#also loud cloud? hmu

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader (afab)

genre: dark academia college au. nonidol!hyunjin. enemies to lovers // academic rivals. angst. reader pov. smut - MDNI, 18+ only.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. kindaa toxic relationship between hyunjin and reader since they're enemies in uni. ANGST!! reader comes from a poor background and hyunjin is the uni dean's prodigy son. smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 10.6k (enjoy you filthy animals 😈)

summary: ever since you started studying at korean national university of arts in seoul, hwang hyunjin, the other top student of the school and the dean's son, has been an absolute thorn in your ass. although, it turns out that not all thorns are necessarily bad.

18+ warnings: dom!hyunjin x sub!reader. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends). fingering. dirty thoughts/fantasies are mentioned. degradation (whore, slut, bitch, etc). pet names (baby girl, sweetheart, doll face, etc). LOTS of hair pulling. BIG ownership/possession kink. breeding kink!!!. overstimulation. orgasm control. nipple/breast play. lots of dirty talk. subspace. loud sex. manhandling. humiliation kink. exhibitionism (fucking in a public library).

a/n: first of all, i'd just like to give a BIG shoutout to my dear friend @ahactress, for giving me the initial prompt to this about a month ago haha- without your help, I wouldn't be here right now honey!! 🤭💙 also, i'm sending all my love to my beautiful bestie @h0p3l3ssromantic, for encouraging me with her pretty words and her endless love... girl, you RULE and ilysm!!! 😫❤️ I don't know if it's public knowledge around these parts, but my dms on all my sns platforms are ALWAYS open for ya'll to spew your ramblings about my work haha - hmu on twt babes, I'm always down to chat~ ✨

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

  The moment you saw the dark, heavy clouds swirling low in the sky as you walked to your Survey of Humanities class, you knew that the day was going to be a shitty one. Already, you had woken up with a raging headache from the all-nighter you had pulled the day before to finish all of your homework for the following week. 

 Besides, it was a Monday too, and you fucking hated Mondays. 

 For one thing, the start of the new week always meant being bombarded with loads of assignments from the four classes you were taking. Being a junior with a Liberal Arts major was not as easy as everyone thought it was — and you constantly felt like you could never catch up on all of the homework. 

 With two formal art classes, one on charcoal drawings and the other on watercolor techniques, and then two upperclassman Humanities classes, your schedule was packed with studying time. Sometimes, it was hard to even eat during the day, since you were so busy with your schoolwork. 

 But there was no way around it, no excuses that could be made. 

 You either continued to stay at the top of your classes, as one of the best students in your grade for your graduation year, or you didn’t. 

 Your mother didn’t sacrifice everything she had for you to fail so horribly at university. 

 So you were okay with the stress and deadlines. Because you wanted to make both her and yourself proud. 

 And yeah, maybe you also wanted to prove to your classmates that you could do it. 

 You especially wanted to brag about your success to a certain man… 

 Hwang Hyunjin. 

 He was slated to graduate in your same year and was studying Technical Art. And holy shit— was he an insufferable ass. Unfortunately, since the two of you shared such close majors, you had found yourself in one too many classes with him during your time at the Korean National University of Arts in Seoul. It also didn’t help that he was coined as one of the #1 students in the entire school, and did everything in his power to make everyone aware of this fact. 

 Especially you. 

 If he earned just two points more than you on an exam in the same class that you were taking together, he’d nonchalantly wave the white paper in front of you after the exam period, taunting you with his sly tongue and that cruel grin of his. 

 Most of the time, you managed to ignore his wicked teasing, sticking to yourself and your small group of study buddies. But on the rare occasion that he did get under your skin, you’d snap irrevocably and usually land yourself in the Dean’s office. 

 But of course, Hyunjin was also there because — news flash — he was the son of the fucking Dean of the university. 

 Usually, the meetings after your blowups were casual and spoken in soft voices, with Dean Hwang recounting the school’s long integrity policy to you, which you had already memorized in the back of your head after your third visit to his office. The entire time the Dean reminded you of how your ‘behavior was uncalled for in the situation,’ Hyunjin would be standing in the corner of his father’s office, arms folded across his chest and canting his head to the side as he studied you with a pleased little devilish sneer on his face. 

 After every single one of the meetings, he’d always try to catch up to you outside of his father’s office. This usually landed in you cursing him out under your breath and telling him to fuck off before you retreated into the shadows of one of the many hallways. 

 And as it just so happened, your Survey of Humanities class also had a certain raven-haired man constantly sitting in the farthest seat from the front of the lecture hall. 

 It was almost comical how good-looking he was, coupled with his genius brain. Because as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was incredibly smart… in both the arts and all other forms of academics. He aced every single quiz and exam he was given, got 100s on every technical art research essay he wrote, and was involved in practically every club there was on campus. 

 The girls of your grade fawned all over him, and even the freshmen were weak to his looks whenever he’d pass them in the hallway. He looked right out of an early 2000s fashion magazine, with his model-like physic, long, shaggy black hair that perfectly framed his face and curled at the nape of his neck, not to mention the expensive designer clothes he was always seen in. 

 You had never seen him dress like the other guys of his same age — had never seen him clad in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and a worn oversized graphic tee. Instead, he rolled up to the curb of the university in his cherry red 2023 Rolls Royce, dressed to the nines in fitted coats, light-washed designer jeans, and crisp white button-downs. 

 Hwang Hyunjin had been the school’s ultimate heartthrob for as long as you could remember, and you had heard rumors of the kind of things he did with his lovers — taking his girlfriends out to expensive restaurants in the heart of the city, before bringing them back to his luxurious apartment and fucking them late into the night. Usually, you tended to ignore the dating and sex part of your arch nemeses' life, and instead just focused on beating him at his own game of academics. 

 And during that early Friday morning in the middle of October, as you strolled through the doors of the lecture hall and your eyes scanned over the students already seated, you caught sight of him.

 Dressed in a casual, brown turtleneck and dark-washed jeans, he looked like he had just walked straight out of an autumn edition of GQ Men. He was seated in his usual place, legs crossed and hands busy scribbling away notes on his iPad. As you floated beside him and towards your seat at the very back of the hall, you caught the scent of him — a mix of earthy musk and dark roasted coffee beans. 

 He didn’t pay you the time of day as you flitted past him and took out your notebooks once you were seated down. Thankfully, he seemed to be choosing the route of ignoring you for the day, much to your relief. 

 Soon, the professor strode into the lecture hall and began the class. For a while, he droned on about the midterm that all of the students had taken the week before, and how he was impressed with the class’ results. “Although, two students in particular outshined everyone else,” he began, his eyes scanning the lecture hall until they landed on Hyunjin seated just two rows before you. “Hyunjin, excellent work — it’s quite rare that I see a student score a 100 on the midterm,” then his focus was floating upward and landing on you. “Y/N, you’re short essay for the midterm was superb, and your choice of art analysis was a very unique one for sure.” 

 Just as the professor was focusing back on the rest of the course material, you could sense someone’s gaze trained on you. Staring forward, you caught a glimpse of him shooting you a snarky grin. You glared daggers into his skull, just wishing that he’d get shot in the foot and keel over in pain at that moment. 

 He always liked to gloat when he got a higher score than you on the tests, and you both knew that he had done better on the test overall — since the professor only mentioned his 100 and not yours. But apparently, your midterm essay was a hell of a lot better than his. 

 Sticking out your tongue at him playfully, you rolled your eyes before folding your arms across your chest and turning your attention back on the slides that the professor was ticking through. Hyunjin got under your skin so much he sometimes felt like a fucking disease — burrowed so deeply inside your veins, it was almost impossible to cut out the hatred. 

 “For this week’s assignment, you guys will be paired up into groups of two to create a joint presentation on the topic of ‘The Descent into Madness,’” As soon as you heard the professor mention splitting the class into groups, you felt your heart leap inside your chest. You only hoped that you wouldn’t be paired up with him. “Using your textbooks as a guideline, I want all of you to choose one specific piece of art from any period you want and conduct deep research into the mad aspects of it — dive into as much detail about the formal elements as you’d like, but make sure to follow the grading rubric and cite all academic sources. I’ve posted the list of paired groups on the bulletin board up here near the projector, so make sure to check it before you leave class today.” 

 You tuned out all other information the professor gave about the week’s assignment, too focused on seeing who you were paired with. As soon as he dismissed class, you were shooting up from your seat and hoisting your heavy tote bag across your shoulder. 

 Flitting down the stairway, you made it to the bulletin board before all of the other students did. They were idling around because no one gave two shits about who they were paired with. No one except for you. 

 “Please, please, please—” You prayed in a whispered tone under your breath as your eyes scanned the matched columns of students. When you came upon your name and saw who was next to it, it felt like the ground at your feet had opened right up and sucked you in entirely. “Fuck my life.” Heart dropping into the pit of your stomach, your palm squeezed a little tighter around the strap of your bag. 

 “Oh shit— looks like the professor decided to give you a fighting chance by pairing you up with the best student in the entire school.” You heard Hyunjin’s silky voice say from somewhere behind you. 

 Swinging around on your heels, you caught a glimpse of his sardonic, wide smirk, as his eyes scanned the look of sheer anger on your face. Giving a dry, humorless chuckle, he shoved his hands into his pockets and canted his head to the side in a quizzical kind of way. 

 “We’re only going to ace this project because of me— and let’s be clear here, I’m the better writer out of the two of us.” You said in a low voice, pointing an accusing finger at him in utter disgust. You could feel your brows pulling together from the rage that was building up inside of you. And all from the thought of being forced to work with him. 

 “Yeah, but I’m the better test taker.” 

 “Fuck you.” 

 Hyunjin chuckled wickedly, the tip of his blush pink tongue coming out and wetting a corner of his plush bottom lip. “Oh honey, I’m sure you wish you could.” 

 Already, you could tell that he was egging you on. Trying to get your goad so that you’d explode and be dragged to the Dean’s office. So that he could stare down at you with that same smug look on his face as his precious little daddy rattled off the university’s code of conduct. 

 Well fuck that bullshit. 

 Seeing too much red, you decided to excuse yourself from the equation before you said something horrible that got you sent into the Dean’s office again or even worse — kicked from the class. 

 “I’ll see you on Monday night at ten in the library,” you said in finality, squinting your eyes up at him and just wishing you could wring your hands around his perfect little neck. “Don’t be late.” 

 “I don’t take orders from you, sweetheart.” 

 “For now you sure fucking do.” 

 Then you were turning around and pushing out of the lecture hall, practically running down the corridor as fast as you could, heart pounding in your chest because… what the hell were you going to do? 

 That entire weekend leading up to the Monday night that you planned to spend with Hyunjin, you just about lost your mind over the worry of it all. Would he continue to be an asshole to you the entire time? Would he work well with you and compromise on things? How would everything go? 

 You were so stressed about the entire thing that you practically drove your roommate Felix insane with annoyance. Late Sunday morning, when you were making circles around your living room couch as you stressed about everything, he finally burst out in a loud outcry. 

  “Y/N! You seriously need to take a chill pill, you’re going to run holes right into the fucking carpet!” He said in an exasperated tone, muting the show that he was watching on the large flatscreen TV. 

 Peering up at him with wide, guilty eyes, you offered him a meek smile. “I’m sorry, Lix— it’s just… you know how much I hate Hyunjin and I—” 

 Felix rolled his eyes at you, completely fed up with your bullshit at that moment. “Yes, yes, I know. You’ve told me about a million times at this point. But like… don’t let it get to you, yeah? Just go out there and do your very best,” his eyes flitted back to the TV as he un-muted his show. “I mean… how bad could working with Hwang Hyunjin really be? Besides you, he’s one of the top students in the entire school.” 

 But he didn’t know Hyunjin like you did. 

 No one did. 

 They didn’t see the cruel side to him, the mean side. 

 They didn’t hear the words he’d mumble to you with venom after a big test or the taunting he’d throw your way if you one-upped him in some way. 

 Others didn’t see the dark looks he’d give you after classes or the way he’d practically talk behind your back each time you passed him in the hallway — whispering to his groupies and making all the guys chuckle heartily. 

 So yeah, working with him was a pretty fucking big deal. 

 Nonetheless, you took Felix’s advice and tried to relax as much as you could before the start of the new week. You studied the material that you wanted to research for the project, deciding to focus on Hamlet’s Ophelia for your analysis. 

 And if Hyunjin didn’t want to go with that character, well… too bad.

