..or can i just call you mine?” he smirks slyly, making your heart stop for a second.

“i- you’re crazy!” you shake your head, trying to avoid eye contact. you scurry ahead, trying to get out of the building for some fresh hair, ni-ki smirking with pride as he followed after you.

the breath of fresh air was amazing as you started to feel extremely hot confined in the building with ni-ki. as you stopped in your tracks, your heard ni-ki stop as well.

“better, princess?” he asked, that smug look still on his face. you blushed again, but you didn’t say anything.

“listen, i uhh…i’m not the best with words but i just wanted to say that i think i like you…no- i know i like you. i like everything about you and i didn’t realize i could feel this deeply about someone,” ni-ki says, his voice laced with hesitation and anxiousness.

“then my plan worked!” you laugh. “i’ve been waiting to get close to you all these weeks! i’m glad it worked then,” you smile at him.

“wait- that was your plan the whole time??” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

“well…i just wanted to get to know you better,” you say shyly, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“then can i be your boyfriend?” ni-ki asks, a new found softness in his tone.

“yes, 100 times yes !!” you exclaim, going up on your tippy toes to throw your arms around his neck, hugging him close.

“thank you for giving me a chance baby,” he mumbles in your ear, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“well now you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life!” you giggle, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“and i would let you stay by my side forever if it meant you stayed right here, in my arms.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

[morganbritton132]

The worst thing Steve ever did as a dumb little child was tell Hopper that he pretends to cry to get what he wants.

He doesn’t even remember that conversation but years later when he’s thirteen and three beers deep at a high school party, he is rudely reminded of it.

It’s unfortunate that Steve only learns about the police breaking up the party when he makes eye contact with Hopper. It’s even worse when he gets marched out with the other underaged drinkers and then separated from them.

He lets his eyes get big and watery since it’s just him and Powell. His bottom lip trembles. His voice breaks in just the right spot and - a hand snaps their fingers in front of his face and Hopper says, “Can the fake tears, Harrington. They ain’t working here. Get in the truck.”

“But…” how do you know they’re fake dies on Steve’s lips when Hopper glares at him. It’s embarrassing that it doesn’t work and it’s embarrassing that he’s the only one going with Hopper.

Mandy is fifteen and she’s gonna think he’s a total loser now. He tells Hopper this when he finally gets in the truck an hour later, “She - everybody is gonna think I snitched! You’re ruining my life!”

Hopper tells him that he doesn’t care and then asks, “You been drinking?”

“Have you been stupid?” Steve mocks back, kicking the back of his seat. He wasn’t even allowed to sit upfront. “Yes, you have ‘cause you’re stupid. And you suck.”

“Watch it, kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Steve snaps, kicking his seat again, and again, and again. “I’m going to be a loser forever now and ‘m pro’ably gonna get beat up in jail, and it’s gonna be. All. Your. Fault.”

Hopper slams on the breaks, nearly crashing Steve into the back of his seat. He turns around, “You’re not going to jail. You’re going home because I’m going easy on you. Now shut up, sit there, and be grateful I’m not hauling your ass into the station like your little friends.”

That’s so much worse, Steve thinks. They’re definitely going to think he snitched. He’s never going to be invited to another party for the rest of his life after this. His high school social life is gonna die before he even gets there.

Steve cannot spend all of high school being known as the guy that’s friends with cops. He needs to be at that station. He needs -

He doesn’t even think twice about it.

Hopper’s fingers are curled around the edge of the seat. Steve sends his foot forward, smashing into them. He grinds the heel of his sneaker until Hopper starts swearing.

He swears, and swears louder, and then declares, “You can spend the rest of the night with your friends.”

Good.

Not good, Steve thinks only after they pull into the station’s parking lot. His parents are going to kill him. They’re going to kill him and then reanimate him, and then kill him again. They’re not even home right now to call anyways. Jesus.

He doesn’t have anyone to call.

Hopper drags him into the crowded station and drops him into the chair next to Callahan’s desk. He says, “Book him for underage drinking and resisting arrest.”

Steve vaguely hopes everybody heard that but also, he needs to get out of here. He makes another split second decision and blurts out, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Callahan doesn’t look up from the new form he has when he says, “Later.”

“I can’t hold it,” Steve says, voice cracking. He gives Callahan big watery eyes when he looks up. He sounds generally pathetic when he adds, “Think ‘m gonna be sick.”

“I- okay. Go. Go! Don’t throw up here.” Callahan waves off. “Bathroom is down the hall.”

Good to know that still works on some people, Steve thinks as he books it down the hall. He goes past the holding cell, past the bathroom, and right out the back exit.

Then he runs.

He gets called ‘Jailbreak’ by the older kids for a while before he gets to high school and they give him a new nickname.

[misctf]

What You Wanted

Richard wanted to better himself. At first, as a wide-eyed new freshman, he was looking to make a change. Having always been more nerdy and unathletic, Richard prioritized his studies rather than his physical fitness growing up. But after years of fearing the gym, he took his first step. And the rest was history. He grew lean with muscle and learned the ins and outs of the gym routine. He found a gym buddy and quickly climbed the social hierarchy. Smart, fit, and now entering his junior year- he was living his best life.

“Richard!” Thomas’s nasally voice cut through the air, “Are you even paying attention?” Beady eyes narrowed behind his thick rimmed glasses.

Richard shrugged, “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.” He was thinking more about his gym session earlier that day instead of paying attention to whatever nerdy movie Thomas picked, “I’m just not feeling it today.”

Richard and Thomas were friends since middle school. Both unapologetically nerdy, each surviving their fair share of bullying. But while Richard’s interests in fitness blossomed, Thomas remained entrenched in all things nerdy.

“You’re never feeling it anymore.” Thomas lamented, “I’m worried about you.” He looked at his friend closely, “Are you becoming like them? One of those stupid, smelly meatheads?” Richard knew Thomas never approved of his new friends- especially since many of them gave off the same vibes as their former bullies.

“Thomas, look.” Richard started, “I just... We’re obviously very different people now.”

“Not true! We both study Biochemistry! We’re both applying to graduate school in a few months!” Thomas interjected.

“Yeah, but Thomas, I’ve changed. I don’t really like superheroes and Battle Monsters and all that stuff anymore.” Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I mean, its fun from time to time, but you’re obsessed with it.”

“Obsessed?”

Richard nodded, “Look, I need to get going. I have an exam.” He grabbed his backpack and started towards the door.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Thomas yelled, “So you think you’re better than me too? Just like all those stupid jocks, right?” Thomas continued, “Fine, if you want to be a stupid, smelly jock so bad, go for it! Don’t come crying to me!”

“Whatever.” Richard said, “See you around.”

_________

Richard worked through his thermodynamics exam with ease. It became such a mindless activity that his thoughts wandered to Thomas. They had been close for years. And Thomas gave him an outlet for some of his more nerdier interests. Sure, he wasn’t as interested in all that nerd stuff like he was back in middle school, but Richard did value the time he spent with Thomas. He frowned. Maybe he was just a bit too harsh.  He’d apologize once he got done with his exam. But as he continued to write down the answers to these complex questions, he felt something welling up from within him. Something physical... something...

BUUUUURRRRPPPPP

Richard’s eyes widened and he quickly covered his mouth. He felt his cheeks flush red and looked around the room, noticing a few looks of disgust, as well as a few snickers from some of his classmates.

“Richard?” The professor said, looking up from her book.

“Yo, my bad dude.” Richard’s eyes widened, as did the professor’s, “Whoa, brah! Didn’t mean to say that!” His face reddened even more.

“Richard, please focus on your test.” She said sternly.

He nodded, trying to tune out the snickers from his surrounding classmates, ‘What the fuck was that?’ He thought to himself, trying to regain his composure, ‘Okay... just focus.’

But as he stared at the problems on his exam, he noticed small drops of water appearing on his paper. He raised an eyebrow as more drops appeared on his test, smudging his work.

“What the...?” He whispered, “Sweat?” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, “What the fuck?” He said aloud, again disrupting the class.

“Richard!” The professor slammed her book down.

“Dude, just back off.” Richard snapped back. He heard a few audible gasps from his fellow students and his face flushed red, “Bro, that came out wrong. I don't get why I'm sounding like this, bro.” His face flushed red again and he suddenly stood up and headed towards the door, “I gotta take a breather.” He said. But as he approached the door he could feel the same heaviness in his stomach, “No, no no... buuuuuuuuurrrrrpppppppp.”

He slammed the door behind him, and fled from the classroom.

_________

Richard walked across campus as fast as he could. He needed to get back to his apartment as soon as possible. Or maybe to a doctor. But wherever he went, he just needed to be somewhere private. The young man wiped some sweat from his brow and cringed.

“No way dude, I’m like a waterfall.” He whispered, “Oh fuck, look at my pits.” Dark pit stains rapidly formed beneath his arms and continued to grow larger. Richard stopped in his tracks and raised his arms, taking a deep whiff of his own stench, “Huhuhuh that’s ripe, dude.” He chuckled to himself. It was the judgmental stares of nearby students that broke him out of his train of thought, “I’m sorry!” He whispered, blushing deeply, “I didn’t mean to... burrrrppppppppp.” His face reddened even more.

“Haha nice one bro!” A nearby jock laughed.

“Yeah dude! Been dropping bombs all day.” Richard replied with a grin. He quickly shook his head and ran towards his dorm room, ignoring the jock's attempt for a fist bump.

_________

Richard slammed the door to his dorm room shut and threw his backpack across the room. At this point, he didn’t know what to do. His shirt had soaked through from his sweat and a new manly musk was clinging to his sweaty body.

“Okay, I just gotta go to an urgent care.” Richard whispered.

He walked over to his dresser to change his shirt, and he quickly stripped out of his soaked t-shirt. But when he looked down at his body, something wasn’t right.

“Yo dude, since when did I get abs?” Richard mumbled, “Oh shit, look at my boulders.” He rubbed a hand across his large shoulders, giving them a squeeze and chuckling dumbly, “Huhuhuh why do I need a shirt?” He flexed his bicep and watched as it bulged with strength, “Woah fuck look at that!” He watched as his bicep seemed to get a bit larger too, “Dude... that’s buuuuuuurrppppppp.” Richard chuckled, “Fuckin’ new protein powder. Makin’ my gassy as fuck.”

His plans to visit an Urgent Care were quickly leaving his mind. Instead, he continued to focus on his various poses, and amused himself with each growing muscle. Richard walked over to the couch and fell back onto it, grabbing his phone and posting a new picture of himself on his social media. All the white, he absentmindedly scratched as his massive chest, which was starting to sprout a light dusting of hairs. He grinned as various likes started appearing on his picture, and he felt his cock start to grow. He grabbed his massive cock and started stroking it, moaning with each tug.

“Fuck yeah.” He moaned, “Fuck people would be lucky to ride this dick.” He grinned, “Dick’s dick huhuhuh.” A knock at his door broke his concentration and he groaned with disappointment. His cock remained tented in his pants, but he didn’t care. He opened the door, casually scratching his hairy pit, “Oh fuck, Thomas dude! What’s up?”

Thomas grinned, “Richard?” He asked, “Wow.”

“Impressed broski? And don’t call me Richard. More of a Richy.” Richy grinned, “Come in, bro! Look, I’m like totally sorry about earlier. All that nerd stuff that you like. Didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“You don’t have to worry, Richy. You made it quite clear that you’re not a nerd anymore.” Thomas chuckled, “You wanted to be a stupid jock, well now you are.” 

Richy raised an eyebrow, “Stupid jock?” Something about that wasn’t right. Stupid jock? The words kept echoing in his head, “Stupid jock?” He repeated again, scratching his head, “That’s not... I...” Richy grabbed his head and looked at his friend. For just a second, the dull, dumb look in Richy’s eye was replaced by a knowing intelligence. A horrific realization evident in them. But it quickly lost its spark and his eyes dulled, “Huhuhuh yeah, I guess I’m pretty stupid. But doesn’t really matter when you’ve got this.” He grabbed his bulge and smirked, “Dude, you see that pic I posted? You think I could make it on OnlyFans?”

Thomas nodded, “Yes, I think you could. But I ought to go.”

“No wait bro!” Richy said, blocking his path to the door, “I mean... I know you always say you hate jocks. But its ‘cause you’re into us, right bro?” Thomas’s face reddened, betraying his secret, “So like...” Richy smirked and walked up to Thomas, who’s own khakis were now tented, “You wanna star in my first OnlyFans vid?”

_________

Richy stretched his hands above his head and sniffed his ripe pits. His dick twitched at the smell and he grinned. It’d been a few weeks since he posted his first video to OnlyFans. And yet here he was again, rewatching his first video: “buff jock fucks gay nerd.” Without fail, it always made his dick hard. And even though he posted several more videos since then, he always found himself coming back to this one. But even a masterpiece gets dull and Richy pulled out his phone. He ignored several horrified texts from his parents asking why he dropped out of school, as well as deleting multiple invites to interview for grad programs, whatever those were. Instead he found Thomas’s contact info.

“Hey bro.” He messaged, “Be at my place ASAP.” He took a quick selfie and threw in a few eggplant emojis to get his point across.

Afterwards, he tossed his phone somewhere on his bed. He didn’t need to see Thomas’s response. Sure he was stupid, be he did know one thing. No one, especially not Thomas, could resist this dick. And the knock on his door not even ten minutes later was all the confirmation he needed.

[misssilversunny]

Ok so I've been on a bit of a Yandere batfam binge tbh. One thing I saw was someone saying that there should be a yandere batfam that's too interested in Reader's life, as opposed to the multitude of neglected Readers.

I would like to build on that and say, a Spoiled!Reader. Maybe around grade school age for some of the story, the rest being them as an adult realizing that their family's "interest" in every aspect of their life was nowhere near healthy. Or it could be a crack fic where Reader is guarded like the president of the world.

For example, as a child, they applied themselves to everything, wanting to be as smart as their older siblings, and followed Alfred around all the time when they found out that he was a spy in his early days.

Every award was put on a shelf, every drawing was fridge worthy, to the point where they got a corkboard to put all their drawings, and whenever they wanted something, they got it. Bullies never got more than a week of fun before an injury befell their parents or some other misfortune. Bruce was almost constantly seen with them.

Timeskip to maybe their 20s, they're trying to hold down a long term relationship after so many ended up with their partners becoming distant before either they broke things off or Reader left them. Every batchild is using their own connections to try and keep possible suitors away.

Reader laments their lack of freedom and privacy to their friends, leading to the common "Tells people about a funny memory. Why are they looking at me like that"

Apparently, while it's normal for a brother to offer if their younger sibling has noone to take to the dance, saying that they should go instead of a proper date is not. Family members should not be dressing you like a doll past age 6 (The girls + Alfred + Dick all love putting outfits together for reader, saying that they're just made to be dressed up.).

Your parents shouldn't be physically intimidating and scaring off every partner, and definitely shouldn't be saying that you shouldn't look for a partner as long as you have them. Your family shouldn't "joke" about how friends are fine since "they're seldom as permanent as family".

Reader slowly realizes that they need to get out, fast. But instead of it being a struggle for the Batfam to find them because they know next to nothing, it's a fight to do something they couldn't predict because they've all been watching them like hawks since they set foot inside the manor.

Most, if not all of their friends outside of the group that convinced them to run are friends with at least one family member, so 60-90% of their social net has been gutted. They can't use their legal name while they live in Gotham, but they need a job to get the money to leave.

I think Damien being the biggest yandere would be really funny, especially if you read it like Lance Crown is with his sister. Bro has multiple lockets with photos of them throughout the years in them, as well as a photo for every single birthday he was present for.

In Damien's eyes, Reader's primary title is "Damien's Little Sibling" and is willing to deal with the shared titles that must come with that (Dick's Little Sibling, Bruce's Child, Alfred's Ward, etc). If you want to have the honor of bestowing Another Title upon Reader, Damien has to give the go ahead first. He will never give the go ahead.

Jason would also be super protective, since he was around when they were still learning to talk and walk. He comes into the living room and Alfred's got Reader on a blanket with some toys and upon seeing him, Reader wobbles to their feet and stumbles over to him, squealing in delight and almost falling over before grabbing onto his leg and smiling up at him.

It was at that moment, the Reader fan club was truly established. Bruce would be the leader since he was the dad, but Damien was second in command and manages the collections of information/photos.

AN: I have no clue about the lore/timeline the Batfamily has. If something mentioned couldn't have happened during a certain point of time, then I'm sorry lol.

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Travis liking a guy

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Yellowjackets warnings, mentions of grief and parental loss, minor internalized homophobia, implied sex toward the end

