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sjyuns · 8 months

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WAY BACK HOME ┆ A SIM JAEYUN ONESHOT

BREAKING NEWS! the friendly neighbourhood superhero spider-man has been caught trying to swing into a girl’s heart — but why is he failing miserably?! is this the spider-man we all know and love? or has our hero lost his spark?

or in which sim jaeyun asks you, his best friend out, forgetting that he was still in his spider-man suit.

GENRE! best friends to lovers, mutual pining, extremely groundbreaking embarrassing pick up lines, my missed hit at being a comdeian, jaeyun being jaeyun ( ie a hot loser ),

CAUTION! idiots in love, two timing ( but they’re the same person ), kissing, love, mentions of weapons and fighting crime, bad pickup lines, embarrassment for sim jaeyun, both reader and jaeyun are nineteen in this fic

WORDCOUNT! 5100

MIKAELA’S! hey everyone, this is the first ever oneshot i’m posting on my shiny new blog! please feel free to leave feedback through reblogs or asks! hope you enjoy jake embarrassing the soul out of himself🫶 i love sim jaeyun so much ( too much it’s embarrassing tbh ) this is the last of my old drafts, sorry for the spam!

playlist ⟡ way back home — shaun ⟡ forever only — jaehyun ⟡ pov — ariana grande ⟡ daylight — taylor swift

i. with great power comes a platter of hot embarrassment

“With great power comes great responsibility,” is what Spider-Man once said in an interview with The Daily Times, the most widely read newspaper company in all of Seoul.

It’s so out of character of Sim Jaeyun that he himself wonders what exactly went through his mind at that given time to blurt out such a philosophical quote — especially when he was having the bad urge to take a piss at that very moment.

But whatever it was: he needs it to return now, because he’s standing in front of you, his best friend, and he thinks that now's the chance; to finally ask you out after saving you.

Unfortunately Sim Jaeyun is out of luck, like he always is with you, because nothing but five utterly embarrassing words come out of his mouth.

“You tingle my spidey senses.”

You choke back a laugh as you stare at the masked superhero, amused at his sudden pick-me-up. “Are you rizzing me up, mister friendly neighbourhood hero?”

It seems like too much thinking has altered the already broken thought process in Sim Jaeyun’s brain, because it is only now that he registers that he’s still in his Spider-Man suit, and you don’t have a single clue that he’s Spider-Man.

“Uh, I mean-” but he’s cut off by the roaring cheer of the gathered public, who have their phones out and recording.

“Don’t back down, Spider-Man,” a citizen calls out, and Jaeyun thinks it’s far too late to back out now, because not only will it crush his ego, you might think Spider-Man isn’t as cool as he seemed to be.

“Would you let me swing into your heart- I mean, could we” he pauses, “could we hang out sometime?”

You smile, and it makes Jaeyun frown slightly under his mask, because he knows that smile — it’s the polite one, the one you use in a slightly uncomfortable situation, as if you didn’t want to embarrass the popular superhero standing in front of you at the moment.

“Sure,” you grin, pearly whites on display, “could I bring my best friend Jaeyun though? He’s a big fan.” It’s him, he thinks, he’s the Jaeyun you’re talking about. And his heart skips a beat at your thoughtful action.

“Okay! Tomorrow, here, five in the evening,” he says in excitement without a second thought. You’ve just agreed to go out on a date with him, and he’s too drunk in love to think about how he’s going to meet you as Spider-Man without telling you his identity.

He shoots a web up and swings after shouting an elated “see you, yn,” in the air. All too caught up in you to realise the three critical mistakes he’d made.

ONE. He never asked for your name as Spider-Man

TWO. There’s no way he could ever go on a date with his suit on in public

THREE. How in the fucking world is he going to a date with you as both Spider-Man and Sim Jaeyun?

Sim Jaeyun spends the whole night twisting and turning in his bed, mind in a flurry as he tries to think of the smartest way to solve these problems.

And it doesn’t help him when his phone pings with a new message from you.

Guess who just bagged us a hang out with Spider-Man tomorrow!

Don’t wear that Spider-Man suit or I swear to god I will not bring you to see him.

He sighs as he presses hard on the power button of his phone, staring blanking at the black screen. Fuck power or responsibility, he thinks, all he wants is his best friend’s heart, is that too much to ask for?

ii. man up, spidey-boy!

“BREAKING NEWS! Spider-Man spotted trying to swing into a girl’s — who supposedly goes by the name yn, heart. And after failing miserably at the first try, he succeeded on the second. Spidey may be a hero who saves lives, but it seems like he might have to take up what youngster’s call ‘rizz’ classes.”

The wide billboard screen casts a video taken by a bystander as the announcer's voice blared into the main junction of the city.

Jaeyun groans as he hangs his head low, adjusting the baseball cap perched on top of his head to cover his face. Not like anyone knew he was Spider-Man, no, but it was just far too embarrassing for him.

He hears you before he sees you, your voice is illegally sweet as it causes a smile to appear on his face amidst all of the stress. “Jaeyun!” You call, “you’re unusually late,” and Jaeyun groans, blaming it on the lack of sleep he had gotten last night, “Spider-Man isn’t here yet.”

Right, Spider-Man. Jaeyun still hasn’t found a solution to that.

His suit is tucked safely in the bottom of his bag, just in case. But for now, Jaeyun thinks it’s a better decision to disappoint you as Spider-Man instead of as your best friend. Besides, he hasn’t missed a single hang out session with you, and he isn’t ever planning to.

“Do you think he’s actually going to come?” You ask, head tilting in question and eyes soft, and Jaeyun wonders if he actually underestimated how much you liked Spider-Man, misunderstood that seemingly polite smile you gave him yesterday — should he have came as Spider-Man instead?

“Uhm,” he pauses, hesitant to squash your expectations, “how about we go first? I’m sure Spider-Man will swing by, it seems like he likes you a lot.” And even though he was talking about himself, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy bubbling in him at the thought of another boy liking you.

“Right,” you say, giving him a smile that makes his heart melt, “I guess it’s just us, like it always is.” Your fingers wrap around his, “I like it like this.” You mutter softly, yet in the buzz of the city square, Jaeyun catches the whisper of your voice, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“Plus, if I ever need, you can be my Spider-Man — whip out that fake suit of yours. You have his physique anyway, and your pick up lines are just as idiotic as his. Maybe even more idiotic.”

Jaeyun lets out a loud laugh, one that’s of melodious dreams, and it causes a few pedestrians to stare but he doesn’t care, not when you’re next to him, asking him to be your very own Spider-Man. And he agrees immediately, all too ready to put on the ‘fake’ red and blue suit just for you.

He’s a little amused that you still believe that he’s a hardcore fan of Spider-Man, because the only time you’ve caught him wearing that very suit was two years ago, when you coincidentally entered his room to see him in a Spider-Man suit without a mask.

And he still remembers your accusations of him being a fanboy, asking him if dressing up as his idol was what he did in his free time. Jaeyun was way too flustered to even explain himself, and letting you know that he was the real Spider-Man never even crossed his mind as he bashfully nodded to your words.

But it wasn’t like you ever laughed at him about it, though you did tease him. You would still buy him different types of Spider-Man merchandise, ranging from Spider-Man socks to a custom Spider-Man mug with the words ‘Spider-Man loves Jaeyun’ in bold red.

With every gift given, came an opportunity to reveal his identity. Yet Sim Jaeyun never seizes it, he refuses to, because he finds it so endearing — the way you have the proudest smile on your face as you give him merchandise of himself that he has never seen before, the way you send him a picture of every single Spider-Man related thing you see on the streets.

“Right,” he nods as he gazes adoringly at you, “forget the real Spider-Man, I’ll swing into your heart.” And the giggle you let out once again makes his knees weak — he thinks the smile plastered on your face is much more genuine than the one he saw yesterday.

And he wants to kiss you so bad, tell you exactly how much he likes you, loves you. This familiar feeling that has settled comfortably at the bottom of his heart and back of his mind for the past four years, has only grown and never dwindled. It was times like this, where he didn’t feel the burden of having to be alert about ongoing crime.

Only with you can he feel like Sim Jaeyun — a lovesick nineteen year old and not Spider-Man, the hero of Seoul.

“Jaeyun, what do you want to do first?” You ask, pulling him through the blaring fun of the amusement park. He hums, following behind your excited figure, letting you choose what you wanted to do. “Oh my god, look it’s a Spider-Man toy.”

You halt in your step and immediately turn towards him, eyes sparkling. “Do you want it Jaeyun? I’ll get it for you. Just so you aren’t too sad that Spider-Man ghosted us today.”

He scoffs, as he examines the booth. It’s a shooting game, and he knows that you suck at shooting. “You sure, love? From what I remember, you aren’t too good at shooting games,” he brings up and you shoot him a sharp glare before pestering him to pay the vendor.

You end up blaming your best friend for jinxing you, “Yun, if you never said that, I could have shot them all down,” you complain, eyes morphing into slits as you pinpoint the blame on him. Jaeyun raises his two hands in innocence, face displaying an expression of shock, “I didn’t even say anything wrong, plus you barely hit one out of five balloons.”

You groan, shushing him in embarrassment, “If you’re such a professional, win it for me then,” you challenge him. Jaeyun shrugs, it’ll be easy — all those years of shooting webs has made him extremely sharp, so he manages to shoot all the five balloons without any effort, snagging the coveted Spider-Man doll.

“You sure you don’t want it, Yun?” you question, “add it to your collection as a fanboy.” He shakes his head, handing you the plush toy, “I won it for you. Plus, I like the ones you gave me more.”

It overwhelms you, the stark sincerity in his voice. And you feel the sudden need to kiss him, not like you’ve never thought of it before (more like you’ve thought about it too much), because Sim Jaeyun with his bright personality and handsome face is far too good to be real.

But you can’t bring yourself to be that direct, so you settle for a kiss on the cheek. A quick movement and a short peck before you let out a loud giggle, walking over to the next booth with a stupid smile plastered on your face, leaving Jaeyun in shock and awe — eyes wide and mouth agape before he bites back a smile.

He thinks it’s too hard to conceal his feelings any longer; that he has to tell you soon, next week, tomorrow, or maybe even now. And he feels the three words, eight letters, at the tip of his tongue.

As always, though, he swallows them back down, throat dry as he stares at you. The fear of rejection far too intense for him to handle.

How ironic, that Sim Jaeyun could fight criminals with equipped daggers that could kill him in one swift motion, yet he could not say three simple words to a girl who has pierced his heart and filled his stomach with butterflies.

iii. in a sticky predicament

“Now on to our very own Spider-Man’s upcoming love story that seems to be wilting by the looks of it — Spidey, in fact, did not show up to his date with yn, who was seen with another boy at the amusement park. Our very own hero is facing multiple accusations that he may be, like his representative colour, a red flag. However, a minority of fans have brought up a speculation; that the boy we call Spider-Man, might be the very boy accompanying yn yesterday unmasked. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Don’t you think that’s insane Jaeyun?” you laugh, throwing your head back into the soft pillow on his bed, “they think you’re Spider-Man.”

“Right,” he trails on, arms crossed as he leans on the doorframe, “that’s so impossible.”

His laugh awkward as his fingers find themselves combing through his hair for the nth time. And you turn your head, looking at him with suspicion. Right, that’d be crazy, insane maybe, you think, because Sim Jaeyun was well — him. He’s slightly awkward, likes physics, and hell he’s scared of bugs, so it’ll be mind blowing if he ever was the real Spider-Man.