 By the time Monday night rolled around, you felt more prepared than ever before and stepped into the Library’s main doors with settled ease. The university’s library was your favorite place on campus and had been the location for many of your long night study sessions over your time in school. With its dark gothic architecture outside and its sweeping gables, it was a true sight to behold. Not to mention the cozy atmosphere of the interior — all of the cozy nooks and crannies of the place, filled with warm candlelight and large chandeliers and settees made everything feel so mysterious and relaxing. 

 You strode through the isles filled with books, noticing how it was almost empty of any other student. That’s why you liked coming to the place late at night because it was relatively devoid of life and incredibly quiet. And you liked the quiet — it made it easy for you to focus on your studies. Finally, you stumbled upon a spacious table tucked into the very corner of one part of the place on the upper floor, with a large bay window just in front of the wooden table. 

 With a glance outside the pane, you noticed how the darkening sky had opened up to reveal a sheet of heavy rain — it pelted down on the few students that were passing by the outside of the library on the sidewalk there, as they ran for cover. Methodically, you brought out your supplies — booting up your laptop and positioning your notebook and pens just so. 

 Checking your phone, the screen flashed that it was fifteen minutes past ten o’clock already. Was he not even planning on showing up? Was he going to completely bail on you and instead take you down by sabotaging the entire thing? 

As you sat down in one of the cushiony, velvet-lined chairs, your mind began to race with all of the possibilities of what Hyunjin might be stewing up to take you down. 

 Then, almost like your thoughts had summoned him, you heard footsteps at your back and turned to see Hyunjin rounding the corner of the tall bookshelves that were lined on either side of your chosen table. With one glance at him, you noticed the soaked-through fabric of his tan coat and the way his dark hair curled around the nape of his neck with moisture. He must’ve gotten caught in the rain and that’s why he was late. 

 “I thought you were going to bail on me entirely.” 

 Giving you a swarthy look, he plopped down into the seat just across from you and threw his heavy book bag atop the table. “Good evening to you as well.” He grumbled, slipping off his coat and showcasing the wetness hidden just underneath there. His light, cream-colored button-down was almost sheer from the rainwater… highlighting his muscular shoulder blades and the tips of his pecks. 

 “Didn’t you know it was supposed to rain heavily tonight?” 

 Not even paying you another glance, he focused on pulling out his supplies. “I’m not the fucking weatherman, I don’t regularly check up on shit like that.” 

 “Well, you should— maybe you wouldn’t ruin so many of your precious, rich boy clothes if you did.” 

 At that, his hands stopped moving and he stared up at you with slitted eyes. Giving your own choice of outfit a long once over, the corner of his mouth ticked up. “Well damn— are you jealous or something?” You weren’t particularly dressed up, opting for a comfortable pair of black sweatpants and a warm violet turtleneck top.

 “Let’s just focus on getting to work.” You shot back, hands typing away at your computer keyboard. “Did you figure out a piece you want to analyze?” 

 “Yeah, Hamlet’s Ophelia.” 

 His words were silky and smooth against your ears, but his answer is what got you shooting your gaze up to his again. Mouth dropping open a little bit in surprise, you cleared your throat from the sudden quietness between you. “Oh— uhm, I was thinking the same,” you began, opening up the Word document that you had already started working on that past weekend. “It would probably be a good idea to study Hamlet’s character too since he's the catalyst of her problems.” 

 “No, he isn’t. She already had them to begin with — he just heightened their outcome.” 

 You were so taken aback by his comment, that it took a few seconds for your brain to process everything. But when it finally clicked, you were gaping up at him in astonishment. “I’m sorry, what? You’re going to blame her for the fact that Hamlet was the sole cause of it all?” Your voice was steadily rising, as you began to get irritated by his suggestion. 

 Hyunjin shrugged nonchalantly, as he scribbled down a few things in his notebook. “I mean, yeah. She already had a history of mental disorders, her death was bound to happen anyway.” He matched your tone, words growing louder and ringing out across the small expanse of the library that the two of you were in. 

 “I seriously cannot believe you right now.” You began, shaking your head in anger as you tried to focus on your bright computer screen again. But his argument just rubbed you the wrong way entirely, and you found yourself speaking up again. “I didn’t realize how much of a fucking misogynist you were. But oh, wait— it’s perfectly clear now if the way you treat me is anything to go off of.”

 “I’m not a misogynist, Y/N.” The way his tone curled around the sound of your name did something funny to the depths of your soul. He had never called your name outright like that, never addressed you head-on. And it was both weird and oddly satisfying. “All I’m saying is that her descent into madness was pretty warranted since she was in an already heightened state of emotions.” 

 You gave him a deep glare, tilting your head to the side in annoyance. “Just say you hate women, it’s okay, Hyunjin. I won’t bug you about it.” 

 “Like hell, you won’t.” He mumbled under his breath, long fingers typing out something on his computer. 

 And that was enough to completely set you off. 

 There were no other students around, no professors to tell you off, and no Deans to harp on you about correct student conduct. 

 “Seriously, what the hell is your problem?! You’re so fucking annoying and a total piece of shit. I honestly have no idea how you’re at the top of the school when all you do is belittle others!” This time, you were shouting outright. Throwing him an ominous glare and shutting your computer with a resounding thud. 

 Hyunjin leaned back in his seat, lengthy arms folded across his chest as the rain pelted against the misty window just at his back. “Oh, and like you’re any better? You always love to shove your accomplishments in everyone else’s faces— you ever stop to think how that makes others feel?” He was yelling now too, stroking a hand through his long locks that were steadily dripping with tiny droplets of rainwater. 

 Shaking your head in disappointment, you took in a resounding deep breath. “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew you’d be an asshole the entire time and I knew we wouldn’t get any work done,” as you said the words, you were already gathering up your things, shoving them into your bag, and leveling him with a cold stare. “So let’s just forget it - this - okay? Just… work on it by yourself and then we can compile our info together the day of and—” 

 “Sit down, Y/N.” 

 The way his command slipped out from between his lips in a low, gravelly voice shook something loose deep within your very being. For a moment, you almost felt compelled to listen to him. Like under a mystical enchantment, your limbs wanted to move on their own accord and seat yourself down again. But the rational part of your brain overtook all other thoughts as you stood your ground and hovered just next to the table. 

 “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not your daddy— you don’t have the authority of the Dean.” 

 For the last few moments, he hadn’t been looking at you, eyes instead trained on his computer still. Almost like, the entire ordeal didn’t bother him that much. Like you were a minor inconvenience to him in the grand scheme of his rich, privileged life. 

 But all at once, he was tipping his head towards the high rafters of the library’s ceiling, stare catching with yours. The stormy look you saw there, dancing around in his brown irises, forced your heart to leap in the pit of your throat. 

 “Don’t make me say it again.” 

 “I’m never going to listen to you, so tough luck, fucker.”

 Taking in a deep breath, his entire body shuddering with the motion, he held your gaze and motioned with a tilt of his head to the seat in front of him that you had just gotten up from. “Sit. Down.” 

 And like a single crack suddenly appearing in a delicate vase, your mind was losing all conscious thought and you were moving without any other thought. His seething, low tone overtook your entire system, his focus on you sending a shock of shivers up the length of your spine again and again, unrelenting. 

 “What?” You asked, noticing the surprised expression on his face from the way that you had fucking listened to him once, seated in your chair again. “I was tired of hearing your stupid demands.” 

 Hyunjin flipped through a few pieces of paper in his notebook before he pushed it your way. “Give that a look over, it’s the notes I took on Ophelia over the weekend.” The idea of him studying for the project just like you had done forced your mind to run rampant with all kinds of thoughts. Like, was he also stressing out about the meeting like you had been doing?

 “I already told you— we’re not working together.” 

 “For Christ’s sake, just give it up!” Hyunjin exclaimed in a loud voice, throwing his hands up into the air in mock defeat. “You act like this is the deciding project of our grade— it’s a fucking weekly assignment. All we have to do is our best, which will be pretty damn good if we’re both working on it.” 

 “So then you admit that I’m a good student.” You raised an eyebrow his way, fingers slowly taking ahold of his notebook and playing with the edges of the paper.

 Taking in a deep sigh, he pointed at the notebook in front of you. “Just focus— okay? I want to get as much work done as possible tonight.” 

 “Fine, but don’t blame me if we get a bad grade because we rush it.” You said, finally raising the white flag of surrender and taking in the contents of his notebook. The notes were detailed and insanely good, highlighting certain formal aspects of Ophelia’s character and the overarching themes of her madness. “Wow— this is… really good.” You said in a quiet voice, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear it. 

 Rummaging through your nearby bag, you pulled out a pink highlighter to take some notes, and your chosen lollipop for the night, mango flavored. You liked to reward yourself with a fun treat of candy whenever you did late-night studying sessions since the sugar kept your energy levels high and helped to keep you focused. Ever since you were a little girl, you seemed to concentrate better when your mind wasn’t entirely on the content you were studying. 

 “I mean, I’m not coined as one of the school’s top students for nothing,” Hyunjin remarked in a sarcastic tone. You chose to ignore his comment and instead focus on his neat handwriting and the way his words fit in perfectly to the columns of the notebook paper. 

 Everything about him was perfect — from his looks to his academic success to his damn handwriting. Hell, what wasn’t he good at? 

 For one thing, being a nice fucking person. 

 And he seemingly couldn’t grasp the idea of how not to be an asshole to people he didn’t like.

 Unfortunately, you were categorized in his list of people that he hated. 

 As you flipped to the next page in his notebook, your tongue swirled around the lollipop in your mouth. The sugary sweetness of the artificial mango flavor coated your tongue deliciously, and it awakened all of your senses in the best way possible. The minutes seemed to tick by, as you began to make notes based on Hyunjin’s research from his notebook, turning away from the paper and typing into the Word document that you had started for the project.

 Faintly, in the back of your mind, you could hear Hyunjin’s soft inhales and exhales, as he focused on his research. All else was quiet in the library, what with it being completely void of life on a Monday at eleven at night. You could distinctly pick out the sounds of rainfall pitter-pattering just outside the large window behind Hyunjin’s seat, as the night drew on in a heavy mist of dew and moisture. 

 “Why do you hate me so much?” 

 Hyunjin’s words were faint and broke you out of your daze of thought. You had been frantically writing down some of your critiques about Ophelia as a character, and your head shot up from your computer to catch a glimpse of him staring back at you. 

 You didn’t know how long he had been like that, sitting back in his chair, long, raven hair a wavy mess around his face and eyes a little bleary from a mixture of sheer exhaustion and that… darkness that you could never quite pinpoint. You had only ever seen him direct such swarthy looks at you, and that fact disheartened you a lot.

 “I think the real question you should be asking is what’s not to hate about you.” You deadpanned, giving him a deep frown as you poked your lollipop into the corner of one of your cheeks, tucking it away for the moment. 

 Folding his arms across his chest in that abrasive way that he always did around you, he tilted his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, spill the tea.” 

 Taking in a deep breath to stave off your rising nerves and irritation with the man before you, you carded a few fingers through your hair. “To start with, you’re a complete and total asshole.” 

 “I think we’ve already touched on this point by now.” 

 His retort left you to stare daggers into his eyes, wishing someone would just come up behind him and slit his throat because you sure did want to at that moment. But you also supposed that the Dean of the university wouldn’t take a liking to you murdering his son. 

 “Secondly, you’re always stuck up and hard-headed and annoying and… and immature.” 

 Hyunjin blew out a deep, long whisper. “Damn, spare my ego some, will ya?” 

 But you weren’t planning on stopping anytime soon. He had started the engine of the train, and now you were rolling down the tracks of sheer rising anger and all of the pent-up rage that you had felt towards him for the past three years. “And you’re right okay? I am fucking jealous. I’m so jealous of you that I can’t breathe sometimes— you haven’t had to work a day in your life for your position, yet I’ve had to scrape by on my hands and knees, clawing— begging at life to grant me just one fucking break.” You weren't even yelling. Instead, the words just come out hushed and all too grave. 

 Like, if anyone else but him heard them, you’d crumble into a pile of ash and disintegrate into thin air, never to be seen again. Because it was fucking embarrassing, to be so affected by him still, even after all of these years. 

 He stayed silent, watching as you flayed your hands around in the air in your exasperation. You were fed up with your life and the hold that he had over it. You were finally at your breaking point and you had had enough. 

 And you think that at that moment, he had also seen and acknowledged that, staying silent to let all of the words spew out of you like an erupting volcano that had been bound to blow from the very start. 