feeling iffy about this one but i couldn't for the life of me do a oneshot

~~~

Travis has always struggled socially. He's the solitary quiet kid in the back of the class with his head down and a permanent scowl on his face forced to watch his parent's impending divorce without having anyone to talk to about it. He's the kid who got bullied and learned the only way to escape it was by making others avoid him, leaving him in an even ditch of loneliness. His father's job at the school and his traditional views only help stew the resentment and anger bubbling in his chest.

His reputation at school precedes him, whether it's as Coach Martinez's cruel son or 'Flex', and it frustrates him to no end. He wants more than that. He wants friends; he wants to be invited over to others' houses to escape his own; he wants to sneak out his bedroom window to meet up with someone; he wants to so desperately share his loneliness with someone; he wants to be held. He watches his classmates effortlessly join cliques and fall in love and feels as if he's on the outside staring in.

Until one school day when he's late for class and the teacher reprimands him in front of the whole class so tears threaten to sting the back of his eyes but crying is for girls so he knows his father would scoff at the sight of him and his hearts beating too fast and- a hand, gentle and warm, is set on his shoulder.

"Travis?"

The voice is soft and filled with warmth. Travis recognizes it immediately without having to glance at the person he's sitting next to and for a moment, he's completely and utterly shocked that (Y/N) Taylor, of all students, would know him.

Travis glances at him, from the corner of his eye at first, before he forces himself to look at the football player. (Y/N) smiles at him and Travis searches for the slightest hint of something mocking or mean in it. He finds none. 

"Mr. Baldwin's a dick." (Y/N) says sympathetically and Travis naturally braces himself for the punchline, for the rug to be violently ripped from underneath him. But it never comes. "I hear his wife's leaving him, though, so I guess karma's a bitch." His eyes crinkle with an amused smile before he leans back into his seat and pulls his hand away from Travis's shoulder. 

Travis can't focus for the rest of the day. (Y/N)'s touch lingers on his shoulder, and the fuzzy feeling that invades his stomach sends him spiraling. 

Travis was raised with traditional views: the man of the house provides while the wife cleans, cooks, and takes care of the children, anything less than that is wrong. Men are supposed to be strong, confident, and masculine who go into hard-working jobs, find a pretty wife, and have children. So, when he begins to get butterflies around (Y/N), it propels him into a world of confusion. 

He likes girls. He likes slim girls and curvy girls. He likes funny girls and sweet girls. He likes looking at the nude bodies of women in the magazines he keeps hidden underneath his bed. He can never bring himself to even glance in the direction of women's underwear in stores unless he risks having to rush to the bathroom because of teen hormones. He can't understand why he begins seeking (Y/N) out in the locker room after gym class or why he lingers near the football field during training. He likes girls. 

He knows about gay people, everyone does, but he's also heard his father spew enough things about them to know it's not something he should even dare bring up at home. He tries finding solace in the fact he's not doing anything wrong if he likes girls... but every time he tries to focus on one of the pictures in his magazines, (Y/N)'s face flashes in his mind.

It's hell for Travis. He can't focus, he can't understand, and it frustrates him. It makes him snappy and mean and every time he gets home from school he stomps right past his perplexed mother and groans into his pillow until he needs to come up for air. He convinces himself that avoiding (Y/N) is the solution but by the time he comes to that conclusion, the WHS girl's soccer team is set for nationals and his father refuses to let him stay home. 

Fucking father-son bonding time. It's too little too late in his opinion. And, because Travis is the unluckiest guy in the world, he comes to learn (Y/N) was forced to accompany his sister on the trip to Seattle when he spots him stepping into the plane. (Y/N) greets him with a smile but he sits beside one of the girls instead of beside him, and Travis despises the jealousy that bubbles in his stomach. He watches them interact until the plane's plummeting into the wilderness. 

Travis's feelings are put on momentary hold while he collects himself. His father's dead, and every mean thing Travis ever thought or said about him fills him with regret. He's overwhelmed, too overwhelmed to deal with his brother's emotions while trying to juggle his own. Emotions aren't his strong suit. Emotions are something he shoves down and ignores until they erupt at the worst moments. He snaps and bitches and complains and sits in regret afterward.

When (Y/N) glares at him for the first time, he finds a spot far from the others and cries. Embarrassment grapples him immediately, because why the fuck is he crying over some guy not liking him but he can't help it. Everything is too much for him and the one person who treated him with kindness not liking him sends him over the edge. 

Things begin looking up when they find the cabin, and then again when he makes amends with Natalie Scatorccio. She allows him to soften up, to lower down his walls, and reconsider everything his father taught him. She's too observant and she notices something's up almost immediately.

Travis can't focus. 

Natalie's talking to him about something, some complaint about Jackie and her attitude, but her words flow in one ear and right out the other. He can't focus on anything, really. Not Natalie, not the twittering birds above them, not the rustling of the branches rubbing together, not the girls chatting animatedly a few feet away. His body remains stiff and his eyes locked on the boy waiting by the cabin's porch. 

Shauna hit an artery while cutting their latest kill and it'd sprayed blood all over (Y/N). She lingers by him, fiddling with her hands and blurting out an apology every few minutes while he cleans the crimson droplets from his face and arms. The blood isn't what fills his head with white noise, it's the fact he's gone shirtless because Van told him to wait while she searches for a shirt for him.

Travis's throat tightens when he feels a simmer of disappointment once Van stumbles outside flinging a shirt in her hand. He isn't supposed to be disappointed.

"Travis?" 

"Huh? Yeah?" Travis blinks at Natalie and offers his best apologetic half-smile when she deadpans, his eyes unwillingly flickering back toward (Y/N). "Something about Jackie and, uh..."

Natalie lifts a single brow, far from impressed, and tilts her head toward the porch where his eyes keep gravitating to. "You know, you can talk to him, right? He won't bite." 

"You think he wants to talk to me?" He scoffed at the very idea. "C'mon, Nat."

"We're not in high school, Travis. He's not Wiskayok's star football player anymore, he's just (Y/N) Taylor, the poor guy who got adopted into the Taylor family." Natalie brushes back some of her bleached blonde hair and watches (Y/N) for a little while longer before her lips draw into a wide grin. Travis's stomach drops in a heartbeat. 

Without saying a word, Natalie stands up and flings the rifle over her shoulder. She reaches down toward him and grabs a fistful of his shirt, promptly forcing him to stand up with a stagger and reluctantly follow after her as they make their way through the small clearing until they reach the porch.

Travis stands behind her, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot and dreading whatever idea Natalie has conjured up on a whim. (Y/N) tilts his head at them like a puppy and Travis feels his knees buckle.

"(Y/N), Travis and I were thinking since you're the one with the most potential, we should give you shooting lessons. Just in case one of us can't go out hunting." Natalie suddenly cringes and brings her hand to her lower abdomen, her acting impressive enough that it makes Travis worry for a split second. "I'm getting cramps, though, so Travis offered to give you the lessons by himself until I feel better. Right, Travis?" 

His eyes flicker back and forth between Natalie's shit-eating grin and (Y/N)'s confused smile. Natalie raises her brows expectantly and widens her eyes at him, subtly nodding toward (Y/N). Travis weakly nods. "Y-Yeah," Fuck. "I, uh, yeah, I-I can teach you." He clears his throat and folds his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to baby you, though." Natalie rolls her eyes.

"Uh, okay." (Y/N) lets out a short laugh and shares a glance with Shauna, his brows twitching downward briefly before he looks back at them and shrugs. "Whatever I can do to help out more, I'll take it."

"Great!" Natalie shoves the rifle into Travis's chest. "Good luck."

Travis is shit out of luck and is positive he's making a fool of himself the second they disappear into the trees surrounding the cabin. His grip on the rifle is hard and he stares at the ground most of the time because flirting isn't something he can do without getting mocked and he has no idea how to ask another guy if he likes guys. Travis can barely handle dealing with girls up close, he's certain he's losing his mind when (Y/N)'s arm brushes against his. 

Travis does, however, know how to shoot a gun and he forces himself to focus once they reach the area he and Natalie often use for practice. His mind promptly fills with that white noise when his hands go over (Y/N)'s to adjust them into the proper positions. His heart thrums in his ears and he's so sure he's going to do something dumb that he feels compelled to blurt out something mean just to make himself feel better. But he resists. 

"Damn." Travis whistles, impressed. There's only one empty can standing out of five and Travis can't help but wonder why he opted out of becoming a hunter in the first place. "You barely need the practice."

"Yeah," (Y/N)'s voice sounds strained and when Travis looks back at him, he spots the sheepish smile on his face. "Blood makes me squeamish. Shauna was actually trying to do some, uh, exposure therapy. It's why she felt so bad about what happened." His shoulders shake with a laugh and Travis can only smile like an idiot at the sound of it. 

Because they're in the wilderness and things are far from normal, Travis has to improvise how he goes about trying to befriend (Y/N). It's hard, primarily because he's never gone out of his way to become friends with someone. Most of the time, he fucks up and they go running in the other direction. But (Y/N)'s too polite and Travis is determined to at least become his friend, if not more.

He tries to hunt and forage for the things (Y/N) likes the most, so much so it annoys Natalie. He's not good with words and physical touch so soon and so publically sounds like hell to him, so he resorts to gift-giving and spending time with (Y/N). He seeks his approval, yearns for it really, and it's so embarrassing but worth it when he gets a smile and praise.

Eventually, with constant egging from Natalie, Travis finally seeks him out when he's alone.

"What's up, Trav?" (Y/N) greets him, his happiness so infectious Travis waves at him until he catches himself and internally groans. He wants to be cool, he needs to be cool. It's hard when just looking at (Y/N) makes his insides all fluttery. "Did you need something?"

"No, I, uhm.." Crap, what was it that Natalie told him to say? "I.. I wanted... I.. I have something I.." Travis wants to walk into the lake and never resurface. At least death would spare him the hell of confessing his feelings. He scratches the nape of his neck and shuffles closer to where (Y/N) is plucking berries from a bush. "I.. I.."

(Y/N) smiles at him sweetly and Travis gives a quiet sigh. His fingers fidget with each other, fingertips pressing and brushing over the wrinkles on his knuckles while his eyes jump back and forth between the ground and his face.

(Y/N) stands up, his makeshift basket forgotten on the forest floor, and closes the distance. Travis's instincts tell him to step back but his brain and heart refuse to. He freezes and stares wide-eyed at him. 

He swears he almost falls over when (Y/N) kisses him. It takes him a moment to react, to realize he's not dreaming and this is actually happening. When (Y/N) begins to pull away, Travis chases after him, his lips clumsy and movements awkward as he tries to figure out where to put his hands. He settles for clutching the collar of (Y/N)'s jacket and practically melts when (Y/N)'s arms wrap around him securely. 

His face is burning hotter than the sun glaring down at them but his body is buzzing with life and giddy when they pull back. (Y/N) smiles at him again, this time more teasing, and he bumps their noses together. 

"You're not very subtle, Martinez."

Travis is on cloud nine. He's nicer, kinder, more empathic, and quite frankly, it weirds out the girls but they much prefer this version of him over the snarky and mean-spirited boy they boarded the plane with. Travis has never been in a relationship before but he finds it quickly addictive. He gets to sneak around, steal glances and share secret smiles, have inside jokes no one else gets. It's invigorating for him.

Because this is his first relationship ever, it's foreign territory for Travis and he mostly goes off what he's seen or heard prior to the crash. His gifts come in the form of flowers, he makes sure (Y/N) is the first to get a plate after the food is cooked, and he's quick to snap when one of the other girls gets an attitude with him. Travis is protective, he can't help it. He wants what's best for (Y/N).

The relationship is largely kept secret until doomscoming when Tai and Van announce their relationship. Seeing the two of them smiling at each other so lovingly and without a care in the world for what everyone else thinks emboldens him. When the girls start screaming the lyrics of Kiss from a Rose as their music, Travis swoops toward (Y/N) and asks him to dance. (Y/N) laughs (Travis swears he blushes) and accepts, much to the shock of his sister. 

Travis rides the high of it all, as well as leans on a strange feeling seeping into his body, and steals a condom from Coach Scott when he heads back to the cabin with (Y/N). Travis lives for praise, lives for affection and attention after being deprived of it. He's also a hormonal teenage boy, and he pounces on his boyfriend the second things grow heated. He's nervous, but the worry of somehow messing up is overridden by a euphoric sensation clouding his head. 

It's only until later, when the girls return to the cabin in the morning, that they learn of Misty drugging the stew. Travis's is internally.. grateful. He'd been too nervous to go further than touching over and under clothes but the shrooms gave him a boost of confidence and he's too in bliss to pay the girls and the growing tension much heed. He shrugs off the argument between Shauna and Jackie and advises (Y/N) to do the same.

Regret sets in quickly when they discover his sister's corpse in the snow.

[maxiine]

Start of something new

Bakugoxreader F/reader in mind

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The time was 7:20pm

The agency was set to close in 40 minutes but you were on night watch tonight. You sat mindlessly atop the building keeping an eye on the city below. Your quirk gave your senses enhancements so to say you could hear, see and smell a crime from above was not an understatement. The rest of your colleagues and most of the pros in the surrounding cities had requested this special night off to celebrate the congratulated no.2 pro hero shotou. Of course the reason was not stated to the public but you may have overheard your boss talking. However you were happy to be the honored sidekick to be left in charge while everyone was away, it wasn’t often you were given hefty or important jobs but tonight was your chance to prove how useful you can continue to be to everyone.

You even took some time out of your lunch earlier to cover some paper work that the oh so great dynamite hated doing.

You had seen a multitude of social media posts from the group dinner. All you could do was smile at how wholesome and happy every one seemed. I mean it’s not everyday you can catch up with the ones you grew up with so you were happy they could all meet up again- all of them together. You’d often over hear Bakugo speaking with Kirishima or even Midorya about how they wanted to see everyone again, it had been awhile. You’d also see how brooding bakugo would become when he hadn’t seen any updates about his friends in the polls. He was just a nosey but caring guy.

To be completely honest, you had grown completely fond of him. Not just as a boss or in the way he ran things; but in the way that he spoke to civilians and kids who had gotten hurt. Or his bluntness towards ridiculous reporters trying to fish for info; maybe even in the way he would smile and laugh when he was out on the field with some of his closest friends. There was so many things, big and small, that fed into this thought of how grateful you were to work here.. with him.

You couldn’t get overly carried away though, you still had a lot to learn. So much room to grow. And thinking of your boss in not so professional ways was not going to help aid that goal.

*ding*

Your phone had vibrated in your pocket and dinged. A notification.

You reached into your back pocket while trying to still keep an eye out on the streets below, the time was 7:45, meaning you had a bit left before you were assigned to street patrol. You took that thought and decided it wouldn’t hurt to see the noti.

*✔️k.dynamite posted to their story*

You assumed he was posting more of the dinner party, and as nosey as you accused him of being, you weren’t much better. You click his circle icon on instagram and are immediately met with shotou, midorya, and himself taking a group photo. Shotou is wearing a sweet bright smile and of course midorya is following up with the same cuteness. But bakugo is wearing a smug grin, his sharp canines making an appearance. In small texts he wrote “congrats icy hot”, a nickname you heard he gave him way back in high-school. You hadn’t noticed the smile you had on your face as you went to heart the story post. But before you could ponder any longer- you put your phone back and gather yourself to head down to start patrol.

_____________________________________________

11:20

It was well late into the night now. Almost time to head back to the agency where Soon the over night patrol would be in to relieve you of your shift. The night wasn’t very active which was surprising to say the least. Some bar fights and kids messing around was all you had run into. Oh and one guy trying to break into a car but you got him handled nicely and escorted to the police. Now you were just walking back. Your hero suit made it difficult to find warmth in cold nights like these. Especially where you weren’t doing much, so you were left to be chilly. You held your self tight, mumbling small tasks you needed to do once you got back. Gotta finish the paper work, check in with the reports, clock out, clean the front, then leave to hopefully get some dinner. It may have seemed like alot but you’d most likely be home by 2 am which is actually earlier than you’d usual be out. You were a chronic over worker, but most sidekicks were; money won’t make it self right?

Finally you had made it back and had already begun your trot to your office (which was really an empty table in the meeting room.) you had worked through most of bakugo reports before you decided to start on your own.

—————————————————————————

Katsuki’s pov-

Katsuki was gripping his steering wheel pretty tightly on his way back. Dinner was great, and his talk with midorya? Well not so great but he was happy to help him do something he had put off for so long. Kirishima being the bestie that he is, couldn’t let him live it down so he begrudgingly teased him all the way back. Despite all of that, he had a pretty good night. However he still had his own goals and priorities and thinking about what work he has left for him was driving him insane. He wouldn’t be able to sleep easy unless he had it done or at least a head-start.

With ease he drives himself to his agency. It was 1:26 am and he was set for work at 7am but that didn’t matter. He probably could just stay up and shower there if he really needed to. The street lights shower a soft glow on to his face as he wears a concerned expression. Not intentionally but no one was around anyway, so he didn’t mind. He was anxious . Not just about his agency or the left over reports he didn’t finish. But.. about you. He had made sure not to put too much stress on you so leaving you to be in charge while he was away was enough to have this man run back immediately. It’s not that he didn’t trust you. He just wanted you to be safe, and he would feel much better if he was around to insure that. He couldn’t exactly remember when he started to feel that way. It could have been as soon as you were recruited but he wasn’t going to waste his time thinking of trivial things.

He arrived back. Walking from his sleek black car to the entrance and he couldn’t help but feel strange. He walked in after placing scanning his badge at the door, allowing him personal access through security. Once he was in, he noticed your badge placed on the front desk where the secretary would be. He felt panic, why were you still here? Were you even here or did something happen to you? Did you forget your badge but then how would you have left? He quickly assessed the situation, and the only way your badge would still be here is if YOU were still in this building. With that thought he quickly marched his way towards your work area while also quickly checking every other room. He couldn’t believe you were still here. Over working your self like damn usual.

He finally saw your hunched figure, you seemed to be resting your head? No maybe looking at something? All his thoughts stopped as he heard your soft snoring and slow breathing. You were asleep. You were safe and sound sleeping in HIS agency. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a heavy sigh, thankful and worry free to see you. He walked over, and noticed you had completed his paper work while also checking yours.

“Tsk. Idiot” he mumbles to himself softly, trying not to wake you. He carefully grabs the papers and files from under you and Gently places them else where. After much thought, he decided on waking you up so you could get some sleep in the rest area or at least let him take you home. However, with every nudge and poke, you weren’t even stirring in the slightest. He couldn’t find the heart to try any further. So while it wasn’t the best idea, he pulled back your chair and carefully picked you up. Taking you back to his office where he has a couch. He would put anyone else on the coaches at the front or even on one the cots stored away. But he knew his couch was the comfiest as he had spent many nights there himself, you deserved some comfortable rest.

He placed you down gently, then covering you with one of his blankets stored away. It wasn’t big nor was it the best quality but it would do the job. With a sigh he decided to let you sleep while he finished up your reports since you’ve done all of his. Yours would probably be much easier anyway since you were just a rookie sidekick.

—————————————————————————

He continued to type and write away, giving a soft melody to the air.

you could’ve slept for awhile longer if your senses hadn’t woke you up.

Shit! You thought to yourself, you fell asleep. But you were so warm, and your back fell on something soft.. weird.

You opened your eyes and understood now, you were lying on a couch. But who’s-

“You up now?” A grumbled voice speaks to you from behind a desk.

And it was none other than bakugo himself.

You quickly shot up fixing your hair and rubbing your eyes, trying to regain any sort of composure possible in this moment.

“Dynamite sir, I’m so sorry!”

“ idiot. Listen don’t apologize, you had a long night so just” he pauses for a moment and looks up at you. “Go home and get some rest.”

“But sir- I haven’t finished my reports.” You got up to gather your files.

“I already did them. You’re fine now go. And I’m taking you off of patrol tonight, so no excuses.” He said in his usual bossy tone.

“Wait why? I can still work or is this a punishment? I’m really sorry- I.. wait what do you mean by excuses?” You stammer over your words before questioning the blonde.

“You have no excuse not to comeback 100%. I’m giving you the day off so shut up and please just go.” It was way too damn early to be dealing with all of your questions let alone trying to get you to go home and take care of yourself. You were stressing this poor man out.

“Oh. I see, well um” you put your hand behind your head nervously before finally deciding it’s better to actually just go.

“Thank you for letting me sleep here. I promise it won’t happen again.” You tend to make false promises, especially when it came to your overworking habits.

“You better mean that, or I’ll kick your ass. Got it?” He barks at you. Only because he cares so much. He wanted you to care too.

“Got it.” You chuckles softly and you couldn’t help but hope to actually keep this promise. You share a small moment of contact with the blonde. His red eyes staring right into you, as if reading your mind. You shake the feeling and turn to head out.

“Have a good day then dynamite.” You begin to head out.

“Just call me katsuki. When we’re off duty.” He says casually but the small tint of pink on his cheeks tells you he was nervous to say that.

Alright then

“I’ll see you later. Katsuki.” You say his name softly, almost like a whisper before finally leaving for the day.

The time was 6:45am and you were getting ready for bed in your own home. You knew you’d be falling asleep thinking of him. Not the pro hero dynamite, but Katsuki Bakugou. The off duty hero who has your heart in a choke hold.

It has been so long since I’ve written for Bakugo, but I’ve never posted him on here so :) glad I finally did. He’s my fav so maybe I’ll post more of him <3

Also! I’m sorry I get lost in detail and back-round >.< I’ll work on it

[swan-of-sunrise]

...Is Love, Sweet Love (Part II)

Summary: Eight months later, (Y/N) and her daughter Molly have settled in well at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, with (Y/N) teaching a Classical Literature class and six-year-old Molly taking courses while learning more about her telepathic skills. Charles, having fallen head over heels for the school's new professor, debates whether or not to act upon his feelings.

Pairing: Charles Xavier X F!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Yes, I know, it's slightly unhinged to write a Part II to a one-shot that I published over 2 years ago, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and here's what I came up with! Again, "What The World Needs Now Is Love" by Jackie DeShannon partially inspired this fic, so you should totally give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :)

…Is Love, Sweet Love May 1980 Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester (Previous Chapter)

Despite living in his family’s mansion for the majority of his life and spending countless hours of his childhood eagerly exploring its sprawling grounds, Charles Xavier hadn’t truly grown to appreciate the tranquility that the estate provided until he’d re-started Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sight of young mutants happily playing on the playground and partaking in group sports without feeling the need to hide their differences away brought a smile to Charles’ face, and the cheerful laughter of his students paired with the beautiful spring sunshine inspired him to once again enjoy his lunch outside with a good book…although, it was difficult to deny that he spent far more time listening in on Professor (Y/L/N)’s nearby Classical Literature class than actually reading his novel.

“Can anyone tell me why the characters of King Lear worship the pagan gods and not any form of Christianity?” (Y/N), who was sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of her small class, arched a brow as she surveyed the silent group of teenagers before her. “C’mon, guys, you know this. We went over the background of the play during our last lecture, and I seem to remember some of you even taking notes…” After a moment, a timid hand went up from the red-headed girl in the front and (Y/N) smiled. “Yes, Jean?”

“The play is set in ancient Britain, long before the arrival of Christianity.”

“Very good, Jean!” Jean Grey’s shoulders relaxed and beside her, her friend Jubilee gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Now, why would Shakespeare choose to set this play in this specific time period? Think about the time period in which Shakespeare lived, and what the social and political climate in England was like.” A dark-haired boy towards the back of their group raised his hand. “Go ahead, Remy.”

Remy LeBeau lowered his hand and began fiddling with his deck of playing cards as he spoke in his distinct French-Creole accent. “Well, Professor, that was when there was a lil’ trouble brewin’ ‘tween the Catholics and Protestants over there, right? He prob’ly didn’t wanna ruffle any feathers by puttin’ a popular religion in his plays, so he had his characters worship the gods from ol’ Roman mythology; anybody who’d be offended would’ve been long dead, so Willy did what any guy’d do to keep his head on his shoulders.”

Charles smiled to himself as the class laughed and (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a reluctant grin. “A little unorthodoxly put, Remy, but you’re absolutely correct. In the play, Lear states that-” She was cut off when the familiar sound of the school bell rang out and her students started to pack their things away. “Remember, on Monday we’ll begin performing your assigned scenes so be sure to work on memorizing your lines with your groups over the weekend. Have a good rest of your day!”

While they laughed and talked amongst themselves, the students headed back towards the mansion for their next class and with a fond smile on her face, (Y/N) looked away from them and finished packing her binders and books into her messenger bag. The novel in Charles’ hand was all but forgotten in favor of admiring his colleague and friend, who’s effortless beauty almost always succeeded in making him stutter over his words and caused him to blush in a way that he hadn’t since he was a schoolboy; she was dressed casually in a striped button-down blouse tucked into a faded pair of high-waisted jeans and well-worn Birkenstocks, with her (Y/H/C) hair pulled away from her face by a blue headband and her reading glasses dangling around her neck by a colorful beaded chain. Charles took in all of her striking figure, but it was her content smile and the happy gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes that made him release a lovelorn sigh and look down at his lap.

Charles was infatuated with Professor (Y/L/N). Well, it perhaps started out as a simple infatuation, back when she’d first arrived on his doorstep pleading for him to help her daughter; her kindness and caring nature in regards to Molly’s safety and well-being was touching, considering how many parents he’d met who were overly eager to pass their mutant children off to a complete stranger just to be rid of them. After hearing their story, he knew that she couldn’t bear to be separated from her five-year-old and so, he asked that she stay and teach at the school to ensure that they would remain together. That was eight months ago and since then, the infatuation had evolved into a full-blown romantic crush; Charles was captivated by (Y/N)’s capacity for compassion, enchanted by her quick wit and natural beauty, in awe of her progressive idealism in regards to mutant rights and more than appreciative of her boundless consideration in regards to his disability.

Yes, Charles was enamored by his school’s newest professor, but he was also plagued by insecurity. The last woman he was romantically involved with was Agent Moira MacTaggert of the CIA, all the way back in 1962 when he was a dashing young man who’d just earned his doctorate and possessed an egotistical streak wider than the English Channel; nowadays, his ego was tempered and his youthful good looks were beginning to give way to wrinkles and streaks of silver. While a ten-year age gap between two consenting adults was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to a happy relationship, a part of him couldn’t help but think that (Y/N) would be happier with someone younger than him. Both Alex and Hank thought that he was overthinking the situation, and perhaps they were right but whenever he started to consider asking her out, that little voice of doubt whispered on in the back of his mind.

“Hi Charles!”