But impossible, you think, might not be true. And you sit up on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on him. Same physique, similar height, he’s athletic, and he shoots well. Plus, from your ever so short encounter with Spider-Man saving you from getting your wallet stolen, Spider-Man is just as awkward as your best friend.

Could he really be Spider-Man? But he’s a fan of Spider-Man, wouldn’t it be weird if he was such a big fan of himself. Still, you couldn’t rule out the possibility.

“Jump,” you instruct, “hang upside down on the walls.” Jake is shocked, as his heart accelerates in nervousness at the thought of being found out.

“Don’t be weird,” he groans, trying to keep calm, “that’s literally humanly impossible.” His mind racing, finding a way to get out of this sticky situation, because as much as he wants to tell you his identity, the last way he wanted you to find out was through the internet. Also, maybe because you looked slightly angry, with your eyebrows furrowed and hands on your head, and Jaeyun didn’t want you to be mad at him.

You were deep in thought, was that why Spider-Man didn’t show up yesterday — because he is actually Sim Jaeyun, and he couldn’t be there as two different people.

That might be a stretch, but it isn’t an impossible scenario. You tilt your head, quickly grabbing the pillow you were just lying on, throwing it at him, “catch.”

He catches it easily, with one hand even, as his face contorts into an expression of surprise. “Don’t scare me like that, love,” he says. But you’re too flabbergasted at the fast reflexes of your best friend to even comprehend his complaint.

“You could really give Spider-Man a run for his money, you know?” you chuckle, as you tell yourself that no matter how much it might fit, it’s probably just a coincidence, “put on that suit of yours and fight crime.” It was all a coincidence, right?

“What if I’m scared of getting hurt,” he pouts, and you snort. With Sim Jaeyun’s level of cowardice, there’s no way he could ever be out there fighting.

“Then I’ll protect you,” you say, “I’ll be your sidekick, all you have to do is stand there and look pretty.”

He grins, walking over to stand in front of you; hands moving to ruffle your hair. “Okay love, you lead, I’ll follow.”

iv. tell him to grow a pair

Your newfound popularity brings you more drawbacks than benefits — by that you mean the sudden fury of boys approaching you to ask for your number. It annoys Jaeyun more than it does you, as your best friend flaunts a new irritated look that you’ve rarely seen.

“That’s the sixth fucking boy,” he grumbles, eyes rolling before he glares at the fleeting figure of Lee Heeseung, the boy who just asked you for your number, the boy who Jaeyun lashed out at.

“Be kind, Yun,” you chuckle, amused at your best friend’s sudden grumpiness, “I mean, I’ve never lashed out at any of the girl’s who ask you out.”

“No one has asked me out.” he groans, “are you flaunting right now?”

“Yes I am,” you reply, “don’t worry Jaeyun, you’ll always be my loser.”

He lets out a loud exaggerated sigh as he rolls his eyes, leaning against the locker as he grits his teeth in exasperation.

You wonder why no girl has ever hit Sim Jaeyun up. Granted, he wasn’t the best looking guy back in middle school with his choice of brightly coloured clothes that blinded eyes, but you think that was part of the appeal — how awkwardly adorable he was. Now, with his upgraded fashion style and bubbly personality, it’s a miracle no one has tried their shot at bagging him. Not that you wanted anyone to.

Sim Jaeyun is yours, just as much as you are his.

And he thinks the exact same. Despite what you think, he has had a girl approach him, professing his love only to get turned down by his puppy-like smile and his confession that he liked you.

Though his body exudes jealousy, there's a slight bit of relief at the fact that you turned all six of the boys down, telling them that you had a crush on someone else. He hopes, prays, begs that the person you think about is him. He furiously looks for a sign, because he’s tired of all this, and he needs a sign from you before he can courageously make the first move.

After school, the both of you walk down the buzzing streets with carts of street food lined up along the roadside. Your fingers bunching the fabric of Jaeyun’s shirt as he navigates the both of you through the crowded streets, making a beeline for his favourite churros shop.

“I told you the queue would be long, it’s Friday night,” you whine, mentally counting the number of people in front of you. Fifteen, that’ll take a while. “We should have just ordered in pizza and binge on Netflix shows.”

“Fine, we can eat churros another day,” Jaeyun pouts and you curse yourself for saying that even when you knew he wanted to eat churros.

“It’s fine, we can stay, since we’re already here.” You stop him, pulling him back beside you in the queue, “but you can’t leave to do something else like last time, you have to wait with me.”

The glow on his face coupled with the adorable smile on his lips makes you stare in awe. And you think Sim Jaeyun is so pretty and handsome all at once it’s a crime to look as good as him. His lips, god, they look so kissable and soft, you wish you could kiss them at any given time — now, tomorrow, forever.

But the moment doesn’t last long, as faint screams and shouts travel from a small corner shop down the road. “Thief, there’s a thief on the run.”

You watch as Jaeyun’s eyes widen, body in a sudden scramble, “uhm, I’m gonna go to the toilet for a moment,” he says amidst the whispers of the crowd, “stomach ache, you know.” Running off before you can give him a reply, brushing past people hurriedly into a random narrow street.

You shrug it off again because it isn’t the first time Jaeyun has acted out of character. However, you can’t help but realise it was always when there was crime.

The questions and suspicions floating around your head for the past week resurface as you focus on the narrow street your best friend had disappeared into.

Oh my god.

You blink profusely, pinch yourself, and rub your eyes because this is mind blowing information. You can’t seem to believe an ounce of what your eyes have just seen. Was that Spider-Man who just swung out of the very same alleyway?

Sim Jaeyun is Spider-Man. And your conclusion only seems to solidify as you hear the muffled voice coming out of his masked persona.

“Oops, sorry,” and a careless swing as he tries his best to manoeuvre through the crowd, accidentally knocking over a little girl’s ice cream cone, “I'm sorry, please don’t cry.”

Yup, that’s Jaeyun. His voice now so familiar you hit yourself in the head for not realising sooner. And his utterly helpless tone as he tries to soothe the little girl — you could recognise it from a mile away.

“I’ll get you a new one, I’m sorry,” he shouts as he spins his web and shoots again, lamppost to windows to signboards before effortlessly catching up with the thief; who was now bound to the wall by web.

“Sorry,” he groans for the fourth time in a matter of minutes, “it’s my job — i mean, not that you deserve to get away no, i just-” he rambles and you giggle at his comment. Seems like Sim Jaeyun will never change, even as a superhero or as your best friend.

“I meant to say, justice has been served,” he nods, seemingly proud of his awkward catchphrase that you were sure he stole from the superhero movie you watched with him a few weeks back. “I have to get back now, someone awaits me you know - i mean, no- I’m not supposed to give details of my personal life. I’ll just- stop talking… yeah.”

And you watch again as he swings back down the street. With his identity revealed, you can’t help but look up to Jaeyun even more now — a top student and a superhero? How unfair the world is. How lucky you were to have him as your best friend.

“Hey! Aren’t you yn? Spider-Man, is that your girl?” You shrink, head down as you fix your gaze on the floor immediately, cheeks a rosy red. God, you think, this is a little embarrassing.

You feel his presence before you see his shadow morphing with yours on the floor, “hey yn,” and you look up to see the superhero, who’s panting ever so slightly, stand in front of you in his glory. “Sorry about last week, I was well busy, and I know it isn’t any-”

“It’s fine,” you stop him from blabbering, a toothy grin plastered on your face. And Jaeyun feels proud, maybe him saving someone has put Spider-Man back into your good graces, maybe he has a chance with you as Spider-Man.

“I had fun with my crush at the amusement park. Actually, thank you for the opportunity, I kissed his cheek for the first time and it felt like heaven.”

He pauses, and Jaeyun wants to rip off his mask at the very moment to kiss you. You liked him back, fuck, you actually liked him back.

“Ah,” he says after a while of tense silence, his hands rubbing the nape of his neck, “that’s amazing. So- do you… I mean- so you’re like, in love with him? Wait love might be a little uhm-”

“Yeah, I’m in love with him.”

Time stops as your eyes pierce into his, and he can swear at this moment that you knew exactly who he was. He thinks it’s over, and he can finally ask you to be his — because he’s hellbent on loving you, for the past four years he has been.

“Seems like this crush of yours needs to step up his game, or I might just steal you away,” he remarks lightheartedly, uncaring of the sea of cameras pointing towards the both of you.

“Yeah, it seems like he does. Maybe you should visit him one day, tell him that it’s about time to man up, or I’ll be the one asking for his hand.” You shoot a knowing glance at him, a confident smirk on your face.

Jaeyun chuckles, “right, I’ll be sure to tell him that, wouldn’t want him to lose such a special girl.”

“Thanks Spidey, I wonder what I’d ever do without you,” you laugh, patting his suited shoulder before he once again swings away into the narrow alleyway, only to appear minutes later donned in his usual faded ripped jeans and white shirt, hair tousled and smile wide as he runs back to you.

And he’s before you all again, this time as your best friend and you swoon as his adoring eyes and elated smile. “You okay?” You ask, hand raising to fix his hair.

“I couldn’t be better.”

v. Batman vs Spider-Man, a battle of the mans

“Spider-Man should now change his name into wing man as he is spotted once again, engaging in conversation with the very same yn from last week. Spider-Man was not only ruthlessly dumped by her, but was also asked to quote on quote visit her crush to ask him to grow a pair. Seems like she is off the market for our poor lonely superhero, who can’t seem to catch anyone except for criminals. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Seems like you can’t catch a break, huh Yun?” You point out as you switch the television off, “not only defamed into a wing man but also asked to grow a pair.”

And it seems like he really can’t because ever since you confronted him about being Spider-Man, his days have been filled with even more ruthless teasing, and weird questions.

“How do you even piss as Spider-Man?”

“Can I swing from building to building?”

“Can you hang upside down for ten minutes?”

“How do you think you would fare against Batman in a fight?”

But there’s one unasked question still hanging in the air. And Jaeyun really wants to address it, but it seems like you’ve lost your confidence by the way the flesh of your cheeks heats an angry red at any slight hint of him being your crush — or as Jaeyun would like to call himself; your soon to be boyfriend.

“I’ve grown a pair,” he says, shifting towards you, eyes trained on yours, “seems like someone has lost a pair.”

“Have not” you argue, lies — you could barely look at Jaeyun now without a lovesick smile on your face. Neither could you muster up the courage to ask him to be your boyfriend. “And if you ever grew a pair, you would have asked.”

“Ask what?” He teases, face moving closer to yours. He looks too good, godly almost, with his black rimmed glasses perched at the bridge of his nose.

You pout, furrowing your eyebrows as you place a light slap on the middle of his chest. And he lets out a low chuckle, the vibrant sun rays flush through the sheer day curtains of Jaeyun’s room, a natural spotlight glowing on the both of you.

“Fine,” he whispers, and you can feel his breath on your lips, it’s warm and inviting and you feel yourself leaning into him. “Will you be my girlfriend, love?”

You barely nod your head before he attaches his lips on yours. And you think you’re going to be obsessed with Sim Jaeyun — your fingers find their way through his hair and he sighs. It’s like he’s imprinted in your heart and you want to kiss him again and again and again.