 “But you? You get everything handed to you on a pretty, silver platter because your daddy is wealthy and you're drop-dead gorgeous and practically have the brain of a neuroscientist. Meanwhile, I was raised by a poor single mother in the slums of Seoul and the only way I got into this university in the first place is because I busted my ass throughout middle and high school to earn the top student’s place,” you pointed a finger between the two of you. Almost like, the tip of it was sharp enough, you could cut right through him. Blade tearing through sinew and flesh and bones. “And then you dare to come around these parts, acting like you own everything, trying to put me in my place. When in reality, you’re the one that needs to be put in your place. Someone needs to knock you down a few pegs, and I’ve always thought… why not me?” 

 For a moment, nothing else happens after that. 

 And irrationally, you’re suddenly afraid of him. 

 Of what he might do — what he might say and to whom — with this newfound information about you. 

 Hardly anyone at school knew about your personal life and struggles. You tended to stay to yourself and instead focus on your studies instead of going out to late-night parties or hitting up the local clubs. And you were an extremely private person, to begin with. You saw no point in pouring out your life's sob story to people you would never see again after four years. 

 But all at once, you wondered if Hwang Hyunjin was a dangerous man. 

 If he was someone who would use your personal information against you. 

 And if the last three years were anything to go off of, you wouldn’t put it past him. 

 “Fuck— I shouldn’t have said all of that,” you grumbled, jamming your fingers into your eye sockets and scrubbing at your lids. “Just… forget all of this, yeah? Forget I said anything.” Then you were standing up from your seat for the second time that night, heart leaping in the pit of your chest as you once again gathered your things into your bag. “It’s late anyways. I should head home and keep studying for my other classes. We can meet up some other time for this, it’s not due til, what… Sunday? That gives us plenty of—”

 “Y/N.” Just like before, the sound of your name on his tongue caused you to pause entirely, limbs halting their movement of shoving your computer into your bag. “Just— shut up, yeah?” His voice came out softer than you expected it would, forcing a shiver down the length of your spine. 

 “Don’t call me that.” 

 “Don’t call you what?” 

 “Y/N.” 

 “Why, because it makes you feel things?” He asked in a gravelly voice. You were avoiding even looking at him at that moment, hands a little shaky as you anxiously started to suck on your lollipop again, rolling it around in the corner of your cheek. “What are you so afraid of?” 

 “You, okay?! It’s always been you!” Your outburst was a lot louder than you expected it to be, ringing across the space between you and echoing in the far distance of the library’s upper-level floor. 

 A beat of silence lapsed between the two of you, and you trained your gaze on a corner of the room, studying the small dust bunny that stood there, completely still and lifeless. In that moment, you could relate to it quite a bit. Lost and confused. Wanting to move away, but not being able to for some weird reason. 

 Hyunjin’s old wooden settee creaked in the silence, as he shifted in his position. “To be honest, I’m scared of you too.” And just like that, your head was snapping his way and your eyes were widening in surprise. “For one, I’m scared of that stupid thing.” With his dark eyes, he motioned towards your mouth. To the lollipop that you were dutifully sucking on, in and out, in and out. You stopped altogether when you realized why he had been so quiet during your studying session. He hadn’t been studying — he had been focusing on you, on the candy in your mouth. Feeling self-conscious about it, you took it out of your mouth and laid it down on the table. “And I’m scared of how you make me feel— crazed out of my mind, all of the time. Like a sick fucking plague, you inhabit my everything… from the moment I wake to the moment I ease, you’re all I can think about, all I can dream about. And I hate it so fucking much that it kills me a little bit more every single day.” 

 “Hyunjin, I—”

 His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his skull, head tipping back in delight as his lips parted just slightly. “Yes— fuck, say it again.” 

 “Say… what?” 

 “You know.” 

 Heart leaping wildly in your throat, and broken butterflies waning in the depths of your stomach, your mouth was moving on its own accord. “Hyunjin.” 

 Like a trigger being pulled back from a gun and flitting the weapon into action, the bullet was shot across the distance between the two of you. And the bullet was your words — you calling out his name. 

 In an instant, he was a flurry of motion before you. All designer clothes soaked from rainwater and long, wavy hair that still had droplets of water at the tips. He was a flash of milky skin hidden underneath a sheer, wet button-down. The faint, waning moonlight shining through the window pane cast an ominous, angelic-like halo around his tall, built frame. 

 And by the time you could breathe again, he had you exactly where he wanted you. Pinned up against the nearest tall bookshelf that reached up into the height of the library's ceiling. One strong hand pinning your two hands against the wood above your head, while the other was positioned just unearth your chin, holding your jaw bone and stroking the flesh there with a gentle thumb. 

 “Now tell me you feel nothing at all, tell me you fucking hate me with your entire being, that you’ll always hate me, and that you think I’m a deprived cunt who needs to be murdered ruthlessly in front of everyone I love.” His words were hushed, their meaning brutal. His face was so close to yours, that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. Leaning into you, he drove his middle a little closer to the part of your legs. 

 Breath catching painfully between your windpipes and the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with blurry vision. Your attention was growing fuzzy at the edges, as you could do nothing more but hone in on… him. Subconsciously, you could feel the mango sweetness of your lollipop coating your tongue again and again as you swallowed. 

 “I—I hate you so fucking much, Hwang Hyunjin.” 

 He pressed into you a little further, breathing in your scent and closing his eyes as his head tipped close to one part of your neck. Mouth hovering over the shell of your ear, he whispered, “Say it again, sweetheart, with a little more passion this time.” 

 “I… I hate you so much, I can’t function with the thought of you existing in the same lifetime as me.” 

 You felt him moving against you then, hand moving away from your jaw and coming around one of your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your black sweatpants. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, sweetheart…” He started, mouth hovering over that space just behind your ear, warm breath fanning against your exposed gooseflesh there. “I won’t hurt you— it was never my intention in the first place. It was… just a fun game to me, to toy around with you. But I never wanted to actually fucking hurt you.” 

 You could feel your mind and heart racing in tandem, going a mile a minute, as you took in all of his words. Because what, the actual fuck? What was he saying? And why was he saying it? And why did you feel yourself crumbling from it all, your resolve breaking down into dust and getting whisked away to the future of Neverland? 

 “I never meant to make you cry,” He said slowly, pulling away from your face just a tiny bit to gauge your reaction to his confession. You gaped up at him, completely speechless in your unadulterated wonder. “Sure, I wanted to make you cry— but not in the cruel kind of way… not in the way that most people would like to do.”

 His insinuation, his innuendo there, jumbled something around deep inside of your spirit. And you could practically feel your knees buckling underneath you from the reality of it all. From the fact that he was never truly set out to cause you permanent damage. And so far, he hadn’t. All he had done was make an ass out of himself and be a continual thorn in your side. But he wasn’t necessarily entirely cruel, and you never truly suspected that he’d do something catastrophically damaging. 

 “But all you have to do is tell me— tell me you never thought about me or dreamed about me or wondered about me, and I’ll be gone forever. You’ll never hear, or see me again. It’ll be like I never existed in the first place and I—”

 “I can’t fathom a life without you in it,” you suddenly blurted out, already feeling the hint of crimson blooming beneath your cheeks and at the tip of your nose. You peered up at him, staring into those depthless, chocolate-brown eyes, reading the dancing emotions there. “Sure, I might despise your guts at times, but… I also think you’re a pretty amazing guy. And… I have to admit that sometimes, I do think about you when I’m alone, at night, and laying in my bed.” 

 His hand clutched a little tighter at your hip then, his fingers intertwining with yours and continuing to hoist your arms up and above your head. “Oh yeah? What do you imagine when you think about me so late into the night?” He rasped out, the sound of his voice grating against your ears and sending flames to burst across the entirety of your veins. 

 “Your face, mostly— how your lips would feel and how you’d taste and what you’d sound like if—”

 After that, you didn’t even get the chance to finish your sentence. 

 He was honing in on you like a vulture to its prey, moving with such swiftness — like a phantom in the night, like a monster hidden underneath the bed, like a selkie in the depths of the ocean. 

 As it turns you, your dreams about him were accurate. 

 Because his plush lips did feel like pure heaven. 

 They pushed against yours, his mouth fitting atop yours like something that was carved into the universe — something that was almost meant to be. He was devouring you whole — heart and mind and soul and body. 

 And with each press of his silky lips, you fell down the hole of darkness and heat just a little bit more. Then the tip of his tongue was poking out and tracing the line of your mouth and you fell into him, fingers clawing at his that still had your arms held up high above your head, desperately searching for purchase as your legs threatened to give out underneath you. 

 When his tongue plowed into the small part between your lips, you let out a breathless moan. The kind that had been hidden deep, buried, and un-satiated for so fucking long. By the time he was tasting you, his hands had released your arms and you were scrambling for something to hold. Desperately, in your haste of arousal and temptation, you were clutching at the cool, wet fabric of his cream-colored button-down, holding on for dear life as his hands tightened around your waist and hoisted you up against the bookshelf further. 

 Your spine crammed into the wooden shelves there, as you wrapped your legs around his torso, yanking him closer with each passioned kiss that he gave you. Again and again, he drew those same, sinful sounds out of you. Just like all of the times before, he was playing a sick kind of game with you. But this time, it wasn’t all that bad. This time, you were quite enjoying yourself. 

 As your parted legs held his hips close to your frame, you could feel the hardness there, in the center of him. Just aching to be released. And suddenly, you came to terms with the fact that the wetness between your legs was rapidly growing with each kiss that he gave you. 

 He sucked on your lips like they were his lifeline — and you wondered, in that moment, how he’d treat the rest of you — how much attention he’d offer the rest of your body. 

 “J-Jin, I—” The shortened nickname slipped out between your lips when the two of you parted to catch your breaths. And when you noticed his swollen mouth, you were almost positive that yours looked just as bad, if not worse. 

 “What, baby doll?” He hummed, mouth moving away from yours entirely and coming close to the line of your jaw. You blushed wildly at the pet name, liking the way it sounded in his silky voice. He moved aside the thick fabric of your violet-colored knit turtleneck with his nose, lips attaching to the skin of your neck and suckling like a vampire drunken on the crimson of his lover. “What is it that you need right now?” 

 Your hands were scrambling for him, finding purchase in his dark roots and pulling just a tad bit there. The abuse to his scalp made him hiss out, warm breath painting across the heated flesh of the column of your neck brilliantly. “N—Need you t—to—” But your words were cut short by the way one of his hands was moving away from your waist, traveling under the hemline of your sweater, a long, nimble finger dancing across your belly button and rising to the center of your stomach. 

 “You need me, hmm?” He mused lowly, mouth having journeyed down to the skin closest to your clavicle, leaving violet-hued marks that would surely survive into the next few days. “Need me to fuck you, right? Need me to take you so irrevocably well right here and right now… can’t wait any longer, yeah?” As he spoke the words into existence, his naughty hand was already finding its way toward the lace of your bralette, skirting across its edges. Then, a single finger dipped underneath the elastic there, skirting up the length of your breast until it was resting against your pebbled nub. “Such a naughty little thing… who knew that the university’s prodigy just needed a good fucking, huh? That all she wanted was to get fucked open against the library bookshelves.” 

 You were gasping out in pure bliss, fingers digging in a little harder into his long wisps of hair as his hands began to explore your chest. Brushing, twisting, pulling. Then doing it all over again with the other mound. “Y—Yeah,” you managed to spit out, trembling underneath him, legs wounding tighter around his waist, bringing him ever closer. “Can you do that… fuck me? I need it so bad right now, I can’t handle it if you just leave me like this…” You were practically begging out the words, so desperate in your pleas that you were almost certain your groveling was boosting his already inflated ego. 

 “I only fuck good girls. Girls who don’t call me an asshole and don’t say they hate me.” 

 At that, your eyes were tearing open in a mix of surprise and despair. But the way that his hand didn’t stop touching your breasts, still playing with them, told you everything you needed to know at that moment. 

 You wiggled your hips slowly, grinding into the hardness between his dark-washed jeans. “Stop touching me then— stop kissing me and stop looking at me,” you began, taunting him with your movements and the way that you spoke in a velvety tone, all soft and delicate and innocent. When what the two of you were doing was anything but innocent. “But you can’t, right? Can’t get the thought of me out of your head— of what this pussy would feel like clenched around your cock, squeezing you for dear life as you fuck into me for the hundredth time in a single day—” 

 He was cutting off your words with his quick hands, shedding off your sweater and bralette in one go. Then he was bending down slowly, hands coming up to cup your chest. He stared up at you from his crouched position, watching the feelings rove across your face as he blew hot hair against one of your nipples. 