Looking up, Charles’ face reflexively broke out into a grin when he saw (Y/N) approaching the bench he’d parked his wheelchair beside. “Hello, (Y/N)! Holding your classes outside today, I see?”

“It’s such a beautiful day, so you could hardly blame me for taking full advantage of it.” The professor adjusted the strap of her messenger bag and tilted her head as a teasing smile played across her cherry-red lips. “Enjoying your lunch outside today, I see?”

“Touché, Professor,” Charles chuckled, slipping his bookmark into his novel to mark his place and tucking it into his wheelchair’s saddle pack. “Hank seems to believe that my vitamin D levels are too low, so I decided that eating outside was the quickest way to get our resident worrywart off of my back. Not only did I soak up plenty of sun, I had the added pleasure of listening in on your fantastic lesson on Shakespeare’s King Lear; no offense to the Bard, but it’s refreshing to see an Classical Literature professor teach her students about one of his historical plays instead of one of his romances.”

(Y/N) shrugged nonchalantly, but the way she began to fiddle with her pendant revealed the bashfulness she was attempting to mask. “Well, I remember what it was like being fourteen; you’re around the same age as Romeo and Juliet, yes, but you don’t know a damn thing about love and it’s not easy to understand why they do the things they do.”

“As a former fourteen-year-old, I heartily concur. At that age, I could scarcely understand myself let alone an emotion as complex as love, no matter how beautifully Shakespeare described it,” Charles replied, looking out across the manicured grounds as he recited, “‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep-’”

“‘-The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite,’” (Y/N) finished and when their eyes met, Charles’ heart fluttered and he could feel his face beginning to warm; his brows rose in surprise when the professor hastily turned her head to try and hide her besotted smile, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the sight. “I, um, I-I should go and find Molly…”

“She’s at the playground with Alex’s second graders. Speaking of which, I need to speak with Alex about tomorrow’s scheduled book delivery…” Charles awkwardly cleared his throat before giving (Y/N) a tentative smile. “Would you allow me to escort you there?”

(Y/N)’s own smile widened at that. “Of course!”

While Charles wheeled himself along the stone pathway and (Y/N) kept in step with him, they eagerly discussed the school’s ongoing library expansion and all the new books they’d obtained for the students; any progress made at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters filled him with a sense of accomplishment, but expanding his ancestral home’s library was one of his greatest desires and he was thrilled that the children would soon have access to more knowledge than many of the country’s best private schools and universities. (Y/N) was just as excited about the expansion as he was, and he couldn’t help but admire the enthusiasm written across her beautiful features while he listened to her talk about all the lesson plans she’d brainstormed involving their new books.

They reached the playground sooner than Charles would’ve preferred, but his disappointment was set aside by the sight and sound of his school’s youngest students happily entertaining themselves on the elaborate structure; so many of them came from broken homes and were sent away without any second thoughts by families that couldn’t care less about them and while Charles couldn’t change their heartbreaking pasts, he did all in his power to give each and every one of his students a loving home and bright, promising futures. For the first time, I find myself truly understanding the blinding rage that fills Erik in regards to mutant rights, he thought with an inward grimace before glancing over at (Y/N) and smiling as the human woman affectionately watched her mutant daughter play, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my faith in humanity’s innate goodness.

“Hi Mommy!” Molly exclaimed from the top of the structure, a toothy grin stretching across her face as she gave them both an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Professor ‘Zavier!”

“Hi Molly-Bear!” (Y/N) called back while a beaming Charles returned the little girl’s wave with one of his own. He’d always maintained that a good professor shouldn’t have favorites, but no one would blame him if he came out and admitted that Molly (Y/L/N) was – hands down – his favorite student; she was as exuberant and carefree as any human six year old, but her mutant abilities as a psychometric telepath meant that she was more insightful and tended to see the world around her with sage eyes. In truth, Molly reminded him so much of himself when he was a child and knowing first-hand how challenging having telepathic abilities at that age can be, he was grateful that he could help her by teaching her how to control and accept her gifts.

While Charles scanned the playground for Alex, he caught (Y/N) looking over at him and the tender expression on her face nearly took his breath away; she quickly looked away and pretended to adjust the fasteners of her messenger bag, but not before Charles noticed the glimmer of affection in her gorgeous (Y/E/C) eyes. A familiar whistle cut through his racing thoughts and when he glanced over, he spotted Alex leaning against a light pole that bordered the playground; a knowing smirk curved across the younger man’s face, widening as he brought a hand up to his temple and wiggled his fingers to signal for Charles to read his mind.

“I told you so.”

“Alex…”

“(Y/N)’s into you, Charles, and you’re clearly into her. So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

After taking a steadying breath and running an anxious hand through his hair, Charles cleared his suddenly dry throat and hesitantly spoke. “(Y/N)?” The professor looked over at him expectantly and his finger drifted upwards to loosen his shirt’s collar while he clumsily continued. “I, ah…well, I-I was wondering if I…(Y/N), would you and Molly care to join me for dinner sometime? There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant in Salem Center and a little movie theater just down the street from it that I think you’ll enjoy…”

(Y/N) blinked, looking dumbfounded but slightly hopeful as she took a moment to find her voice. “Charles, are you asking me out on a date?”

Charles nodded and offered her the barest of smiles. “Over the past few months, I’ve grown…immensely fond of you; I wake up every morning looking forward to our usual discussions over breakfast, I find myself spending far too much time styling my hair and picking out what to wear in the hopes that you’ll take note and every time you smile at me, my heart skips a beat.” The professor shyly smiled at that and he couldn’t help but lightly chuckle, the weight in his chest already feeling lighter with each confession he uttered. “Yes, just like that.”

“And you…you wouldn’t mind Molly coming along?”

The anxiety that filled (Y/N)’s eyes as she awaited his answer nearly shattered Charles’ heart; based on what little she’d disclosed to him about her past, he knew that she’s struggled with dating as a single mother and he could only imagine how disillusioned with romance she’d become as a result. “Of course not, (Y/N),” He softly replied and in a bold move, he reached forward and took her hand in his. “You two are a team, after all; Molly is your entire world, and I want you to know that I respect that more than anything. It’s also…well, let’s just say that it’s been quite a while since I’ve gone on a date, and I’d…”

“Like to go slow?” (Y/N) gently offered and when Charles wordlessly nodded, she gave him the smallest of smiles before looking over her shoulder and calling out, “Molly? Sweetheart, can you come here for a second, please?” After coming down the slide, Molly skipped over to them and the professor knelt down so that they were eye-level, her hand still holding onto his. “Professor Xavier wanted to know if he could take us out for dinner and a movie. Does that sound all right to you, Molly-Bear?”

The little girl’s head tilted to the side as her (Y/E/C) eyes studied Charles, and he was forced to mask his amused chuckle with a cough when she brought a mitten-clad hand up to her mother’s ear. “Like on a date?” Molly loudly whispered, and (Y/N) pursed her lips to keep from chuckling as she nodded; her daughter lowered her hand to reveal her excited smile and she gave her mother an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Sounds good to me!” Molly looked back at Charles with a conspiratorial giggle. “Mommy likes you, Professor ‘Zavier.”

Charles arched a playful brow as his eyes flicked between the embarrassed elder (Y/L/N) and the beaming younger (Y/L/N). “She does, does she?”

“Mm-hmm, she likes your eyes and your smile and your hair and your-”

“Okay, young lady, that’s enough out of you,” (Y/N) hastily interrupted, tickling her daughter’s neck with both hands and smiling when she shrieked with laughter and scurried back to the playground. Shaking her head in fond exasperation, she stood and glanced back at Charles, who was trying and failing to muffle his laughter. “Well, I guess that settles it. Does six o’clock this Friday work for you?”

He emphatically nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s perfect!” He felt himself begin to blush at his obvious enthusiasm, and it was (Y/N)’s turn to chuckle as he awkwardly cleared his throat and tried again. “…I-I mean, Friday at six o’clock works for me.”

“Good. I guess that Molly and I will see you then.” The professor turned to walk away but took Charles by surprise when she turned back around and bashfully smiled at him. “I’ve…I’ve grown immensely fond of you too, Charles.”

Before he could say or do anything, she’d bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss onto his cheek, an infatuated gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes as she flashed him one last smile and left to meet her daughter on the playground. A broad grin slowly spread across Charles’ face and while he watched her walk away, he leaned an elbow onto his wheelchair’s armrest and rested the side of his head against his palm, releasing a love-struck sigh and barely taking note of the familiar figure that moved to stand beside him.

“See what happens when you actually take my advice?”

Charles straightened his posture and glanced over at Alex, who was wearing the smuggest of smiles on his faces as he stared back at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an impertinent ass, Alex Summers?”

Alex’s smirk widened. “Heard it all my life. So, when’s the big date?”

“This Friday at six o’clock. And since you and Hank have taken such a keen interest in my love life, I’ll be requiring your assistance on Friday.” The younger man quickly sobered and with a grin of his own, Charles chuckled and patted his arm. “There’s a good chap. Now, about tomorrow’s book delivery…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although it was a far cry from the hazy evenings spent at Oxford’s many lively pubs and in the company of the college’s most flirtatious female students, Charles’ date with (Y/N) and Molly was undoubtedly the most enjoyable one he’d ever been on. He’d met the mother and daughter in the mansion’s foyer with two bouquets in his hands – daisies for Molly and vibrant pink roses for (Y/N) – and he happily watched them admire their flowers while simultaneously hiding the fact that he was studying (Y/N)’s figure; the professor was wearing a knee-length yellow dress with long billowing sleeves, a bright pink sash tied around her waist and matching high heels, and her carefully styled hair was pulled back by a pink headband. She was beautiful, far too beautiful to be going out with the likes of him, but his fears of inadequacy were quickly alleviated when she looked over at him and smiled.

Hank and Alex drove the three of them to Salem Center in Charles’ maroon 1959 Jaguar Mark IX, the pair of them opting to stay in town and catch a showing of the newly-released The Empire Strikes Back while they dined at La Mensa. Sensing Molly’s apprehension with being around so many non-mutant strangers, Charles distracted her by playing ‘tic-tac-toe’ and ‘hangman’ with her on her paper place-mat and (Y/N) threw him a grateful look as she asked her daughter about her schoolwork; while they enjoyed their food, (Y/N) entertained them with stories of her students’ antics and after some goading by Molly, she even balanced a spoon on the end of her nose much to her daughter and Charles’ delight. After dinner, they made their way down the street to the small movie theater and while many of its patrons were queued up to watch the latest Star Wars film, the three of them decided on watching the re-release of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp; Molly adored the classic cartoon and while Charles was impartial to the film, he thoroughly enjoyed exchanging enamored glances with (Y/N) over the little girl’s head.

Molly fell asleep on the drive home, cuddling against her mother’s side as she lovingly brushed her fingers through her daughter’s (Y/H/C) hair. In low whispers, (Y/N) assured Charles that Molly had a wonderful time and that she hadn’t seen the little girl so happy since before she’d come into her mutation; although aware that Hank and Alex were clearly eavesdropping from their front seats, Charles quietly asked her if she’d care for a quick nightcap in his study after putting Molly to bed, and he was thrilled when she readily accepted his invitation. When they arrived back at the mansion, (Y/N) carried the still-sleeping Molly inside, but not before giving Charles one last smile as he maneuvered into his outside wheelchair.

“So…” Hank arched a curious brow as he walked beside Charles’ wheelchair and steadied it when they reached the top of the ramp, where Alex was waiting with his motorized indoor wheelchair. “How was it?”

“Charming, but I could’ve done without the rather offensive Asian and Italian stereotypes-”

“Not the movie, Charles, the date,” Alex interrupted and when Charles chuckled in amusement at his friends, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, you finally ask out the woman you’ve been head over heels for and you’re not gonna give your two best friends the four-one-one?”

Shaking his head in faux exasperation, Charles shifted himself into his motorized wheelchair and arranged his legs as he airily answered, “(Y/N), Molly and I ate a truly magnificent meal at La Mensa that we followed up by watching a classic Disney film at the movie theater. What more is there to say?”

Alex heaved a sigh but moved to allow Charles to wheel himself into the mansion. “A little help here, Hank?”

“Oh, he’s having far too much fun messing with us to stop.” The scientist tucked his hands into his jacket pockets while a mischievous smirk played on his lips. “But speaking as the school’s resident genius, I couldn’t help but notice the good professor clearly checking (Y/N) out before we left and blushing when she smiled at him just now.”

A reluctant blush warmed Charles’ cheeks at that. “Don’t you two perverts have morning classes to prepare for?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, lover boy,” Alex smugly countered, nudging Hank’s arm with his elbow as they walked beside Charles’ wheelchair down the vacant hall to his study. “Well, Beast, there’s no doubt about it: Charles here’s got it bad for our lovely Professor (Y/L/N).”

When they reached his study’s door, Charles nudged it open and wheeled himself inside, but not before giving both men a look of genuine sincerity. “Thank you, for your assistance tonight and for your encouragement; the pair of you can occasionally be a pain in the ass, but tonight couldn’t have happened without you.”

Hank’s smile softened. “You’re welcome, Charles. We’re just happy that we succeeded in making you do something selfish for once.”

“Yeah, you’ve helped us both out so much over the years and it was high-time we returned the favor,” Alex added as he clapped Charles on the shoulder, his earnest expression morphing into a knowing smirk while he continued. “Enjoy your nightcap with (Y/N), and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lover boy.”

“Oh, and don’t forget protection!”

“Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Chuckling, Alex and Hank left the study and closed the door behind them; after pausing for a moment to take a calming breath, Charles wheeled himself over to the oak cabinet near his cluttered desk and unlocked it, pulling out a glass decanter of scotch and two glasses and setting them down on the coffee table. He bit his lip as his eyes surveyed the messy state of his study, cursing himself for not tidying up earlier, but a part of him knew that (Y/N) wasn’t the type to mind a little clutter; she liked to joke that the best professors had the messiest studies because they spent all their time teaching instead of worrying about how others perceive them. It was the good manners instilled in him from birth that saw him gathering stacks of loose papers, binders and leather-bound books and unceremoniously shoving them behind his desk before lifting himself out of his wheelchair to sit on the couch; with nothing else to distract himself from the anxious anticipation building up within him, Charles plucked the maple-colored queen off the chessboard and nimbly twirled it around his fingers as he waited for (Y/N).

Minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door of his study and after scrambling to straighten up his chessboard, Charles called out, “Come in!” The door opened and (Y/N) stepped into the room, her gentle smile widening when she spotted him seated on the couch. “How’s Molly?”

“Out like a light.” (Y/N) crossed the room and sat on the couch beside him, her fingers playing with the flowing yellow material of her dress’ skirt as Charles poured their drinks. “She wanted me to tell you that she had a really fun time tonight, and she wanted me to thank you.”

“She’s been working so hard these past few months to complete her schoolwork and training, so if anyone deserves to have a little fun it’s undoubtedly her,” Charles replied, a surge of fondness for his youngest student and her kindheartedness bringing a smile to her face as he turned to (Y/N) and offered her a glass of the amber-colored liquid. “As do you, Professor.”

Accepting the glass, (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully before holding it up and angling it towards him. “In that case…to having fun.”

“To having fun,” Charles repeated, lightly clinking his glass of scotch against hers and taking a sip, his eyes appreciatively roaming along the professor’s figure while she took a sip of the strong liquor. “Do you like it? It’s top shelf scotch whiskey, all the way from Scotland.”

(Y/N) arched a playful brow as she crossed her leg over her knee and angled herself to face him. “Expensive, imported liquor? Are you trying to impress me, Professor?”

“Well, that all depends…” Following his instincts, Charles set his glass down and rested his elbow on the couch’s back cushion, his lips curving into a playful grin. “Is it working?”

Her (Y/E/C) eyes softened and after setting her own glass down, she rested one of her hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Charles, I was impressed by you before the top shelf scotch, before the fancy Italian restaurant, and before I ever laid eyes on this beautiful mansion.” His brow furrowed in confusion but she merely smiled and rubbed small circles along his knuckles with her thumb. “Eight months ago, the letter that I sent you asking for help with Molly was my Hail Mary; I had nowhere to go and no way to protect my daughter from the people who hated her for who she was, so I decided to write to the one person I knew could help her. And when you sent me a letter back – that incredibly kind and empathetic letter – you gave me hope, hope that I hadn’t felt in so long. So, you see? You managed to impress me before we’d even met, Charles Xavier.”

Charles, touched by her sincerity and feeling a little emotional, reached forward with his free hand and carefully cradled her warm cheek in his palm. “Oh, my darling (Y/N)…you’re not the only one who’s had their hope restored; I gave up any hope for romance not long after I lost my legs, choosing to focus my attention on the school and my fellow mutants. Over these past several months, however, you helped me to see that there was still hope.” His thumb traced along her cheekbone as he smiled and slowly began to lean in. “And now, I would very much like to kiss you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N)’s smile widened. “I’d like that very much as well, I just…” He could feel her cheek flush beneath his touch, and a look of embarrassment flashed across her face. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this. Would it be silly to say that I’ve got butterflies in my stomach?”

“Not at all, darling. Truth be told, I’m a little nervous myself,” Charles murmured, his eyes flicking away from hers to stare at her enticing lips before glancing back up. “The last time I kissed a woman was in 1962, so you’ll have to forgive me if my technique has gotten slightly rusty over the past eighteen years.”

“Well, we won’t know unless we give it a go, will we?” (Y/N) breathed and her (Y/E/C) eyes burned with desire as they both inched closer. “Charles, dear…please kiss me.”

Wanting nothing more than to please the professor, Charles’ eyes fluttered closed as he tentatively brushed his lips against hers. (Y/N) wasted no time in returning the kiss, kissing him softly and sweetly as her hand left his to rest on the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair and eliciting a blissful groan from him; with one hand still cupping her cheek, he rested the other on her waist but soon found himself winding his arm around her in an effort to bring her closer. (Y/N)’s lips were soft and oh so addictive, slowly but firmly caressing against his as her fingers carded through his locks, and Charles surrendered himself over to the woman wrapped in his embrace.

Eventually, they were forced to separate for some much-needed air, the both of them out of breath and almost dizzy from their impromptu make-out session; Charles felt a surge of pride as he took in (Y/N)’s kiss-swollen lips, heaving chest and the dazed smile on her face, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to lightly rub his nose against hers. When he pulled back, he huffed out a breathless chuckle at the incredulous look that she was giving him. “That’s a rusty technique?”

“Mm-hmm. Dreadful, wasn’t it?”

(Y/N) giggled at his joking question and pretended to consider it. “You know, I think I need another example before I can definitively say.” They both laughed but when Charles moved in for another kiss, a sharp twinge in his lower back caused him to recoil with a hiss of pain. “Charles, are you okay?!”

He mutely nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he straightened his posture and leaned his back against the plush couch cushions. “I’m fine, it’s just a muscle spasm.”

“Is it…?” (Y/N) trailed off and when Charles finally opened his eyes as the pain began to fade, he could see the worry written across her face. “Is it because of your spinal cord injury?”

“That, and I’m afraid that I’m getting on in years; I’m not as young and spritely as I was in 1962.” Instead of stammering out a string of apologies and getting up to leave as Charles feared she would, the corner of (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a lopsided grin that left him slightly confused. “(Y/N)?”

The professor shifted closer to him. “Did you know that Molly’s father was fourteen years older than me?” Charles’ brow rose in surprise and he silently shook his head, watching as she reached over and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “You could say that I’ve always had a thing for older men…” Before he could think of something witty to say, (Y/N) swung her leg over his to straddle his lap and rested her hands on either side of his face; Charles couldn’t help but grin and, inspired by her delectable boldness, he placed his hands on her waist to hold her securely to him, his grin widening as her breath hitched. “Go ahead and read my mind if you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

Shaking his head, Charles rested his head on the back of the couch so that he was staring up at her, softly smiling as one of his hands traveled upwards to cradle her cheek. “I believe you, darling. Would it be too sappy to say that I don’t want this night to end?”

“Not at all, dear,” (Y/N) shook her head before closing the distance between them and captured his lips in another passionate kiss; when they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his and returned his blissful smile with one of her own. “We can make this work, can’t we? Balance the two of us with running the school and raising Molly?”

“I believe that you and I can do just about anything, so long as we’re together,” Charles replied, his thumb and forefinger moving to guide her chin forward and pouring all his emotions into another kiss; there was no place on Earth he’d rather be than in the arms of the lovely Classical Literature professor who’d captured his heart and judging by the way she kissed him back, it was clear that she was thinking something along the same lines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had so much fun dipping my toes back into the Fox X-Men Universe (I still have a massive thing for 80's Charles Xavier and his flowing brown hair lol) and I loved that I finally resolved Charles and (Y/N)'s mutual attraction with this cute Part II! I may or may not have a few ideas for a possible Part III, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying!

Story Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @holb32 @f1uveryysblog Marvel Tag List: @brooke0297​​​​ @deadlymistletoe Permanent Tag List:​ @momc95​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​ @groovy-lady​ @yasmin12312

[rrezshifts]

“ how long have i known you? „ “ forever, it seems „

ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ 𝓲𝙣𝖙𝙧𝙤

THAÏS LOU HERMÈS RIVAS. is the daughter of a french immigrant father and an indigenous mexican mother. She was raised in wealth that was accumulated through the death of a great uncle [or her father’s uncle]. Her mother and father moved to Canton, Texas on a whim, tired of California life. With the wealth accumulated they opened a small knick-knack store in town. She was born August 14th, 2003, about a couple years after her parents had settled down. By this time, her parents had befriended the Shepherd’s. A small family who had a one year old son, JAEDEN AARON SHEPHERD, by the birth of their next child. Their second child, JAMES AUGUST SHEPHERD, was born a couple months before Thaïs. As soon as the infants were deemed old enough to meet, they did. From toddlers to kids to teens, Thaïs and James grew up thick as thieves.

James “Jamie” August Shepherd ✴︎ THE BEST FRIEND

esfj 17 y/o jun. 7 ‘03 gemini unlabeled cis he/him

he sees the benefits in hard work, not just career wise, but creatively, with passions, and with people he loves. he’s loves the arts, its his guilty pleasure. music, arts and crafts, culinary, etc. he loves nature. animals are his kryptonite. his household is on a pet break bc the last death ruined him. even though he’s hard working, he learned early on the importance of breaks and self care. he can talk your ear off while still allowing you room to talk his off. if you’re a shy talker though, you’re getting nothing in. he loves showing affection. it runs in the family. they’re a very [consensual] hug and kiss centered family.

📍 Canton, Texas (pop. 4,872) | 2021

𝐈. BEFORE HIGH SCHOOL — In elementary school Thaïs and James would often talk about the weddings they saw on the TLC reruns playing on tv when they got home. Thaïs wanted to get married because of it! So did James! “Perfect,” they thought, “We’ll get married to each other!” The two were seven and had no concept of what a wedding was for other than spending the rest of your life with someone, which is what they wanted. In seventh grade Thaïs had her big Aha! moment and figured out she had a crush on James. No part of her was at all interested in telling him. So she kept that information private.

𝐈𝐈. FRESHMAN YEAR — Prior to high school Thaïs and James would go to school dances together. Purely platonic and innocent intentions. That of which are totally acceptable for 11-13 year olds. But once high school rolls around, the two discovered the harsh reality that dates to parties were no longer something that could be platonic for a girl and a boy. Their freshman year homecoming dance involved them dodging dating questions left and right, despite the fact their peers have seen them go to every dance together for the past three years. The night was awkward, they were too scared to get too close, but had no where else to go. They sat as the music played, eventually leaving the event early for James’ house, where they complained about the dance and the people there all night.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. SOPHOMORE YEAR — Thaïs and James start making new and close friends away from each other, no friend group, just two different social circles. Their time started being focused on other people. Neither of them handled the change in friendship between them very well, it pushed them farther away. The longest they’ve ever gone without seeing each other outside of school was a month. A month of worrying from their parents before Thaïs got a text from James asking how she is, and confessing that he misses her. She shared the same sentiment. And the next 15 minutes was radio silence from James as he rode his bike to her house and she heard a knock at her bedroom door. She invited James in and the two talked for hours. He ended up spending the night, which her parents think nothing of after the hundreds of sleepovers they’ve had since they were five.

𝐈𝐕. JUNIOR YEAR — Beginning of their junior year, Thaïs starts dating a boy in their class. James doesn’t like him, and tells her as such. Says he’s a dick, and that she should break up with him before he hurts her. But she doesn’t listen, chalks it up to him being overprotective. At a lake party, no adults allowed, James was searching for Thaïs, drunk, after seeing her arrive with her boyfriend his instincts told him the best way to ignore was to drink. Not much of a drinker before this, he didn’t know drunk him really wanted to talk with Thaïs. He finally spots her crying as her now ex-boyfriend yells at her behind some trees. Mind you James isn’t normally a violent person, but he was then, 4 beers deep. Punching the screaming man sends Thaïs into shock like panick as a fight breaks loose. Partygoers attempt to pull the men away from each other. But they both keep trying to go back for more. That is until Thaïs yells for James to stop, one single time, and he’s up on his feet, hands raised in surrender, and heading to her as her ex is pulled away. Thaïs noting James’ intoxicated and bloody state takes his keys and drives his hand me down truck back to her house. They sneak past her parents and come up with some lie to tell his about how his bike flipped on the gravel path at night, as Thaïs cleans his cuts. And as she held his jaw, holding it in place firmly, placing gentle pats of the alcohol soaked cotton pad to his face. James felt something that night, and he sobered a bit at the feeling of his gut twisting looking at her, and at the desire he couldn’t chase of being something more.

𝐕. SENIOR YEAR — During Thaïs and James’ spring break of their senior year, about two weeks before prom. James’ brother, Jaeden, took the opportunity of James being more busy with spring break work, to get Thaïs alone and “seduce” her. Jae noticed that he had became more attracted to her as prom got closer and she began to glow more in the preparation. He didn’t have to do too much to seduce her. The last time she got lucky was with her ex-boyfriend from junior year and he never finished the job. Not to mention she was desperate to get over James, and in her seventeen year old mind the brother who looks a lot like him is perfect for that. They would hook up a few times in one week, until one instance where James walke in as they are making out. And the Shepherd brothers, raised by the best parents, decided it was best to sit down, take in what just happened, and talk it out. During this Jaeden noticed something through James’ body language. Something that, despite James’ blessing for them to continue their relationship, caused Jaeden to cut things off with Thaïs. Jaeden wasn’t aware of James’ feeling for his best friend, and immediately stopped any opportunity to cause tension between himself and his brother, when he realized. Thaïs wasn’t too bummed though, she had her fun.