Sim Jaeyun with pretty eyes, pretty lips, a pretty face, a pretty being, breaks the kiss only to kiss you again and again as you wish.

“Did I swing into your heart, love?” He smirks as you playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “Are we not going to bring up the time when you fell after showing me your web skills?”

He tackles you down and you giggle, “I can fall from the sky, I can fall from a tree, but the best way to fall is to fall in love with you.” He grins idiotically before racing out the door as you cringe at yet another bad pick up line from him.

“Sim Jaeyun, are you kidding me? I wonder how you even make up quotes like ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ with that mind of yours.”

“What mind? You mean my mind — the place where you always are?”

You groan in fake disgust as you watch your boyfriend (boyfriend!) smile proudly at his idiotic pick up lines. The both of you drinking sunlight as if it’s love — where he’s all yours and you’re all his.

uncut. confessions i can’t make ( a crumpled confession letter written by a sixteen year old sim jaeyun )

hi dear yn,

i like you. it’s been a while since you took my breath away we first met. this is my first time ever writing a confession so i don’t really know what to say write… i guess it’s like writing physics notes so maybe it wouldn’t be too hard i hope

chapter one part one : what i like about you

i like the way you smile laugh, how your eyes turn into the tiniest of crescents, it makes me proud of the jokes i crack (that physics joke was good was it not). i like the feeling i have around you — it’s warm and fuzzy, natural — talking everyday without any forceful conversation, laughs or attention.

part two : why you should like me

i think you should like me because i like you. i think you should like me because i’m smart! i can help you with physics and maths. i don’t really know what else i can give you but i’ll try my best to make you smile everyday.

will you be my girlfriend? Oh god, this is so weird i actually like you a lot and

(a bunch of scribbling)

forget it. you’ll never like me back.

dear mister sim jaeyun,

after three hours of fighting for my life, i have finally gotten my hands on the most treasured item of the year, a sixteen year old you’s crumpled confession letter to me. and since you wrote it in a physics notes style like a loser, as your girlfriend i have no choice but to follow you (so that you don’t feel lonely)

one. what i like about you

everything. i like your hair, i like your face. I like the way you say sorry to every single person in the neighbourhood while courageously saving them. i like your pick up lines on some days and how you have the guts to challenge Batman to a fight when i proclaim him as my favourite hero. i like the way you laugh and i like the way you smile. i am especially enchanted by your kicked puppy ways and easily manipulated demeanour where i can always get what i want without question.

two. why you should like me

i’m your girlfriend and you’re my girlfriend. (you are my girlfriend) you should stop staring at me with those eyes, it gives me the ick (i meant that in a ‘whatever you say pretty boy’ kind of way) you should like me because i am the person who likes you the most. (i love you so much)

will i be your girlfriend? obviously i will, i mean who can say no to you.

love you babe,

spider-man’s (your) hot sidekick

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 1 year

Text

I'm obsessive over my Constantine Jr Au (which still needs a fic name for, I'm open to suggestions) because

this is a cranky danny. he's spent years fighting with no end in sight, with parents who he can't trust and his only companions never truly understanding what he's going through.

he vapes CBD for the pain he's constantly in. he drank alco/hol once to help him sleep, but his parents smelt it on his breath and, just like with their research, took that to believe EVERYTHING they'd ever suspected about danny to be true: that he drinks, he does dru/gs, he's in a gang. the only thing they've never suspected their son of--being a ghost--is the one thing he actually does.

then, right on the cusp of eighteen and freedom, he gets outed. AND transformed into a seven-year-old.

this is not a danny who is willing to play at being a child. and if anyone tries to, they're in for a foul time.

Danny was 17, transformed into a 7 year old and hides in Bludhaven, and is 8 when the police finally figure out that, hey, this weird kid who keeps altering us to crime scenes is usually right on the money about who the killer is, we should investigate that. Officer Grayson is on the case!

And discovers that he absolutely can't STAND this kid.

He thought he liked kids! Everyone thought he liked kids! but this kid...

This isn't called the Constantine Jr AU because Danny is a supernatural detective, or because Danny might be Constantine's kid. Its because Danny is an unrepentant little bas/tard and he makes it everyone's problem.

Danny vapes and blows bubblegum smoke in Grayson's face.

He takes out a flask and Grayson's grabs it, learning its full of orange juice. Danny then takes out a second flask, this one with vod/ka.

He wears a trenchcoat he found in the trash (the same trenchcoat Nightwing wears in DC vs Vampires, if you know you know) but the end and the sleeves are cut off for his hands and legs. the pockets are roughly around his knees.

Grayson is desperate to figure out more about this kid, but he doesn't go to batman because, time-line wise, this is right before red hood starts running around. Jason is dead/alive-in-hiding, Tim is Robin, and Dick is mad about it. (ages-- Bruce: ? Nightwing: 24 Jason: 19 Tim: 15 Danny: 8 Damien: 7-8)

he doesn't really bond with the kid until they're both kidnapped by a gang for hostages, and Danny's big kid emotions get a hold of him (he thought he could escape them bc he's an adult, he's gone through worse, but nope! child brain chemistry). Grayson is worried that he's hurt and in pain, but Danny confesses that he's always in pain. he has nerve damage all over his body, and the only thing he really trusts is CBD. He feels like shit for taking his juul away, but more importantly, because he's been treating Danny like a irritant and just a little kid.

they get rescued and Grayson tries to take him back to his home, but Danny reveals he's homeless, saying something like "I sleep where it suits me, just drop me off whereever."

Absolutely not, Grayson is taking kid back to his place for a bed, food, and a shower, in whatever order the kid wants.

Danny stays semi-perminantly at his apartment, but Nightwing tries not to push it, because this kid practically screams flight risk. unfortunately, the paparazzi have nothing better to do and snap a pick of Grayson and Danny getting dinner together, speculating that Dick's taken after Bruce

Danny doesn't care too much; I think his ghost form is the same, if glitchy, so his parents don't know about the deaging. Grayson is mildly panicking, but its not like he HASN'T been considering adopting the evil troglodyte. Even Bruce, Tim, and Alfred aren't the problem.

No, the problem is the Red Hood, a crime boss who just cut 8 people's heads off, seeing what looks like Nightwing pulling an innocent kid into the neverending fight against crime and Seeing Green.

Edit: Had to censor sh!t because ths wasn't showing up in the tags

#constantine jr au #dp x dc #dc x dp prompt #deaged danny fenton #c: danny fenton #c: dick grayson #c: jason todd #dp crossover #dc crossover #i love the idea of nightwing just HATING danny before getting to know him #because he's still hung up about the Tim problem #but also because danny is just a little sh!t #I really want Jazz to be involved in this story somehow #as nightwing's eventual love interest #but the main point of this story is for dick to break past danny defenses to give him a loving parent again #damien's going to HATE danny in the future #bc danny's smart and grayson HIS batman adopted him and takes him out on cases as civilians #damien clearly is going to try to compete with danny for nightwing's attention and love #despite it not being necessary

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halucynator · 9 months

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Hey babe! Absolutely adore your writing! Do you have any recs?

Thanks! And yes! I'm so glad you asked. There's a lot though so it's gonna be a bit long x

Theodore Nott

@cassiopeiasdaughter : an exceptional writer, their Theodore Nott fics based on midnight songs are the best! Wish them good luck on their uni exams and check out their awesome blog xx

Here are some of my personal favourites from their blog:

August: Theo asks you to be his fake-girlfriend but you understand the assignment a little too well.

Fearless: Based on the song fearless by Taylor Swift.

Maroon: A diary entry written during the War based on the song maroon by Taylor Swift.

Check out their other midnights collection entries!

@avalynlestrange: another great writer! one of the best angst writers on this platform in my opinion x they also write mattheo Riddle fics

These ones are my favourite:

@the0doreslover: in love with their Theo fics!

Foolish one: In which you know you’re being foolish in liking Draco but will you finally learn your lesson? Theodore certainly hopes you do.

In my head: In which Theodore Nott is the man of your dreams. Literally. Who is his?

My favourite one is Cooking class xx

Here are a few Theodore Nott fics from writers who's blogs aren't all about Theo xx

I think he knows: you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

Now, I did some digging and @dreamcubed writes about other hp characters as well based on songs by Taylor Swift! Their work is amazing so go check them out! Sorry for the late mention, I just checked and realised that they have like a blog that revolves around hp characters xx

Electric touch: a cute guy stumbles into the coffee shop you work at and it alters your brain chemistry.

I thought you knew:“i thought you knew?” “you thought i knew we were dating?” “yes!” “how would i know that, nott, you never told me.”

Want you: Based on the following prompts: Why do you always look at me like that?” “Like what?” “Like you… Want me.” and "he doesn't even deserve to be breathing the same air as you"

Butterfly Love: Despite witnessing the death of his mother and being forced to grow under the watch of his Death Eater father, Theodore Nott is living proof that love and care bloom even in the most barren conditions. Maybe, they flourish even more.

Mattheo Riddle

@suugarbabe: their fics are absolutely magnificent. I recommend their saving grace series x the rest parts can be found on their blog x

These are some of my personal favourites:

Always: You & Theo have been best friends since year 1. Everyone things you and Theo are going to end up together but both of you like different people.

Drawings: based on prompts 'i never knew that about you...it's cute' and 'i can't believe I've never seen this side of you before'

Oblivious: contains smut Based on prompts "Are you really so oblivious?" And "Can I kill him now?"

@happilykrispypirate: another fabulous writer! Their mattheo angst fics are like the best x the mistake and don't touch her are my favourite xx

Some of my favourite mattheo fics are listed below x:

Black Quill: You never liked Umbridge, but who did? The woman was miserable and cruel. Her power in the school grew day after day.

Mattheo finds you crying alone: Imagine crying alone in the Astronomy Tower, hoping to escape everyone but Mattheo finds you

Torment : Reader is constantly bullied. Mattheo saves her from the bullies.

Everything and nothing: 1 2: where mattheo brings along a girl none of your group is fond of. Especially you. And the timing of it all is horrible.

Draco Malfoy

@talesofadragon: they have amazing fics and their fluff stories are the best! Check them out for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes fics as well if you're interested xx

These are my favourite Draco fics by them. Their Draco masterlist is here.

Even if it's dark: Summary: Despite being raised in a traditional pureblood household with an overly abusive father, Y/N Y/L/N teaches Draco that light can exist even in the darkest of places.

Mittens: When Draco is in a foul mood and unwilling to disclose his problems, Y/N resorts to her animagus form to get him to talk.

@fallingforfictionalcharacterss: whenever I feel like I'm going to go back to my Draco phase I read their fics! Another really good angst writer x Their fics are so cool and I love them xx some of their fics I love:

Falling: Where you are falling for the one boy who is known to break every girl´s heart.

False friends and true love: Where you get into a fight with your best friend and she reveals your feelings for a certain boy in front of everybody.

Ruin your life: Why would you kiss out of all the people the boy you hate the most in this world?

@dreamingonfilm: another great writer! Their fluff fics are my favorite! These are some I love by them:

Pretending: in which you watch Draco as he falls out of love with you

Cramps: In which Draco takes care of you whilst you’re on your period.

Bruises: 1 2: After years of being bullied by Draco, you finally stand up for yourself. However, you left him with more than a bloodied cheek and a bruised jaw.

Some other fics that I love:

Amortentia: the rest parts can be found on that post. Summary: Pansy forces a secret out of you, and you’re strongly debating which curse/jinx to use on her.