 “Just fucking shut up already bitch,” he said in a low grumble, as his hand came over your tit, mouth melding onto the warm skin there effortlessly. His other hand was busy playing with your neglected breast, squeezing there a little bit harder when his teeth grazed one of your nipples, tongue lapping at the bud. “You’re only to speak when spoken to, you understand me?” He asked, pulling away from your breast and making a crude, wet sucking noise as he did so.

 Glaring down at him through lust-filled eyes, you sneered his way. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, asshole.” Hands gripping onto his hair a little bit, you pushed his face closer to your chest as he began to work on your other breast, leaving a ring of wetness as he went. “And don’t call me bitch.”

 You could feel him smirk against your skin, his low chuckle vibrating against your gooseflesh and sending ripples of energy to course through your veins. “Mhm— why not? Your pussy sure seems to love the name.” He mused sadistically, completely unlatching from your breast, hands finding their way back at your hips. 

 “What are you even talk—”

 But he didn’t leave any more room for questions, one hand ripping away from your waist and covering your covered centre. “This, right here,” he said in a low whisper, fingers cupping your warmth there, and you could practically feel the essence dripping out of you, just behind your thin panties and sweatpants. “Bet you’ll get even more soaked when I call you it again.”

 “You know nothing about me.” The words came out garbled and wobbly, as he maneuvered your sweatpants down and off of your legs entirely. “Y—You don’t know my body.” 

 He threw you a sardonic kind of smile, leaning into the side of you, lips caressing the shell of your ear as he spoke in soft tones. “Yeah, but I’ve done a hell of a lot of observing over the years…” At his words, you could feel his hand nearing your middle again, and you involuntarily parted your legs in want. 

 When his fingers came in contact with the lace of your panties, you had to pull out your biggest bout of self-control to hold in the moan that wanted to escape from you. His movements were expert level, as he pushed the fabric off to the side, running a single finger up your lips, feeling for that small spot at the very top. Circling his thumb around there, his other fingers worked at your entrance, and before you knew it, he was pressing two long digits into you. 

 “F—Fuck—“ You groaned at the feeling of it all, falling into him and clawing at his shoulders that were still covered in that damp button-up shirt. “Hyunjin.” You were moaning out his name before you even realized it, hips jutting up slowly against his hand, your head getting thrown back as his fingers searched and found that warm, gooey spot deep inside of you. 

 “See? I know exactly what the fuck I’m doing,” he muttered, lips coming around the side of your neck and suckling violet marks into the skin there. “So be a good bitch and shut up for me, yeah? Take it like a good girl— like the good whore that I know you are.” 

 You couldn’t even protest against him using the name again, because, in all honesty, you did like it. It felt dirty and wrong but so very fucking right at the same time. It caused your walls to spasm against the three fingers he had stuck inside of you, as he pumped in and out with a rabid kind of pace. The sound of his movements forced shivers down the length of your spine, as his thumb pressed into your clit a little more. 

 “Y—You gotta fuck me now, Jin—” You mumbled, already reaching the edge of orgasm from the way that he was steadily working you up with his hand alone. Half of his fingers were buried deep inside of you and the others were desperately clutching at your hip bone to bring you closer to him. The sounds he was pulling from you, both wetness and moans of pleasure, were other-worldly. “N—Need to feel your cock inside of me, right fucking now.” 

 In your daze of lust, you found yourself clasping at the buttons of his shirt, quickly undoing them and sliding his damp shirt off of his frame. What lay underneath was a chiseled chest — a muscular abdomen, biceps that rippled with each breath he took, and a dark trail that led towards his dick. You ran your fingers down the milky expanse of his chest, marveling at how soft and chiseled everything felt. 

 Sighing out quietly, you stared up at him with pleading eyes. “You’re so fucking hot… always knew you would be.” That made Hyunjin smirk with satisfaction, as he tipped into you for a breathless kiss. 

 While his lips captured your own, you could feel his hands working at your panties, sliding them off your legs and leaving you completely bare. Then you heard the clanking noise of a belt coming undone, as he unmistakably rid himself of his pants and boxers. 

 Then he was parting from your mouth, focus turned down to where the centers of your bodies met together. Your mouth fell open at the sight of… him. All seven-and-a-half inches, long shaft curving upward in arousal and precum leaking out of the pretty red tip. A single vein ran down the side, bulging from his unchecked want.

 “Need you to be nice and loud for me, yeah?” He growled in that low tone of his, as he guided himself near your entrance. “Let the entire school know who you belong to— scream my name, bitch, and tell everyone who fucking owns you.” 

 His words jumbled around inside of your mind, making you feel lightheaded as he slowly began to slide into you. You widened your legs a little bit for him, wrapping them around his waist as he quickly bottomed out. The stretch was only slight and left you hissing with relief when he was fit into you at the hilt.

 Without any warning, he was sliding out almost completely, before thrusting back in, hitting into you so roughly, that your spine jammed into the wooden bookshelf at your back. And just like that, he was setting a hellish pace. One that was sure to make you crumble before him — fall apart at the seams. 

 “Mhm— fuck!” You screamed out in a guttural voice, throwing your head back against the bookshelf desperately as his hips snapped against yours feverishly. You were gripping onto his shoulders so hard, running your nails down his back, that you were sure you’d leave red marks later. “Holy shit- feels so good!”

 One of Hyunjin’s hands traveled away from your waist, long, nimble fingers digging into your scalp, yanking at the hair there. “Louder, bitch— take it all like the filthy slut that you are.” He shouted, voice coming out raspy as he pounded into you roughly. 

 In the very back of your mind, you distinctly heard the pitter-patter of rainfall against the nearby windowpane mixing in with the sounds of the two of you  — skin slapping against skin and wetness squelching. It was straight out of a porno and made your head swim with so many dirty thoughts. Breath catching in the center of your throat, you found your lips opening up and releasing a blood-curdling cry of pleasure. 

 Your noises of ecstasy seemed to compel Hyunjin forward with drive, as he rutted into you in a manic kind of way, thumb tracing figure-eight symbols into your inflamed clit. Almost like, if he didn’t get it out of his system, he’d never be able to live afterward — wouldn’t be able to breathe or think or speak. The tip of him hit up into that warm spot inside of you, and you clenched a little harder around this throbbing cock every time he teased you right there. 

 “Fuck— I can’t… I’m gonna…” You groaned out loudly. Your eyes flittered into the back of your skull from the way that he pulled at your hair at the same time that he fucked up into you. 

 Hyunjin grunted out lowly, hips snapping against yours with each thrust. “J—Just a little farther, doll face…” From the way that his domineering tone was slipping away, you could tell that he was also creeping near the edge of release. 

 You could feel the slip and slide between your legs, your essence coating every surface of your inner thighs and making everything feel silky and smooth. The intensity of his movements slowed down somewhat, the frenzy of his rocking leveling out as he chased your guys’ highs. 

 “Yes… right there!” You mewled out breathlessly just as the tip of him hit so far into you, that entire galaxies were cast against the expanse of your closed eyes. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire — the flush creeping down the column of your purple-marked neck and into the depths of your soul as he continued to circle your bundle of nerves. 

 Walls clenching around his cock that was buried deep inside of your warmth, you could feel the moment Hyunjin found that blissful space of his release. “I’m gonna come— fuck—” He rasped out, his voice on the quiet side as he lost all semblance of control. 

Hips stuttering against yours, he made to pull out of you completely. But you found yourself shaking your head, eyes shooting open, and giving him a serious frown. “N—No… want you to… come inside…” Your head was empty of all thoughts, as you could do nothing more but focus on the way that he felt so close to you - so far deep inside. 

 At that, Hyunjin was offering you a tiny, satisfied grin. Then he was seizing up inside of you, cock stretching against your walls as he met his high. It overtook his entire system, overruling all other obstacles and forcing his head backward in pure, orgasmic bliss. The prettiest sounds fell from his plump, crimson, kiss-swollen lips, as he let himself slip down the cliff with ease. 

 The feeling of his release painting your walls in warm whiteness caused your entire body to convulse with pleasure, as you finally found your high. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before… perfect and whole and so fucking hot. Bursts of rose and topaz and turquoise splashed across the inner workings of your mind, as your insides fluttered around Hyunjin’s cock that fit perfectly between your legs. 

 “Holy shit, that was…” You said breathlessly after you had begun to come down from your high. Cracking your eyes open you noticed the darkness still there in Hyunjin’s gaze, and the way that his eyes slit shut with want. The sound of the rain outside lulled your mind into a perfect state of peaceful limbo. “What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow his way in question. “What is it?” 

 He shrugged slowly, eyes coming away from your connected middles and locking with yours. “Nothing, just… I can’t fucking believe you just let me cum inside of you— with no protection.” 

 You could feel his cock softening inside of you, and finally, your legs stopped shaking around his waist. “Why? You don’t like the idea of that?” Beginning to pull away from him, you tried to yank as far away from his cock as you could. “If you didn’t like it, you should’ve—”

 Hyunjin’s mouth was coming onto you in the next beat, capturing your lips up into a heated kiss, stealing the labored breath right from your lungs and sucking on your puffy bottom lip. “Just shut the fuck up, alright. I fucking loved it… it was so hot— you’re so hot. Makes me wanna come in you every single day.” You could feel him move between your legs then, as he began to fuck his seed back into your aching walls. In the back of your mind, you could feel his hand lazily working at you, pushing a single digit back into your entrance between his cock, thrusting in the cum that was splattered across your thighs.  

 Groaning out softly at his words, you placed your hands on his bare chest and pushed a little bit so that you could get a look at his face again. It was filled with so much lust and want and adoration, the sight of it all almost overwhelmed you entirely. “Well, I suppose I could allow that…” Your voice trailed off, as you dragged a single finger up the center of his chest and towards the sharp line of his jaw. “If it’s with you— then yeah, you can fuck me raw every day.” 

 Hyunjin let out a low noise, which sounded like a mix between a moan and a cry for help. “But we can’t, baby doll— it wouldn’t be smart and I’d never want to put you in any kind of uncomfortable position.” 

 You found yourself shrugging off his concerns nonchalantly, as you drove your hips a little forward, meeting his shallow strokes. You loved the feeling there, of wetness and silky essence. “Yeah, but… the good thing is, at least we’d know who the father is.” 

 At that, he was flashing you a wicked smirk, pearly white glinting against puffy, red lips. His tiny smile was the last thing you saw before he was tipping into you and fitting his mouth around yours again. “Oh, you devilish little minx… I think I’ll keep you for a very long time.” 

 In the back of your mind, you could feel him moving against you, cock already stiffening again just from your words and insinuations alone. But at that moment, you weren’t too worried about what he planned to do with you for the rest of the night. Because right then, all you wanted to focus on was his face, and the way he let you ring your arms around his neck, pulling at the hair at his nape as he pressed kiss after impassioned kiss to your mouth. 

 It turns out that your roommate Felix had been right after all. In the end, working with Hwang Hyunjin hadn’t been that horrible. 

 It had been quite… nice. 

 Despite all of the bickering and shouting. 

 After a while, the rough bumps and edges of your rocky relationship seemed to mellow out between the tall bookshelves of the library. And before you knew it- he had you completely bending at his will — practically groveling at his feet for his love, attention, and care. 

 In the end, you supposed that that’s what you had always wanted from each other, and that’s why you had been so horrible to one another. If you couldn’t garner each other’s attention with regular conversations and friendship, the next best thing was to be rivals in your academics and throw insults at every opportunity you were offered. 

 But the thing about trying to hate Hwang Hyunjin — trying to hate such a smart, caring, passionate man — is that eventually, one’s willpower always breaks down, and they’re left in a pile of mess and limbs as they search out his affection. 

Fin.

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#skz #stray kids #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #skz oneshot #skz hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin angst #skz hyunjin smut oneshot #skz hyunjin angst oneshot #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin x y/n #stray kids hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin oneshot #hyunjin fanfic #skz hyunjin fanfic #skz hyunjin angst and smut oneshot #skz hyunjin fluff #skz hyunjin fluff oneshot #skz smut oneshot #skz angst oneshot #skz fluff oneshot

[az-cain]

Di’kutla Kar’ta - Foolish Heart

chapter one

din djarin x reader ≈ 1.3k words masterlist

so casse and i got to talking and i decided that i would write my first multi-chapter fic. here’s to committing, y’all. the name is subject to change. hmu if u want to be tagged! also i am terrified

tysm @amchapel for being a glorious editor and beta reader

SERIES TW: mentions of sexual assault, religious trauma, loss of family members, descriptions of injuries, descriptions of violence, slowburn, smut

CHAPTER TW: descriptions of injuries, descriptions of violence

—

This job had gone completely wrong.