Now she just looked forward to prom. She would be attending with a boy from her calculus class who had asked her. And James would not be attending prom at all, despite her pleas. That is until the boy from calculus class ditched her a week before prom. Then he decides to step up. He buys her a corsage and drives them there in his dad’s shitty pick up truck. They stay as long as most people did, dancing, eating, talking, until the prom after party started at another wealthy student’s giant house. James and Thaïs spend the entirety of their time at that party in the kitchen. The music was quieter in the kitchen. And there they could constantly refill their drinks. The two of them drink themselves into their own little world. Their bodies lose track of where they and their surroundings are. They start leaning closer together as they laugh more and more. Until James’ face is so close to Thaïs’ that the alcohol acts for him as he leans in to kiss her. When he pulls away she stares at him for a good five seconds before launching back at him. The two make out for like twenty minutes, as students maneuver around them in the kitchen, until Thaïs gets a raging headache. James texts his brother to the best of his ability then just shares his location with him so he can come pick them up. Leaving his dad’s pick up at the mansion, claiming he’ll pick it up tomorrow. She ends up staying the night at James’ house, laying with him in his bed, and saying goodnight to him with a lazy kiss to the corner of his mouth. For the next month Thaïs initiates an “it’s complicated, near friends with benefits, no strings attached,” kind of relationship with James. Poor James, who is just happy for anything from her. He luckily gets a clue to Thaïs’ deeper feelings for him, and makes plans to ask her out after their graduation ceremony.

𝐕𝐈. ONCE DATING — The two will work towards saving the money necessary to move to California, and attend university. Thaïs’ dream is to escape the small town, always has been. James’ dreams are being content. He could see that anywhere, as long as Thaïs was there too. He’s not sure if he’ll go to university, he’s refused any monetary assistance her and her family have offered, but it interests him, so he’s seeing how much he can save. But he just wants to save enough money for housing and emergencies first. And Thaïs is more than happy to wait for him. Canton, Texas isn’t pushing her out by any means, she has all she needs and more to satiate her.

© rrezshifts last updated. 05/26/2025

[noosayog]

he's not subtle! ft. ojiro aran

maybe he’s not one for over-the-top declarations, but it’s all the same when he makes it this obvious

wc: 1.2k

for @seiwas's and there's something, this feeling collab! happy 1 year anni selly belly and thank you for letting me join <3

1. social battery low

You dump the rest of your sugary drink down the drain before tossing the plastic cup in the nearest trash. Then, you weave through the hordes of people, all mingling, laughing, and drinking.

Except for you. 

“Hey, baby.” You hear your boyfriend’s voice before you feel his warm presence by your side. 

“Aran,” you relax, turning to give him a hug. He reciprocates and as much as you’d love to nuzzle your face further into his neck and lose the noise of the party in him, you know that he would notice something wrong instantly. 

“Havin’ fun?” 

Wordlessly, you nod. 

Your boyfriend opens his mouth but he’s cut off when another friend of his joins you two to say hi. To you, his introduction goes in one ear and out the other as you tune the conversation out while Aran talks animatedly.

You watch Aran laugh at what the friend says and give him the man-handshake. Another person joins in on the conversation, and then another, and then another. Soon, your boyfriend has a harem around him, all ribbing him and making jokes. As much as you try to laugh along and respond when it’s polite, you begin to withdraw, going silent. 

“Hey,” Aran murmurs in your ear. “Wanna ditch this party?” 

Your eyes snap open. You know how much Aran has been looking forward to seeing his friends and he seems to be having so much fun. 

You force a smile on your face. “What, no! Let’s stay.” 

Aran chuckles. “Nah, I wanna go. Let’s go get some food.” 

You let him usher you out and when the cold outside air hits you, you ask him, “what gave me away?” 

His eyes crinkle when he smiles down at you, gaze tender as it always is. He says nothing, only intertwining your fingers with his own and walking the two of you to the nearest fast food joint. 

2. something he saves for you

Aran needs to suit up today. Besides the few sponsorship parties and interviews, he hasn’t needed to tie a tie since his high-school uniform days. That being said, it’s like riding a bike – once you learn it, you don’t really forget how to do it. 

That being said, he doesn’t argue when he sees you emerge from the bedroom, hair a mess and eyes bleary. You trod over to him, plopping your forehead into his chest while your arms dangle as deadweight by your sides. 

He chuckles a bit, happy to hold you up, until he feels you tug at the fabric around his neck. 

Long ago, he had told you that you don’t need to see him off on his early mornings, but you had been stubborn, insisting that you at least help him tie his tie on suit days. As he does with any and all of your demands, he had given in, making sure to let you know the night before any suit days. 

Routine now, he leans down to indulge you. 

In your drowsy state, eyes hooded, you reach both arms up and begin to fumble with his tie. Aran continues to hunch down, hovering his lips over the crown of your head while you go through the motions. 

When you’re finished, you give the tie another tug, which is both a signal that you’re done and that you’re ready for a proper good morning kiss. He obliges, gently tilting your chin to drop a sweet kiss to your waiting lips. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

You say nothing, but keep your arms wrapped around his neck to cling on for just a second longer. 

Aran knows how to tie his own tie. When you tie it, your knot is messy and one side of the neck never seems to be properly tucked into his collar.

But he doesn’t mind. He can’t say no to you, after all.  

3. designated seat 

“Can I do this to you?” 

A phone is shoved into Aran’s face. He cranes his neck back to avoid getting cross-eyed. 

He eyes you above the phone. “Why don’t you just do it on yourself?” 

“Yours are longer than mine. It’s not really fun with mine.” 

He sighs. “Now?” 

Instantly, your eyes glaze over with excitement. “Yes please!” 

He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t need to. You dart into your shared bedroom before returning with an eyelash curler and a tube of mascara. Aran settles deeper into his seat on the couch while you sidle up next to him, on your knees to hover over him. 

Before you start though, he grabs hold of your bare thighs, fingers just brushing the openings of your flimsy sleep shorts. “Here,” he grunts as he picks you up and plops you down in his lap, your knees straddling his thighs. 

You wiggle, getting comfortable before holding the contraption up to his eyelashes. “Keep your eyes open, okay?” 

He nods, earning him a swat to the chest and a “don’t move!” 

Aran watches you as you press the curler to his lashes. Surprisingly, he barely feels it. He takes advantage of the quiet to just look at you, eyes roaming over your cheekbones, wrinkling of your nose, and tongue darting out the corner of your lips. His thumbs absent-mindedly stroke the sides of your thighs where he has yet to let go. 

“Aran.” 

“Hmm?” he doesn’t look away. 

“Your hands are distracting me.” 

His gaze continues to roam shamelessly. He hardly registers the words coming out of his own mouth. “It’s this or nothin’” 

You finish curling each lash, applying a coat of mascara to both sides. Aran only blinks when the wand gets a bit too close, but keeps them wide open, not wanting to miss a second. 

When you finish, you sit back, plopping your butt on his legs. A big toothy smile streatches across your lips when you appraise your work. Both of your hands come up to squish his cheeks. 

“Pretty,” you giggle. 

“Yeah,” Aran murmurs. “Real pretty.” 

4. through the wire

“... Hello? Hello, babe, you there?” 

You say something in your drunken haze, further muddled by the fact that you’re face down on your pillow. 

“Did you get back to your hotel?” 

“... Mmmm.” 

“Did you go back with everyone?” 

“Mm.” 

“Did you have fun?” 

“...” 

He chuckles, enjoying the sound of your evening breaths against his ear. It may be through the phone, but he can imagine your drooping eyes and limp body sprawled out on the little hotel bed. It’s just shy of his essential daily fix of you, but it’s going to have to do tonight. He continues to ask you questions about your trip, your night, what you wore, what you drank, even though your answers have long tapered out to a nondescript hum or nothing at all. He listens to your sounds with rapt attention, pressing the phone closer to his ear, even though he joked yesterday that you’d miss him way more than he’d miss you.

It’s cute. Your voice, your breathing, your drunk dial. It’s all so so cute. 

He can’t help but tell you as much. Maybe you don’t hear him, maybe you’re not awake to register it, but he can’t help it. 

His eyes are crinkled and his lips are curved upwards. He has an urge to squeeze something tight, preferably you. His voice drops an octave, his tone more tender than he thinks possible. 

“You’re cute.”

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓

pairing: 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻 han jisung x 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗹 lee minho x f!reader

content: rom-com, heroes and vigilant, love triangle into a poly relationship, delicate topics (su!cide, PTSD), mafia mentioned.

summary: You never forgot the antihero, Deadpool, for taking your father away from you. You never forgot the hero, Spider-Man, for saving your life from a suicide attempt. You forgive, but you never forget.

warnings: mentioning of guns and weapons, blood, reader has some PTSD, minho calls reader pet names. reader talks about her suicide thoughts so, if this trigger you do not read it, mafia mentioned.

words: 18.1k

  ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

NSFW warnings: fingering (f receiving), nipple playing, double penetration, breeding kink. I think it's all.

There are two types of people in the world: those who support heroes and those who believe they only bring chaos to the city.

You don’t belong to either category. You don’t care about heroes. Your life in a tiny apartment in Manhattan has never changed because of them. Your small pizza restaurant in one of the quietest neighborhoods of New York hasn’t thrived thanks to them, either.

You’re just there, waiting for the big event in your life. Until then? You spend your time listening to cheap music from your dad’s old radio.

“Y/n, vieni qua, c’è gente!” Your father’s voice snaps you out of your daze. His strong Italian accent interrupts the music, and you pull your headphones off. The song still plays on your phone, but you don’t have time to stop it. You have to get back to work.

Your family runs a small business. Your father works in the kitchen—making pizzas with the authentic recipe from Italy. Your mother, on the other hand, prepares traditional desserts like tiramisù, panna cotta, and even gelato. Your grandmother spends the whole day in the same spot, wrapped in her purple shawl, glasses slipping down her nose, eyes fixed on a Hispanic soap opera while working on her puzzle book.

You work as a cashier, helping out when you're not at university. You got into a very expensive school, full of people who’ve been spoiled their entire lives. You, on the other hand, learned the meaning of money differently.

Your grandmother came to the U.S. when she had just turned 25. In one hand, she held a suitcase; in the other, her dreams. She learned English from scratch, juggling three part-time jobs, while your grandfather worked two more. It was a simple, chaotic, but happy life—until your grandfather passed away, leaving your father the small business they had built from the few pennies they had managed to save.

You’ve never really understood why your grandparents bought a place so far from Little Italy—closer to Times Square than the other famous Italian restaurants. Every time you ask your grandmother, she simply shrugs and says, “Your nonno was really stubborn.”

Your grandfather truly believed it was the best option—a small place for a sliced pizza business with an apartment included. It had just enough room for you and the rest of your family.

You know the place isn’t very successful. There are only a few regulars, just enough to scrape by and cover the end-of-month expenses. You also know you can’t ask for too much, and that your college grades must remain impeccable to keep your scholarship. Every day, you think about how lucky other people seem—not that you know their stories, but just hearing someone casually say during a lecture, “Let’s go to karaoke after this,” makes you jealous.

You’re not popular, and you’re definitely not rich. That’s cut down a lot of your social life—but not enough to leave you completely friendless.

As you step out the back of the restaurant and head to the cashier spot, you spot your best friend with a huge grin on her face, waving at you.

“Yo mama is fine as hell.”

You can’t help but laugh. Her obsession with milfs—and girls in general—always manages to lift your mood. Holding your stomach from laughing, you tease, and she laughs along with you.

“What are you looking for today?” you ask.

“Some girls to kiss. Wanna be the next one?”

Her cheeky pick-up lines never fail to make you smile. You start punching in the price for two slices of pizza.

“It’s three dollars.” She sighs dramatically as she pulls out her wallet from her expensive bag. “If I really have to.”

You chuckle as you grab the three banknotes from her hand. Her smile makes you smile. And for a moment, you’re truly happy. No worries. No thoughts. Just peace. For a single second, your life doesn’t feel as miserable as you usually think it is.

Until.

Until you hear screaming. Until you hear glass shattering. Until you see the terror on the faces of the people you love. You never imagined how quickly life could change—how everything could shift in just a matter of seconds. That is, until you see a figure in a dark red costume, weapons strapped to his back, and a gun in his hand.

You’re not a huge nerd, but even you recognize that costume. It belongs to only one person. Deadpool.

He’s not a hero. He’s not a villain. He defines himself to the police as a “cleaner of other people’s shit.” Basically, a hitman—one who doesn’t kill unless he’s forced to by whoever’s paying him.

And now, as you crouch behind the counter, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to explode, your hands shaking and your ears buzzing with the rush of blood… you pray. You pray he’s made a mistake. That he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But he’s not. He’s pointing his gun toward the kitchen. Your blood feels like it stops flowing. A chill floods your body. The atmosphere is so heavy, so dark, you can only curl tighter under the counter, paralyzed with fear.

“No! Please!” Your mother’s voice jerks you back into reality. You rise from your hiding spot. Your best friend is helping your grandmother, who’s fallen from her chair. Your eyes burn with tears, but you fight them back. There’s no time for that now. Before you can even take a step toward the kitchen, a shotgun blasts through the air— Piercing the screams.

Silencing everything. You never thought silence could feel so terrifying. You run into the kitchen.

Your mother is on the floor, sobbing. Your father is moaning in pain, a chest wound bleeding out across the tiled floor. And there’s Deadpool—calmly wiping his gun with the towel your mother usually keeps folded neatly on the counter. The tears spill freely now, anger rising like a fire inside you.

“I didn’t kill him,” the antihero mutters, walking past you as if nothing just happened. His mask is lifted just enough to reveal his mouth as he chews on a slice of pizza. “Easy, blondie.”

The sound of police sirens begins to echo in the distance, growing louder as they approach the scene of chaos. It's only a matter of time—and you pray for every second. The floor is littered with shards of glass from the shattered windows. Chairs and tables are overturned. The TV your grandmother usually watches during the day lies face-down on the ground. Somehow, it's still working. The screen flickers with an image of news reporters gathered just outside your family’s restaurant. Without warning, Deadpool hurls one of his katanas across the room. It strikes the TV dead center, perfectly shattering the screen.

“Damn, I always hated reporters,” he mutters.

His voice is deep—so deep it sends a chill crawling up your spine. You instinctively take a step closer, but stop instantly. One of his guns is now aimed directly at your forehead.

You freeze. The chewing sound of his pizza is the only noise cutting through the room, aside from your dad’s pained groans and your mother’s quiet sobs. “Don’t step too close, blondie,” he warns. “You’ll get hurt trying to dance with evil.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he turns his head toward you. You’re frozen in place, barely able to get the words out. “Why did you do this?” you whisper. “Why us?”

Your voice shakes. He steps closer, too close for you to focus properly on his face. His cologne hits your senses—sharp, cold, almost metallic. “I just follow the work, sweet thing,” he replies flatly. “Grow up with that.”

His tone is harsh, and it makes you tremble from head to toe. Before you can catch a glimpse of his eyes, his mask drops again, covering the lower half of his face. His voice switches back to something oddly playful just as the police storm in, guns raised. The windows are blown open, letting the spring wind drift in and stir the dust on the floor.

That was the first time you ever met Deadpool.

-

Lee Minho feels like heavy rain. The kind of heavy rain that comes after a thunderstorm—summer rain that seeps into your bones, soaking your clothes until they cling to your skin, drenching your shoes, and plastering your hair to your neck. That kind of rain.

You don’t know if it’s because of his charm, or the fact that he never lets anyone get too close, but something about him draws you in. From your very first day at university, your eyes betrayed you by constantly seeking him out, lingering on his features. You don’t even know what his voice sounds like, or what color his eyes are. He’s the kind of guy you instinctively look for in a crowded, noisy room.

That copper-red hair, always poking out from under his hoodie, and that worn backpack slung over one shoulder—he walks the corridors like he doesn’t owe anyone a glance. He never makes eye contact. You don’t even understand why he goes to a place like this. It’s hard to imagine him as a spoiled rich kid. Maybe that’s part of the reason you find him so intriguing.

No one really knows how he affords a university like this one. The only thing you're certain of is that Minho doesn’t care about his grades—because he’s too smart to need to. He walks out of class when he’s bored, and the professors never stop him. He’s that genius—the one everyone accepts is on another level. No one ever beats him in tests or assignments. He always turns things in on time, always perfect. So perfect it’s almost annoying.

At least, that’s what you used to think.

Now, after your father was arrested, you can’t even sit through a lecture without your skin prickling at the sight of the windows—always waiting for them to shatter like they did that day. Your usual seat is right next to one of them, where your desk is still covered in little scribbled drawings. But not today.

Today, that seat is already taken—by Lee Minho.

You feel your cheeks flush. That’s your seat. Everyone knows it.

“Excuse me?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. The boy is scribbling something in his notebook, eyes down, spinning a pen between his fingers. He doesn’t even glance up.

“Sorry, uh…?” Minho sighs. You’re still standing beside the desk, not moving away. He lets out a slow breath before finally turning his head toward you.

It’s the first time you see his eyes—dark brown. And suddenly, the image of heavy rain from that first day resurfaces. That’s exactly what his eyes look like.

Cold.

His voice cuts through the silence. “What?”

"That’s my spot," you say, pointing lightly at the desk where his things are already spread out. Minho doesn’t like moving around once he finds his place—it’s like he’s a cat, settling into his favorite angle of the room.

"No, it’s mine."

The entire conversation feels so childish that you almost can’t bring yourself to argue.

Your cheeks warm as his voice comes out firm, making you trip over your words. You turn on your heel and start to walk toward another table, part of you feeling a strange sense of relief. Your usual spot is right by the window, and being that close to one would make you panic. But of course, Minho doesn’t know that. Or at least, that’s what you think.

For the entire week, Minho took your spot. You didn’t know why, and he’s not the type to get close to anyone, so you couldn’t ask him. You just… accepted it. Who were you to tell him what to do?

Every morning—though you weren’t sure exactly when it started—you passed by to greet him, leaving a jug of juice that you bought from the vending machine. No one had ever approached him like this before. You knew you weren’t special, but you felt pleased when Minho smiled after about ten seconds of you leaving the juice on the table, his lips raising just at the corners. That little gesture made you feel good.

Then, the following Monday, Minho wasn’t there. He’s never late, which made you worry. Not that you were friends or anything more, but a situation had formed where you felt a duty to… understand, to know why he wasn’t there.

“Do you know where Minho is?” you murmured to your friends, who were engrossed in a conversation about the latest assignment that was hell on earth. You had your head in your hands, your eyes scanning the room for one person and one person only.

“Y/N, why are you so interested in him?”

Your expression is pure surprise as you look up at your friend. “Me? Uh, no reason.” You can’t lie when your cheeks are getting red just thinking about the man who has taken up residence in your mind.

“You keep asking about him today! And murmuring stuff, do you have a crush on him?”

Their sudden questions make you retreat into your thoughts. Is it really like that? You’re not sure; you’ve never named what you feel for Minho before. You just… let it happen. You can’t control your feelings.

You hear the door slam against the wall, shaking the windows. It makes you flinch.

Minho enters the room, and there’s a brief silence. No one says a word. His face is covered in wounds—split lip, cut above his eyebrow. You feel dizzy just looking at him.

“What do you have to look at?” he spits out, as if surprised that everyone is paying attention to him now. No one ever has before.

But he’s hurt, and you can’t stand it. You can’t stand seeing anyone hurt, especially someone you care about, even if you haven’t fully acknowledged that yet. You almost jump out of your seat, making a loud screeching sound as the chair drags across the floor, drawing everyone’s attention. Your friends murmur something to try and convince you to sit back down, but you can’t.

Your eyes are locked on him.

You see the surprise in his expression when you stand up for him, but he doesn’t move a muscle. He knows that you care, more than everyone else does. You walk toward him, the only sound in the room is the soft thudding of your shoes on the floor. Your mind keeps whispering: Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. You’ve never skipped a class. You’ve always been the perfect student. But… oh, screw it.

You grab Minho’s hand, and he hisses at the feeling of your skin against his. His hand feels almost burning hot, and his cheeks flush red, but he won’t admit it. He doesn’t pull away.

You walk out of the class, his eyes on you the whole time, and you feel so stupid right now.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he mumbles, tightening his grip on your hand, but not letting you go.

You take him to the nursing room, opening the door and guiding him to one of the beds. “Let me take a look,” you insist, but when you try to pull away, his hand stays firmly holding yours. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to steady yourself, his thumb brushing gently against your knuckles.

He lets you grab some bandages and disinfectant, and you start to carefully tend to the cut on his lip. You stand right in front of him, and he moves his thighs apart to give you more room. His hands continue to play with the edge of your skirt, making your whole body tremble.

You can’t stop yourself from crying at the sight of his injuries. Your hands touch his face with the utmost gentleness, surprising even him.

Minho chuckles, his eyes softening as he looks down at you. “Why are you crying, blondie?”

The nickname makes you chuckle, even as your cheeks flush. He’s not the first to call you that, but you wonder if he’s the last.

“Nothing. I… I don’t like it when people I care about get hurt,” you sniffle, and he stays silent, his face unreadable as always.

“What happened, if I can ask?” he finally says, his voice soft. For the first time, Minho seems genuinely interested in what you have to say, and you let your thoughts spill out.

“Two months ago, my dad’s business got attacked by a hero. He stabbed my father and then just left, letting him go with the police. Turns out, he had some sort of side business with drugs or something. I didn’t know, so I don’t feel totally okay these last couple weeks.”

Minho’s chuckle interrupts your words, and you look up at him, confused. His lips curl into a smile, showing his teeth.

“A hero? No hero would do that in such a cool way, princess,” he says, pausing, then noticing your confused expression. “I mean, it’s still horrible, but he took your father for a good reason. I wouldn’t call him a hero, though. Pff.”

Minho almost seems pissed off at the way you described Deadpool as a hero, and you can’t help but chuckle as you move his jaw gently to check for other cuts.

“You seem almost like a fan.”

“He sounds cool. Are you scared of him now?” His voice deepens, making shivers run down your spine. He stops you with his eyes, his hands slowly finding their way to the back of your thighs. “Are you scared, bunny?”

“I’m… not.”

“You sound like you are,” he smirks, and the way he says it makes your stomach do flips. He stands up, and you’re suddenly facing him, though your small height only reaches his chest. Minho walks slowly toward you, and you instinctively move backward until your back hits the wall.

You’re trapped.

“I’m not scared!” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut slightly as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. His skin smells faintly like disinfectant. “Turned on then?”

His low giggle makes you whimper under his touch, because you know he’s right. He knows exactly what effect he has on you. He suddenly steps back, making you whine in frustration at the loss of contact.

“Why are you teasing me like that?” you ask, your voice trembling.

His laugh fills the room, making you blush. It’s the first time he doesn’t look like someone you should be scared of. He just looks like Minho.

“God, you’re damn cute, bun,” he chuckles.

After that, things between you and Minho changed. He started asking you out more frequently, texting you just to ask if you’d help him with assignments (though you knew it was really an excuse to talk to you). He was completely unaware that you knew his game, and it became so normal that you forgot about everything else when Minho was around. You felt… safe.

And, he started feeling safe too. He stopped hiding under his hood, his smile became bigger and more genuine—especially when you were around. He looked so different now.

He was still your heavy rain, but somehow, you saw him a little more clearly.

One day, as you walked down the hall after your last class, you felt two hands cover your eyes, and you jumped in surprise. Minho’s chuckle reached your ears, and you blushed under his touch as you gently grabbed his wrists to move his hands away.

“I got you again, bunny.”

“You always get me, Min,” you chuckled, walking alongside him as his arm draped over your shoulders, his smile just for you.

“Wanna grab some dinner together?” he asked.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Sorry, have to work with Mom.”

“Oh, you guys opened the Pizze—?” He stumbled over the words, unsure of how to pronounce it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s Pizzeria, and yes, we did. It’s hard without my dad, but it’s the best we can do for now.”

Minho nodded, walking beside you, not letting you stray from his side. His phone buzzed, but you were more important right now.

“Okay then, I’ll help.”

“What?”

“H-E-L-P, is your Italian mind not working today?” he teased, pressing his finger against your forehead and moving you closer to his chest.

You missed the green light, so you stopped, and Minho leaned in closer, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. His phone buzzed again, and you could feel it against your back.

“Your phone,” you said, trying to move away from his warmth.

“I heard it the first time,” he mumbled, his chin resting on top of your head. The gesture made you blush. “Still don’t care about it.”

As you both started walking again, a car honked loudly, and you turned just in time to see a web stop it from crashing into you and Minho.

Minho moved you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Are you okay?” he whispered, holding your shoulders gently as his hands moved up to your cheeks.

Your heart raced as you nodded, still shocked by the sudden near-miss.

That was the first time you ever saw Spider-Man in your life.

Xoxoxo.

When you were a child, people always thought you could be a heroine.

You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the way you always find a compromise between two sides, or the way you smile even when it hurts. You never really got it. Whether you had powers or not, the thought of sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, looking at the city as if it were yours, never seemed right.

Because New York was never yours.

You get up here, but it never feels like home. You like the view, but you never loved it. It’s the same as when you accept your fate and don’t try to go beyond it. You adapt easily—pretty much everywhere.

At university. At work. With your family. With your friends. Everywhere, it’s like you blend in, and sometimes, that’s good enough to survive. Because that’s how you are. You jump around, survive, and keep going.

At least that’s what you do.

You can’t imagine yourself as a hero. Not even an antihero or a villain, if that would interest anyone. You’re just... you. In your easy life that somehow turned chaotic, full of people trying to change it.

Like Han Jisung.

You’re walking down the hall, your mind scattered because this morning, after you left your house, Minho wasn’t there at the gate. He said he was sick, but he’s never sick. His immune system is practically immortal. But you didn’t ask questions. You just texted back with a light pout.

[ minho 07:50am ] too early to pout like that bunny.

His text makes you chuckle lightly. He knows you so well that he can picture you pouting like a baby because he’s not there with you. What you don’t know is that Deadpool is sitting on top of a skyscraper, swinging his legs over the edge with his phone in hand, watching you walk down the street. He knows exactly what you’re doing because he’s watching you from afar, but... you don’t know that.

And that breaks Minho’s heart a little, because he’s so scared of telling you who he really is. So, he decides to lie for your own good. If people who are against him knew that he cared about someone as much as he cares about you, that would put you in too much danger.

As you walk into the university, Minho sighs deeply, knowing that inside those walls, he can’t protect you like he should. It would be too crazy to follow you into the classes dressed in his costume; it would draw too much attention. Even though he likes the attention, he only wants your attention.

Minho stops when he hears a whistle from behind. He glances over his shoulder and instinctively reaches for his gun in the holster. “Hey, hey, go easy, Deady,” the voice behind him says, making him groan in annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

Spider-Man walks up beside him with a toast in his mouth, the mask slightly raised as his blue electric costume catches the older man’s eye. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care?”

Deadpool rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he notices his friend with a backpack. “So, you go to this university?”

“Good try, Deady, but I’ve gotta go,” Jisung says, faking a flattery with a smirk. He finishes his toast and pulls on his jacket before swinging away with his webs.