Unforgivable: Where y/n gets poisoned because of draco's behaviour

Taylor Swift

This is random but if you want someone to talk to Taylor Swift about, check out @annaisabookworm. They're super sweet and supportive and their blog is about Taylor Swift xx I love their posts x

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crazyplantkid · 6 months

Text

genre i love: queer sports

examples:

Haikyuu!!

Creator: Haruichi Furudate

Sport: Volleyball

Medium: Manga + Anime

Queer coded to hell and back with no explicit canon. A popular anime that's very engaging. Whenever I watch it I feel like I should get my life together. It's super good, but fanbase can be a lil weird.

Fence

Author: C. S. Pacat

Sport: Fencing

Medium: 5 collated graphic novels + 2 novels

This one changed my life. I discovered it and haven’t been the same since. It’s cute, the two main characters are oblivious wee things, but there is canon representation in the older characters. Almost (if not all) of these characters are Queer As Hell. It’s brilliant. If you like Golden-Retriever-Sunshine-Boy-with-Troubled-Past x Grumpy-Black-Cat-with-Emotionally-Distant-Parents trope, then you’ll love this!

Check, Please!

Author: Ngozi Ukazu

Sport: Ice Hockey

Medium: 2 graphic novels

I saw this in my local public library once, picked it up, and never (emotionally) put it down. These books started my craving for 2D queer sports. This is what put me onto “Fence” in the first place. It’s canon, it’s sweet, the main character is a cutie, what more could you want?

Free!

Creator: Kyoto Animation

Sport: Swimming

Medium: Anime

I’ll be real, I didn’t finish all the seasons of this,,, the first two seasons slay the house down. But I dunno, guess it just didn’t keep my focus. I also don’t think anything gets canonized later,,, so it’s still just hashtag queer coded :( which is not slay.

AFTG

Author: Nora Sacavic

Sport: Exy (??!)

Medium: 3 novels

Now, you might think, “Exy isn’t a real sport” and you would be correct. Nora invented it for the novel. It’s like if the basics of lacrosse met the violence of ice hockey and it was played on a football (soccer) sized field with a balance of genders on the teams. This nonsense altered my brain chemistry, for better or worse, we will never know. However. If you seem intrigued, and want to read, PLEASE google the trigger warnings. Anything you think could possibly be triggering is definitely in this book. If you don’t want to google for fear of spoils, feel free to message me. These books are simultaneously the best and worst things I've ever had the (dis)pleasure of reading. I love them. They’re terribly written. They’re a mastery of metaphors set on a background of college sports with a mafia subplot. It’s like if a crazy fanfic got published. ALSO short king representation. Main man is 5’3, second main man is 5’0. I love this to pieces and I hate it to nothings.

Yuri on ice

Creator: MAAPA

Sport: Ice-skating

Medium: Anime

You know this one. If you don't, it’s not technically canon, but they buy each other (engagement) rings and kiss (sort of) on screen. Slays. Victor Nikiforov has my heart.

SK8 the infinity

Creaotr: Bones

Sport: Skateboarding

Medium: Anime

This one makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside i love it so much. There's angst and love and found family and tragic backstories and funny characters. Not canon though. Hashtag Japan Definitely Doesn’t Have a Homophobia Problem and That’s Definitely Not Why All of The Anime’s on This List Aren’t Canon. Anyways, it’s really cute and I watched t when i was in my own skateboarding era so i loved it so much.

If i remember more, or watch, or read more, I will add them :)

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Text

The Anonymous Annotator (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: ARGUING!! then a heated "kiss me." and suddenly their hands are all over each other

Warning: MDNI, dom!Steven, sub!reader, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, dry humping, cockwarming (if you squint), nipple play

A/N: Ok so I was watching MK again, as one does and I realized I want more of the Steven who talked back to Marc before he and Layla went to explore the tomb, so here is Steven being a little shit, cuz that's hot. Forget everything you know about sweetie Steven, k bye.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You sat in your dorm listening to music when you heard a knock on your door. You jumped up and opened the door, only to find a mysterious package on your doormat. It was wrapped in brown paper and had your name scrawled on it with messy handwriting. You rushed to your bed and pulled the string, tearing open the paper, revealing one of your spicier books that you hid under your bed, making your eyes widen.

You frantically threw yourself off the bed to check under the bed and to your absolute horror, the book wasn't there. You spread your legs in front of you and pulled the book from the top of your bed and flipped to the front page, where the same handwriting blossomed.

“To the one who’s eyes make the stars feel shy.”

You flipped through the pages and found every bit of white space was covered in intricately detailed annotations. Your face heated up and you spent the next few hours reading how the mysterious annotator would alter the events of the books to make it more suitable for you. You gulped at the small smiley faces that would mark the end of the most crude sentences that you had ever laid your eyes on.

“Where would you like my hands, sweet angel? Around your wrists, while I watch your tits bounce around while I thrust myself into you? Around your thighs, when I pin you down as you squirm against my face when my tongue carves my name out in your wetness? Around your neck, to see whether you’d be able to resist the urge to cum around my cock without me even moving a single muscle? :)”

It was seductive, and you were absolutely tantalised by the idea that you had a secret admirer. Suddenly, you can’t think about anything else but sex.

“I wonder if I could fold you over like this, cover you with my spend after I’ve fucked you like a pathetic toy, leaning all of my body weight against you to whisper more things that could cause your pussy to clench around nothing.”

Every word, every phrase that was etched into the pages of the book in pencil burned coarsely against your skin and mind.

“I think the protagonist could totally do better here. I’d love to hear your pretty noises as I devour you whole, to watch you come apart from my touch would be a blessing like no other.”

You feel a warm pulsing somewhere below as you try taking deep breaths, trying to control the urges that rushed through your body. You rub your thighs together and you are suddenly hyper aware of your body’s changes, your skin feeling prickly, your breasts feeling uncomfortably trapped under your bra.

“Hah, rearranging her guts? I’d rearrange your brain chemistry just with my fingers in your sweet tight cunt.”

The warm tingling pulsation of your clit and increasing wetness and builds up from there, to the point of frustration where you have trouble thinking about anything other than your complete desire to be filled by the person who had taken the time to write all of their unrefined and vulgar thoughts on paper.

“I’d let you sit and warm my cock for hours with you reading this over and over, till your eyes get tired and your cunt puls-”

Suddenly, your phone rang and you snapped out of whatever trance you were in, realising that it was your alarm for your class. You shook your head and slammed the book shut, throwing it into your bag, leaping up to leave your dorm.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You chewed your inner cheek as you tried to listen to the lecturer, nervously tapping the table to calm your mind.

“Quit the tapping, dumbass, I can’t focus.” hissed the person beside you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to glare at Steven Grant, third year Egyptology student and your No.1 academic rival. Pity the fact that he was such a pretty boy because he was sometimes just a sarcastic cunt. You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger a little longer at the silhouette of his side profile, your sight grazing down the beautiful curve of his nose and settling on the plump of his lips.

Steven knew you were staring but didn’t say a word. His eyes were trained on the lecturer before him and he was quite positive that the lecturer was going to call you out any second now.

“Is there something more interesting about Mr. Grant’s face?” you heard the lecturer call out to you and you tore your gaze away from Steven and looked horrifyingly at her.

Steven bit his bottom lip and tried not to smirk as you slowly stood up from your seat.

“Uh, no Ms. he, umm,” you tried to speak but your mind was jumbling at the thought of being caught and called out all in one second.

“Sit down! And eyes on the board, young lady, I want your focus here as your grades have been steadily declining.” the lecturer said before turning back to the board.

Your face was flushed and your hands were shaking. You could literally feel the smugness radiating off Steven and you gritted your teeth and stared forward, determined to keep your eyes on the board. For the past few weeks, you had been plagued with the mysterious book annotator and your focus had been slipping. You found yourself searching far and wide for the person’s likeness but you never seemed to catch the person anywhere near you.

Finally the class was dismissed and you quickly gathered all your things and practically sprinted for the exit when you heard your lecturer call your name. You turned to see Steven speaking to your lecturer and sweat beaded at your palms, knowing you were in deep shit today.

“Mr. Grant here has agreed to tutor you, with the promise that you would make proper grades this semester.” your lecturer said and you glared at Steven who had a sweet, innocent smile on his face.

“Your tutoring sessions are whenever Mr. Grant is free and you are to focus, alright?” you hated the way the lecturer was speaking to you but you purse your lips and nodded.

“My place, 8 pm today.” Steven whispered and you grimaced but nodded.

Steven eyed the book that poked out of your bag as you quickly walked away and smirked to himself.

“If she doesn’t have the brains to figure it out herself…”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“No look, that happened before this, you’re getting the timelines mixed up!”

“I’m getting the timelines mixed up? What about you? Did you write this goddamn book, Steven?”

You knew how this was going to go down, you and Steven arguing away about the stupidest misunderstanding. Your pride made it hard to back down as Steven tried teaching you, and you could tell that he was genuinely trying from the way he pulled out his own flashcards to help you. You couldn’t admit defeat, not to Steven Grant. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, pushing your knuckles into your eyes and counting from one to ten before looking up at Steven again.

“Come on, it's not that hard.” Steven tried justifying as he flipped through the cards again.

“It’s fucking difficult Steven, stop sounding so fucking smart.” you groan.

“You’re not that fucking stupid either, I just need you to focus.” Steven chastised you, slightly more gently this time.

“I’d probably focus better if you didn’t make such a hot fucking teacher.” you hissed under your breath as you flipped the page angrily.

“What?” Steven whispered.

“You heard me.” you snapped, glaring at him. “You know, you’d probably teach me better if you stopped giving me those big ‘fuck me’ eyes either. Like what? You want me to kiss you or something?”

You were definitely losing your shit as Steven inhaled a sharp breath of air. Suddenly, everything happened so quickly that you didn’t have the time to register the book being ripped out of your hands and soft plump lips settling against your own. It was a soft kiss at first, testing, unsure, but when you began to move your lips against his, it became more passionate as he pulled you onto his lap without a second thought.

It took you long enough to push past your primal urges to realise that you were kissing Steven Grant. You snapped out of it and pushed him away, only to see his flushed face, swollen lips and half lidded eyes. It switched on something in you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close once again as your lips began another dance with his. His hands were on your hips as he pushed your clothed core against him, groaning into your mouth.

“Fuck, Steven, what’s happening?” you whisper against his forehead as he trailed kisses along your cheek and jaw, making your muscles buzz with anticipation.

“Let it happen, love.” he moaned against your neck as you pressed yourself onto his hardening member again.

Your hands found his soft hair and you pulled him closer as he began to suck softly at the soft skin of your neck. One of his huge hands palmed at your tits through your tank top, twisting at your hardening sensitive bud and you arched your back, whining and leaning towards your source of pleasure.

“Love your pretty noises. Don’t stop.” Steven softly encouraged you as he continued to play with your nipple, your mind racing into overdrive.

There was a familiar throb that bloomed inside of you at Steven’s words as something finally clicked. Steven must have sensed the shift too as he smirked darkly against your neck, instantly biting down so that he could drag you away from saying what you needed to say.

“Bloody hell, unngh, it was you.” you managed to say as Steven pushed you against his hardening erection.

“Mhm.” Steven moaned as he licked a long strip up your neck to your ear, kissing the shell of your ear softly.