You were pinned face-down by the neck under the forearm of a grimy imperial Stormtrooper as six others worked at the clasps of your beskar armor.

They had already stripped your pauldrons, cape, and tassets. Your ship was in fragments of metal and clouds of smoke outside, blown up by the ugly cronies of the ugly mudscuffer that sat on the ugly bar of this ugly cantina.

You should have just stuck to fixing ships for far too cheap on this frozen shithole of a planet.

You swore under your breath, wriggling the fingers of your right hand— pinned just above the elbow— to trigger the rockets in your gauntlet. In response, one of the other Imps stepped full-body onto said fingers. A sickening crunch filled the air followed by your loud shout and swearing in a few languages.

Apparently, the Stormtrooper was a little bitter about the bodies of six of his comrades scattering the ground. He laughed cruelly, making some sort of joke you were too inconvenienced and pained to understand.

There was a loud crash emanating from somewhere behind you and blaster-shots, then five of the seven Stormtroopers were off of you and headed towards the origin of the sound.

You wrestled quickly out of the grip of the two remaining, flipped the one at your neck onto his, and shot a small missile from your gauntlet into the one near your feet. You didn’t stop to watch his head and helmet splinter, turning to grab your guns and run to the source of the crash and shots.

It was another Mandalorian, clad in pure silver beskar and a simple black cape. He was handling the troopers with ease, until one shot through the doorway from about 20 feet behind him, somehow missing enough to graze his unarmored side.

You aimed the blaster and quickly dispatched the few more stormtroopers across the road as the other Mandalorian shot down the one remaining Stormtrooper.

You whipped around and shot the head of the man who’d commissioned you to find a bounty. Almost predictably, he’d just wanted your armor.

You huffed, walking stiffly back to where your beskar’gam lay on the cold concrete, watching your breath spread in front of you as you knelt to pick it up and strap it back on with one hand.

Footsteps clicked quietly behind you, the other Mandalorian approaching carefully. You finished strapping it on and stood, meeting his eyes through both of your visors.

He spoke first. “What were you doing meeting with Imps?”

You laughed, cradling your hand against your chest. “Low on credits. What the hell is another Mandalorian doing on Hoth?”

“Low on credits. That your ship outside?”

You groaned, head dropping back in exasperation. “Kriffin’ used to be. Now it’s just a pile of dust.” You dropped your head back down to meet his eyes again.

He hummed, extending a gloved hand, presumably to inspect your own. You placed your palm on it.

You weren’t thrilled to see another Mandalorian— the only ones you’d seen in the last few years had called you a member of a cult and scorned you. You’d made a point to avoid them since.

“Come to my ship,” he said, yanking you out of your thoughts. “I can give you a ride off-world to somewhere less desolate and give you some tape to set your fingers with.”

You cocked your head, a little bit intrigued by the man. He hadn’t gone to remove his helmet yet, surprisingly.

“Alright,” you said after a moment, “but I don’t take off the helmet.”

He nodded solemnly. “Neither do I.”

“This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.”

You withdrew your hand and motioned for him to lead the way with the other. He stepped towards the exit of the abandoned, ruined cantina in broad steps, leaving you to almost jog to maintain his pace. He had a hand pressing the fabric of his cape roughly to his side where the bullet had grazed him.

The two of you walked silently through the small town towards the ice plains for a few frigid minutes before he spoke in a cloud of moisture. “My name is Din Djarin.”

“Y/n L/n.”

“Pleasure.”

The next few minutes were quiet as you saw a Razor Crest appear at the edge of your vision. The scarred dark silver form loomed as you approached it, a button on Din’s gauntlet opening the cargo bay slowly. It had lowered to the ground by the time you had reached it, so you walked up into the heated ship.

“Dank farrik that feels nice,” you sighed into the warmth, hand almost forgotten. But of course, as blood returned to your limbs fully, the broken bones throbbed. You turned to meet Din’s eyes and he nodded towards the boxes against the wall of the bay, motioning for you to sit as he turned to the other wall and pulled out some medical tape.

“Catch,” he said simply, tossing you the tape.You caught it in your uninjured hand, setting it on the metal on your thigh while you worked your glove off. Once you’d gotten it off and set it down by the tape, you winced internally at the look of it. A few fingers were already turning blue and one was tilted slightly at the base.

You braced yourself as you cracked the bottom knuckle back into place, hissing quietly enough that you hoped it wasn’t picked up by the modulator. You pinned the tape between your thighs and scratched at the end of it until it came up, pulling it up and wrapping your pointer and ring fingers with the unharmed middle before cutting the tape with your teeth. You laid the ends of the tape down on both your finger and the roll before standing and walking to where Din was tending his own wounds.

He had a small cloth soaked with what seemed to be disinfectant in hand and was pressing it to the wound, the fabric slit opened a bit wider to allow him better access. The good thing about blaster grazes was that they were cauterized the instant they occured, so he needed only to clean it and make sure no infection occurred.

“So you said you were here because you were low on credits. Plus the carbonite freezer. Bounty hunter?”

He nodded, visor tilting up to meet yours.

“You catch this one?”

He nodded again.“He got a few good shots in at the Crest last night.” He hissed in pain, whipping his head to his wound and moving the rag away as he stood. “Not sure if she’ll run.”

“If you want, I can help you fix it up tomorrow morning. Tonight, if you need it.” You clicked your tongue. “I have a shop with some supplies and engine parts back in town. I’m sure I can find something that’ll get her going again.”

He hummed, tilting his visor up in an affirmative. “Thanks. Morning sounds good.” He headed towards the opening of a bunk near the ladder to the cockpit. “You can take the bunk next to mine. There aren’t any sheets or blankets, but it’s a bed. I’ll knock to wake you tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, suddenly overcome with your exhaustion, your adrenaline finally wearing out.

You walked towards the bunk and laid down, shutting the door before stripping your armor piece by piece. The sound of metal scraping and clinking emerged from the other side of the narrow cubby and you nearly laughed at the fact that you’d spent years avoiding other Mandalorians and now you found yourself stripping from your armor less than 10 feet away.

The humor, however, didn’t last too long. As soon as you’d removed your helmet and laid down on the plain mattress, you were out like a light.

masterlist

#din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin x mandalorian reader #din djarin/mandalorian reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin/oc #din djarin x mandalorian oc #din djarin/mandalorian oc #mandalorian #the mandalorian #din djarin

[soulsuckrrs]

open to: m/f/anyone connection: son/daughter/child of a visiting dignitary or royal supernatural, betrothed/arranged marriage, human wandering a vampire's castle, hmu if you wanna plot~

In a world that was controlled solely by his father, Leroy took whatever chances he could get to have time to himself and more often than not those times were when the castle was dark and everyone else in the place was asleep or something akin to it. Wandering the cold stone halls had become a pastime of his, usually venturing to the large library to consume his favorite stories or studies but this especially black and stormy night had the prince wandering the dark halls of his fathers castle to try and calm his restless mind.

He walked as silent as any feline who was used to their darkened home, easing in and out of the shadows like he was made from them. A distant light caught his attention rather quickly, a faint and small candle carried from someone seemingly trying to go unnoticed through the empty halls. Leroy was impressed they had managed to evade the guards that were patrolling the halls but they were loud and the prince had always easily tricked the guards to avoid them.

The vampire lurked in the shadows, paused in his steps to observe the light as it danced closer to his large pocket of completely shadow, pale face barely noticeable in what moonlight was able to make it through the storm clouds outside. As the light grew ever closer Leroy moved through the shadows, one with them in body and presence, whisking around the other like a cold breeze from the window which he had opened also in a flash of movement that was hidden by the shadows.

Rain and wind whipped in, putting out the others' light source. As the closures on the window slammed shut on their own accord, Leroy chuckled, hoping he had startled the other in his appearance from the shadows. "Wandering these halls at night is rather brave of you," Leroy hummed in amusement, figure more illuminated than it had been before as he emerged from the very shadows in the hall. "-- I could help you find your way.... if you're lost."

#indie rp #indie vampire rp #indie fantasy rp #indie royal rp #indie supernatural rp #indie para rp #open starter #| int. Leroy |

[aroexhaustionintensifies]

Aizawa, after several years of masterminding Iida's, Shirakumo's, Yamada's and Nemuri's bullshittery and 2 days of teaching one (1) Midoriya Izuku: this is karma isn't it-

#boku no academia #major my hero academia spoilers below #aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #shirakumo oboro #nemuri kayama #midoriya izuku #tensei iida #i refuse to believe midnight is dead fuck you #she deserves so much more #shigaraki is why we cant have nice things #*slaps myself* this bitch ass can fit so much denial #someone give this man a cup of coffee #yeah thats probaly karma #also loud cloud? hmu #nemuri? more like nemuQUEEN #maybe i deserve this #if you saw me crying no you did not #canon: thats why yo shoes raggedy me: thats why yo mama dead- dead as hell- what shoe size she got on-

[channoticedmeuwu]

` listen to really really by winner .*･｡ﾟ

p : yangyang x fem!reader | g : fluff uwu | warnings : none

a/n : oh my God yangyang istg get back in your lane you're creeping up my biaslist uGHHHH also this is also partially for @sunghoons-violet I hope this makes your day better bb :((

— [13 : 41 HRS] "What's your problem, huh?"

Y/n poked a finger into Yangyang's shoulder repeatedly, pushing him back with each touch.

"Who. Do. You. Think. You. Are?" She pushed him against the wall, and with every touch, his lips curled into a smirk bigger than the last. Up the wall, he couldn't really have an escape, especially with her grasping his shoulder so tightly. The alley was too closed in, anyway. He glanced up, his milk chocolate eyes reflecting the white-cotton clouds flowing through the bright blue sky, pigeons sitting on the rooftops, pecking at their feathers. He glanced back down at Y/n in front of him, staring at him as if he just killed her dog. Oh, it was certainly not a very charming look, considering her features were always glittered with the cutest expression you could imagine.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" he tilted his head to the side innocently, well aware of her grip on his shoulder growing tougher. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, and made a face as if she was slapped between the eyes.

"What's wrong? What's wrong!?" She let go of his shoulder and grabbed her hair. He was sure she left his school jacket crumbled up, "Are you a fucking moron?"

"You make me sound like one, that's for sure."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Liu Yangyang, you're the one who fucking put the gum on my chair during class."

He pushed his hands into his pockets and casually propped a leg besides the wall, "Do I look like I would do that to you?"

"Who else would!?"

He looked up and hummed, squinting his eyes as if in thought. Then, he gasped, his eyes twinkling as he watched her with amusement, "Haechan did."

She laughed, "Do I look stupid to you? I saw you crouching in front of my desk! You put it there!"

Yangyang rolled his eyes, shaking his head. That punk, Donghyuck. "I was getting it off, loser."

She frowned, and then crossed her hands. "Then why was it still left on my chair?"

"I gave up. I decided you weren't worth it," he said, smiling wide, his gummy smile making her almost convinced.

But, alas, this was Y/n, after all. She then made a face as if she was choking on her own swear words, "You little—"

"And besides," Yangyang shrugged, pushing her aside and skipping down the alley onto the sunny afternoon, announcing it loud and clear for the whole world to hear.

"Why would I want to prank the girl I like and make her hate me more?"

main taglist (guys hmu already smh >:(() : @vera-liscious @kisshim @allegxdly @stayctday

#neoculturecafe #wayv yangyang #wayv #nct #liu yangyang #yangyang scenarios #yangyang fluff #yangyang imagines #yangyang drabbles #yangyang blurbs #yangyang timestamps #yangyang #wayv fluff #yangyang x reader #yangyang x you #wayv x reader #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv drabbles #wayv blurbs #wayv timestamps #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct x y/n #kpop

[memory-mortis]

The Work of an Enemy Stand

WC: 2.4K TW: none that I can think of right now. hmu if I should add a tw TAGS: sex pollen, inappropriate use of Stands

!HEAVILY NSFW! I’M SERIOUS! 18+ ONLY!

Finally. You sighed to yourself as warm water ran down your body. After days of constant travelling, washing all the sand and grime off your skin in a clean, cozy hotel felt like absolute bliss. No doubt Polnareff was also ecstatic about the toilet, considering his usual bathroom predicament. You would have to tease him about it later - but definitely not tonight.