You’re walking down the hall, your headphones in, blasting noisy music that perfectly reflects your morning, when you realize that today marks exactly six months since your father was sent to jail.

Your mind feels blurry. You can’t figure out why he did it—why he started selling drugs right under your nose at the shop. You never noticed. You never noticed because his smile was always the same, and the money never increased enough to shock you. You never thought something like that could happen to you, to your mother, to your grandmother.

It’s hard to have a conversation with them now. Your eyes tear up, or your anger tries to cover the gentle tone you want to use with them. 

Something changed in you that day. It’s hard to say what, hard to explain why. It just happened. You started sneaking into your room through the window at night, almost like an uninvited guest in your own home. Your mother is always curled up on the couch, a blanket over her body as she tries to get a few hours of sleep between her two jobs. 

Your grandmother always stares at the little window in the living room.

She doesn’t do the crosswords anymore, and you’re too tired to fight about it. You’re too tired to keep doing the things that once felt normal. Slowly, you’re drowning in your thoughts, buried in a fog that you can’t shake off.

You’re so deep in your head that you don’t notice when you bump into someone. You quickly turn, almost tripping over your own feet. “God, are you okay?” you ask, your eyes wide with surprise.

Jisung immediately grabs your shoulders to steady himself, his face flushed with embarrassment and the adrenaline of the sudden movement. “Oh no, no, it’s alright,” he chuckles, offering you a smile. “You’re quite nimble for a clumsy girl, hm?”

“Am I?” You chuckle, feeling a little shy as you blush. His hands move away from your shoulders, and his posture relaxes, a moment of calm in the bustling hall. He recognizes you immediately. Even though he saves countless people during his workday, your face sticks in his memory like a bright, sunny day. He remembers the way you smiled at him that one time, right before he swung off into the night. It made him feel so alive, like his little secret was worth it. It’s not such a little secret, but he’s not quite confident about it yet.

“Yeah, yeah, you look like it,” he grins lightly, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

You try to catch a hint of awkwardness in his eyes, but his entire presence is so warm and friendly, it makes you feel like you should talk to him more than you’d planned. “Did we ever meet before?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

Jisung shakes his head, blushing as he fights hard to keep his big secret hidden. He’s not great at lying, and his nerves are making it harder. “I don’t think so. But I’d definitely remember a pretty girl like you.”

Just then, you hear your best friend calling you from the end of the hall. You check the time—your class starts in exactly two minutes. “Well, I’m gonna see you around…?” you trail off, unsure.

“Jisung,” he responds softly, offering a light smile. He moves his hand closer to yours, and you hesitate for just a moment before quickly grasping it. “Call me Jisung.”

You give him a quick nod, feeling a flutter in your chest, and with one last smile, you turn to walk away, your steps quick as you hurry toward your class. “I’ll see you around, Jisung!” you call over your shoulder.

Later that night, you're sitting at the edge of the Manhattan Bridge, looking down at the city. 

Why does everything feel so small? You’re surrounded by the massive skyline of New York City, yet everything seems distant, as if none of it belongs to you. Your feet dangle off the edge, the cold breeze ruffling your hair as the city lights twinkle below. 

It’s beautiful, but somehow it doesn’t feel like yours. You wish you could find a way to make it feel like home.

You feel the city suffocating you, its weight pressing against your chest, wrapping around your neck, slowly squeezing, making you ache, making you want to escape. Escape from New York, escape from your father, escape from everything.

But at the same time, guilt claws at you. How could you even imagine leaving? Leaving your mother, your grandmother, Minho. You can’t picture your life without him in it. He’s become so embedded in your being, so close to your heart, that he’s the only emotion you can feel that doesn’t suffocate you. His voice, his touch, they make you feel safe, loved.

You blush at the thought of him, your heart racing. You shake your head lightly, sighing deeply. You don’t understand why you feel this way. You never minded his teasing or sarcastic comments. He was always there when you needed him—when your dad called from prison, when your grandma came home, when you had that horrible fight with your mother. He never judged you; he just gathered up the clothes on the floor, gave you a gentle smile, and said, “Let me clean you up.”

He was there. And right now, you just want to run away. You just want to hide, to escape into your feelings, to forget about the reality that hurts more than you can bear. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you look down at the street below. The jump seems so easy, the only escape that might bring you relief.

“Hey, blondie,” a voice calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. A blue electric suit lands beside you, the figure settling next to you on the edge of the bridge. “You getting ready for a big jump?”

You squirm in surprise, your heart skipping a beat as you turn to face him. Spider-Man’s mask stares back at you. He sounds so casual, almost like he’s talking about something mundane, but the weight of his words makes your pulse quicken.

“I- maybe?” You stammer, unsure of what you’re really saying, but something about his presence calms you just a little.

His head tilts, and you can almost imagine the confused expression hidden beneath the mask. “Maybe? So I should stay here?”

You chuckle nervously, shaking your head. “No, I think, I think you can actually go.”

He falls silent for a moment, and you feel the tension in the air as you both stare at the city below. Then, in a low murmur, Spider-Man speaks again, his voice softer now. “Do you like the view?”

You let your gaze drift back down to the streets, the chaotic pulse of Manhattan. The endless motion of the people, the sounds of the city filling the air. The lights blur into the darkness.

“No,” you whisper, your voice tinged with bitterness. “I hate it.”

He doesn’t respond at first, the quiet hanging between you, and then, with a gentle sigh, Spider-Man speaks again, his tone full of something you can’t quite place. “It’s not the view that matters, you know. It’s what you do with it.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, you just stare down, lost in the noise of the city, feeling like an outsider in a world that’s moving far too fast for you to catch up. “Do you?”

“Jeez, no,” he giggles, and that sound makes you turn in his direction. He’s still looking at you. “Really? But… you’re Spider-Man.”

You chuckle as his hand moves really close to your thigh, just in case you get too close to the edge and fall. “And? Can’t Spider-Man like the city he’s from?”

“No, I mean, you protect this city.” His voice is still laced with confusion, running through your thoughts. 

“Protecting the city and liking the city are two different things for me, sweetheart.”

You nod lightly, chuckling, because you can feel the meaning behind his words. It’s the same for you. You don’t like the city, but you’re still here. For your mother, your grandma, and maybe even Minho. You're starting to accept that, too.

“Can I show you something?” Spider-Man asks softly, almost like a whisper that's hard to hear. You turn your head to him and nod lightly, still confused.

Suddenly, you’re in his arms. Swinging through the city. You scream as you hold onto him, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Oh my god!”

“You’re a natural,” Jisung chuckles as he swings between the skyscrapers, his strong arm holding your waist as you try not to scream every time his webs drop you dead weight among the city lights.

“This is my favorite way to see the city.”

Looking down at the streets, your stomach drops. The beautiful view stretches out before your eyes. “Oddio... Oddio!” Every time you get flustered or scared, you end up speaking in Italian. Jisung laughs loudly when he hears your very loud scream.

“What was that, angel?” His voice is right against your ear, making you blush and feel butterflies all over your stomach. You should say something, but before you can, he gently sets you down right in front of your parents' little pizza place. You can feel that he doesn’t want to let you go, and his arm slowly moves away from your waist.

“Well, I... I should go.”

“Spider-Man, I... can I ask you a favor?”

He stops before he can move or step away from you, his eyes focused on you. You can tell by the movement of his mask that he’s happy. “Yes?”

Your eyes fill with determination. You want revenge. “Can you... go after Deadpool? He did... something to me and my family. We— I need revenge for that. I want him in jail.”

Xoxoxo.

Jisung’s body stiffens for a moment, his grip on the web shooter tightening, a slight pause in his usually confident demeanor. The words “revenge” and “Deadpool” sit heavily in the air between you, and for a split second, you see something in his movements shift, a hesitation he wasn’t expecting to feel.

“You want revenge…” His voice drops lower, more serious now. “I get it. I really do. But... it’s not as easy as you think. Deadpool’s not someone you can just throw in jail. He’s... complicated. And I’m not sure if you really want to get mixed up with him, trust me.”

Your heart sinks a little as you meet his gaze, but you refuse to back down.

“Why?” you ask, the anger and hurt barely kept in check. “What’s so complicated about him? He hurt my family—my father, my life.”

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Because he’s not someone you can just punch out and walk away from. Deadpool’s... unpredictable. And he’s not afraid of anything, especially not jail.” 

His eyes soften, looking at you with a mix of pity and concern. “I don’t want you to make things worse for yourself. You’ve already been through so much. You deserve more than to become tangled in all of this.” The air between you both feels thick, like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, one wrong move could send everything spiraling.

“But I need to do something,” you say, your voice trembling a bit. “I can’t just sit here while he... while my family is still paying for what he did.”

There’s a long pause. The city lights flicker in the background as the sound of traffic hums faintly in the distance. Finally, Jisung steps closer, his voice quieter now. “I can’t promise you that I can take down Deadpool, not the way you want me to. But... I’ll help. I’ll help you find a way, okay? You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You feel a mix of relief and tension wash over you. It’s not the answer you were hoping for, but it’s something. “Thank you,” you whisper, your heart still heavy, but somehow a little lighter.

He smiles, though there’s a sadness in his eyes you don’t miss. “I’ll be watching your back. You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out.”

As he swings off into the night, you’re left standing there, more determined than ever. The weight of what you’re about to do hasn’t fully hit you yet. But with Jisung’s promise, it feels like a step toward taking control of your own fate—however dangerous it may be.

The quiet hum of the classroom buzzes around you as you sift through your notes, trying to focus. You barely hear your professor call out the next group project announcement until you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around, expecting to see your best friend, but instead, it's Minho, grinning like a cat with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Looks like you're stuck with me, huh?" he teases, leaning casually against the back of your chair.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. "Wait, what do you mean 'stuck with you'?"

Minho just shrugs, a smug grin spreading across his face. "The professor just assigned us all to groups. You and I are in the same one, lucky you."

You groan internally. You're always paired with Minho for projects, and while you do work well together, it usually means a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and endless back-and-forth teasing. At least with Minho, you can sort of predict what he’ll do next, but what’s going to throw you off this time is that, somehow, Jisung is in the same group.

You glance over at him, seated in the row behind you. He’s got his headphones in, but his eyes are clearly already scanning the room. He makes brief eye contact with you, and his lips curl up into a friendly, almost too-casual smile. You can feel your heart skip a beat, your brain reminding you that this Jisung is just a normal guy, and nothing about him should make your chest tighten like that.

Minho notices, of course, and his smirk grows even wider. "Well, aren’t we lucky. The trio is complete."

You try to keep a straight face as you turn back to Minho. "Seriously? You’re telling me we’re working with Jisung on this? This is gonna be a disaster."

“Hey,” Minho says with a sly grin, “you know what they say about working with the best.” He murmurs with his hand that moves around your neck froom behind, tilting your head upward, his lips placing a soft peck against your forehead.

You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or serious, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. With Minho, you’ve learned to expect the unexpected. And with Jisung? Well, you’re still trying to figure out what to think about him. His smile always seems to catch you off guard, and there’s something about the way he talks to you that makes you feel like he’s both a stranger and someone you should know.

The professor calls out, “Alright, your group work begins today. Make sure you all meet up after class to discuss the project. I’ll see you all next week with your first ideas.”

You gather your things, watching as Jisung approaches your desk, a lazy walk that hides the subtle confidence in his stride. His casual smile never falters as he slides into the chair next to you, and you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Focus, Y/N. This is just a project, nothing more.

“Well, looks like it’s just the three of us, huh?” Jisung says lightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let’s make it a fun one.”

You can feel Minho beside you rolling his eyes, but he can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of his lips. “I’m sure this will be... interesting.”

The awkward silence stretches for a second, and you’re the first one to break it, trying to steer the group back on track. “So, uh, we should probably discuss the project.”

“Right,” Jisung says, leaning forward. “What’s the project about?”

You pull out the assignment paper, scanning the details for any indication of what kind of project it is. “It’s about urban development,” you say slowly, trying to piece it together. “We have to come up with an idea to improve the city's infrastructure. Maybe something with public spaces?”

Minho’s eyes gleam with an idea. “What about incorporating green spaces? Like rooftop gardens or more parks. It’d balance out the concrete jungle.”

You nod in agreement, but Jisung leans back in his chair, his hand resting on his chin thoughtfully. “That could work, but what if we went further? We could add eco-friendly transportation options. Maybe a system of public bikes, but with solar charging stations?”

“Solar charging stations?” Minho scoffs lightly. “You’re really thinking this through, huh?”

Jisung shrugs nonchalantly, his smile never leaving his face. “Gotta go big or go home. Plus, think about how cool it’d be to have a whole city powered by solar energy.”

You catch yourself smiling, despite yourself. Jisung’s enthusiasm is oddly contagious, and it’s hard not to get drawn into his excitement. You’re still trying to figure out why he makes your heart race, but for now, you can focus on the project.

“Alright,” you say, tapping the table to get their attention. “Let’s make sure we keep it realistic, though. We want to wow them, but we don’t want to bite off more than we can chew.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho mutters. “Realistic. You’re no fun, Y/n.”

But even with the teasing and the sarcastic remarks, you can tell that Minho is fully on board. The trio might be unconventional, but you can’t deny that it feels... right. Even if it’s chaotic, even if you don’t know where this project will take you, you can’t help but feel that something’s shifting.

The way Jisung looks at you sometimes. The way Minho’s teasing feels strangely affectionate. You wonder, for the briefest moment, if you’ve gotten yourself tangled in something bigger than just a group project.

You push the thought aside as you gather your things, ready to take the next step. 

It’s just a project... right?

It’s only been a few days since the project began, but already, Minho and Jisung are at each other’s throats. Every time they meet, it’s like they’re competing over who has the better idea, and you can’t help but roll your eyes as they try to outdo each other.

You’ve been here before—watching them argue over the smallest details, throwing passive-aggressive comments about each other’s suggestions. It’s a mess. But somehow, even amidst the chaos, you can tell they’re both passionate about it.

"Okay, let’s hear it," Jisung says, leaning forward with his arms crossed, giving Minho an expectant look. 

"You think adding more green space to the city is gonna solve everything?"

Minho doesn’t miss a beat, shaking his head. "No, I’m saying it’s a good start. You want your solar-charging bike stations to work, right? Well, people are gonna need a place to park those bikes, so why not give them green spaces to make the whole thing work?"

"You’re missing the bigger picture," Jisung counters. "How do you even plan to make the city’s infrastructure sustainable long term? You’re just throwing a few plants in there and calling it eco-friendly."

You sigh, rubbing your temples. You thought this was supposed to be a group project, but instead, you’ve been stuck in the middle of what feels like a never-ending battle.

“Guys, can we just—” you start, but you’re quickly cut off as Minho raises his voice a little too loudly. “Are you seriously doubting the impact of green spaces? People need a breath of fresh air in this city! They can’t live in a concrete jungle!”

“Oh, I’m not doubting it. But you're not thinking of the logistics. People are gonna need more than just a place to hang out. They need sustainable solutions! Bikes that can be charged while in use, not just a place to park them like some… park bench project!”

Their bickering intensifies, and you’re starting to get a headache. But it’s at that moment that the tension escalates in a way you weren’t expecting.

Minho, who had been pacing the room, pauses for a second, his eyes narrowing. “Wait, are you—are you seriously thinking we’re just going to throw a couple of solar panels on some bikes and call it a day? You’re acting like this is all just some random side project.”

Jisung’s face flushes a deep red, and you can see his jaw clenching. “What exactly are you implying?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp, making the air around you seem tenser.

You watch the two of them, sensing the rising tension. The air feels thick, like it’s on the verge of snapping, and you’re starting to get a headache just from the silent battle of wills between them.

This project was supposed to be a team effort, but now it feels like a competition—one that you don’t have the energy to be part of.

“Okay, I’m gonna grab some food. You two can sort this out," you say, standing up quickly, eager to escape the mounting tension. You throw a glance over your shoulder at both of them, then exit the room before either can protest.

The door clicks shut behind you, leaving them alone.

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the sound of Jisung exhaling a frustrated breath.

Minho crosses his arms, clearly not ready to let it go. “I still don’t understand what your problem is with this. The whole point is—”

“The whole point?” Jisung interrupts, his voice rising just slightly, a sharp edge to his tone. “The whole point is sustainability, Minho. Something you obviously don’t care about if you think throwing in a couple of parks is gonna solve anything.”

Minho takes a step forward, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “Oh, you mean like swinging from building to building, throwing out webs and calling it saving the city like that stupid spiderman guy?”

Jisung’s eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something dangerous passes through them.

"Don't talk like you understand anything about real responsibility," Jisung mutters under his breath, his grip tightening on the edge of the table.

Minho opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get a word out, Jisung, in a flash of irritation, shoots a web from his wrist. It zips across the room and lands directly over Minho’s mouth, completely covering it, rendering him silent.

Minho’s eyes widen in shock, but instead of fighting back, he stands frozen, his eyes locked on Jisung. The tension in the room shifts, no longer about the project, but the quiet understanding that passes between them.

Jisung pulls back the web, letting it retract with a flick of his wrist, but he keeps his gaze firm. “That’s better,” he says, his tone low. “Now, we can actually talk.”

Minho blinks a couple of times, his jaw clenched in silent frustration. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, as if clearing away the remnants of the web.

“What about that Deadpool old man, huh?” Jisung finally says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as if he’s just given up. "The city’s supposed ‘hero.’ A real pain in the ass.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Jisung’s eyes widen at the slip, and the realization hits him like a punch to the gut.

“That’s... definitely something Deadpool would say,” Jisung mutters, his voice lowering as his brain races to catch up. He gives Minho a long look, then shakes his head, realizing it.

Minho rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, well. Guess you’re not the only one with secrets.”

Jisung’s expression softens for a moment, before he quickly changes the subject, looking at the door. “We can’t tell her.”

Minho looks back at Jisung, his face a mix of frustration and reluctant agreement. "Yeah, I know. She can't find out. Not yet. She's already too involved as it is."

Jisung nods, but there’s a part of him that’s still uneasy. He can’t quite shake the feeling that this is all about to spiral out of control.

"I don't want her to see us like this," Jisung mutters, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve gotta keep this normal, at least for her.”

“Yeah,” Minho agrees quietly. “She doesn’t deserve to be caught in all this mess. Not yet.”

Another long silence passes, the weight of their secret identities hanging over them like a shadow. They both know the stakes are higher than ever now, but for the moment, there’s nothing they can do but play along.

A few moments later, you return with some snacks, unaware of the tension that’s still hanging in the air. Both Minho and Jisung are back to their usual selves—trying their best to ignore the secret that they just shared between each other.

You walk in, trying to act casual, but even you can feel the weird vibe in the room. “Alright, I’m back,” you say, offering them both a smile as you sit down.

Minho and Jisung glance at each other before turning back to you, each of them hiding something behind their smiles.

“Everything okay?” you ask, trying to read the room.

“Yeah, fine,” Minho answers quickly, his voice too smooth. “Let’s get back to work, yeah?”

Jisung nods in agreement, though his eyes still flicker toward Minho, the unspoken understanding passing between them.

You sigh, relieved that the atmosphere has lightened, even if just a little. “Alright. Let’s finish this.”

As you dive back into the project, the two of them work silently next to you. But underneath the surface, the tension hasn’t gone away—not yet. The secrets they’re keeping from you feel heavier than before, and you can't shake the feeling that something's not right.

But for now, you’re all pretending things are normal. And in that moment, that’s all you can do.

The city hums around you as you walk down the busy street, your mind still preoccupied with the tension from earlier. The strange atmosphere between Jisung and Minho hasn't quite left you, but you try to shake it off, focusing instead on the project you need to finish. You're so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don't notice the figure lurking in the shadows until it’s too late.

A pair of rough hands grip your shoulders from behind, yanking you into an alleyway before you can even react. The world tilts as you struggle, trying to break free, but the stranger’s grip is ironclad. Your heart starts to race, panic rising in your chest.

"Hey, what do you—" you try to shout, but your voice is quickly smothered by the hand clamped over your mouth.

The man pulls you deeper into the alley, his breath hot and rancid against your ear. You kick and squirm, but it's no use. He's too strong. You feel the cold steel of a knife pressed against your side as he threatens in a low voice, “Quiet down, sweetheart. We’re just going for a little ride.”

Your breath quickens, panic flooding your veins as your mind races for a way out. But just as you're starting to lose hope, you hear the unmistakable sound of a webbing snap against the air.

“Let her go!” a voice shouts from above, clear and demanding. Your heart skips a beat. It's Spider-Man.

The kidnapper freezes, his eyes darting up to the rooftop above. Jisung, in full Spider-Man mode, swings down on a web with perfect timing, landing in a crouch right between you and your captor.

“Spider-Man, huh?” The kidnapper sneers, his grip tightening on your arm. “You think you can stop me?”

Jisung’s posture shifts, ready for action. “I don’t think, I know.”

Before the man can make another move, Spider-Man shoots a web directly at his hand, pulling the knife out of his grip with lightning speed. The man yells in frustration as he tries to retreat, but Spider-Man’s webbing quickly ensnares his feet, pinning him to the ground.

“Not so fast,” Jisung says, his voice steady, though there’s a flicker of anger beneath it. He’s clearly furious that someone dared to hurt you. “You’re not going anywhere.”

But before Jisung can deal with him, a loud crash rings through the alley. You turn just in time to see a figure in a blue and red suit landing with a heavy thud right next to you.

Deadpool.

“Sorry I’m late,” Minho—Deadpool—says, his voice muffled under the mask. He holds up a pair of handcuffs, looking at the struggling kidnapper. “I had to stop for tacos. You know, priorities.”

Jisung shoots him a look, his eyes wide behind his mask. “You’re—how did—what are you—” Deadpool shrugs, completely unfazed. “I’ve been around. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, you were the one who—?” You gasp, realization hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Minho grins beneath his mask. “Yeah, yeah. Deadpool, the guy who totally didn’t save you from getting kidnapped.”

You blink, feeling like the world is spinning. Your brain scrambles to process this new information, but the kidnapper—who is still struggling beneath Spider-Man’s grip—gives you no time to think.

Your pulse thunders in your ears as your eyes dart between the two masked figures—one holding your attacker with webbing, the other acting like this was all some twisted joke.

Your body tenses. “No,” you mutter, your voice trembling with disbelief. “No—I don't want your help.” You jerk away from Minho as he approaches. “Get away from me!”

“Y/n—” Jisung tries, but you take a step back, heart racing, chest heaving. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?!” you snap. 

“You’re Deadpool. You ruined my life. You turned my dad in without saying a word.” 

Minho flinches, and for a second, he doesn't speak. Then, slowly—deliberately—he reaches up and pulls off his mask. Your breath catches. His dark eyes meet yours, and they're not smug, not cocky, not playful.mThey're full of guilt.

So you see it, it’s Minho, your breath itches as you feel the world spinning under your feet, “You disappeared. You lied to me every day while pretending to be my friend—”

“I did it for the best,” he says quietly. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d hate me. But I couldn’t let him keep hurting people, Y/N. And I couldn’t watch you act like it wasn’t destroying you too.”

Your throat tightens, hot and raw. “You had no right.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know.” A heavy silence hangs between you for a long moment—until Jisung steps forward. “Minho…” he murmurs, but Minho just glances at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, Spider-Boy. You’re next.” Jisung sighs and turns to you slowly. “Y/n... I didn’t want it to happen like this either.”

Your eyes narrow. “You knew?”

“No.” His voice breaks slightly. “I didn’t know he was Deadpool until a few days ago. But I knew I was keeping something from you too.” Then—without another word—he reaches for his mask and pulls it off.

Your breath stops. “Jisung…” His name falls from your lips like a broken prayer.

“I swear I was going to tell you. I didn’t want you to be caught in this. But then you asked me to go after Deadpool and—” he trails off, eyes flicking guiltily to Minho. “It got messy.” You stumble backward, shaking your head as you try to process everything. Two people you trusted. Two people who lied.

“You both… lied to me. Every day.”

Neither of them speaks. And that hurts the most.

Your eyes sting. “Get out of my way.”

“Y/n—” Minho begins.

“No. Both of you,” you say firmly, lifting your chin despite the tears beginning to fall. “I don’t care if you were trying to protect me. I didn’t ask you to. I asked for honesty.”

Then, stepping around them both, you walk away—heart pounding, steps shaky, mind spinning—leaving behind the only two people who ever made you feel safe… and the only two who just destroyed that trust in seconds.

The university halls are loud again. Midterms are creeping in, people are caffeinated beyond logic, and the world moves on—even when your heart feels like it slammed into a wall.

You walk in with your headphones on, eyes locked on the floor, clutching your backpack like it’s a shield. You know they’re both there. Jisung, sitting by the window like always. Minho, slouched in his seat with a frown that could burn holes in steel. You don’t look at either of them.

“Y/n—” Jisung’s voice is soft. Desperate.

You keep walking.

Minho straightens up. “Can we talk?” 

Nope. Not today.

You walk past them, not even flinching when your name is called again. You do, however, pause at the back of the classroom. Your usual spot is next to Jisung—but your eyes drift to the middle row. There's an empty seat… next to someone new.

He’s relaxed, arms crossed, hair tousled in a perfectly effortless way. His black hoodie is slightly oversized, and he’s scribbling something in a notebook like he doesn’t care if the world burns down outside. He looks… safe. But also like he knows things.

You clear your throat softly. “Hey. Is this seat taken?”

He looks up, slowly. His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he smiles—crooked and quiet. “It is now.” You sit.

From across the room, both Minho and Jisung are frozen. You don’t even need to look to know that they’re staring. You can feel it. The tension. The questions. The confusion.

But you don’t care. Because the guy next to you smells like mint and ink, and when he turns the page in his notebook, you catch a glimpse of your name written in the corner. Wait—what?

Your head turns. “Did you—?”

He smirks, not looking at you. “Guess I’ve heard about you.”

“Who—” you pause, suddenly cautious. “What’s your name?”

He finally looks at you again, eyes darker than before but not unfriendly. “Chan. Bang Chan.”

The rooftop is quiet, bathed in soft neon glow from the city below. Somewhere far off, a siren wails, but for now, there's nothing urgent. Just two masked vigilantes sitting on the edge, legs dangling like bored teenagers.

Deadpool tosses a half-eaten taco in the air and catches it with his mouth. “So. She’s sitting next to that guy now.”

Spider-Man, sitting stiffly beside him, doesn’t respond. “I mean, what’s his deal anyway?” Minho continues. “Bang Chan? That sounds like the name of someone who’s too hot to be real. Like, he was made in a lab.”

“You’re literally a mercenary with swords and sarcasm. You don’t get to judge names.” Jisung glares through his mask, but Minho just shrugs, chewing noisily.

“She ignored both of us,” Jisung finally mutters.

Minho scoffs. “Yeah. Because we lied to her. Multiple times.”