Every part of you felt sensitive, all tuned towards Steven. You had the sudden urge to be filled and you rutted yourself over and over against him, as if begging him to know what you actually needed.

“Is it okay if I touch you like this?" His question was spoken lowly, as if he didn’t want to break the fragile veil that was forming over the both of you.

“Yes, please, mngh, why didn’t you tell me sooner…” you whimpered as his hand grabbed your ass, kneading it softly as his fingers dug through your shorts, trying to feel your skin.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” he murmured as his lips met yours again.

You were lost for words as the pages and pages of vulgarity blinded your eyes, making you squeeze them shut as you suddenly feel Steven pick you up. You were now lying on a bed, his bed, staring up at the mysterious annotator who had been plaguing your mind with absolute filth and filling your dreams with sweet wet melodies that cursed you throughout your waking life.

“I bet you know the things I’d like to do to you, my sweet angel.” He said, trailing both of his hands down from your shoulders to the top of your tank top.

“But you’re supposed to be-”

“Sweet Steven Grant who only cares about his studies? Oh please, darling, let me catch a break.” He ripped your tank top with surprising strength, leaving you bare for him.

His darkened iris dragged themselves down your body, painting you with their own poetry that could not be described using words in the English dictionary. He pulled his sweater off himself and you gulped at how defined he looked. This shouldn’t be attractive. You shouldn’t be attracted to your rival. You shouldn’t be attracted to the guy who stole one of your private possessions and spilled all of his blasphemous thoughts on it before slyly returning it.

“Wanted to do this since the first day I laid my eyes on you. Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl until I got ahold of one of your books, love.” He said into your chest and you gasped at his confession, your brain still trying to comprehend everything.

Steven had your head out of your books for weeks and now he had his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard as you cried his name and pushed his head against you. You desperately needed him to quiet your mind with his tongue and you wanted it so bad that you were already shaking under him. His fingers hooked at your waistband and your hands join him there and the both of you slowly pull your shorts off you.

Steven felt up your thighs, telling you how soft you are, how nice and warm your thighs are and how they’re so pretty, whilst burying his her head in your shoulder and neck, lightly panting and nuzzling you. His hand slowly slid to your mound as he started peppering small kisses along your collarbone. His fingers grazed your hardening nub between your legs as you clench your legs together and turned your head to the side. One of his legs wrenched yours open and pinned you down, sliding his fingers through your wet swollen folds, groaning against you.

“Inside Steven” He obeys, pushing one finger inside and pumping it slowly, bringing his face up to watch your expressions contort beautifully on your face.

You throbbed and twitched around him, your cunt responding beautifully to his touch as his thumb rubs soft circles around your clit. Steven adjusted himself and now had been grinding down his erection on your thigh, throwing his head back at the feeling of your warm wet cunt. Quick breathy moans filled the air as they mingled together and you could barely differentiate yours and Steven’s from the heavy ringing in your ears.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined you to be.” he whispers and you sigh.

Suddenly his hands are off you and you whine at the loss of touch but it quickly morphed into a moan as Steven’s tongue flicked at your clit. He was so worked up that he pushed his entire face into your already wet cunt and breathed in deeply, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head. He started fucking you with his tongue, thrusting the flexible muscle in and out of you with accurate precision that had you writhing around. He pushed two fingers into you easily and started pushing them in and out as he latched himself onto your clit. Your cries were getting louder and more uncontrollable now as you found yourself heading towards your first clift of the night

“Shut the fuck up and listen, Listen to how fucking wet you are, how fucking wet you are for me.” Steven says, going shallow at first so that you could hear all the sloppy, vulgar noises that your cunt was making.

Your face was heating up and you tried to hide behind your hands but Steven wrenched your hands away, gripping them in a lock as he now pushed in deeper, deeper, going knuckle deep, finding the spots that make you shake, make you quiver.

“Come on baby, I can feel you close, you’ve already made such a huge mess around my face and hands, go ahead and cum.” with that Steven’s mouth was back on you as you hurtle past your pleasure, pussy tightly clenching around his fingers as Steven lapped up all of your spend before it could wet the bed beneath you.

He slowly massaged your tit as you came down from your high, twitching slightly as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and started to suck them clean, moaning at the taste of you and giving you a show that you didn’t know you needed.

You look up at Steven when he was done, your eyes big and wide as a question sits on your tongue. Steven nodded and your eyes dropped to the tent between his legs.

"Can I touch?" you ask softly, keeping yourself from palming him through his sweats.

"Touch what, darling?" Steven asked, making your face heat up again.

“Your cock, Steven, please.” you decided to say please anyway, before he had any forethought to tease you any longer.

Steven flops down beside you and gestures at his crotch and you take it as a sign to undress him. You tug his sweats down along with his boxers and his cock pops out slapping against his abdomen. You lick your lips and grab ahold of him, feeling him in your hands. You kneel next to him and spit on your hand, taking his cock and starting to pump him up and down as his head lolled back onto the pillow.

You take the tip in your mouth, just sucking on it gently. You let your tongue drag over it, smearing pre cum all over the tip as your hand continues to slowly pump him up and down. Suddenly your mouth is around him and you start sucking, driven by the noises that Steven started making. His hand was soon in your hair as he involuntarily started pushing you to take more and more of him and you obliged, swallowing around him as his tip grazed the back of your throat.

“Gods, I didn’t know your mouth could work like this. If I knew earlier, I could use my cock to shut you up whenever I please.” Steven moans and you rolled your eyes and licked the underside of his shaft, making his cock twitch.

Soon, you had him properly squirming against you as you bounced your head up and down his shaft. His hands were suddenly at the back of your head as he pulled you off him, spit trailing from your mouth to his dick as you took big gulps of air.

“Need to be inside you.” he mumbles as he gently takes your arms and pulls you towards him for a bruising kiss.

You straddled him, settling your pussy against his spit soaked cock, making him moan against your lips. You pulled away to watch his facial expression as he moved his cock to prod at your entrance. You sunk down slowly and Steven watched as your cunt swallowed him up whole, tipping his head back again as the both of you hissed from the fullness. You folded your legs behind Steven and he nestled his head against your bare breasts, inhaling your scent. He pushed himself slightly forward so that he would have enough space to fuck up into your cunt.

And that's what he did.

With small shallow strokes, Steven began to thrust up into your warm cunt, moaning at your tightness and feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of you around him. It was true, he’d wanted you ever since he laid eyes on you. He thought you were the most fascinating human beings he had ever met and loved the passion that flowed through you. But you were one smart cookie, beating him in every test, acing everything that made you triumphantly yell at his face.

Sure, he wanted you to fall back a little bit and he taught himself how to gain control over you. One day, that control came upon him in the form of one of your books. He wasn’t surprised that you would read something like this, his mouth forming into a grin as the evil thoughts began to fill his mind. He jotted them down in your book and one morning, decided that it would be a good idea to deliver the book to you, setting it down at your front door and walking away quickly.

How you didn’t notice his handwriting for weeks absolutely baffled him. He knew you were smarter than that and suddenly he realised that he’d indirectly gotten you in a chokehold. You were frantic, searching around, trying to find the person who had an iron grip around you when the person was right beside you. Part of him felt guilty when your grades started dropping and he really was going to teach you today, but your mind was clearly elsewhere.

He snapped his hips against your ass a little harder, your face buried in his curls, moaning into his scalp. He tilted his own head up and kissed a soft spot at the bottom of your chin, making you giggle slightly. It was incredibly intimate, being in this position with Steven, but you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was doing this for his own benefit. Steven could feel your breathing change and he stopped, bringing himself to your eye level as the both of you panting softly, breathing in each other’s air from the close proximity.

“Love?”

“Do you really want me, Steven, or are you just doing this to have a one up on me?” you say, trying to find a comfortable position as Steven was buried in you up to the hilt.

Guilt began to pour over Steven’s head and he sighed, pushing your hair away from your face and taking a good look at you.

“I really want you, darling. I know my methods are questionable, but oh, I wanted you and still want you so bad.” he said, cupping your face in his hands.

“I’m still mad at you Steven, for making my grades drop .” you stay sternly, combing your hands through his unruly locks and dragging them to his face, tracing all of its sharp edges as his eyes flutter close.

You couldn’t help but smile at the man before you and his words truly did turn you on. They were etched deep into your mind as you read them over and over whilst your hand was between your legs, trying hard to picture the person who had spilled all of their sins onto the pages of the books. Now you had your picture in front of you and the picture was beautiful.

“But I can’t help but want you too.” you whispered and his worried face morphed to one of pure bliss as he relaxed, leaning his forehead against yours.

“So, you’re going to have to make it up to me by fucking me like you promised in your writings. Okay?” you whisper against his soft breaths and he chuckled as his cock throbbed impatiently inside of you, causing you to moan.

Steven immediately flipped you over and claimed your lips with his again, drawing his hips back and slamming into you with so much force that your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He began to thrust in and out with his own rhythm picking up speed. A calm, deep growl, and soft grunt filled your ears with each increasingly deep thrust inside you as Steven quite literally started railing you into the bed.

Your cunt spasmed around his length and a primal craving snapped inside of Steven as his thrust became more and more powerful. He took in deep breaths, becoming high on your pheromones as you moaned his name over and over, until it started to sound like garbled garbage. He loved the way his cock stretched you out and he loved the way you were taking all of him, your whimpers spurring him on as he watched your tits jiggle.

He grabbed your legs and folded you over, the new angle making you sob at how intense the pleasure was. Steven pushed himself against you and the sting you felt throughout your body as well as the constant thrust of Steven’s cock pushed you over the edge again with the help of his thumb at your clit. You came, squeezing Steven as tight as you possibly could. Steven felt himself collapse against you as he could only roll his hips and grind against you, your pussy sucking him in and keeping him there as he tried to help you ride out your high.

Steven finally let himself relax as he used you for his own release, fighting against the muscles of your pussy as his cock twitched intensely. He pulled out of you and slammed into you a few more times, before releasing his own pent up spend into you, painting your walls with his seed as he rode out his own high.

Steven let go of your legs and slumped against you, his whole body going absolutely limp from fucking you like a mad man. You pressed a small kiss on his temple and whispered a thank you into his ear as he floated back down to earth, his head pounding from the intensity of his release.

“I’ve got more books, if you want to ruin them with your filth.” you said softly, earning a chuckle from Steven.

“Only if you focus and let me teach you, love.”

“Yada yada, fine, Professor Grant.” you say jokingly, but gulped when you felt Steven hardening inside you again.

“Hmm, looks like someone wants round two.”

You were definitely done for now.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @autismsupermusicalassassin @alexxavicry @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @celiaswife @violet-19999 @melodygatesauthor @romanarose

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steveandbuckysdaughter · 5 months

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Have you ever noticed that ever since season one of What If introduced Captain Carter, she's been showing up a lot more than Sam Wilson as Captain America? I once queationed it, which pissed off some Peggy stans on this site to the point where I had to alter the tags so I wouldn't have to deal with them.

Oh yeah I did, trust me, you’re not the only one. Many Sam or Steve or Bucky stans and, yk, Peggy antis here on tumblr noticed it, but her stans are just too stubborn to accept it.

In my humble opinion, I think Peggy is simply a better character for marvel to sell as cap (and not for the right reasons), which is why Sam’s cap hasn’t appeared in 2/3 years and all of Steve’s appearances were butchered.