Polnareff, Avdol, Joseph and Kakyoin all stayed in the rooms 3 floors down and you didn't feel like going all the way there just for shits and giggles. Joseph made quite a fuss about booking rooms near each other, but it was to be expected that almost all the rooms would be already taken during vacation season. This meant that you and Jotaro were next to each other. Not only that, your rooms were conjoined by a single door.

Avdol said that it would be for the best, that if a Stand user were to attack, you would be quick to help each other. To you, it meant something very different, and your growing crush since day one of the trip was to blame. Jotaro was just a door away from your bed.

You bit your lip as warmth pooled at your core. God fucking dammit. Once again, you let out a sigh. Why him, of all people? He probably thought that you were annoying, a nuisance, just like all the other girls that surrounded him all the time. What made you any different? Your Stand abilities? He probably just barely tolerated your presence.

Pouting to yourself, you turned off the shower and stepped out, when a sudden loud thud made you freeze. Did that come from your room or Jotaro's? You quickly wrapped a towel around your torso and slowly opened the bathroom door, just barely peeking out. Silence. Nothing. You swung the door open and jumped out, an attempt to surprise the possible enemy.

You were relieved to find no one in your room, but the moment of peace ended quickly with another noise coming from Jotaro's, followed by countless oras. This meant only one thing, he was fighting someone. You didn't hesitate and made haste to the door separating you from your friend. Upon opening it and running in, you met something hard and warm, only after a second realizing that you crashed into Jotaro's towering body.

"S-sorry!" you apologized and immediately took a step back, looking up at the delinquent. He seemed.. alright? But his expression was somewhat strange. He was shocked to see you, cheeks flushed and eyes wide open. There was a spark of something in those aquamarine orbs that scanned your entire body. Once you followed his gaze, it dawned on you that you just rushed into his room completely naked apart from the towel hugging your curves.

You were about to apologize once more and leave when Jotaro suddenly slammed the door shut behind you and cornered you against it.

"Uhh… Jotaro? Are you okay?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry. This was extremely out of character. Jotaro's breathing turned labored, you could feel his warm breath tickling your skin.

"Y/N," he managed to say, although with some struggle, "I don't know what's- I think it's a Stand ability-" Suddenly he grabbed your chin and his lips were on yours. Blood rushed to your cheeks immediately and your knees almost gave in once his smell hit your nose. Was this really happening? Jotaro was kissing you? You whimpered against him, closing your eyes shut. You were confused, lost, and even though you had dreamt of this moment many times, something was off and you had to ask him what the hell was going on.

You pushed him away with a lot of effort and gasped for air before speaking, "Jojo! What the hell is happening?!" Instead of an answer, however, all you got was having your wrists pinned to the door by his much bigger hands. He brought his lips to your neck.

"I don't know," he growled, "you're so fucking hot…" You yelped slightly when he bit the sensitive skin. That's when you noticed the dust on his shoulder, or was it sand? No, it was too soft to be sand. That was definitely some kind of pollen. But there were no flowers around, so the only explanation was a Stand.

You wanted to ask him about it. Talk it out, make sense of the situation and why he was suddenly so affectionate with you, but you couldn't. Not with the feeling of his skin against yours and his lips tracing your neck and jaw.

Suddenly, he brought a leg between your legs, rubbing his knee against the soft spot. You let out a moan and blushed at the dirty sound you just produced. A groan left Jotaro's throat and once again his lips met yours. This, combined with the way his leg grinded against you, sent shivers down your spine, as all your thoughts except for the ones concerning Jotaro dissipated completely. Great heat emanated from his body and you rolled your hips to meet his knee until he just couldn't take it anymore and thrusted his hips against yours. The feeling of his hard cock straining against his tight jeans drove you crazy and you felt dizzy as his tongue entered your mouth. He was growing impatient, but so were you.

He let go of your wrists. He didn't need to hold you anymore, you were complacent to his efforts, that much was evident from how fast you wrapped your arms around his neck. He rolled up the hem of your towel and you gasped at the sensation of his thick fingers between your folds, teasing at your entrance and making you groan at the light scraping against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Jotaro," you moaned out his name the second your lips disconnected. The neediness could be heard in your voice and Jotaro picked up on it immediately, taking it as a sign of your consent.

Your hands hurried down to unbuckle one of his many belts and you groaned in annoyance at the realization that you'd have to undo one more, eliciting a low chuckle from him. He let go of your hips to aid you in freeing his cock. The sight of its size made you lick your lips in anticipation. God, he was big. Would he even fit? A small whimper left your lips and Jotaro aimed his attention back at you; gripping your hips so tightly you were sure it would leave bruises, he picked you up and wrapped your legs around his hips.

Unable to hold back anymore, Jotaro lowered you down onto his throbbing cock and penetrated you slowly. You were about to moan really loud, but he silenced you with his mouth, probably not wanting to disturb the other people in the hotel. The way his thickness stretched you sent you to cloud nine, so much so that you found it nearly impossible to form a coherent thought. Your hands clutched the fabric of Jotaro's tank top as if your life depended on it, and you signaled that you were ready by rocking your hips against the delinquent.

While you were somewhat vocal by moaning and gasping for air, Jotaro had yet to let out a sound other than a quiet growl or groan. He was a man of few words after all and this came as no surprise to you, but a certain speck of curiosity sparked at the back of your mind: what could you do to make him vocal? Was there something you could do to make him unravel? Your thoughts dispersed once Jotaro began slamming his hips against yours with fervor and this time it was truly hard to silence you as you clawed at anything you could hold onto. His hard cock hit spots you didn't know existed and it felt just right inside you. Tears formed in your eyes and threatened to overspill from the ultimate high Jotaro brought you to and your walls clenched around his girth as you felt a very familiar knot in your stomach. A guttural sound escaped Jotaro's throat, "Fuck, you're so fucking tight." His thrusts grew sporadic the more the both of you neared climax and finally, with a few more thrusts, he bottomed out and spilled his seed inside of you. The feeling of the warm liquid made you arch your back and slam your head back as you let out a drawn out moan, your legs twitching with the orgasm that crashed over you like a tsunami.

Jotaro slouched over and rested his head onto your shoulders, breathing heavily. So were you, out of breath, somewhat satisfied.. and yet not. It was not enough. There was something inside you begging for more. Did you inhale that pollen? It was safe to assume that it was to blame for the way Jotaro was acting. Now you were affected by it as well and it created insatiable hunger deep in your gut, not for anything material, but for the addictive feeling of Jotaro stretching you out. And the fact that he remained hard even after climax proved that he felt the same way.

You rocked your hips against him and he let out a hitched breath - bingo. Jotaro was definitely still craving more. He pulled away and looked you in the eyes, cheeks flushed. No words were needed - you nodded and he picked you up over his shoulder, walked over to the bed and proceeded to toss you onto it. Without a moment of hesitation, his lips were on yours in another passionate kiss, tongues swirling, this time much more coordinated. You snaked your hand down his abs to give his cock a few pumps and his hips thrusted against it obediently, which made you smirk against Jotaro's lips.

You noticed his focus falter as your hand jerked his cock and used it to your advantage, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. He looked up at you wide-eyed, surprised at the sudden act of dominance. From the frown he gave you, you could tell that he wasn't very ecstatic about having the reins taken from him, but that didn't stop you from anything - in fact, now you were even more tempted to force him into submission. Jotaro tried to sit up and grab your neck, but you didn't let him, using your Stand to pin him down and tie his wrists to the bed frame. He growled up at you, however his cock throbbed beneath you. That was a surprising turn of events. Was he into this? You always took him for a control freak - he most likely still was - but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to switch the roles every now and then.

You rubbed your clit against his girth teasingly, biting your lip as the cum that dripped from your hole coated him. Your movements elicited a low growl from the man underneath you, yet he didn’t put up a fight. His hips bucked upwards and you shivered at the contact with your bundle of nerves.

“Shit,” he growled, “fuck me already, Y/N.” You bit your lip hard, his words alone were enough to feed the flames within you, but you held back, set on pissing Jotaro off to see how he would behave. (Un)fortunately, you got your answer sooner than you had anticipated. Something grabbed your hair and yanked you backwards, forcing you to bend your back. You yelped in surprise and froze as soon as you saw Star Platinum on his knees behind you, his loincloth just barely covering the huge bulge underneath.

While your focus was on the purple Stand, Jotaro freed himself and dug his nails into your hips - that’s when you knew you lost all power over him. You blindly reached for anything in front of you in hopes of grabbing onto something, but before you could do so, Jotaro thrusted all of his length inside you and you moaned at how well he stretched you out once again. Star used that opportunity to shove his cock in your mouth and before you knew it you were moaning around him. The soft, shaky ora he let out was so adorable that it made butterflies dance in your stomach, however Jotaro left you no space to gush over his Stand and began thrusting into you frantically and mercilessly. As your head bobbed because of Jotaro’s movements, you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking Star’s cock just to hear him produce more of those sweet sounds, and boy were you successful. He was losing it, together with Jotaro judging by the more and more vocal groans.

As Jotaro’s thrusts picked up speed and the slapping of skin against skin filled the room, Star finally gripped your cheeks and shoved his cock deeper down your throat. You gagged and closed your eyes as tears welled up in them, but you couldn’t deny that you liked it. Star ran his fingers over your neck, feeling his own girth, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, warm liquid spilled down your throat. The knot in your abdomen came undone and your walls clenched around Jotaro’s cock in waves, yet he didn’t stop ramming into you until he came to a climax himself. Once Star slipped out of you, your body fell to the side, exhausted. Both you and Jotaro were breathing heavily, coming down from your highs. And yet… the two of you exchanged a look. You weren’t done.

You lay face down on the bed. Your eyes were pinned to the clock which stood on the nightstand. 03:00, it read. Your entire body hurt, especially your private parts and throat. How many times had you done it now? You lost count after the 4th round. As your consciousness faded out, you felt Jotaro’s arm around you and his lips on your shoulder.

“Holy crap, Y/N! You look like shit, did you not sleep well?” Polnareff’s voice felt like knives digging right into your temples. You sat in the lounge of the hotel with dark circles under your eyes and a cup of tea in your hands. Jotaro didn’t look much better, but at least he could speak. He pulled the tip of his cap down to cover his face.

“Good grief, Polnareff, keep it down,” he grumbled and sipped his black coffee. You sighed to yourself. Fingers crossed you wouldn’t have to walk too much today.

#not sfw #jotaro x reader #jojo x reader #jotaro x y/n #jotaro #jotaro kujo #kujo jotaro #star platinum x reader

[curious-menace]

Friday night Headcanons for the rogues

Penguin

He's in the lounge of course!Friday night is the busiest night of the week, lots of henchfolks get paid weekly and they always have cash to blow.Penguin always makes sure to have someone special in for entertainment on a Friday and the iceberg lounge is always opened late.

Harvey dent/Twoface

Well first they have to flip for it. Of it's Harvey's choice it'll be something quiet. He likes to take in a show in Gotham's theater District, a play an opera or a musical. Of he's feeling social he might go to a private room in the iceberg lounge (if he and penguin are speaking) for a few drinks and a smoke with the other rogues.

If it's two-faced choice maybe something a little more extroverted? Twoface likes clubs, places with a lot of bass, places where you can feel the music. He's the gambler of the two of them, you might find him at the racetracks with some of his hired help of he's feeling generous.

Scarecrow

Given that everyone else is out partying, Jon likes to take this opportunity to enjoy the quiet. If he's up to no good( what else is new) he might be doing a spot of b&e to steal some chemicals. He likes to take advantage of the fact everyone has gone home early.

If he's behaving himself , not working on any projects , he'll be curled up by a fireplace somewhere with a glass of scotch and a good book, maybe one of his crows looking over his shoulder or a stray cat on his lap.

Ivy

Ivy likes to take things slow and easy every day of the week, Friday is no acception. She's not much of a drinker or one for parties and music, but she might like to spend some time with Harley and Selina . Maybe watch a movie or plot a caper for later in the week?

Sometimes she needs space, she can be found in Gotham botinical after hours listening to the distant thud of music, watching the neon lights dancing on the clouds as she tends to the flowers the greenhouse staff hadn't gotten around to during the day.

Riddler

Edward bounces back and forward between extroverted and introverted. It really depends on what kind of week he's had. If it's been rough you might hear a loud exclamation of "TGIF" followed by a thud as he launches himself into bed. Come 7 on a Friday night he'll be in his pajamas,feet up doing some puzzles with some tea.

If he's in the mood for attention he might head to Pandora's box. He won't usually partake in the...."""activities""" but he does like to catch up with query and echo. He also enjoys all the compliments and free drinks he gets from regulars or people trying to get his number.