A gust of wind brushes over the rooftop. Jisung fiddles with his web-shooter. “I didn’t want to lie. I just… didn’t know how to tell her.”

“Well, now she’s sitting next to Bang Perfect Jawline Chan and pretending we don’t exist.”

“She’s allowed to do that,” Jisung sighs, then adds under his breath, “Still sucks though.”

A pause.

“Think he’s… like us?” Minho asks suddenly.

“What do you mean? Like, charming and emotionally unavailable?”

Minho shoots him a dry look. “I mean powered, dumbass.”

Before Jisung can respond, both of their comms beep sharply in their ears. Robbery in progress. Lower East Side. Minho groans. “Duty calls.”

Jisung’s already jumping off the roof. “Race you there.”

The warehouse is chaos. Smoke. Screams. Gunshots. Spider-Man swings low, yanking a rifle out of someone’s hand while Deadpool flips over a stack of crates, landing a punch that sends a guy flying.

“Watch your left!” Jisung yells.

“I have a left!” Minho shouts back, slicing through a metal bar like it’s butter.

They fall into rhythm. Their synergy unmatched. Like muscle memory. But even while fighting, their minds are elsewhere. “You think she actually likes him?” Jisung pants, throwing a web at a goon’s legs.

Minho ducks under a punch. “She laughed at something he said. I saw it. Like, really laughed.”

“Oh god. Not the laugh.”

“She doesn’t laugh like that at us.”

“Yeah, because we keep secrets and get her kidnapped.” They both pause for a second, catching their breath behind a pillar. A moment of silence. “…We’re idiots,” Jisung mutters.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “But I’m a sexy idiot in red leather, so.” Jisung groans. “God, why is that actually true?” Another round of thugs comes charging, and both of them spring into action—still processing heartbreak, betrayal, and the fact that Bang Chan might be better at math and emotions.

The late afternoon sun filters through the tall university windows, casting long golden streaks across the floor. You're sitting in your new usual seat, notebook open, doodles replacing actual notes. Next to you, Bang Chan leans back in his chair, effortlessly casual, one arm slung behind you on the backrest—not quite touching, but close enough to make your skin prickle.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says, voice low and smooth, his eyes flickering over your expression.

You offer a half-smile. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t press. Doesn’t tease. Just nods slowly. “Yeah. It’s been a weird week.”

You glance sideways. “What do you mean?”

Chan taps his pen against the edge of your notebook. “I mean… masked guys crashing through warehouses. Unmarked cars around campus. You hanging out with those like it’s nothing.”

Your body stiffens. “I’m not hanging out with them.”

“Oh?” he says, eyebrows raised with mock surprise. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed real close back in the alley the other night.”

Your jaw tightens. You hadn’t told anyone about that. Not in detail. “Were you there?”

He smiles—not innocent. Not threatening. Just… knowing. “I hear things,” he says smoothly. “People like me, we tend to be in the right place at the right time.”

“And what kind of person is that?” The look he gives you makes your stomach twist. “Someone who sees the bigger picture.”

You go still, your pen frozen mid-word. Chan leans in slightly, his voice just above a whisper. “You don’t have to choose the losing side, Y/n. You’re smarter than that. Stronger, too.”

You swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do.” His smile drops, just for a second. “And when the time comes, I hope you remember who was honest with you.” Before you can respond, the professor walks in and the room shifts with movement. You stare forward, heart racing. Chan sits perfectly still beside you, flipping open his textbook like nothing happened.

But the air is heavy. Too heavy.

The wind whips gently at your coat as you climb the final ladder step onto the rooftop. The city glows below you, soft and buzzing with its usual rhythm—but tonight, it feels quieter. Like it’s waiting.

You shiver, even though the air isn’t that cold. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or instinct.

“Y/n?” Jisung’s voice comes first—his Spider-Man mask pulled halfway up his face, eyes wide with concern. Minho, still fully dressed as Deadpool, leans casually against the railing, but you can feel the tension radiating off him like heat.

“You okay?” Minho asks, dropping the casual act for once. “You said it was urgent.”

You take a breath. “It’s Chan.”

Both heads snap toward you immediately. “I think he’s—” You pause, rubbing your arms. “I think he knows something. About everything. About you guys. About me.”

Minho straightens. “What did he say?”

You explain everything—his tone, the things he mentioned, the weird feeling that clung to you long after the conversation ended. By the time you’re done, Jisung is pacing and Minho is practically vibrating with protective rage.

“He was trying to recruit you,” Minho mutters darkly. “Of course he was. I should’ve seen it.”

“I don’t understand why he’d come after me,” you say quietly.

“Because you’re important,” Jisung says instantly, almost without thinking. He stops pacing and looks at you, eyes soft. “To us.”

You look between them, suddenly overwhelmed by the way both their faces—masked or not—hold the same worry. Not frustration. Not disappointment. Just fear. For you. “I didn’t know who else to talk to,” you admit. “I can’t talk to anyone about this. Not my mom. Not even—myself, half the time.”

“You did the right thing,” Minho says, stepping forward. He places a gloved hand on your shoulder. “And next time he tries to talk to you alone, you tell us.”

Jisung’s jaw ticks. “Or better—don’t talk to him at all.”

“I can handle myself.”

“We know,” they say in unison.

You snort. “You two rehearsed that?” They glance at each other and both grin—just for a second, the tension breaks. Then Jisung’s expression hardens again. “We’ll keep an eye on him. Just… stay close, okay?”

Minho nods. “We’ve already lost you once. Not again.”

The smell of fresh pasta hits you the second you walk through the door. It's comforting, something that tethers you to the familiar—home. But tonight, the warmth of the restaurant doesn't comfort you the way it usually does. The tension has been thickening all day, ever since Chan walked in with that smile that somehow felt too practiced. Too knowing.

You find yourself sitting across from him again. The air is thick with the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations around you, but here, at this table, it feels like it’s just the two of you. Chan leans back in his chair, that same relaxed smile on his face as he swirls the wine in his glass. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light. “About what?”

His smile deepens. “About you. And what you really want.”

The words sink in slower than you expect, and you feel your chest tighten. “What do you mean?”

Chan leans forward now, his voice dropping low, a velvet smoothness lacing every word. “I know your family’s situation. Your father’s... business deals. I know you’re struggling with all of it.” His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.“But I can help you, Aurora. We can help each other.” You frown, a cold chill running down your spine as his words swirl in your mind. 

The mafia. 

Your father. 

The dangerous world you tried to distance yourself from.

“I don’t need your help, Chan,” you say, your voice more defensive than you want it to be.

But Chan just smirks, unfazed. “I think you do. You think you can escape this? Leave it behind? But it’s in your blood, Aurora. You’re already in deeper than you realize.” You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off with a soft laugh.

“I’m not trying to pressure you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice almost too gentle. “I just want you to see the bigger picture. You don’t have to fight it. It’s just a matter of understanding the rules. Play the game, and it’ll be easier. For everyone.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, like a noose tightening around your chest. You don’t want to admit it, but something about the way he speaks... sells you the idea. The idea that maybe, just maybe, you could stop running.

“Do you really think I’ll join you?” you ask quietly, your gaze shifting away from him.

Chan leans back again, his gaze never leaving you. “I think you already have.” He pauses, watching your face carefully. “But you just don’t realize it yet.”

You feel a sting of panic. The way he says it—it’s not a threat, but it’s a promise. A quiet, dangerous certainty.

“Chan, I—” You stop yourself, shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts. "I can't do this. I can't get involved in whatever game you're playing."

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he lifts his glass, swirling the wine again as he watches you carefully. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just think about it. Think about what you really want. What you need.”

The smile he gives you next is laced with something darker, something you can’t place—but it feels like the weight of everything pressing in on you. You don’t know if it’s his words or something else that makes you feel so... uncertain. You don’t know what this is. What he wants from you. But you can feel it. The pull.

Later that night, you find yourself walking home in the quiet of the city, trying to shake the feeling of Chan's words clinging to your thoughts. The sound of your footsteps echoes against the empty streets, and for a moment, you almost forget about the weight you’ve been carrying. But then you hear a soft rustle in the alleyway beside you.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You turn to look, but there’s nothing there. Just the darkness. You exhale, trying to calm your nerves. Just your imagination.

That’s when you hear it—a soft chuckle. And then, from the shadows, a figure steps out.

“Minho?” you gasp, already recognizing the red-and-black suit before you even see his face.

But he’s not Minho right now. It’s Deadpool. His mask is half on, and his eyes gleam behind the fabric.

“Are you out here alone, or did you decide to take up a side gig with the mafia?” Deadpool—Minho—teases, stepping closer with an amused smile.

You try to hide the uncertainty in your eyes, but you can feel his gaze drilling into you. “I—I’m fine,” you stammer, not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

Deadpool’s expression shifts, the teasing smile fading just slightly. “Chan’s been getting under your skin, huh?”

You blink at him, surprised by the accuracy of his words. “What are you talking about?”

But Minho just sighs. “I don’t trust him, Y/n. He’s not just some businessman. His ties run deep—deeper than you think.”

You don’t know why, but hearing him say that does something to you. It feels like a warning. Maybe even the kind of warning you should have heard sooner. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Minho says softly, stepping closer until you feel the heat of his body next to yours. “I care about you too much for that.”

And for the first time in a long while, you wonder if you really can escape the world Chan is offering. Or if Minho and Jisung are right. Maybe you’re already too far gone.

You, fully aware of the mafia's grip on the city and Chan’s role in it, feel a storm of conflicting emotions as you stand in front of him. You smile softly, masking your anxiety. Chan’s slick, charming demeanor never falters, the kind of person who could sell ice to an Eskimo. 

But today, he’s about to be his own downfall.

“So, what’s your proposal, Chan?” you ask coolly, playing the part of the interested, willing participant.

He leans forward, eyes gleaming with that familiar coldness.

“It’s simple, really. I can offer you everything. Power. Protection. A life of luxury. All you have to do is align yourself with the right side—my side.”You nod, pretending to consider it, all the while scanning the surroundings in your mind. The police are ready; the call has already been made. Chan continues to talk, oblivious to the trap you’ve carefully set.

“I’ve got deals lined up, Y/n. Big ones,” he continues. “I’m not just running the city from the shadows anymore. I’m taking over.”That’s when you see the moment. He’s letting his guard down, giving you the information you need. His pride, his arrogance—it's his biggest weakness.

"Right," you say, nodding again, trying to suppress the rising sense of triumph. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Chan leans back, grinning, clearly thinking he’s already won you over. "You’ll see soon enough. But first, let’s seal the deal, shall we?" He offers you a handshake.

-

The tension between Jisung and Minho hangs thick in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. The situation with you and Chan has pushed them both to the brink. 

They're angry—at themselves, at each other, at the world around them. Each word feels like a spark ready to ignite something much bigger. "You think you can do everything alone?" Jisung snaps, pacing, his voice full of frustration and something darker. His hands ball into fists, his knuckles white. 

"She doesn't need us to fight her battles! We should've been there! But you—" He points a shaking finger at Minho, the words bubbling up in his throat, "You never let me help her! You never let me—"

Minho’s mask tilts up slightly, his eyes blazing with a fire that mirrors Jisung's. He steps forward, voice low but simmering with anger. "I didn't let you help? Are you kidding me? I wanted to protect her just as much as you did!" His breath is heavy, the tension between them thickening with every word. "But we can't always be there! I... I care about you, Jisung. You’re not the only one who worries about your safety."

Jisung freezes. The words hit him like a sudden punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. For a split second, his world slows, and his anger fades into something deeper, something he doesn’t want to admit.

He looks at Minho, standing there, eyes burning with concern—concern for him. The realization stirs something within him, something he can’t ignore.

“You care about my safety?” Jisung’s voice is strained, his own frustrations bubbling back to the surface. “How would you know what it’s like to be the one who’s always left behind? To watch her go off without us, to know you can’t protect her—” His chest heaves with the emotion coursing through him.

But Minho’s not listening to the words anymore. Without thinking, the distance between them disappears in a flash. He moves so fast, it’s almost like the world has stopped moving entirely. His hands grip the sides of Jisung’s face, pulling him in, and before Jisung can even protest, Minho presses his lips to his.

The kiss is nothing like either of them expected. It's rough, urgent—passionate, desperate. All the frustration, the fear, the pent-up emotion they’ve kept locked away explodes into the moment. Minho’s lips crash into Jisung’s, and it feels like everything they’ve been holding back, every word they never said, is poured into this single, searing contact.

Jisung, momentarily stunned, feels his whole body stiffen before he melts into it. His hands find Minho’s waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel the connection. His breath mingles with Minho’s, each movement of their lips speaking volumes—words left unsaid, frustrations turned into something else entirely.

Minho’s fingers tangle in Jisung’s hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss, his body pressing against his. The kiss is messy, raw, but it’s everything they’ve both been too afraid to express—until now. There’s no holding back, no room for hesitation. It’s the release of all the weight they’ve carried for each other, for you, for everything that’s been left unresolved between them.

When they finally pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, the silence feels different. The world has shifted in a way neither of them expected. Neither says anything at first. The heat between them lingers, crackling in the air. Minho’s voice is soft, almost uncertain, but the emotions behind it are clear. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this...”

Jisung, still recovering from the kiss, barely manages a laugh, but it’s lighter than anything he’s felt in a long time. “Yeah, me neither...”

The fight feels smaller now, the anger dissipating like fog in the morning sun. What was once heated and full of tension now hangs suspended between them—a new understanding, one that’s only just begun to take root.

You hesitate for just a second. You lock eyes with him, your hand moving to meet his, but this is it. This is the moment where you get him, where you shut him down.

As soon as your hands clasp, a familiar sound fills the air: sirens. Chan’s face drops, his smug confidence vanishing in an instant. Police officers rush in, and you step back, watching as Chan is cuffed.

“You... you tricked me?” Chan hisses, fury flashing in his eyes as he’s led away.

You stay composed, a small smirk playing at your lips. "Tricked you? maybe."

Before you can fully process the feeling of relief, a voice rings out from above. "Y/n?!"

Your heart races, and you whip your head up to see none other than Spider-Man (Jisung) swinging down from the rooftop. He lands softly beside you, his mask hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, but before you can respond, his eyes flick to the police officers. “What’s going on here?”

You, despite everything, try to keep your composure, and with a flicker of uncertainty in your chest, you meet Jisung’s gaze. You see the moment he realizes what happened.

"You... called the police?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief. "You caught him... you—"

You nod, your voice calm. “Yeah. I did.”

For a second, you both just stare at each other, the weight of the moment sinking in. Jisung, still in his Spider-Man suit, stands in front of you, visibly tense, unsure of what to feel. But you can tell that his protective instincts are at war with his pride.

"Good job," he says finally, voice softer. "But you shouldn't have done it alone." You look at him, your heart twisting a little. You know it’s coming. You know he’s going to be upset, and you don’t want to hurt him—especially after everything that’s been happening. You open your mouth to speak, but the words get caught in your throat.

Before you can say anything, Deadpool appears, and he glances at the scene, his mouth curving into a grin under the mask. “Did you get him, blondie?” he teases, his voice light, but there’s an edge to it that you know too well.

You nod. "Yeah, it’s done."

Minho steps forward, looking between you and Jisung. There’s something in his eyes now, a quiet intensity. "You don’t need to do this alone, you know."

You swallow, your heart racing. You know they’re both trying to process this moment in their own ways, but all you want is to be honest with them. "I just... I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else. Not anymore."

The silence is thick, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It’s as if a weight has been lifted, but another one—much more personal—has settled in its place.

The city hums under the rooftop like a secret waiting to be heard. You’re sitting on the ledge, legs dangling, the wind teasing your hair. It’s late—too late for anyone sane to be out here—but the chaos inside you makes everything feel louder than the sirens below.

Jisung sits beside you, not too close. Not yet.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches the streetlights dance in your eyes. You’re the one who breaks the silence. “He told me… my dad had a deal with them. That’s why they’re watching me.”

Jisung’s hands clench. His jaw ticks. “Chan?”

You nod, eyes glazed. “I don’t know if he’s lying. I don’t even know who’s lying anymore.” There’s a stretch of silence, but it’s not cold. Jisung shifts closer, his knee brushing yours.

“I’d never lie to you,” he says softly. “Neither would Minho.”

You bite your lip, looking at him. “But you did hide things. Both of you.” He nods, guilt flickering in his gaze. “Because I thought I was protecting you. But now... I just want to be honest.” A pause. Then he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—his fingers brushing your cheek just a second too long.

“I care about you,” he whispers. “More than I should. And I know Minho does too.”

Your heart stutters. “I don’t want to choose,” you murmur.

“Maybe you don’t have to,” he says, almost breathless. You blink at him—surprised by his words, your lips parting as if to say something— And then the door creaks open.

Minho walks in. He stops mid-step. His gaze flicks from you to Jisung. His mask is off, and the mix of pain and jealousy in his eyes hits like a bullet. “Oh. I see,” he says dryly.

You stand, suddenly overwhelmed. “Minho—”

But he steps forward, dropping whatever sarcasm was building in his throat. “No. I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve told you first.”

“Told me what?”

Minho walks right up to you, gaze steady. “That I love you.” The air splits in two. You forget how to breathe. Jisung rises behind you, stunned silent. “Hyung…”

But Minho doesn’t stop. “And I know he does too,” he adds, nodding toward Jisung. “So maybe… just maybe… we stop pretending that this is a triangle. Maybe we stop pretending it’s a fight.”

You stare at both of them—heart thundering, hands shaking. “And if it’s not a fight… what is it?” you whisper. 

Minho’s eyes soften, though there’s still that edge to him—something sharp in the way he moves toward you. It’s as if he wants to reach out, but there’s hesitation. Not because he doubts you, but because he’s afraid of the unknown. Afraid of the depth of what’s between the three of you.

Jisung, standing just slightly behind Minho, seems lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He’s always been the more open one, the one who wears his heart on his sleeve—but there’s something about this moment that has him hesitating too.

“It’s us,” Jisung finally says, his voice low and steady, as though he’s putting everything on the line. “If you want it to be.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his words sink in. The weight of them presses against your chest. It’s not just a simple statement—it’s an invitation, a promise, a vulnerability laid bare. You meet his gaze, searching for any sign of uncertainty, any sign of fear in his eyes. But all you see is something deeper, something raw and real.

Minho steps forward, his gaze intense, his expression unreadable. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, and you feel the tension in the air shift. It’s like everything in the world has come down to this moment—the three of you, here, together.

“I think we’ve both been waiting for this,” Minho murmurs, his voice soft but firm. You can hear the weight of his words, the longing behind them, the way he’s been holding himself back for so long. “But it’s not just about us. It’s about you too.”

Your heart races as you try to steady your breathing. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in around you as the three of you stand there, caught in a moment that’s so heavy with meaning, it almost feels unreal.

There’s a flicker of something—something unspoken—between Minho and Jisung. It’s like they’re both reading the same page of an unwritten story, and they’re waiting for you to join them. It’s a moment of connection, of shared history, of desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for so long, it’s impossible to ignore any longer.

And then, before you can say another word, Minho steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. The touch is light but filled with meaning, a simple contact that sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes soften as he looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world disappears.

You feel Jisung behind you, his presence a steady, comforting force. He doesn’t speak, but you can feel his gaze on you, on the way your heart races, the way you’re trembling slightly in the face of everything that’s happening. He’s waiting too—waiting for you to make the decision, to step into something new, something uncertain but full of possibility.

The tension in the air is palpable, like a storm about to break, and you can feel it in your chest. The three of you are standing on the edge of something, something you’re not sure you’re ready for, but can’t walk away from. You take a shaky breath, trying to steady your thoughts.

Minho leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve got you, you know. In every way. If you want us.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you realize—you want them. Not in the way you thought you did before, but in a deeper, more honest way. This is no longer just about the tension or the heat between you. It’s about something more real, more fragile. It’s about letting go of the fear and the uncertainty and just letting yourself feel—truly feel—what it means to trust them, to be with them.

Jisung’s hand is on your back now, his touch warm and grounding, his presence comforting and steady. It’s all so overwhelming, so intense, that it almost feels like you’re floating. You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and see something soft and tender in his eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he murmurs, his voice full of understanding. “But when you’re ready…” Minho nods, his fingers brushing against your skin. The warmth of his touch is enough to melt the walls you’ve built up around yourself. He’s here. They’re both here.

The space between you and Minho feels like it’s shrinking, and before you can think twice, his hand gently cups your face, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, almost hesitant, but there’s a longing there, something raw. It’s not rushed. It’s tender. Minho leans in slowly, closing the distance between you, and for a moment, time seems to stop. You breathe in together, the quiet tension before the kiss almost unbearable.

And then, his lips are on yours—soft, warm, gentle at first, as if he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. You let yourself fall into it, the moment feeling like it was always meant to be. He kisses you slowly, savoring the connection, the sweetness of the moment. It’s different from everything else that’s happened. It’s grounding. It’s real. You feel his other hand come up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he deepens the kiss, just enough to make your heart race. You melt into him, your own hands finding his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm.

When he pulls away, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. He’s still close enough for you to feel his warmth, his breath, and you can see the emotion in his eyes, the vulnerability that he doesn’t often show.

Before you can say anything, you feel Jisung’s hand on your back, his touch like a silent promise. He doesn’t say anything either—he just pulls you toward him gently, pressing his forehead to yours for a brief moment, a silent question in his eyes.

Then, Jisung leans in, his lips brushing against yours, not as gently as Minho’s, but still soft—there’s an intensity to his kiss, something more urgent, more fiery. It’s like he’s trying to say everything that words can’t. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of him against your body.

You give in to the kiss, your lips moving with his, a rhythm that feels familiar already, even though it’s the first time. He tastes like something sweet, something all his own, and you lose yourself in it. The world outside seems to fade away as you sink into the kiss, your arms wrapping around him to keep him close.

When he pulls away, his eyes are darker, filled with something you can’t quite place, but you know it’s real. The air around you feels heavier now, charged with the weight of everything unspoken.

You can’t help the nervous, lighthearted laugh that escapes you as you look at both of them. Their gaze is so intense, so full of warmth, that it makes your heart flutter. “I think I need a moment to catch my breath,” you say, feeling your face heat up. “God, I need ten business days to recover.”

Their laughter fills the air, light and easy, but it’s enough to make your heart race. Minho chuckles and reaches out, brushing his fingers against your cheek in a surprisingly tender way. “I think we should go inside now,” he says, his voice teasing but filled with a softness that catches you off guard.

But Jisung’s eyebrow arches, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirks. “You dirty thinker.” His tone is playful, but the way he looks at you makes it clear he’s not letting that moment pass by without some kind of response.

You turn away, your heart hammering in your chest as you try to regain your composure. You didn’t expect things to escalate so quickly, but now, with both of them so close, everything feels different.

As you step toward the door, Minho and Jisung follow closely behind, their steps in sync. You can feel the weight of their eyes on you, their presence right behind you, and it only makes your heart beat faster. 

When you finally reach the door, you hesitate for just a second before opening it, but as soon as you do, you feel two warm hands gently grip your waist from behind, pulling you back against their bodies.

Jisung’s breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “You don’t get away that easily.”

Minho, on the other hand, leans in, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but gasp, your skin tingling at the touch. His lips move lower, brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and you can feel the pressure of his kiss intensifying, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels in this single moment.

Jisung, not wanting to be left out, moves his lips to the other side of your neck, kissing and nibbling lightly, sending another wave of heat through your body. The way they both move in sync, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure and warmth to your core, makes it almost impossible to think straight. Their hands stay firmly at your waist, steadying you as they continue their gentle assault of kisses, their presence all-consuming.

Your body instinctively leans back into them, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The air around you feels charged with something electric, something undeniable. You can feel the weight of their affection—how much they want you, how much they care.

Jisung and Minho press in closer, their breaths hot against your skin. Your heart’s pounding so hard you swear they can hear it, a frantic little rhythm that matches the way your body trembles under their touch. 

Lips crashing and tongues tangling, before they guided you here—your bed looming like some unspoken promise in the dim light. Jisung’s on your left, his soft lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, and oh God, it’s like he’s teasing you on purpose. 

His kisses are light at first, playful nips that make you squirm, but then he drags his tongue slow and wet along the curve of your neck, a low hum vibrating from his throat. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, voice all breathy and needy, like he’s losing himself in it. His hand slides up your arm, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver racing down your spine. He’s got that switch energy—sweet one second, then hungry the next—and it’s messing with your head in the best way.

Minho, though—he’s something else entirely. 

He’s on your right, and where Jisung teases, Minho claims. His mouth latches onto the other side of your neck, firm and unrelenting, teeth scraping against your skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

You gasp, your head tipping back without you even meaning to, giving him more room to work. 

“Stay still,” he growls low against your throat, and it’s not a request—it’s a command that sinks straight into your core, pooling heat between your thighs. His hand’s already on your waist, gripping tight, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there like he’s anchoring you in place. 

He pulls back just enough to smirk, his dark eyes glinting as he inspects the red bloom he’s left on your skin. “That’s better,” he says, voice smooth and dangerous, and you’re already melting under the weight of it.

Your shirt’s bunched up from their hands roaming, the cool air hitting your exposed stomach, and I can’t tell whose fingers are brushing there first—Jisung’s, light and curious, or Minho’s, deliberate and possessive. 

Either way, it’s too much and not enough all at once. 

Jisung’s lips move lower, kissing along your collarbone now, sloppy and eager, his breath hitching like he’s just as wrecked as you are. “Fuck, you’re so soft,” he whines, and there’s that switch again—he’s needy, almost begging, but then he bites down lightly, testing you and you let out a shaky little moan.

Minho’s not having that, though. His hand slides up to your jaw, turning your face toward him, and his lips hover just over yours, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. 