Steve is noble, all about freedom and doing what’s right. He was a disabled son of immigrants who knew struggle and, in his own words, didn’t like bullies no matter where they came from, which means that doing what was right to him was more important than any government, any authority. Civil War is all about this characterization of Steve, and it’s why he was the perfect man for the job.

Sam is like Steve. He is a noble man who knew struggle and suffering growing up, who lost loved ones, his place in the world the moment he chose to follow what was right instead of what was ordered to him. He was ridiculed and beaten down, and risked losing it all multiple times, but that never made him back down. Plus, to add fuel to the fire, the higher powers would have never accepted him as Captain America because he’s black, no matter if Captain America himself passed the mantle to him, they wouldn’t have accepted him and still didn’t right up to the finale of TFATWS. Sam is perfect for the job and mirrors Steve as the perfect Captain America of his time.

Peggy is… well, she’s nothing of these things.

Yes, she’s a woman, and so everyone would be expected to find sympathy for her, to root for her, but aside from her stans no one actually does. Peggy has a support system and respect, like it or not, and she was relevant. She’s arrogant, she’s headstrong, and she doesn’t go against the system because she is the system. She’s not a minority, she never knew struggle, hell, she lived a comfortable life up until the war and after. And marvel can use her more than Sam or Steve because she’s not troublesome like them, she’s not going to rebel the system if not for selfish reasons or plot points. She’s not Steve, she’s not Sam, and she shouldn’t be, but at the same time Peggy should not be a Captain that marvel should enforce in their media over and over again.

As Erskine said, “Because the strong man who has known power all his life may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength and knows... compassion.” And while Steve and Sam don’t know strength in the sense that Erskine disregards, Peggy does. And if anything, she resembles John Walker.

Not to mention she is no character of her own, she’s simply the mixture of some characters thrown together in a cauldron, and in addition she’s a Mary Sue. She is a villain masked as hero, one that is convenient as a character and can be thrown from side to side as if she was some Y/N insert in an avengers fanfic.

Not only she has made more appearances than the current Captain America, but she managed to insert herself in the majority of What If…’s storylines, even more than actual main characters. Like, you want to tell me people actually want yet another episode about Peggy or with Peggy being a major character instead of Wanda, Loki or the main six avengers? No one does, not even the stans with a functioning brain. But Marvel will not stop, and whatever chokehold Hayley Atwell has on them will last until she’ll be satisfied with the colonization of all the possible marvel projects.

So ultimately, to answer your question: yes, I did notice Sam is being overshadow by a dusty side character that should have stayed dead back in 2016. You’re not alone, and I’m glad I’m not either. If you scroll on my profile you’ll soon find an old post of mine from last year, during the MoM era, where I was talking about this issue, and a Peggy stan went ballistic and on a rant on how I was using Sam as an excuse to hate on Peggy and justify Stucky. (Btw nice move altering the hashtags, I’ve done it too and it’s been a blessing for me.)

Feel free to check that post and come back in the asks, I’d love to discuss that and maybe share some posts regarding the issue (if I can find them lol)

#rant #anti peggy carter #Steve rogers #sam wilson #Captain America #the falcon and the winter soldier #mcu critical #what if #what if season 2 #Ross rants

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compassionatereminders · 3 months

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Hi! I wanted to answer the anon who was asking about what ADHD meds do & don’t help with as someone who was late-diagnosed and started meds this year. However, the effect of ADHD meds and even experience of ADHD itself varies heavily from person to person, so do keep that in mind!

DO:

- Actually hearing and retaining what people are saying. I was never able to fully experience a college lecture without panic because of only hearing bits and bobs of the lecture, going in one ear and out the other. I can truly focus and actually respond to what people are saying in a single line of thought without desperately trying to stimulate myself as much as possible to maybe get 1/2 of the detail to stick in my brain.

- Time blindness!! At first starting meds it felt like the day went for 500 years. I felt so much slower and mentally calmer, and I was able to complete “simple” tasks in under 15-20 minutes that could normally take me up to 3 hours due to distractions.

- Memory! Off my meds I have an enormously hard time remembering anything I’m trying to accomplish. I bounce from task to task without ever finishing it. On meds I’m able to think “I need to do laundry” and I just. Do the fucking laundry. It’s magical and I’ve cried more than once thinking about how much I’ve spent my life thinking I’m stupid or lazy for not being able to “just do the thing” like everyone else.

- Shutting down/fearful procrastination— I would be stuck doing nothing for days and days because I would want to do a task so badly but overly think about it and essentially paralyze myself in the decision making/getting started process. When I’m on my meds I can just do the fucking thing! Even if I don’t really feel like it! When before I practically had to have the exact perfect circumstance and could never create them, I can just plop myself somewhere and do the fucking thing. Just like I’ve been told all my life— “Even if you don’t want to, do it anyways” except now I have the actual ability to do that like everyone else. Before it was like everyone else was telling me to turn on a light, but I had no switch.

DON’T:

- Help with hyperfixation. Sometimes I can fixate even worse when I’m on my meds, just because my mind is so single stream that I’m able to do things for even more excessive periods. I burn myself out accidentally a lot quicker if I don’t provide myself with manual distractions to take breaks from daily/academic tasks.

- Immediately fix you. It was hard to start meds because I had to unlearn a lot of habits I had developed to cope with my undiagnosed ADHD— such as constantly moving, stimulating myself, having candy, etc. Just because the day became longer didn’t mean my time management became awesome either. I’m still working on tools that help ADHD with my meds!

- Not really a don’t but more so an unexpected side effect was becoming very intensely angry or upset when the medicine wears off. I struggle with emotional dysfunction already but the anger was so severe and I didn’t know that ADHD meds wearing off can cause that.

- Work 100% all of the time. Some days things like stress, poor sleep, poor diet, etc, can alter the way the same dose of meds works for you. Especially if you are nicotine dependent or a regular caffeine consumer, the way your meds work can change on a day by day basis. Some days I feel like the meds aren’t working at all, but more often than not there’s still a difference between myself being unmedicated and medicated.

- Instantly make you better at studying/task completion. Apparently having ADHD for years made me so extremely avoidant of many things that I just don’t have the skill set to do them well yet. Like studying, for example. I still struggle with extreme perfectionism that impedes me outside of ADHD paralysis.

- I’m gonna say it twice but they DONT FIX YOU ON THEIR OWN. Yes, they make your life fucking way better than before especially if you’re an adult with undiagnosed ADHD, but you have to learn how to use tools and learn skills to support yourself for the medication to help you to the max capability! I will definitely say that being on meds helped overhaul my mindset when I’m off meds and improved my perception of myself, but again, the meds can only get me so far!

I hope this helped anon!!!

Thank you for taking the time to share this! I hope anon sees it 💕

#chat with kat

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 years

Text

raindrops fallin' down all over my love

A/N: this is an older fic, originally posted back in July 2022. it was just a silly little birthday present for my soulmate @fightingdragonswithwho ♡

Summary: not everyone would find a surprise downpour to be a mood booster, but you do.

Warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, fluff, bau!reader, rain, established relationship, kissing, wet clothes, wet shoes, allusion to sex

Word count: 1192

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Y/n, come on, that’s enough for today,” Spencer walked up next to you and gently tugged the beige file from your grasp.

“Oh, come on! I was almost done reading that!” you whined, “can’t I take it with me back to the hotel?”

“Fine, but only if you promise not to touch it till the morning,” he stuffed it into his worn satchel, “I better not find you reading it in the middle of the night.”

Humming disappointedly, you squinted your eyes, “Hotch, Spencer’s being a party pooper. Can’t I just room with Morgan instead? I don’t think he cares as much about my work-life balance.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he ignored your plea and just spoke instead to the tall man walking beside you, “Reid, make sure she gets some rest, will you?”

“Yes sir,” Spencer replied and watched the stoic man open up the front door of the police station. The sound that caught your ears on the other side of those heavy doors made you instantly forget the counterargument your brain had already come up with.

“Of course, it’s raining,” Hotch sighed.

“At least the hotel is only just around the corner,” Spencer tried as he watched his boss ultimately decide to just book it, leaving the two of you standing alone by the exit.

Looking down at you, prepared to hold the papers in question under lock and key, he instead just saw nothing but pure bliss engulf your features.

“It’s raining,” you beamed, hitting him in the arm excitedly, before darting out into the storm. Standing in the middle of the dead street, you cast out your arms and tilted your head back, letting it all soak in. Welcoming with open arms the wet dots that littered your clothing and quickly altered your whole outfit into a much darker shade. Twirling around you shouted, repeating the same observation to your boyfriend who was comfortably standing there, admiring you from the doorway, “it’s raining!”

“It is,” he smiled, watching you get right up next to a large puddle, taking a moment to behold the many mesmerising rings that kept appearing in it, before looking up again at Spencer, now with a bit of a frown on your face.

“I don’t remember, is there a spare pair of shoes in my go bag?”

“Yes, the black ones.”

Merely walking out here in this weather for a second would drench you to the bone, so you might as well take advantage of it and fill your inner child with joy.

Squealing, you jumped into the puddle, splashing water everywhere.

“Come on Spencer!” you kicked your foot through the small pool.

“I’m good right here.”

“What, are you gonna sleep at the station?” you joked, walking back up onto the sidewalk.

Glaring up at the dark sky, “maybe, yeah.”

“You’re just gonna let me walk back to the hotel all by my lonesome?”

Leaning against the doorframe, he snorted, “you’re an FBI agent.”

“So are you, but apparently there's a serial killer out on the loose and as we learned just a few hours ago, I fit his type a just little too well, so…” you let your head fall back, stuck out your tongue and welcomed in the feeling of the cool water droplets against it.

Letting a huff out through his grin, he slowly walked out to grasp your hand.

“I don’t ever think I’ll completely comprehend your fascination with this weather,” he leaned down to give your lips a sweet kiss.

“It’s just so…” you mumbled against his lips, not even knowing the words to describe it, as he stole another quick one, “I don’t know why, but every time it rains, I’m 6 years old again and I feel so safe and innocent.”

Walking down the hotel hallway, your steps probably looked a bit goofy. Jumping in the deep puddle might have been fun, but the soaked shoes weren’t the nicest side effect to deal with, “I think I might get blisters if I don’t take these off now.”

Letting go of your hand, he turned his back to you and lowered himself a bit, “hop on.”

Not giving him a moment to change his mind, you jumped up on his back, clinging onto his sopping woollen jacket.

Grinning, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling a flutter in your stomach as he walked the last few feet to reach your hotel room. You knew he had you, this wasn't the first piggyback ride he’d given you. The first time he offered to lift your body in any form of the word, you refused and only agreed after he’s finished giving you a lecture on proper lifting technics, physics and how if something is closer to your body, it isn’t as heavy to lift.

Stopping, he removed one of the palms that were tightly clasped under your bottom, in order to fish out the key card from his pocket and unlock the door. Swinging it open, crossing the threshold, he then gently sat you down again.

“Thanks for the ride,” you pushed some of the clinging hair off his forehead and out of his eyes, lightly tracing the prominent vein at his temple with your fingertip.

“Anytime,” he closed the door behind you and moved a little closer, causing you to back up against it. With the feeling of his hands snaking around your waist, you couldn’t help but get carried away by the intimate bubble that he always had a way of creating around you with but a glance, “Y/n, I will carry you. If you need it or want it, I’ve got you.”