Harley

Harley is probably the most spontaneous of the regular rogues. She might already be in her jammies at 1130 and suddenly decide she wants to go clubbing. She might be already out and decide to call it a night at 830, head home to walk the dogs and pamper herself with a bubble bath.

Got anything you'd like to add? HMU with any asks or headcanons you like 💚

#the penguin #penguin #oswald cobblepot #two face #harvey dent #poison ivy #pamela isley #riddler #edward nigma #edward nygma #harley quinn #batman #my stuff #headcanons #my Headcanons

[tangledstarlight]

it’s me, here again. with another jatp 5+1 this time it’s for flynn tho! this one comes with a special shout out to @nerdyleafeon​ and insteadofjust_invisible (on ao3, if you have a tumblr hmu and i’ll link it!!) for their suggestions for flynn and her putting other people first and her watching julie struggle to pick up music. i kinda tried to incorporate both?

(as a wee disclaimer: i don't think flynn has depression, i think she just pushes all her own feelings aside so often in favour of someone elses that they're bound to all come bursting out at some point. (and this is totally me projecting because i too burst into tears on my friends once because i'm terrible at expressing my own emotions) BUT if you read it as her having depression that is fine too!!and if anyone ever wants to talk because they're sad/lonely/lost/whatever, my inbox on here or discord is always open if people want to talk. bottling things up is never good, especially given the current global situation. don't be afraid to talk to someone 💕)

ANYWAY!!! it’s 5+1 flynn centric and hope people like it!!! 

also on ao3 (link in replies)

trigger warnings! death mentions (because they’re ghosts (also her mother is yknow. dead)), mild swearing, references to depression.

one.

It had been an accident.

The two of them had been playing, running around the house and jumping on the sofas - even though they knew they weren’t allowed to - and throwing pillows at each other and giggling loudly. Flynn had ducked down, holding her middle as she laughed when a pillow had sailed past her left shoulder. Going off course and knocking a vase of flowers off the windowsill and smashing on the floor.

Tears had immediately started gathering in her little sister's eyes and Flynn jumped straight into action. She’d never been able to stand when someone started crying.

“It’s okay! Don’t worry, you just stay on that side of the room. I’ll get the broom,” she jumped off the sofa, biting her lip as she inspected the mess and mentally adding paper towels to her list of things to get, before turning to run out of the room.

Only to skid to a stop, eyes wide as she found her mom stood in the doorway. Arms crossed over her chest, glasses pushed up into her hair, single eyebrow raised and head tilted in the way that Flynn knew meant big trouble.

Like, no ice cream trouble.

“What’s going on here? And why is Bailey standing on the table?” Her eyes go from looking at Bailey directly to the flowers on the floor, a pool of water slowly making its way towards the rug through the obstacle course of vase shards.

Flynn knows that there’s no way to avoid or get out of this, someone is getting in trouble and getting no ice cream after dinner, and she can still see Bailey’s big scared eyes in her head. So she shifts from foot to foot and makes a split second decision without thinking about it.

“It’s my fault! We were playing and I accidentally hit the vase and I told Bailey to get on the table so she wouldn’t get hurt or her socks wet and I’m sorry! I was going to clean it up,” the words rush out of her in almost one breath and she’s panting a little at the end.

For a moment her mom just looks at her, a look that says she knows that’s not the whole truth, but Flynn doesn’t back down. She stands a little bit taller, tries to make herself seem more grown up, but being eight years old and wearing mismatched socks with a green tutu, it's hard to be taken seriously.

“It wasn’t Bailey's fault mom,” she stands by her story and, seeming to realise it, her mom just sighs, uncrossing her arms and running one over her face.

“Okay. Okay, go get the broom. And some paper towels.” She calls after her, because Flynn had heard the first ‘okay’ and started moving again, heading to the kitchen in search of tools.

When she got back to the living room her mom was kneeling next to the broken vase, carefully picking up the bigger pieces and putting them on an old magazine she’d pulled off the table while Bailey hovered on the other side of the room, her eyes still wide.

Flynn shot her a smile, hoped it was reassuring and went to help her mom. Handing paper towels over when asked and carefully picking up the flowers, one by one.

“You know this means no ice cream, don’t you?” Her mom said eventually, when the broken vase was cleared away and all that was left was a very shiny spot of wood.

Flynn looked up at her and found her mom already looking back, giving her one final chance to come clean about her sister's part in the accident, she thinks. But Flynn just nods her head, shrugging both shoulders as she holds damp tissues in both hands. Missing out on ice cream for one night is worth it if Bailey doesn’t get in trouble or start crying.

“I know. Sorry, again.” She adds, tugging her lips into a small apologetic smile. For the mess, maybe a little for lying too. Her mom just sighs, but she smiles too, brushes some of Flynn’s hair out of her face and starts to stand up.

“Go put that in the bin. And no more jumping on the sofa!”

two.

Some days, and she couldn’t explain why, were just bad days.

There wasn’t really any explanation for it, Flynn just got kind of sad.

Kind of lonely.

Kind of quiet.

It felt like her head was too loud and her heart was too empty. And there was a gaping hole in her gut and that the world was spinning on a slightly different axis to her.

Everything was just a little off balance and she needed to hold on to something to steady herself.

It was a strange feeling. Like there was too much of her and too little all at the same time.

That she wanted to curl up in her bed and cry, but that she also wanted to sit with her friends and laugh because there wasn’t really anything wrong with her.

It was the kind of day that she just couldn’t explain to anyone without sounding weird. Or like she was asking for attention. Which she wasn’t. She didn’t want people’s sympathy or attention or special treatment. She just– she was sad .

And it made no sense because she didn’t have anything to be sad about.

Her family was still whole and together, unlike Carrie’s. She knew her mom loved her, knew that her dad would be picking her up after school, knew that her sister would watch all the music videos she wanted with her. She knew that when she got home all her family would be there.

Her family weren’t scheduling their lives around doctors appointments like Julie’s. They weren’t worrying about test results or medical bills or how much time there might be for them to do all the things they wanted to do. There was no dark cloud hanging over their lives.

So how could Flynn be sad when her life wasn’t all that bad?

There was no darkness lurking in the corners of her house or quite over the breakfast table. Things were fine. Her life was happy .

And yet. It was a bad day.

It was a bad day, but Julie and Carrie were having worse days. So Flynn did what she always did. She pushed down her feelings of being too lonely, too quiet, too loud, too much. She put a smile on her face, wrapped an arm around both of the girls and made a fool proof plan of fun for the afternoon.

Her bad day would pass. It always did. And until it did she could pretend everything was fine. That she was happy. That there wasn’t anything wrong. Because there wasn’t. Not really.

three.

Flynn had never been to a funeral until the day she’d gone to Mrs Molina’s. Anytime she’d worn an all black outfit before it had been a fashion choice. Or for Halloween. Or a performance for school.

There’s a black dress that hangs in the back of her wardrobe now, and everytime she sees it, Flynn feels a little sick.

She gets the same sort of sick feeling every time she sees Julie sitting in the back of the music classroom. Eyes down, hair in front of her face, notebook unopened. The first few weeks Flynn hadn’t been too worried.

No one had really been too worried.

Because everything was still fresh and real and new. No one had pushed her. No one had thought she wouldn’t come back to music eventually.

Because she was Julie and it was music.

But then it’s been five months and Flynn is still looking at Julie, eyes on the ground, hair hiding her face, notebook in her bag. She comes into the classroom, sits in the back, shakes her head when Miss Harrison asks if she’s ready.

Flynn  knows that she’s still not been in the studio garage, because she is still watering the plants, and the piano has a fine layer of dust and there’s a song still unsung on top.

Julie hasn’t played or sang or hummed a note in six months. She’s falling apart a little bit at a time.

And Flynn doesn’t know how to help.

Doesn’t know what to say or to do or how hard to push. It’s a fine line, she knows, between forcing her before she’s ready and letting the silence drag on too long. Flynn just doesn’t know where the line is.

(A part of her worries, a small part in the back of her mind that’s always ready to pop in unasked, that maybe Carrie would know what to do. Maybe Carrie, who had known Julie, had known Mrs Molina, all her life, would have been able to help in a way that Flynn isn’t.)

She’s walking into the music room one day at lunch, looking for her hat that she’s 73% sure she left on her chair when she comes to a stop in the doorway. Because Julie is sitting at the piano, the lid up and her fingers hovering over the keys. There’s a furrow between the other girls eyes and even from this distance Flynn can see there are tears running down her cheeks.

Flynn bites her lip and backs out of the room. Her hat will still be there later and this isn’t a time to push Julie.

By month seven when even Miss Harrisons patients is starting to wear a little thin, Flynn starts to make plans. Ways to help Julie play again. Or even listen to music again.

She decides to start small.

A walk along the beach where she knew that busker Julie liked always played.

Maybe they’d stop by that little music shop on the way home because Flynn needed to pick up some new strings.

Maybe drop some hints about a band they both liked going on tour.

Without even realising it Julie will be surrounded by music again and realise how much she misses it.

“Come to the beach with me on Saturday?” It’s the first thing she says when she sits down at lunch. Julie looks up from her sandwich, brows drawn together but there’s a hint of a smile.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!” Flynn pops the ‘p’ and smiles wide (she’s making up for all the half smiles and no smiles that Julie gives out these days, she makes hers bigger, wider, gives them out more often. She knows when things get better Julie will repay the favour), stealing a few grapes from the plate in front of Julie and popping them in her mouth.

“Guess I’ll see you at the beach on Saturday then.”

The day starts out good.

They lounge round the beach, build terrible sandcastles and laugh at the tourists trying to take artistic shots in front of the sea. Then, at exactly 12:15 the busker arrives and sets up, starts playing his usual list of classic 80’s and early 2000’s bops. Flynn nods her head along with one of her favourites and watches from the corner of her eye as Julie gets a far away look in her eyes, fingers stilling where they’d been running through the sand.

They stay for a little longer, the busker playing through three songs before Julie lets out a shaky breath and turns to look at her, eyes a little watery but smiling that half smile she’s gotten so good at.

“Lunch?” She asks, head tilting and pointing over her shoulder in the vague direction of their favourite lunch spot.

“Sure. Oh! Hey, I need to stop by a store on the way, is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” and Julie is already stuffing her towel in her bag and dusting sand off her shorts.

They’re half a block away from the store when Julie seems to realise just where they’re headed, and Flynn can tell because her steps seem to get a little slower and her fingers clutch at her bag a little tighter. By the time they’re stood outside the little second hand music shop – Ron’s Relic Records, they’d never met Ron himself, but his record collection was definitely full of relic’s as far as Flynn could tell – Julie’s fingers have grown pale from where she’s holding her bag strap and her lip is clamped between her teeth.

“I’m– I’ll wait out here. Don’t want to drag sand through Ron’s,” Julie bites her lip, eyes looking up at the worn sign of the store and avoiding the old posters and ticket stubs displayed on the windows. Flynn swallows the sigh she wants to let out, and stops herself from commenting how there’s already sand covering the carpet. Instead she nods and gives her friend a thumbs up.

“Sure! I’ll be quick!”

Ten minutes later and Flynn is exiting the shop to find Julie leaning against the wall with her eyes staring straight ahead.

So maybe the music store hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but that was okay, Flynn had more plans, more tricks, more ideas. Shouldering her bag and plastering a smile on her face she comes to a stop next to Julie.

“Okay, lunch now!” And they start walking, idly small talk that feels awkward and Flynn doesn’t know how to fix that either. “You’ll never guess what I saw in the shop, you remember th–” but Julie cuts her off before she can even finish her sentence or her master plans can be put into action.

“Flynn I think I’m gonna head home. Not feeling too great.”

Flynn knows she’s lying, can see it in her eyes. Julie has always been a terrible liar, her face gives everything away, and normally Flynn is always glad to see her try, unless she’s lying to her. Then she just finds it rude.

“Are–” Flynn starts, but cuts herself off when she looks at Julie properly. At the red eyes, the chapped lips, the death like grip she has on her bag.

It’s possible, Flynn rationalises, that she’s pushed too hard today. She wants Julie to find joy in music again, but she doesn’t want to force it. So she takes a deep breath and links their arms together, squeezing her forearm.

“Okay. Hey, do you think your dad will make us pancakes, since we’ve not had lunch?”

“Probably,” Julie nods, her voice a little quiet but Flynn’s pretty sure she can hear the relief in it too. Relief that Flynn isn’t going to make her talk, relief that she can go home and that Flynn is coming too, relief that for now, the subject of music is being paused.