“Eyes on me,” he says, sharp and low, and you obey without thinking, your gaze locking with his. He doesn’t kiss you yet—just watches, like he’s savoring how flustered you’re getting, how your chest heaves with every ragged breath. 

Then Jisung’s tongue flicks over a sensitive spot on your neck, and you whimper, and Minho’s grip tightens. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes,” You stammer, voice barely a whisper, and Jisung chuckles softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through me. 

They’re everywhere—Jisung’s messy kisses trailing lower, Minho’s control pinning you in place—and you’re dizzy with it, sinking deeper into whatever this is, your body begging for more.

Your room feels like it’s shrinking, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and something sweeter, maybe Jisung’s lingering cologne or Minho’s leather-and-gunpowder vibe clinging to him from some earlier chaos.

 You’re pinned between them, your pulse racing as their hands and mouths work you into a haze. The bed’s right there, mattress dipping slightly under your weight as they press you back, and you’re not sure how much longer your legs can hold you up with the way they’re unraveling you.

Jisung’s lips sliding from your collarbone down to the edge of your shirt, tugging at it with his teeth like he’s half-teasing, half-desperate. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he breathes, voice cracking with want, and his hands—those quick, clever hands—slip under the fabric, brushing your bare stomach. 

His touch is light at first, fingers dancing over your skin, but then he presses harder, palms flat and warm, and you feel the faintest tremble in them. He’s switching again—needy to bold—his mouth finding the curve of your chest, kissing through the thin material, a wet spot blooming where his tongue lingers. 

Your back hits the matress of your bed, you’re in ful display for them to play with.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he mumbles, and his teeth graze your skin, sending a jolt straight through you.

Minho’s not about to let Jisung have all the fun. He grabs your chin tighter, forcing your gaze back to him. “Don’t get distracted,”he says, voice low and dripping with that cocky authority, and then he’s kissing you—hard, messy, all tongue and teeth like he’s claiming every inch of your mouth. 

It’s overwhelming, the way he takes control, his other hand sliding down your side, hooking into the waistband of your pants. He pulls back just enough to smirk, breath hot against your lips. “You’re ours tonight,” he says, and there’s no question in it—just pure, filthy promise. His fingers dip lower, teasing the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, loud in the quiet room.

Jisung’s not backing off, though—he’s tugging your shirt up higher now, exposing more of you to the cool air, and his lips follow, kissing a sloppy trail up your ribs. “So fucking pretty,” he whines, and you feel his fingers flex against your skin, like he’s fighting the urge to just rip everything off. 

Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, but Minho just chuckles and pulls back, denying you.

"Someone's impatient," he murmurs, voice low and teasing. His breath ghosts over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Tell us what you want, blondie. Beg for it."

As you arch into their touches, Jisung and Minho's gazes lock over your shoulder. The air crackles with tension, and before you can say another word, their lips crash together in a heated, desperate kiss. 

Jisung's hands grip Minho's shirt, pulling him closer as Minho's fingers tangle in Jisung's hair. They're kissing like they're starving for each other, tongues tangling in a messy dance that mirrors the chaos of their touches on your body. 

You're between them, every hitch in their breaths, and it's pushing you closer to the edge. Jisung's free hand roams over your hip, squeezing possessively, while Minho's fingers finally slip beneath your underwear, teasing your wet heat. 

Your sharp gasp breaks through their heated kiss, and they pull apart, panting. Jisung's eyes are dark with desire as he watches Minho's fingers brush against your pussy lips.

"Fuck, she's so wet," Minho murmurs, his voice rough with want. He presses a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it just right to make your legs tremble. Jisung leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You like that, don't you? Being touched by both of us?"

His hand slides up your stomach, squeezing your breast through your bra, thumb brushing over your nipple. You can only whimper in response, overwhelmed by their touches, their words, the heat building inside you. “Oh fuck.”

Minho smirks at the view of you being so needy, “Yeah? Like it?”

You nods and he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out at a steady pace, his thumb circling your clit. Jisung's hand slips into your bra, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. They're working in sync, pushing you higher and higher, their touches sending jolts of pleasure through your body. 

“S-Shit please!”

You're writhing between them, your hips moving on their own, chasing the friction. Jisung captures your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your moans as Minho's fingers curl deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. 

"Come on, Y/N," Minho encourages, his voice a low growl. "Show us how much you love this. Come for us."

Their touches grow more urgent, more demanding, as their own desire reaches a boiling point. Jisung breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his hard length pressing insistently against your hip.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you," he growls, his fingers digging into your thigh. Minho's breath is hot against your neck, his hips grinding against your backside, his erection evident through his pants. 

"Now,Y/N," he commands, his fingers pausing their movements. "Tell us what you want. Beg for our cocks." They're both trembling with restraint, their patience wearing thin, waiting for you to give them the green light to take you completely.

Your head moves backward as you can barely contain your moans, you’re seeing the stars.  “Please.”

The single, desperate plea falls from your lips, and it's like a dam breaking.

Jisung's hands are shaking as he unbuttons his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his hard, leaking cock. 

Minho's not far behind, his zipper echoing loudly in the room as he pulls out his own thick length. Your pants and panties moves down with your shaky hands, your eyes half hidden.

They position themselves at your entrance, the heads of their cocks pressing against your soaked folds, one from behind, jisung in front of you, waiting for your signal.

"Say it again," Jisung urges, his voice strained. "Tell us you need us."

Minho's hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head back, his eyes boring into yours. "Beg for it, Y/N.Beg for us to fill you up."

Your whimpers echoes in their ears, “Please, please i need it...” Your whines, desperate and needy, push them over the edge. With a synchronized thrust, they bury themselves inside you, stretching you deliciously. 

Jisung's hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he sets a fast, hard pace. Minho's hand remains on your throat, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back onto his cock as he meets Jisung's thrusts. 

They're moving in perfect sync, their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin barrier, creating a delicious friction that has you seeing stars. "Fuck, you're so tight," Jisung pants, his hips snapping forward. 

"So perfect," Minho agrees, his lips brushing against your ear. They're consuming you, filling you completely, their bodies pressing you between the mattress and their hard muscles. The room fills with the sounds of their grunts, your moans, and the slick slap of skin on skin.

You clench around their thick length, you can’t last long. “Guys... g-guys i don’t...—” 

Your words trail off into a high-pitched whine as your orgasm crashes over you, your inner walls clamping down on their cocks. Jisung and Minho groan in unison, their thrusts growing erratic as they chase their own releases.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're squeezing us so hard," Jisung grits out, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. Minho's grip on your throat tightens slightly, his other hand snaking around to rub tight circles on your clit, prolonging your pleasure.

"Com’on, baby, milk our cocks," he encourages, his voice a low, dirty murmur in your ear. Their hips piston forward, driving into you with abandon, the bed shaking beneath you as they pound you through your orgasm and into another. 

The sensation is overwhelming, your body convulsing between theirs as they fill you with their hot cum, marking you inside and out.

As the final waves of your shared orgasm subside, Jisung and Minho collapse on either side of you, their bodies slick with sweat. They're breathing heavily, their chests heaving against your back and side. Jisung presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his hand brushing your hair back from your forehead. Minho's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach.

“That was... intense," he murmurs, a hint of a smile in his voice. You're sandwiched between them, their warmth enveloping you, their scents mingling with yours in a heady mix. The room is quiet except for the sound of your labored breaths and the occasional soft murmur from Jisung, still high from the passion.

You’re lying between Jisung and Minho, their arms still around you, and you’re trying to catch your breath—though, it feels like it’s still stuck somewhere in your chest. Every time your mind tries to process what just happened, your heart starts to beat faster, and your stomach does little flips, making it impossible to focus.

You shift a little, your body pressed against theirs, and it sends a jolt of warmth through your skin. The soft pressure of their arms around you makes you feel safe, and the intimacy of it all hits you in waves. This is really happening. You’re trying to act normal, but it’s impossible when you feel like you’re on fire from the inside out.

“Ugh, I don’t even know what to do with myself right now,” you mumble, your voice barely a whisper, but loud enough that both of them can hear. You let out a little giggle, not sure if you want to laugh or groan. “I just... I just had an intimate moment with Spider-Man and Deadpool—and I’m freaking out.”

Jisung chuckles softly, nuzzling the top of your head with his nose. “What’s wrong, angel? Not used to being surrounded by two heroes?”

Minho grunt, hitting jisung’s head with his hand slapping it lightly, making the younger whine, “I’m not such a ‘hero’ thing.”

You groan dramatically, burying your face in your pillow to hide your flushed cheeks. “I mean, yes! This is crazy! How do I even—” You cut yourself off, feeling like you can’t even form a coherent thought right now. “I mean... you two,” you manage, your words coming out in a tiny, whiny voice. “I... I can’t believe I just had an amazing time with you two.”

Minho shifts beside you, his hand brushing gently against your waist. His voice is low and soothing, but you can hear the teasing lilt in it. “You seemed to enjoy it, though. You kept asking for more.”

Your entire face flushes at his words, and you groan again, hiding your face in the pillow even harder. “Stop!” you whine, flailing your arms a little in frustration.  Minho chuckles, leaning in to press a light kiss to the top of your head. “You’re adorable when you’re all embarrassed like this. Don’t worry, though. We’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart flutters even more at that, and the gentle reassurance makes you want to curl up into them even further. What did I just get myself into? You’re overwhelmed, your mind still racing, but somehow in the best way possible.

“God, I feel like I need to take a moment to breathe,” you say, burying your face in the crook of Jisung’s arm. “I’m so dizzy. You two are so... intense.” You giggle again, trying to make light of the situation even though your body is tingling with heat. 

Minho hums lowly, his hand lightly caressing your back. “We’re not going to make you regret it, blondie. Trust me.” You sigh dramatically, still feeling the aftershocks of the intimacy. 

The weight of everything hangs in the air for a moment, and then you feel them both press a kiss to your forehead, making your heart flip once more. This is real. This is happening. You can’t deny it anymore.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung says softly, his voice tender now. “We’re here. Always.”

You close your eyes, smiling to yourself, feeling the warmth of their closeness. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I guess... I guess I’m lucky. I have Spider-Man and Deadpool here. With me.”

[vxlenst3in]

Have you watched blue lock cuz i just finished it like 10 minutes ago and i want a fic

lowk the itoshi brothers are SO HOT like hear me out okay

and Rin makes "wednesday" sound hot 😭😭😭

Anyways can i req a random itoshi brothers x fem!reader fic?

can be a threesome or like seperate

yeah i have no plot in mind i just want a fic tysm and ily

~Kylie

ALSO STOP DESPAWNING AND COME BACK

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ the itoshi brothers fighting over you

The Itoshi brothers have always been a huge part of your life. From the day you met those two at a nearby playground, till today, where you have to attend double the soccer matches. Sae and Rin used to be inseperable back then. It was their dream to become the best strikers in the world, but we know how the story goes.

They’ve always been competitive when it came to you. Fighting over who got to carry your bag, or who would get to sit on the see-saw with you. Almost wrestling each other over who got to sit next to you on the bus. It was cute, sort of – till it wasn’t. As the three of you got older, the brothers started viewing you as more than just their childhood friend, and that’s when the real fight began between them.

Rin had definitely gained a head start when Sae went to Spain, to become the best striker of the world. Even though he felt somewhat sad that his brother was gone, it didn’t last for long. He had you all to himself. Even though he would also try his best to catch up to his brother in terms of soccer, he would always get to see you in school, or have you watch his matches. He thought he had won this unofficial battle with ease. Little did he know, it was merely the start.

Sae, on the other hand, dreaded every day in Spain because of it. Yes, it was his dream to train here, but at the same time it turned into an absolute nightmare. He would always see the stuff you or your friends posted on social media, and almost lose his mind. Even worse when his little brother was to be seen somewhere on those posts. Sae would still make a somewhat “great” effort to text you every now and then. If you can count the dry replies to your stories, as an effort. He knew so very well what Rin was doing.

So imagine, even so many years later, they’re still trying so hard to win you over. Just with upgraded techniques now.

Rin’s technique is rather aggressive. His hands are roughly grasping onto any piece of flesh they can grab onto, as he drills into you from behind. You’re bent over the dinner table, that you just ate dinner with him and Sae at. Sae now going for his evening run, completely oblivious to what was happening in his apartment right now. Rin’s touch is inexperienced, not really knowing where to put his hands, while trying to not bust a nut after 2 minutes, because you just felt so damn good. You were his first and only. He wouldn’t even dare to think of another woman in your place. But god, despite all that, he was making you feel good, his pelvis repeatedly hit the flesh of your ass, as he pressed you further against the table with his whole body weight. His hips snapping up and down, while the both of you lost your damn minds. One of his hands wandered up to yours, pinning them down while the other held your hips in place, his chest pressed against your back, while he rested his head right next to yours. Rin wasn’t loud during it, but given how close he was to your ear right now, you could hear all the ragged breathing, the choked groans, and the attempted dirty talk that only came out in murmurs.

“Don’t get why you still entertain him, you have me-!” Rin choked out, as his hips began to stutter. Your weak whimpers spurring him on. “Just be with me alr- Ah!” He didn’t even realize how close he was—

Sae had learned from his old mistakes. He was taking no chances for his brother to get any closer to you, so instead of going to Spain alone, he would always bring you along. You got to go on a fun little vacation, and Sae Itoshi got you all to himself. He’s not a man to waste time, but is it really wasted if he gets to see you all whiny beneath him? His boner had been up and hurting for almost an hour now, but god, he was utterly obsessed with pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you by just fingering you. Sae was pretty experienced in comparison to his brother. Every now and then he’d lay chicks he’d meet at his soccer club's celebration parties. Weirdly, they all looked creepily similar to you. Not that it meant anything, right? But in the end, none of these models could compare to the real thing. None of them could replicate the sweet noises he pulls out of you, or the way your pussy is practically screaming for more even when you beg him to stop. None of them could even get close to the way you make him feel. His thumb drags across your clit, while two of his other fingers keep curling inside of you. You lost track of the amount of orgasms he has pulled out of you by now. But judging by the look on his face, he was far from done. Just like his younger brother he wasn’t a loud man — well, he still talks you through it.

“That’s it, she’s so messy, don’t ya think, sweet girl?” “You love me more than him, right? Your pussy certainly does, doesn’t she?” “Give me another one, won’t you?”

And whenever you take too long to reply, he just delivers a slap to your cunt. What a mean man.

You would’ve been lying if you said that you weren’t fine with it. You enjoyed both of their attention, and thought it was okay the way it was. Both Rin and Sae had their “pros and cons”, but they made up for each thing the other was missing. So why choose? Neither of them had asked to be your boyfriend anyw- That was until both men decided to ask you to be their girlfriend on the same day…

Seriously?

 ©vxlenst3in - do not steal, modify, translate or repost my work. a/n: hi kylie!! i hope i can make up all the time ive been away with this super quick request sob. i hope its too obvious who i like more between them, but so sorry if it is..anyway thank you so much for requesting!! always a pleasure seeing you around :) likes, feedback and reblogs are appreciated! reqs are open❤︎

[comingdownwithme]

PLEASE I WANT MORE TICCIJEFF LORE I NEED TO HEAR MORE ABT IT!!!! IT SEEMS FUNNN!!!!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have anything too concrete in regards to the silly lil background I made for this ship, so it's probably subject to change later (Especially since I haven't been caught up on the more recent updates on any of the Creepypastas' stories), but here it is anyways! (And have a stupid bonus doodle while we're at it because I couldn't help myself)

Basically, the Woods and Rogers family lived in the same neighborhood for most of their lives, and the kids met during some social event like some neighborhood party. Liu (8) was the first to spot Toby (10) and mentioned how weird he was to Jeff (13) , who- instead of taking it as a deterrent- walked up, told him bluntly that his lil brother thought he was a weirdo, and promptly introduced himself. Thus started a friendship filled with genuine care and sincerity alongside the usually teenage dumbassery! (With Liu being dragged along on occasion against his will)

Jeff was always patient with Toby. Even when his tics and stutters got bad he'd always stay by his side, made sure the other boy had someone he could talk to, someone who would listen, someone who even bothered to try and understand him. And Toby, in turn, would do the same, even when Jeff's own thoughts scared him on some days. The two were near inseparable as years went by, moreso when they continued on with school where Toby would be bullied or judged.

(If Jeff let the awful, curious temptation simmering under his skin let loose, sending a student or two to the nurse after a particularly bad insult, who's to say)

One day though, Jeff and Liu's parents made the decision to move to a better place when their dad landed a good job. They'd be able to go to some place bigger, get things they were never able to get, learn under a school that offers better opportunities.

Jeff would've been happy- especially since the rest of his family seemed to be- if he wouldn't be leaving his best friend.

The weeks before the move was tense, especially in the Woods' household. How the hell were you just supposed to leave a staple part of your life? To let go of something- someone who had been such an integral part of it?

(Would he be ok? How's he going to make it through school? Who's gonna talk to 'im when his dad is out again- God knows where?)

(If Jeff cared a little more, felt a little more than the average friend, who's to say)

Still, the duo tried to spend the time they had, tried to make sure Jeff would leave without any regrets.

When the Woods' boys were packing their last things into their car, the Rogers family standing aside, watching their close, family friends as they prepare their leave, the two teens promised they'd keep in touch.

Years down the line, a white-hooded monster would reminisce about better days as he held a cigarette between bloodstained fingers, wondering what might have been if they had just stayed. The maddening, burning pyre of grief and anger that fueled his bloody venture had simmered into a low, thrumming heat in his melancholy, and the man wondered what his best friend would've thought of him now after everything, after one tragedy after another turned him into something even he considers to be less than human.

Somewhere, deep in the woods, a man, haunted by the glimpses of a life he was never supposed to remember, grips his axe in a white-knuckled grip.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Why am i ready for stalker aemond that has slow burn and is super angsty? like someone who isnt afraid of his scar in preschool then moves away but he found her in either social media or a sports meet and started stalking from then on and then he goes to the same college and remembers her schedule, which dorm shes in and trying to get in her room at night or is in the dorm across from her and ugh i could start a fic tbh

If you do start a Fic, 100% tag me in that sh*t! I would LOVE to read it, but because you sent it to me imma give it a go for you cause it sounds delicious! I hope it is everything you want it to be!

Yandere!Aemond. Major Stalking! You’ve Been Warned!

DD:DNE

Aemond considered Y/n to be a miracle from the day he met her.

It was the first day of Pre-School and he wanted to be anywhere but there, surrounded by other students. He wanted to be at home with his mother, or even his big brother, anyone just to get away from the staring children.

Aemond had learned almost as soon as his cousin had sliced his face open that while adults would stare, they would at least be discreet about it, children were not. Aemond, while being a child, didn’t consider himself one, and it was something most adults found amusing as he would much rather spend time with his mother or the adults in his family than with his siblings or cousins. He would rather read than play with toys, rather watch movies his mother liked than ones his siblings enjoyed, it’s just the way Aemond had always been…until her.

All of the children stared at him from the moment he walked in and said “goodbye” to his mother. The staff tried to direct the children away, told them it was rude to stare, but they weren’t always paying attention and trying to get a bunch of 4 year olds attention when they’re locked onto something is…difficult at best. Around lunch time the staff had left all but one in the room to prepare food for the kids and suddenly Aemond found a boy much larger than him to be holding his eyepatch in his hand, the children around him laughing and teasing immediately. The teacher was on the other side of the room and oblivious as Aemond tried to grab his eyepatch back, the other boy shoving him to the ground before he was suddenly laying right beside Aemond holding his crotch and wailing in pain. A blonde girl that Aemond could only describe as beautiful was standing above him with an angry look on her face.

‘What did he ever do to you?! Huh?! Leave Him Alone!’ She snatched the eyepatch from the portly child’s hand and moved to hand it back to Aemond who strapped it back on immediately. ‘Are you okay?’ Aemond nodded quickly, opening his mouth to speak but finding no words that would come out. ‘I’m Y/n, you’re Aemond, right?’ He nodded again, mouth hanging open dumbly and looking like an idiot he is sure. ‘I’m sorry he did that, No one should be mean like that for something you can’t help and you don’t have to tell no one nothing…I’m sorry, you want to be alone.’ She turned to walk away when he finally got his voice box to work…sadly it had been muted so long that the sound he finally made was a bit too loud.

‘NO!’ He exclaimed and she jumped, turning back to him instantly. ‘I’m sorry…I mean, no, I don’t want to be alone…it’s nice to meet you Y/n…do you want to sit with me for lunch?’ She smiled, a red tint to her cheeks and Aemond decided he absolutely adored her pretty smile.

‘Yeah…that sounds fun.’ She grabbed ahold of his hand and pulled him over to a table, handing him a place mat and some crayons to decorate it with. Coloring was never something Aemond had really enjoyed, Art wasn’t his thing, but if Y/n enjoyed it then so did he.

Aemond and Y/n spent the rest of the day together before pick-up and as soon as he said “good-bye”, leaving with his mothers driver and climbed into the car beside his mom, he was talking about her. Alicent was thrilled that her son had made a friend his own age, while it’s entertaining to see her 4 year old boy so grown-up and mature, she didn’t want him to miss out on being a child just because he didn’t have any friends.

At the end of the week, after learning that Aemond and Y/n’s friendship wasn’t going anywhere, Alicent stood outside to pick her son up rather than wait in the car for their driver to get him. She watched her son run outside, hand in hand with a girl a bit shorter than him and they looked truly adorable. ‘Mom!’ Her son exclaimed, excited to see her waiting for him herself and deciding she should do this more often to see that smile so rare on her baby’s face.

‘Hello, my sweet Little Dragon! How was your day?’ She asked, watching the girl run to a women a few feet away and take her hand.

‘It was so good! Y/n and I made pictures of our families for the wall-wait! You need to meet her! Y/n!’ Aemond exclaimed, the girl stopping and her mother looking back as well, slightly irritated. ‘Mom, this is Y/n, she’s my best friend!’ He grinned and so did Y/n who hugged him at that deceleration.

‘Well, if she’s your best friend then you must have her over for a play date. Would that be alright?’ She asked the girls mom.

‘Oh, yes, of course. Anytime.’ She spoke, writing down her number on a piece of paper. ‘I’m Marie, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n talks about your boy all the time.’

‘Mom!’ The girl whined, the mothers sharing a side smile at their kids evident first crush on each other.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Alicent. How about tomorrow? She can come by and spend the day with us, I’ll drop her at home after dinner?’ Her mom looked surprised.

‘That’s perfect actually, I have work all day. Text me your address and what time to drop her off, she will love spending the day with Aemond rather than the neighbor. I’m sorry to say I’m in a rush to get back to work, it was nice meeting you Alicent, and you too Aemond. Come on Y/n, let go.’

‘Bye Aemond!’ Y/n waved, her mother dragging her off. She didn’t strike Alicent as rude, just in a bit of a hurry. You could clearly see the difference in their status in life, if not just from the fact that Y/n’s mother was wearing a waitress uniform and Alicent was wearing a Versace dress and Gucci shoes. She finds herself wondering how the women pays for the fancy daycare at all.

Alicent had married rich, Viserys happy to give her anything she wants as long as she doesn’t bother him at work, and he’s always at work. When he’s not however he is spending time with his daughter from his first marriage, Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra is 24 now, Viserys being significantly older than Alicent but she didn’t mind, he was a good, gentle man and that was hard to come by now a days. She had 2 sons, Jace who was 5 and Luke who was 3 (a child she detested for being the one who had sliced her baby’s face open 6 months before as he ran around the mansion with an old dagger from Viserys’ office and didn’t pay attention to her son sitting on the ground), though Rhaenyra was also pregnant with another child, none of which are her husbands clearly but that’s not her business… Alicent has 3 children of her own, Aegon who was 7, Helaena who was 5 and Aemond who had just turned 4, though she also suspected she was carrying a child that she hoped was a girl if not just to keep another boy from the chaos and bullying that goes on between the siblings and cousins.

‘Y/n is gonna spend the whole day with me?!’ Aemond suddenly exclaimed, knocking his mother from her thoughts.

‘Yes, she is. You’ll need to plan what you two want to do for the day and I’ll make sure Aegon doesn’t disturb you.’

‘Jace and Luke either?’ He asked…begged is more like.

‘Jace and Luke either, I’ll make sure they have something to do when they come tomorrow.’ The family always came to the house on the weekends as Viserys took that time for his family…part of it anyway.

‘Yay! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!’ Alicent was thrilled to see her son so happy…she had no idea it would be so incredibly short lived.

Y/n had begun spending the day with Aemond every day, coming to their house in their car after school, her mother coming to get her after work to take her home looking more tired than the night before. Alicent had tried to help the poor women. It turns out her husband had cheated on her while she was pregnant and gotten another women pregnant, divorcing her for his mistress and son. He’s the one who paid for the fancy preschool while her mother worked 3 jobs to keep everything afloat in their one bedroom apartment, since he paid for such a nice school he only paid 200 in child support leaving Marie with everything else and all the debt he had left behind in her name.

Alicent was happy to watch Y/n whenever she needed, it made her son happy and that’s all she wanted in the world. She had been so scared for him before he met Y/n that he would end up going down a dark path, the bullying at home and at school having been hard for him as well as his father clearly loving the child who had butchered him more than his own son.

That all came to a grinding halt however when Y/n’s mom was evicted from her apartment leaving them homeless, forcing them to move in with Marie’s ex-mother in-law who lived in New York. Aemond had tried to promise to visit every weekend before Alicent was forced to explain just how far away New York was from California, to say the children were upset was a huge understatement. The teary good-bye nearly broke the mothers hearts as they swore to write to each other every day, and they did, they both learned to write faster than any of the kids their age just to write to each other and it lasted about a year. Y/n’s grandmother had found out she was writing to a boy in California and cut it off, threatening to take Y/n away from her mother if her mother didn’t stop the interaction. Marie wrote Alicent and explained what had happened leaving her to break her baby’s heart all over again.

Aemond became cold after that. He had no more friends, detested his cousins, tolerated his brothers and only loved Helaena though she was with friends everyday of her life. He took his schooling very seriously, taking several extra curricular’s on the side to take up his time which consisted of Jiu-Jitsu, Tae Kwon Do, and oddly enough, sword fighting which Alicent didn’t support right away until he promised to start with fencing. It turned out that he was really good at it and his father hired a trainer, Criston Cole, to teach him sword fighting, paying to transform a room in the mansion into a training room.