His fingers fiddled with the wet fabric of your coat, “but right now, I think we need to get you out of these clothes,” and with a gentle tug, you let it fall.

“Doctor Reid,” you glided your hands up around his neck, “are you trying to get me naked?”

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t get sick,” he slowly, painstakingly worked at the buttons of your shirt. Leaning in, close enough for your lips to touch, he never let them, hard as you tried, “you getting naked is just a nice bonus.”

Kicking your shoes off, you chuckled, “a nice bonus, huh?”

Opening up the last few buttons, he slipped his fingers under it, gliding over your bare sides, effectively sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, then finally kissed you hungerly. Rooting your fingers in a tight fist at the nape of his neck, you whimpered.

Sliding his palms down your body, gliding them over your ass, he then effortlessly scooped you up, instinctually wrapping your legs around his torso. Parting from your lips, he then moved down to your neck, focusing on that sweet spot where he could feel exactly the power he had over your pulse.

“And what about me?” you fought to open your eyes, “do I get a nice bonus?”

“What,” he exhaled against your damp skin, “do you not want me to get sick either?”

“No, I just want you to take your clothes off,” you smirked.

#lea’s writing #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction

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husbandhoshi · 1 year

Note

1:44am - joshua (smutty or suggestive) pls

tags: coworkers!au, f!reader, thigh kink, stockings kink, a lil spanking, softdom!joshua

[1:44]

working late?

that's how it always starts—a knock on the doorframe, innocent, straightforward.

when am i not, is your standard answer, and joshua takes that as a cue to sit on the corner of your desk, his undone necktie dangling over his broad shoulders.

he compliments whatever excel abomination is on your screen (can always count on you to make a bar chart look sexy, is his flattery of choice today).

then you ask how his day was, and he repeats the same old platitudes. fine, just peachy, and you?

it’s always the same story, but how you get from there to under him is still beyond you.

"fuck, been thinking about these thighs around my head ever since today's meeting," joshua confesses, bending you over your desk.

you feel the warmth of his hands through your sheer, barely there pantyhose as he runs them over the back of your legs. he pushes your skirt over the curve of your ass, nice and slow so you can feel how heavy, indulgent his touch is.

you can't see his expression, but the sight of you, ass out with only tights on, makes him wonder how he ever got hard before meeting you.

"only here to chat excel and stare at my ass?" you ask, because the need to get fucked by joshua hong has irrevocably altered your brain chemistry.

"we can do that if you want." he laughs as he snaps the waistband of your tights back, relishing in how you twitch under him.

you've lost count of the nights spent like this, his knee pressed meanly against your cunt and his tie draped across your back.

it's just one night, you had told yourself, but then it was another (in the backseat of the company car after meeting with a client), and then another (in the print room on the copy machine). you even took a business call with his head between your legs.

"doubt that's what you had in mind," you retort, except it comes out a little more pitiful than planned because he's started to grind his leg against your pussy.

"i'm flexible."

you can picture his shit-eating grin, which would normally make you unspeakably mad if you weren't so turned on.

joshua's hand connects with your ass, once, twice, and you're glad the entire floor is empty because the sound you make is enough to ruin your career. but he rewards you, loves seeing you lost in your pleasure, and runs a generous finger over your cunt.

"can feel how wet you are," he murmurs, admiring the wet patch over your panties, now visible through your tights. "been waiting all day for this, huh?"

you nod weakly. it's pathetic how your hands claw at the mahogany of the table, looking for something, anything to hold as he rubs you over the two layers of fabric keeping you from him.

joshua's already figured you out, and you're almost drooling with pleasure even though all he's doing is circling your clit with a slow thumb. he then squeezes your pussy lips together, just rough enough so you can really feel it, and your knees almost give out.

for a brief moment, you wonder how messy you look, how glossy the nylon over your cunt is.

"please," you breathe. through your hazy vision is the blinding white of your computer, and you pray to god this experience doesn't condition you to think of him while you finish up your project tomorrow morning. "need it, need you."

joshua sighs, playfully dramatic, and for a second, you're stricken with the fear that he'll make you bounce on his leg all night without the privilege of getting split open on his cock.

but you hear the click of his belt behind you as he undoes it, like literal music to your ears, and the words just spill out of your throat—thank you, thank you, shua.

"oh, you have nothing to thank me for yet."

you feel his cock, thick and heavy, slide between your thighs, and you squeeze so hard around nothing you almost cum untouched.

it's going to be a long night.

#this is actually so fucked up and i am so sorry for my crimes #ask #anon #josh #joshua #seventeen smut #joshua smut #mine

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niqhtlord01 · 2 years

Text

Humans are Weird: Need for speed

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Alien: It is so nice to meet another space faring species.

Alien: We have been alone for so long; we were starting to believe that we were the only ones out there.

Alien: Can you imagine how stupid that is?

Human: Yeah……that’d be pretty silly.

Alien: How far away is your homeworld?

Human: *Pulls out datapad and enters several keys*

Human: From our current location it would be roughly ten lightyears away.

Alien: TEN!?!?!

Alien: Our ships have barely been able to survive a journey of two lightyears.

Alien: *Looks around at the thousands of humans mingling with their people*

Alien: Do your ships normally need this many crew?

Human: Oh no.

Human: We’re a colony ship enroute to a potential habitable world.

Human: It’s still some three lightyears away but when we picked up your transmissions we diverted course to meet you.

Alien: If your destination is still so far away.

Alien: Your cryo chamber must be highly advanced to sustain themselves for such a long journey.

Human: Cryo chambers?

Alien: You know; the cold storage chambers you put your crew and passengers in.

Alien: Our most advanced ships can travel between our planets within three years.

Alien: Even our most advanced engineers dare not even consider traveling a distance of ten or more lightyears.

Alien: How many years have you been in transit?

Human: Years?

Human: We’ve been in transit for a little over a month.

Alien: …………..

Alien: Did you say a month?

Human: I guess maybe a month and, like, three days; but a month just sounds better.

Alien: If that were true, then you would have had to been traveling at roughly-

Human: Very fast, we know.

Human: Don’t ask me to do the math, it hurts my brain.

Alien: How is that even possible?

Human: At the front of our ships we developed a special matter condenser that basically functions as a sudo mini black hole.

Human: When activated the black hole begins excreting gravitational pull on the ship which pulls us like water going down a drain.

Human: Since our projected paths avoid any gravitational anomalies we essentially have a clear path forward with ever increasing speed.

Alien: You generate black holes….to make you go faster……

Human: Sudo mini black holes, to be more precise.

Alien: I ….just….. what…

Alien: At those speeds your body, let alone your entire ship would be reduced to atoms.

Human: True, but a nifty side effect of the black hole is as long as we are caught in its well outside physics become distorted.

Human: While we are in the pull it feels like nothing more than leaning forward down a steep hill.

Alien: How do you even slow down at such speeds?

Alien: The force required to halt such speeds would be equal to if not greater than.

Human: Oh we just use the same sudo mini black hole generator at the back of the ship a few lightyears out to begin deceleration.

Human: We started slowing down three lightyears from you before we altered course to come visit.

Alien: I…..I just don’t know what to say.

Alien: Such technology seems so far advanced and beyond our comprehension.

Alien: Isn’t it dangerous?

Human: Oh extremely.

Human: I can’t even begin to tell you how many ships had improperly aligned their black hole generators and were sucked inside it the moment it activated.

Human: Or when a passing comet would alter the trajectory and send the ship flying headfirst into a nearby planet creating a new asteroid belt.

Human: That’s not even mentioning the gravity disturbance waves we leave behind us.

Alien: All of those sound terrible beyond measure.

Alien: Why not find a safer means of travel?

Alien: We can share our cryo technology with you and you can make your own ark ships.

Human: That’s a very kind offer, but we have already attempted cryo sleep transit.

Alien: Was it not safer than using literal black holes?

Human: To a degree.

Alien: Meaning?

Human: While it was safer, studies showed that crew and passengers had increased risks of developing space insanity if the journey lasted longer than five years.

Human: Some adapted naturally but the many had spent their lives planetside and were not ready for the mental and physical strains of space life.

Human: They snapped and became rabid; a devolution to a more primitive nature.

Alien: So let me get this straight.

Alien: Your people travels via black hole tug of wars because if you go slowly you go insane and become rabid?

Human: Yup.

Alien: How is that even possible?

Human: Well waiting patiently went out of style after the third Karen war.

Alien: The what?

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #funny #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 3 months

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Hello! I was wondering if you could please write up a BG3 headcanon request involving Halsin, Wyll, Astarion and Gale? How would they react to/take care of their Tav who has an alcohol or drug addiction?

A/N: Aw, man, do I feel this ask. Sometimes I like to joke that I come from a long line of alcoholics, because, well, I do. But it’s usually me trying to put some levity into serious family discussions. I don’t think a lot of people understand that addiction is a physiological illness: it’s a full-body response, not a case of “mind over matter” as some people like to say. There’s such a stigma and it sucks because research shows that when we respond kindly, and not with punishment or ostracization, that’s when addicts have a higher chance of recovery. So know that while I am no expert on addiction, I did try my best to be respectful and accurate. I hope you enjoy!

TW: Addiction, Alcoholism

BG3 Male Companions Taking Care of Tav Who Battles Alcoholism/Addiction

Astarion:

In a way, Astarion is kind of an addict himself. He’s a vampire, spawn, or ascendant, he needs blood for energy. He can go for extended times without it, but those times have been tortuous and caused lasting mental and emotional damage. That eternal need hanging over his head coupled with the impact of Cazador’s abuse has permanently re-wired his brain. Astarion doesn’t react like the average elf, he can’t, not anymore.

So when it comes to altered brain chemistry, Astarion’s certainly no stranger. Although his addiction lies more within the supernatural, he can use his own experience to relate to Tav’s more pedestrian affliction.

Astarion won’t ever outright deny Tav something. If Tav asks for a drink or a drug, Asation won’t take it upon himself to literally hold Tav down as a means of keeping them from consuming it. Astarion knows that method won’t work in the long run, and would most likely only result in Tav resenting him, and he can’t have that.

Astarion will make a face or two, however, his expression switches from concerned to slightly judgemental depending on the context. He wants Tav to be aware of his opinion, but he doesn't want to smother them. Tav’s not a child, Astarion isn’t responsible for them.

Still, thanks to his concern, I do think Astarion would confront them about it. He’d need to speak to Tav to hear for himself precisely what's going on. If Tav is still in their denial phase, Astarion tries hard to get them out of it. There’s no use trying to help someone who refuses to acknowledge they have an issue. Astarion knows, so he understands the shame that comes with it. But he reminds Tav he did eventually come clean about being a vampire, and about his past with Cazador, so now it’s Tav’s turn to do the same.

Once Tav is open about their struggles, Astarion makes a point to check in with them throughout the day. He’ll nonchalantly provide Tav with alternatives to drink: water or tea, things that aren’t ale, and wine. He’ll be subtle about it though. Astarion will never act as if he’s going out of his way to do Tav a favor. No, it’s not like that, he swears! It just so happens Gale was asking for tea and Astarion thought he’d go make him some seeing as how sad and pathetic the wizards had been acting over losing his goddess, and Astarion thought, well, perhaps Tav would like some as well.