Once Aemond got to middle school, no one was bullying him anymore after breaking 3 kids noses and 2 of their arms. When he turned 14 and moved up to high school he had finally broken down and created an Instagram account. Aemond hated social media, he found it annoying and pointless, but he quickly found a use for it once he looked up Y/n and found her account. It wasn’t private, making it easy to look through all of her pictures, finding out that she still lived in New York with just her Grandmother now as her mother had passed away in a hit and run with a drunk driver when she was 9. She had many pictures with her and another girl who seemed to be her best and only friend and nowhere could Aemond find anything about a boyfriend which gave him an instant sense of relief. He had spent the last almost 10 years obsessing over her, though he kept it to himself. He had sent her a letter a few years before, hoping that maybe now that they had grown a bit she would be able to write him back but it was returned unopened with a note that told him to never send anything again or her grandmother would file a restraining order.

For the next 2 years he was as content as he could be watching her life through social media, until their junior year that is when he decided to pay a man to hack into her computer, actually watching what he did and figuring out how to go about doing it himself. He read all of her emails from then on, finding out what colleges she was applying to and applying himself, knowing he would obviously get in with his incredible grades and extra curricular’s. Her grandmother was forcing her to go to college, wanting her to be a physical therapist despite the fact that she wanted to be an artist. Aemond had found she had a separate, secret Instagram account that her grandmother didn’t know about that held all of her paintings and sketches, and she was honestly incredible.

Aemond had decided that when she was his she would drop out of college and move in with him, she would have her own little art studio to do whatever she wanted in. He would buy her anything she wanted, give her everything in the world if she only asked for it, Y/n Y/L/n was going to be his wife…whether she knew it yet or not.

At 18, Aemond moved out to New York for the year, deciding not to go to college but convincing his father to open a branch of his publishing business out there and let him set everything up for him. It wouldn’t be hard, honestly Aemond would pay others to do everything and just oversee the company while he watched over his Princess. He had already been stalking her online for over 4 years and in her own computer for 2, this was hardly a step up.

Alicent knew of course, she knew that her son had become more than a little obsessed with his childhood friend and she knew that that’s why her boy was going to New York, she had been the one to talk her husband into letting him go. She wanted him to be happy, by any means necessary after all this time of misery and if he needed Y/n to make that happen then she was more than happy to welcome the sweet girl into the family. Even if she knew what her son was doing was wrong, she couldn’t change his mind, and she didn’t want to. Alicent loved Y/n and she knew that if there was one person in the world that her son would never hurt, it was her.

He watched from across the Quad as she arrived at the school, unpacking her things from the car and moving it all into her dorm room, a room which Aemond had made sure was a single for only her, he also made sure he had acquired a key for himself. He felt horrible that he couldn’t help her move things, especially the heavy things, but he knew there was no way she wouldn’t recognize him, and she clearly remembered him. She had several old pictures uploaded to her Instagram of the two of them together, one of them at a Carnival with their faces painted (which she had made him do, even forcing the painter to paint over the eyepatch since it would wash off), one of them carving pumpkins on Halloween, and Aemond’s personal favorite, a picture of the two of them snuggled up in his bed as she had slept over the night before, she was snuggled into his chest with his arms around her and his face in her hair which covered the scar completely. He knew she had plenty of pictures of the two of them without his eye patch on but she never put them online and he loved her for that, even if she didn’t know it yet. Next to his mother, she was the only person who really understood how sensitive he was about his scar and she never made him feel less than because of it, he knew she would never betray him, not even having shown her mother the pictures without the eyepatch.

He followed her to all of her classes, often watching them through the security cameras he had hacked into (becoming quite good at it) to see her during class, he had always loved her look of concentration as her eyes narrowed and she looked like she was scowling at you, she was adorable. He had placed several cameras in her room as well, watching her whenever he could, all she really did was school work and he realized how overwhelmed she was by college life, school was never her environment, it was too stressful for her and her free spirited mind and he knew it. He also knew that her Grandmother had threatened to kick her out onto the streets if she didn’t go to college for what she told her to, he had plans for that women, she will get what she deserves.

On several occasions he was witness to moments that he knew should be private, whether that be her stressed out crying or more…intimate moments. He couldn’t help but watch as her fingers touched her pretty little pussy, rubbing her clit and listening to the sweet sounds she made trying to be quiet, he couldn’t help but wrap his fingers around his length and edge himself right along with her, imagining those fingers in her cunt were his cock, desperate to feel her soft, warm pussy squeezing him as tight as it could as he made her cum again and again until she couldn’t take it anymore. He had fantasized about making her cum on his cock since he was 13 years old and by now he was more than desperate for her.

There were a few nights he actually snuck into the dorms and into her room, watching her sleep up close, trailing his fingers down her body, hating that he can’t just crawl into the bed beside her and hold her tight while he shoves his cock into her and makes her fall asleep with it as deep as it can get.

2 months he watched her before knowing he needed to make her his now, before it was too late. She had been asked out on a date by a Frat guy, begging to take her to a party and Aemond knew he couldn’t allow this.

The Frat boy got a visit from him later that night, waking up to Aemond sitting on the edge of his bed and realizing he had been tied down so tight that the ropes were cutting off circulation to his hands and feet. ‘Hello Chad, so sorry to wake you but this is a very important matter you see. Scream, and I will bash your brains in before anyone can even find out the door is locked, got it?’ He nodded quickly, terror in his eyes and Aemond found that he loved it, he loved scaring people that would hurt his Princess, she doesn’t deserve the kind of treatment this idiot would give her and Aemond knew that party wasn’t anything more than to make fun of his girl. The Frat assholes all getting a freshman girl to come to the ‘party’ and whichever guy could get their girl to put out first won some bullshit prize.

No. His Princess would not be humiliated like that.

‘You see Chad, you are bringing a girl back here tomorrow night, her name is Y/n, yes?’ He nodded again.

‘I didn’t know she was your girl, she didn’t say anything like that! I would never-‘

‘Yes you would, don’t lie to me Chad, boyfriend or not you would happily have brought her back here and made her a part of your little game.’ His eyes widened, unsure how Aemond could possibly know about that. ‘You’re not going to pick her up tomorrow Chad, do you understand? I will not have my Princess hurt and humiliated by an idiotic asshole who realistically couldn’t make a girl smile let alone cum. Now, this is just a warning of course, if I find out you went anywhere near her after our little conversation here, I would have to do something far worse than break into your disgusting Frat house and break your eye socket, do you get me?’

‘Yes! Yes, I-wait…break my wha-‘ quickly Aemond brought the bat he had picked up from the floor, down against the jackasses face, shoving the edge of his blanket into his mouth as he went to scream.

‘Secretly, I hope you do try something just so I get to have an excuse to come back here and break every one of your ribs before I ensure no women will ever say yes to a date with you again.’ He flicked open a blade, holding it against Chads face and hearing him whimper like a bitch. ‘It’s okay Chad, I’m not going to hurt you as long as you do what I’ve said here tonight. Are we on the same page?’ He nodded quickly and Aemond stood, walking out of the room and leaving the house, deciding on taking the bat with him, just in case.

The next night Y/n waited in the Quad at 9 o’clock, cursing out the asshole who didn’t pick her up and feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. She had been so alone here all this time, in a place she didn’t want to be at in the first place and just when she thought someone might be interested in her, even an asshole Frat jock, he stands her up. She felt like she couldn’t hold it in anymore, trying to muffle her cries with the sleeves of her hoodie before hearing someone speak to her.

‘Are you alright Princess?’ Princess? No one had called her Princess since-

Her head snapped up and she saw a very tall man standing about 5 feet away, he was lanky but still covered in muscle that you could clearly see through his tight henley shirt, he wore jeans and heavy boots with his silver hair tied in a bun at the back of his head. They black eyepatch sealed the deal for her though, if she didn’t already assume who this is, now she knows. ‘Aemond? Is that you?’

‘In the flesh…why are you crying Princess?’ He moved to sit beside her on the edge of the fountain and she just stared at him in shock.

‘I…I got stood up-what are you doing here?!’ He smiled sweetly and she couldn’t help but think how handsome her best friend had become…he’s a panty dropper!

‘I’m in New York setting up a branch here for Dad, the school however, my father has recently become a benefactor of, Daeron wants to come to school here for a year to start his doctorate in 2 years, you know dad, start bribing them as early as possible.’ He joked and she giggled, remembering exactly how Viserys used to be. She never had seen him much, which she understood was Aemond’s experience too, but he was always very sweet to her, bringing her gifts and sweets with all of his other children since she was there almost 100% of the time.

‘Did you know I was here?’ He nodded and she glared half heartedly at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?!’ She raged, punching him in the arm.

‘We’ll mostly because I sent a letter a few years after you left and your grandmother wrote back that I would receive a restraining order if I ever contacted you again. That’s why I never reached out online either, I didn’t want to get you in trouble if she found out.’ Her face fell as he told her that and her tears began streaming again. ‘No more tears Princess, please? Such a gorgeous girl should never feel the need to shed a tear.’ He reached up, taking her face in his hands and wiping her tears with his thumbs tenderly.

‘I’m sorry she did that to you! I wanted to talk to you so badly, everyday! She was so awful to my mom and I thought maybe I would be able to talk to you when we were older but she kept tabs on everything I ever did and now I’m being forced to go to this shitty fucking school and live on campus all alone, and suffocate under a course load that I didn’t want in the first place…I just wanted to paint…and the first time I think maybe I could actually not be completely alone here I get stood up by an asshole Frat jerk!’ Aemond had pulled her to his chest as soon as she started ranting, knowing she needs someone to be there for her and he was determined to make sure it was him. ‘And now I’m ranting to you when you clearly have places to be, I’m sorry!’ She tried to pull away but he didn’t let her, lifting her into his lap for good measure and smiling at the squeak that came from her when she was sat down on him.

‘None of that Princess, you have always been and will always be most important, and I finished my meeting. I’m all yours.’ He said it in a way that he hoped she would hear his dedication to her, and she did, she heard it and couldn’t help but hope he meant he really was all hers. ‘Do you have classes tomorrow?’ She shook her head, resting it against his chest and he felt his entire body heat up as he held her to him firmly, determined that no one would ever take her away again. ‘Okay, then here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back to my place, you’re going to borrow some clothes and we’re going to order dinner-‘

‘No, you have things to do, you’re working here, I can’t-‘

‘No, I can’t! I can’t leave you like this, and I won’t, I will take care of you…you’re mine Princess.’ She looked up at him shocked and he tried his best to convey how hard it’s been without seeing her for the last 14 years. ‘I let them take you from me once, I won’t do it again now that I’ve found you…don’t make me let you go back to a dorm all alone…I won’t do it Y/n.’ She nodded her head quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

‘I missed you so much Aemond, if you’re sure you’re not too busy-‘

‘I will never be too busy for you. My weekend is yours, come on.’ He helped her stand up but didn’t let go of her, keeping his arm around her waist as he took her bag and led her down to the parking lot where his car is waiting. Aemond opened the door and lifted her into the car, hearing her gasp as he man handled her in, not once complaining about it. The drive was quick back to his home, it was an apartment in a high rise building and he loved watching her eyes slowly widen as she watched the numbers on the elevator go up and up, all the way to the top.

‘You have a penthouse apartment?’ He nodded, smirking down at her and she shoved him playfully.

‘Surely you can’t forget how we live Y/n, you think my father would let me stay anywhere else. Even if I am the least favorite, he insists on a certain condition of living for his family…he would be appalled by your state by the way, and I’m sure once I tell him he will be fixing it-‘

‘What are you talking about? I’m already in a single dorm, I have everything I-‘

‘You shouldn’t be living in a dorm room with God knows how many other women all sharing a bathroom, you’re basically family-‘

‘But I’m not.’ She cut him off and he looked at her startled as he opened the door. ‘Look at this place Aemond! It’s an apartment and I could never afford something like this! I love that you think of me as a sister and your parents think of me like an honorary child but I’m not, I am a peasant compared to you and that will never change, we live in 2 different worlds Aemond.’ He stared at her, trying to calm himself before opening his mouth.

‘You loved being a part of our family…you never judged me for how I lived before-‘

‘I’m not judging you-‘

‘But you are! I don’t like the idea that you think we’re in 2 different worlds, because I never want to exist in a world where you are not beside me, you will never live like that again, not now that I’ve found you. And the fact that you think I ever thought of you like a sister…well it’s just disgusting.’ He explained, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers as lightly as possible before moving to the kitchen, putting her bag on the couch. ‘Now, what would you like for dinner? Are you still a pizza girl, or would you like Chinese? We can get burgers too.’ He offered, pulling out a burger place menu, knowing that’s what she would pick and she quickly did, her whole face red in a heavy blush.

They ordered dinner and Aemond had a man go and pick it up for them while they chose a scary movie to watch. Aemond had loaned her one of his Henley’s before getting her a pair of his boxers from the drawer and letting her change, throwing her clothes into the wash and not being able to stop the creepy stalker inside of him from smelling her panties before putting them in. He had to stop himself from jumping her the second he walked back into the room, seeing his Princess wearing his clothes and sitting in his bed clearly waiting for him.

He set the food down, handing her her chocolate milkshake before stripping to his boxers and climbing into the bed beside her. He saw her try to hide her reddening cheeks as she looked at him, staring at his muscular chest before tearing her eyes away. It wasn’t until he noticed her rubbing her legs together that he felt his cock begin to twitch. She was just as effected by him as he was by her and he was going to have her!

They talked through the movie while eating, getting to know each other, mostly her getting to know him but he asked questions to things he knows the answers to but shouldn’t, and he loved that no matter how personal, she never once lied to him about anything. After all this time she still felt completely comfortable with him.

‘Oh! Mother will be so excited to see you! Come here!’ He held up his phone and pulled her to him, taking a picture of them quickly with her back to his chest as his arm wrapped across her shoulder and torso, his face nuzzled against her hair. It smelled like mangos and pomegranates, everything about her was just perfect.

‘Wait! You’re shirtless! She’s gonna think-‘

‘What?’ He asked, smirking down at her, humor written all over his face as he waited for her to say it. ‘What is she going to think, Princess?’

‘Nothing, never mind.’ She rolled her eyes, leaning against him as the movie finished, Aemond now laying down on the pillows with her head on his chest as if they were children at a sleepover once again.

‘I really did miss you Y/n…there wasn’t one day that I didn’t think about you.’ He willed his cock to stop twitching as she traced her finger around his stomach.

‘I missed you too, I never forgot about you Aemond. You know, I often wondered how someone who had been in my life for such little time could be such a big part of it but you were…you are. I never stopped loving you.’ He took hold of her chin, turning her head to face him and traced her bottom lip with his thumb lightly.

‘I am never leaving you again…tell me you’re mine.’ She gasped quietly, hesitating only a moment before nodding. ‘I know you want me…tell me you’re mine Y/n…tell me.’

‘I’m yours-‘ He cut her off instantly, lips crashing to hers hard and pulling her against his chest firmly. One arm held her waist firmly while his other hand buried his fingers into her hair. He licked her bottom lip, his tongue instantly exploring her mouth as she parted them, sucking her tongue between his lips and making her giggle. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling the hair tie out and tugging it firmly prompting him to bite down on her lip roughly making her squeal.

‘Such fun noises you make, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wondered what you would sound like for me!’ He rolled on top of her, hauling her legs up around his waist and grinding his crotch against her.

‘Oh! Oh Fuck Aemond! Feels so good!’ She whined as he ground his hard cock down against her.

‘You have no idea Princess, I’m going to make you see stars.’ He swore, grabbing ahold of the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up and off of her. ‘So fucking perfect baby, perfect fucking tits!’ His lips wrapped around her rosy nipple, sucking hard and chuckling when her back arched up into him as he did this. He switched tits, pulling her hardened peak between his teeth teasingly before beginning to kiss and suck his way down her stomach, fingers catching on her boxers and pulling them down, throwing them off to the side of the bed. He took a pause, leaning back and looking down at her…Finally seeing his girl on his bed laid out for him…nothing could be sweeter. She closed her legs awkwardly, unsure why he stopped but he quickly caught them, yanking them apart again roughly. ‘No you don’t gorgeous! You’re mine, all mine. I’m allowed to look at what’s mine. All fucking mine.’ He growled, leaning back down and shoving his face between her legs, tasting her for the first time. Aemond lifted her legs onto his shoulders, sucking on her clit and grinning as he heard her loud, needy cries.

‘Fuck, yes! Please? Please Aemond, don’t stop?!’ Stop? Stop? What is Stop? He couldn’t define that word right now, it didn’t fucking exist to him as he flattened his tongue and traced it down to her hole, pushing into her and moaning at how tight his little cunt was for him. He peeked up at her as he began fucking into her with his tongue, his nose brushing against her clit and making her squeal. ‘Oh God!’

‘No!’ He cut her off, fingers rubbing hard at her clit as he looks up at her and she tries to pull away from the almost painful attention on her body. ‘Tonight, I am your God. Do you understand me? Tonight you pray to me while I worship this body. Yes?’

‘Yes! YES! Please God, Please?!’ She sobbed, tears falling from her eyes now as she teetered on the edge, so close and needing one last push.

‘Yes Princess.’ He moaned, pushing his long fingers into her and shoving her over that edge just as she needed, watching her face contort in ecstasy as she came, hips lifting off of the bed as she screamed.

‘Fuck Aemond!’

‘There’s my good girl! Cumming so good for me.’ He kissed his way back up her body, removing his boxers as he did and leaning against her, taking his thick cock in his hand and preparing to push himself into her. ‘How do you feel baby?’ She just moaned, nodding her head and pulling him down to kiss her and as she did he pressed his cock against her hole, driving his hips home and finding her cute little squeal completely adorable. ‘So good!’ Aemond groaned, pulling out and pushing into her again. ‘So fucking tight on me, aren’t you?’ She nodded, her mouth hanging open as if screaming but no sound was coming out. ‘Yes you are, so good to me, this little pussy loves my cock so much, feel how she’s pulsing around me? She knows my cock is the only one that can make you feel like this. The only one that ever will again.’ He had picked up his pace and was now slamming into her over and over again. ‘You’re mine now Princess, all mine! Mine to care for, mine to love, mine to fuck! Isn’t that right?’

‘Yes! Yes Aemond! All yours! Please, please never stop! Oh Fuck!’

‘No need to beg Baby.’ Tears were now leaking down her cheeks and he knew he had her just where he wanted her. He could get her to agree to anything he’d like. He felt her cunt tighten around him and watched her eyes roll up as she came around his cock, squeezing so good he could make a case for why this wasn’t Earth anymore but Heaven that they were tethered to. His thumb found her clit as he sat back, thrusting into her at a rapid pace and feeling his end approaching quickly, throwing her into another orgasm before allowing himself to finish, burying his cock inside of her as deeply as he could and filling her up. ‘That’s it. Good Girl, taking all of me so good. I’m gonna take you home, back to where you belong with our family. No more school you don’t want to be in, no more grandparents you despise, just you and me and all of the babies that I’m going to fill this body with. How does that sound?’ Y/n’s responding moan was answer enough for him, whether it was meant to be or not. ‘All mine now Princess…all mine.’

Aemond T. Masterlist

Stalker Aemond Moodboard

[ashipiko]

—ATLAN TREIN

All information on Atlan Trein ATM! Will most likely be updated ☆

—MORE UNDER CUT

BASIC INFORMATION:

Class: 2-A

Birthday: February 12th

Height: 179cm

Dominant Hand: Right

From: Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands

Club: None

Favorite Subject: Music

Best Subject: History of Magic

Likes: Making friends

Dislikes: Being called “Mommy’s Boy”

Favorite Food: Bread

Least Favorite Food: Pumpkin

Speciality: Getting people interested in drama

GALLERY:

VOICE CLAIM:

CALLING HOME…

— Pomefiore Dorms - Atlan’s Room —

[VOICEMAIL BEGIN]

…Moooom, I know it’s kind of late, so I’m sending in a voicemail, but— You can listen to this in the morning while you get ready, right?

I know it’s only the first day of this school year but please, can you just give me permission to go home or something?!

I don’t wanna be here anymore! Just take me back home! I’m not learning anything new at this school. Sure, the drama and gossip is kind of interesting, but, ugh, it gets old really fast.

—N-Not that I’m the one spreading it around. Of course not! You could never expect that from your beloved son.

Uncle is already starting to freak me out, though. I swear whenever I looked up from my desk during history, either he or Lucius would be staring straight at me. He didn’t call you before me, right? Don’t tell me he did! I promise, I haven’t done anything—!

Ugh, not to mention, it’s just as hard to provide for myself as last year… I honestly think the lack of roommates is more of a con than anything. It makes it even harder to talk to people, tch.

…Like, I get that you want me to learn how to survive on my own, but seriously…? I don’t think being surrounded by all of these… what’s a word that’s not pleb but similar… Ah. Idiotic peers, is the right way to go about it.

Oh! I almost forgot the most important part about today. At the welcoming ceremony, there was a huge and giant fiasco. Apparently some person not from here crashed the ceremony. And no, not not from here as in Sage’s Island, I mean Twisted Wonderland! Isn’t that crazy? It would be funny if it was through time travel, hahaha!

They seemed quite out of it. Lost for words and confused. I think they even got caught on fire. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I think I even heard house warden Vil critique them!

Ah— Sorry if that was a lot. You take a long while to apply your makeup anyways, right? It’s just that I don’t really have anyone here to talk to about this, and I’m quite bad at small talk, so…

You know.

…Well then. I love you. I hope I see you soon. And consider my request—!

Goodnight.

[VOICEMAIL END]

.

.

.

TRIVIA:

Atlan is twisted off of Anastasia from Cinderella!

Despite this, he isn’t Trein’s son. He’s his nephew. I figured it would be a little funnier this way.

Atlan isn’t exactly liked at NRC. To say the least, his entire personality is that he talks about other people. That’s it. Not in a praising way either— He’ll talk about whatever things he’s heard around. Hence, his ear for gossip.

His tie to Yuu would most likely stem from Yuu hearing that someone had been talking about them in a gossipy way, and therefore finding out who it was (because Yuu protection squad is a very real and scary thing). Either that or tracking him down because they think he might have information.

Atlan’s reasoning behind all his talk being rumors and topics about other people is because he’s not very good at socializing himself. He grew up a little sheltered with a bratty older sister who he’d always fight with. Lots of screaming and the such. Both of the siblings ended up being a little spoiled, and with some unbearable personalities, resulting in people not really wanting to become their friends.

The rest of his family didn’t seem to mind the fact that they weren’t as liked as others, but Atlan always sort of wanted to find out a way to reach out. To have friends and see what the normal person’s life would be. However, due to the lack of support, every time he attempted to reach for his goal, it would end up in failure. Nobody to correct his behavior, and nobody who would try to help him understand himself.

His mother, noticing this behavior of his, decided that the best course of action would to be to send him off by himself to a school filled to the brim with other people his age, who he could learn to interact with— Night Raven College.

But you would guess, something like that doesn’t go well for a boy who depended on his mother and her money for comfort.

Like a fish on land, Atlan tries his best to be open and talk to people, but upon becoming independent, he realizes that he doesn’t really have much going for him. And as people got to know him, he felt as if they were right— He’s nothing but a person who trash talks people and brags about his money.

He cracks under pressure easily when the atmosphere is awkward, and has no idea how to go about small talk. Atlan isn’t the best person to tell your secrets to, as he’ll probably end up using it as a conversation starter.

Atlan has an oresama air to him, but he really just wants to be part of the crowd rather than someone alienated for something he doesn’t know how to navigate. Maybe one day he’ll find the right crowd to surround himself with. A helping hand to guide him. But for now, he’s stuck, enrolled in NRC under his mother’s word.

More to be added!

[yanderelovebites]

More isekai batsis because I love it so much.

So mine in particular doesn’t go by Y/n to the bat family since it is an isekai but when she’s by herself she will refer to herself as Y/n. Her Isekai name is Illia Birdges-Wayne.

I didn’t go too deep into the details of Damian’s obsession yet, just vague stuff so that’s what this post more or less is.

I’d like to say that Damian has a somewhat emotional-incest connection to her. He will not get physical as he’s been raised better, but there are signs-blatant signs I’ll add, that if they were not half-siblings he’d try. Once it’s obvious to Damian she understands he legitimately cares for her as I do feel Damian could tell her walls were still up, he’d be over the moon in his own lack of enthusiasm way.

When Damian and her start going to school together, it’s definitely more clear as well. Damian deals with her ‘friends’ at first to be close to her. He doesn’t like them and batsis isn’t truly friends with these ‘friends’ either. Their use is to keep her social standing up and Damian can see it.

While in a lot of fanfics Damian would egg the others on, as do they in turn, I don’t think Damian would exactly agree with any academic manipulation. If anything Damian thinks it’s the stupidest thing in the world because he doesn’t see it as just affecting her. As I’ve mentioned, he sees her friends as to keep a social standing. He sees them not as her friends, but pawns. As far as he’s concerned, her pawns are his too. So it legitimately upsets the little dude. I can just see the family trying to fuck with it and Tim back tracks because Damian put a venomous snake in his computer chair. They fuck off when it came to school after that because who wants to fuck with that.

Also this attempt would be without Bruce’s knowledge. He actually shuts Tim and Dick down on these attempts. Also scolds Damian in his perspective but it literally does nothing in regards of convincing him that his sister’s friends aren’t pawns.

He would tell his mom about her too. He won’t shut up, to the point she jokes about it sounding like he’s telling her his crush rather than a sister, but Damian disregards that statement.

If they were older, Damian is the brother who scared off any boyfriends since he’s always with her in public. If she somehow snuck it behind his back yes he’d be upset, but he would take it out on the partner. Now, Damian doesn’t worship her—even if he sometimes comes off like that.

These two would at some point using Arabic, Japanese, Korean, Irish and mandarin would make a code language that no one else in the house understands. At first Bruce thought it was just Arabic so he learns it and realizes it’s not just Arabic. So he figured out some of it is Japanese and mandarin, but can’t figure out what the other two are. It’s also the fact the two learned all of these, of course some they already knew, just so no one else could understand what the hell they were saying.

And just as he doesn’t want anyone dating her, he also gets offended when guys don’t won’t to. It’s even worse if they have an actual reason that doesn’t involve him. How dare they claim you’re too skinny? Too fat? The list could go on.

I can also imagine once Damian and her are comfortable enough, Damian would help “Illia” train in the martial arts she’s taking since Damian would have been trained in them from a far younger age. One day they come to dinner with bruises and gives everyone a panic attack and they’re like “What’s wrong? Damian was helping me train.” Followed by Damian complimenting an improvement but then going straight into what she needs to improve next.

He’s so damn attached. Sure he cares for the rest of the bat family but she has a different place in his life than them. They’re the people who mentor him, they’re the people he fights crime with—she is who he can go to and just be his age for damn once. They can only teach him how to be a Robin, her? She shows him what a Wayne is. There’s a difference whether they’d like to see it or not.

Next person I’ll get into (and how their obsession evolves) is Bruce. This is in order of who gets obsessive first to last btw.