The most difficult part for Astarion is witnessing Tav endure withdrawal. It’s a horrible, painful process. If Astarion didn’t know any better, he’d say the whole thing looked a lot like being killed and then brought back from the dead. He still remembers the way his body ached and burned and hungered upon Cazador turning him into a vampire. It may have been two hundred years but nothing could ever make him forget that pain. It’s why Astarion wishes, more than anything, that he could alleviate such agony for Tav.

If Astarion remains a spawn, there’s nothing he can do but hold Tav close, dab their forehead with a cool cloth, and whisper soft words of comfort into their ear. ‘You will be alright, darling. Even this will pass.’

If Astarion has become a vampire ascendant, however, he can make Tav a vampire, if that is something Tav chooses. This isn’t a magic fix, however. While there’s a possibility Tav may no longer have the addictions they did as a vampire that they did as a human, there’s no guarantee that hunger will not carry over. Should it carry over, Tav would then be forced to be content with those previous addictions in addition to their newfound bloodlust. It’s a risk. But even if there’s a small chance it could work, Astarion proposes the idea to Tav. Ascendant Astarion would still find it preferable for Tav to be an addict as a spawn, as it makes it incredibly easy for him to control Tav’s actions. Sure, they may still be addicted, but without Astarion’s permission, they can’t take what they want when they want. It would create tension and a fair degree of hostility between the two. But Astarion the Vampire Ascendent believes an angry, vampire-spawn Tav to be superior to a happy dead one.

And of course, no matter whether he’s a spawn or ascended Astarion makes a point that despite Tav’s addiction, he’s not going anywhere. If Tav falls off the wagon again, or if they’re not ready to try and face their addiction right now, Astarion will remain at their side, waiting for the day they’re ready to try again. ‘I’m not going anywhere my love. I can promise you that.’

Gale:

Gale’s first response, of course, is to try and determine a way to solve this problem via magical means. Now as a wizard, he doesn’t have access to the kinds of healing spells druids and clerics have. But, he does a fair amount of arcane knowledge about enchantments, and curses. And well, what is addiction if not a natural, biological enchantment? Gale considers himself fairly rounded on the subject of human biology as well, so Tav is in for a bit of an earful if and when they first admit their affliction to him.

Gale may not have experience with the kinds of addiction Tav is, but thanks to his experiments with Weave, and now having been cursed with the orb, Gale knows the urgency of living under a constant ticking clock. If he cannot consume the magic from magical artifacts, if the orb is not sated with bits of the Weave on occasion, he risks blowing up everyone for miles.

In some ways, this makes Gale’s “addiction” all the more dangerous. It doesn’t merely affect his own body and the relationships with his loved ones, but it jeopardizes almost every other living person within Baldur’s Gate. Of course, Gale would never say this. And while he may think such a self-pitying thought, he dare not share it with Tav. The last thing Gale wants to do is make Tav’s very real problem seem inconsequential because it most certainly is not!

Instead, Gale offers to commiserate with Tav on occasion, making sure to never bellyache the loudest. He wants it to be Tav’s time to vent, complain, scream- to just let it all out. He knows Tav is under an incredible amount of pressure as their leader, addiction or not. Gale wants Tav to trust him enough for the two of them to be vulnerable around each other. I mean Mystra above! The whole camp knows that Gale’s easily susceptible most of the time, so there’s absolutely no shame in Tav admitting they experience similarly at times.

Gale will take it upon himself to concoct a special drink menu for Tav, all nonalcoholic of course. It’s elaborate and painstakingly organized. If Tav thought their sober options were few and far between before, they certainly won’t now! Gale is the camp’s resident cook, so he takes pride in being able to satisfy not only everyone’s needs but to please their tastes as well. Well, except for Astarion. Blood is not ever to be a feature on Gale's menu, thank you very much!

The part Gale has some trouble with is wrapping his head around someone as wonderful as Tav would ever want such a life for themselves. Gale thinks highly of Tav, sometimes too highly. In some instances, Gale cannot see the forest for the trees thanks to the pedestal he’s placed Tav on. In such scenarios, Tav may have to remind Gale that they’re only mortal. And that this affliction of theirs is no more a choice than Gale’s own need for magic.

Once Gale is on the same page, he ceases the majority of his condemnation, instead opting to try and distract Tav from the overwhelming desires raging on inside them. He offers to show Tav the Weave once more, or perhaps, some other simple, rather pretty tricks. Rolan’s display of fireworks in Emerald Grove wasn’t a difficult spell, and certainly no challenge for Gale. But if many simple spells are what it takes to keep Tav’s mind occupied as they ride out their newfound prohibition, then so be it.

If by some miracle, Gale does find a spell or enchantment to help alleviate some of Tav’s worse withdrawal symptoms or cravings, he will perform it enthusiastically should Tav want. And if Tav prefers to handle this the old-fashioned way, Gale will do his best to bite his tongue and respect Tav’s choices. ‘I just want things to be easier for you. Life is hard enough as it is with all this tadpole business running around. Whatever you ask of me, you shall get.’

Gale is a faithful partner. He doesn’t run at the first sign of trouble, not when’s committed himself to another person. Be it in friendship, or romance, relationships mean a great deal to him. He refuses to let Tav endure this hardship alone. ‘I do not say this lightly: you mean a great deal to me. No matter the toils, I will stay by your side.’

Wyll:

Wyll, above all else, aims to be an honorable man. Despite his suffering, despite his shortcomings and misfortunes, he refuses to falter or fall. His deal with Mizora may have sullied his Father’s view of him and dampened Wyll’s view of himself, but it did not change how he desires to see himself. Wyll knows the kind of man he wants to be and he does everything within his power to act accordingly.

For Wyll, addiction is a difficult subject. He’s very strong-willed, and because he spends so much time working hard to do what he believes is the right thing, he can look down on other people at times. He has sympathy for people dealing with such afflictions, but behind his care, a small part of him is disappointed. He believes in choosing to be good, to try harder. He thinks all mortals are capable of acting wiser. So while Wyll understands Tav endures such difficulties now, Wyll also firmly believes Tav will have conquered them in the future.

This can put a fair amount of pressure on Tav’s shoulders. But it can also serve to inspire them. In either case, Tav would need to talk to Wyll about how they feel when it comes to Wyll’s encouragement. Wyll, being the supportive man he is, would never want to intentionally make Tav feel demoralized. So if there’s something in his behavior or in his words of motivation that he can change to make Tav feel less burdened, he will do so.

Wyll, like Astarion, knows he cannot make himself responsible for Tav’s choices. So Wyll does not take the part of Tav’s keeper, but he does make an effort to be near Tav as they make their decision, offering his opinion should Tav ask. The more Wyll’s presence remains a constant in Tav’s life, the more Wyll hopes Tav will come to appreciate his perspective. If Tav knows Wyll isn’t going to leave or abandon them anytime soon, they may feel emboldened to make the necessary tougher decisions of turning down a drink or two.

Wyll is more than happy to stay up chatting the nights the cravings just won’t go away. During days Tav’s irrepressible urge causes them to feel restless and manic, Wyll asks Tav to join him for a lesson in combat. After all, he’s not called the Blade of Frontiers for nothing. Sweating out the chemicals and forcing the body to flush all the drugs out of Tav’s system is a great way to sober up. And if the symptoms of withdrawal aren’t all-consuming, it also makes for a great distraction.

However, during the periods everything is all just too much: the headaches, the nausea, the itchiness, and the sweating won’t stop, Wyll finds a shady spot in camp for the two of them to rest. And as Tav rides out such agonizing lows, Wyll tells stories of his time as a child living in Baldur’s Gate in soothing, hushed tones. His warm voice brings comfort, a much-needed contrast to the ailment Tav’s fighting.

Wyll cares deeply for Tav. And he believes in Tav, even when Tav doesn’t believe in themselves. ‘You can resist this, you will resist this.’

Wyll has no intentions of going anywhere. Addiction or sobriety, he and Tav are a team. Wyll sees Tav as a great hero: he knows they can fight to save themselves. ‘You are the strongest person I know. Nevertheless, you do not have to shoulder this burden alone.’

Halsin:

Halsin is the least likely to have any shared experience when it comes to dealing with addiction. He has fought off depression and hopelessness time and time again but he knows not of the pitfalls addiction brings. Having lived as long as he has, there’s no doubt he’s met those suffering from such afflictions. And being a druid, he may even have been consulted on how best to treat them. But that’s the end of Halsin’s experience.

If Tav has an issue, any issue, Halsin is more than willing to help Tav navigate it. After all, Tav helped him save the shadowlands from their darkness. There is no ask too great, Halsin could never say no to aiding Tav with a favor. To Halsin, Tav is a savior: they saved Emerald Grove, they saved Thaniel’s realm, hell, Tav saved all of Baldur’s Gate. Halsin feels he owes them unimaginable thanks. So it pains him greatly to know Tav is suffering.

Halsin offers to use his abilities to help Tav ease their obsessive mind, and the nagging hunger addiction brings. Of course, druid magic alone is not enough to stop the urge from manifesting and whispering in Tav’s ear. Halsin offers to accompany Tav around town, to sort of supervise them, in his way. He won’t force Tav to change any of their decisions but he keeps a watchful eye almost like a doting father as he places a supportive hand on Tav’s shoulder each time they walk past a bar or tavern.

Halsin knows he cannot control Tav’s actions, but he can influence the choices they make together as a duo. So long as he is at Tav’s side, Halsin will let his wise opinion be known.

In their time outside of the city, Halsin takes time to educate Tav on the different flora and fauna found in Faerun. When they come across a plant used to ferment alcohol, Halsin explains the history of the process. Yes, wine and ale are examples of making use of what nature provides, but as with all other things, even nature must be consumed in moderation. Mother Nature blesses everyone with the ability to enjoy such pleasures, but that gift can double as a curse. It is a test of our restraint and humility to know when and where to indulge.

Speaking of indulgence, Haslin would not recommend swapping one appetite for another, but should Tav want to bide their time engaging in an alternative pleasure, Halsin would be more than happy to oblige. Physical activity and sweating would help relieve Tav’s body of some of the toxins built up within their system. In addition, such activity provides a temporary release of euphoria in the body and brain, which would help combat the pain and despondence that come with withdrawal. ‘If I can provide you with the least bit of comfort. It’s no hardship from me. Far from it.’

In the case Halsin leaves Tav for a time to settle the newly displaced within Thaniel's healed realm, he does what he can to ensure his new village is a place of continued healing and sobriety for Ta. Halsin privately enlightens all of the other adults within his new settlement about Tav’s condition. He asks them, respectfully, to refrain from providing Tav with any alcohol or other substances whenever Tav comes to visit.

Halsin does all within his power to let Tav know they are not alone in their journey, and that no matter the setbacks along the way, he intends to bolster Tav through it all. ‘You are by far nature’s greatest gift to me. No matter the foe, be it the shadows or the dependency within your mind, could ever keep me from you.’

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killersfool · 6 months

Text

You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip.

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7. Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs.

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat. I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams, the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression. The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions.

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift.

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother.

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did."

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?"

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head.

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears.

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting.

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us.

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous.

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise."

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere.

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words.

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen.

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment.

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought.

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away.

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply.

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me.

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor.

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people.

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away.

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then."

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table. His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled.

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits.

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it.

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say.

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling.

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh.

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye.

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips.

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer.

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back.

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress.

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom.

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes.

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

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