It’s only been seven months after all, Flynn doesn’t think you can put a timetable on something like this. So she’ll keep trying and supporting and holding her hand.

One day, Julie Molina will play again, and Flynn is going to be there to see it.

four.

The thing is, after seeing Julie and her ghosts perform, Flynn realises that there’s something special about them.

And it’s more than just the fact that they got her to sing again after a whole year of silence. It's more than the chemistry that is undeniable between Julie and Luke. It’s more than the way people have flocked to support them.

They’ve made her smile again. Really, truly, fully smile. Wide and happy and full of light in a way that Flynn hasn’t seen her smile in well over a year.

(They’ve got her to sing and play and smile in less than a month when Flynn hadn’t even managed to get a hum in a year. She’s trying not to think about that.)

So yeah, they might be ghosts.

And they can’t be seen without Julie or playing music.

And sure there’s the whole ‘can’t touch anyone’ thing.

And being in their band means Julie is off the market, music wise.

But Julie is smiling and singing and writing songs and playing again. And if the price of that is Double Trouble being left behind, well, Flynn supposes she can deal with that.

Even if it sucks.

Because Double Trouble, it was going to be their thing . They were going to be amazing and spectacular and way better than Dirty Candi. They were going to write awesome songs and produce the coolest music videos and tour all around the world.

Double Trouble had been the dream since they were six years old.

A part of her, a small yet loud part of her, was shouting about how unfair it all was. That Carrie could be a bitch to them but still have a kickass group. That Julie could not play for a year but somehow stumble into a ready made band with ready made chemistry.

And what did Flynn get? Nothing.

The leftover scraps of a childhood dream.

She’s not sure what to do with the scraps either. Does she put them together and hope there’s enough left for a solo act? Hope she can take the concept and find her own band? Hope that maybe one day the ghosts will pass on and Double Trouble can raise from the ashes?

Okay, so that last hope was mean and maybe a little dark. She didn’t want to get her band with Julie just because she’d lost three people important to her.

The thoughts nag at her for days, though. The what if’s and the hopes and the mean thoughts. She’s outside the garage, trying to push them into the back of her mind and put on a smile for when she walks in there. She can already hear the faint sounds of instruments tuning and then the low murmur of voices joining.

“Is Flynn coming today? She was going to show me how that Ticking Tok thing worked.'' That was Reggie’s voice, she could tell (when had she learnt to tell their voices apart anyway?). And there, faintly but becoming stronger she could hear Luke replying.

“She said she was, right? Because I’ve got this cool new song idea I want her to look at, there’s this part in the chorus that I think she’d be perfect for.”

Flynn thinks he says something else, she can hear Julie replying, Alex laughing. But she can’t make out any of the words because she’s so caught up on the idea that they were waiting for her.

That they wanted her help with something, had plans that involved her.

And she remembers then, that there’s something magical about Julie and her boys. And that maybe Double Trouble wasn’t meant to be, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t part of the band.

In fact it made her a pretty important part of the band, given that she was one of two people who could actually be seen by people all the time. Plus, she was the only one with any kind of social media following, so really, they would be lost without her.

This time, when she puts a smile on her face it doesn’t feel forced and she suddenly feels more relaxed then she has in weeks.

Pushing open the doors Flynn is greeted by Alex sitting at his drums as Luke waves a notebook at him while he plucks idly at the strings of his guitar and Julie has her phone out, trying to explain something to Reggie that just has him looking confused.

“I’m here, the party can begin!” She declares, grinning at them even as she flips her hair over one shoulder. And they grin at her, all four of them and Flynn feels bad for ever hoping for a day that the three ghosts would pass over.

five.

Flynn isn’t trusting by nature. She’s careful with who she loves and lets into her heart. Not out of any real past hurt or trauma, she’s just cautious.

She has to be cautious, because Julie opens her heart – and home, apparently – to anyone. She’s trusting and forgiving and so damn kind that Flynn, well, Flynn has to keep her guard up in case it all falls apart.

It’s why she’s always got an eye on the way Luke looks at Julie when he thinks no one is watching – and it’s awfully handy that they’re becoming visible and tangible randomly now, because she can keep an even better eye on things – and it’s not because Flynn thinks he has bad intentions.

But he’s a ghost and Julie isn’t, and if someone is getting hurt badly in this scenario it’s going to be Julie.

And Flynn made a promise a long time ago that she’d not let Julie get hurt if she can help it. She couldn’t stop the pain when her mom died and she couldn’t help when music seemed to leave her and she couldn’t halt any of the tears when Carrie said what she said.

But maybe she could stop an impending heartbreak before it got too bad. And then they played The Orpheum and could be touched and sometimes seen and Flynn really got to know them and realised that a heartbreak was coming one way or another. She couldn't protect Julie from that.

She could, however, protect her from Carrie.

Julie might have been able to take Carrie’s apology, her peace offering, her attempts at making amends and forgive. But Flynn still remembers crawling under the covers with Julie, the two of them crying and holding hands and whispering all their worries. Mrs Molina had been there to help pick up the pieces, to hug them and make them laugh and blow off steam with loud music.

There’s no Mrs Molina now, and Mr Molina has always tried to find the middle ground in their fights, even when they were kids and now Carrie is sitting across from her at the dining room table while they wait for the others.

They look at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away, to break eye contact. It’s awkward in a way that Flynn rarely feels awkward.

Because she doesn’t know what to say.

Because she doesn’t know how to act.

Because she doesn’t know how Julie can let go of the past so easily despite knowing everything that she does.

Carrie spent two and half years being a total bitch to them both. Rude and obnoxious and unhelpful at every turn. Like they hadn’t been friends for nearly ten years when she’d brought it crashing down around them.

“You’re staying for the rehearsal?” Flynn forces the question past her lips, tries for civil and polite and making an effort. Because Julie has tried to forgive her and they were friends once, best friends, and maybe there’s a chance they can be something like that again.

“Julie said it was okay. There was a song they wanted to show me? I think Luke said it one my dad stole, but they perform it better.” And she says it so casually ‘one my dad stole’, like it’s no big deal that he profited off of stolen work, that Flynn has to clench her jaw to keep from saying something mean.

She’s glad she does, because then she notices the way Carrie is fiddling with the edge of the table cloth, the way she’s lowered her gaze and, when she replays the words, the way she stuttered, just a little on the word ‘dad’ .

So maybe Carrie has changed, Flynn decides. Or maybe change is the wrong way to put it, maybe she’s just reverted back.

Back to when they were thirteen and over excited and jumping around her living room until Flynn’s mom had come in to tell them off, Carrie had dropped immediately, eyes down cast and biting her lip.

Back to when they were ten and Julie’s mom had dropped them both off at school and Carrie had been sad and she’d told her hesitantly about how her mom had left .

Back to when they were six and the first thing anyone said to her on her first day of school was that ‘I like your bag! Do you want to be friends?’ and Carrie has pulled her over to where Julie was colouring on the floor.

“It’s probably because they have so much time to practice. They’re so lucky, not having to go to school,” it’s an attempt at a joke, small and only half true. But it’s an offering.

Flynn’s eyes are still on Carrie so she notices the moment the other girl looks up, the slight sparkle in her gaze and the way her lips twitch, just a little. Accepting the offering.

“I mean, they are dead, I’m not sure that’s considered lucky.”

And then they’re talking, bantering, laughing. The conversation is a little stiled sometimes, a little awkward in the words unsaid. But it’s a conversation.

Flynn hasn’t forgiven her, not the way Julie has, not the way the boys seem to have. Because Flynn can still remember all the pain that Carrie had caused and she’s not ready to forgive her of that just yet. But she’s willing to try. For Julie. For Carrie. Even a little for herself.

So she pushes all her anger down and talks to her ex-best friend. But she keeps her guard up, because she let Carrie in once and it ended in ruin and she’s not about to be the fool who let it happen twice.

+one.

She’s not sure what happens. One minute she’s going about her day, school and homework and deciding if posting the new Julie and the Phantoms youtube video should be now or at the weekend, and yeah she’s not having a good day, but she doesn’t think it’s a bad day either. Nothing strange or unexpected happens. It’s just– it’s a day.

And yet. One second she’s fine, the next she’s crying.

She’s sitting on the sofa in the studio garage, waiting for Julie to finish with her own homework, idly scrolling through her phone when Alex poofs in with Luke hot on his heels.

He’s smiling, happy and excited after a date with Willie from what she can gather. He’s talking so fast and hands waving in the air and Luke is watching it all with an easy smile and occasional nod. Luke sits himself down next to her (bumping his shoulder against hers because they can do that now apparently at will and it’s only a little strange, knowing she’s sitting so close to a ghost she can feel the heat coming from him, and how is this boy always so warm when he’s dead ?), shooting her a wink as he turns his attention back to Alex and Flynn can’t help but smile, eyebrows raising as she too watches the blonde.

Flynn doesn’t know if she’s ever seen him so excited. So at ease.

“–and he just, he jumped right over this bench! It was so cool Luke, he’s so cool! He tried to show me how to– Oh! Hey Flynn,” Alex cuts himself off, finally seeming to notice that she’s sat there and gives her an awkward wave with his hand that’s still half up in the air.

“Hey Alex, good date, huh?” She can’t help but tease him a little, wagging her eyebrows and pulling her lips into a sly smile. And then Alex is blushing, scratching at the back of his neck and avoiding her eyes, making noncommittal sounds. She would be worried she’d said something wrong but she can feel Luke laughing next to her.

“It was uh– yeah, yeah a good date,” he’s biting his lip and still not looking at her, but Flynn can see a small smile trying to tug at his lips as he turns away, pretending to find something in the jumble of clothes piled next to the piano.

“It was their first ‘official’ date,” Luke whispers next to her, his eyes still trained on Alex’s back and there’s such joy in his words that Flynn can feel herself tearing up.

And she doesn’t know why this sets her off.

Why seeing Alex, coming back from his first official date with another ghost, so happy and full of excitement, and seeing the way Luke is just radiating joy for his friends happiness.

Why this sets her off crying.

One second she’s fine, the next she’s sobbing and Alex is spinning around so fast his hat falls off and Luke is gaping at her in a kind of horror that might be funny any other time.

“I– I–” She tries to say something, but she can’t get the words past her lips. They keep getting stuck in her throat as another sob tears through her and her eyes are blurred by tears and her hands are shaking, she knows that because her phone slips from between her fingers, making a soft thud on the rug.

“Go get Julie,” she thinks that’s Alex, she can’t quite tell. But she can hear the tell tale sign of a ghost poofing out and then a pair of arms and carefully wrapping around her shoulders and she’s crying into a denim jacket. So, Alex then, definitely Alex.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Shush, it’s okay,” he keeps saying it over and over, his voice gentle and calm and Flynn lets herself cry. She hears the door open, hears feet rushing in, hears someone let out a soft gasp.

“What happened?” And that’s Julie, Flynn would know Julie’s voice anywhere. It’s a bit like a beacon, a light source in the dark, she could hear Julie’s voice and follow it home. Lifting her head up from where it’s been resting on Alex’s shoulder she tries to spot her friend and doesn't have to look far because Julie is crouching in front of her, concern all over her face and wide eyes.

It just makes Flynn cry harder.

Because she doesn’t want to upset her friend. She doesn’t want her to worry or panic or think that there’s something wrong. Because there’s not. Nothing is wrong. Her life is perfectly fine. And yet she’s crying uncontrollably on a sofa into a ghosts shoulder.

There’s an awkward moment where Alex gets up and she’s left alone on the sofa and her head feels like it’s going to fall and then Julie is there, and her arms are around her and she’s letting Flynn collapse on her.

Holding her up and together. Just the way Flynn has always tried to hold her up and together.

She doesn’t know how long she cries for.

When she finally gets some control over her own emotions, her eyes, her breathing, Flynn lets out a long and shaky breath. There’s a wet patch on Julie’s jumper, and she knows her face must be a mess of mascara and eyeliner.

Julie passes her a tissue, waits until she’s wiped her face as best she can, and then exchanges it for a bottle of water. Flynn drinks and keeps her eyes closed the whole time.

“Where–” She croaks out, throat still sore from crying and she swallows, opens her mouth to try again but Julie seems to know what she’s trying to ask.

“I sent them inside to help Carlos with his maths homework. Reggie is surprisingly good with numbers,” there’s a teasing tone in her voice and Flynn doesn’t have to be looking at her to know there’s a smile on her face too.

They sit in silence for a while, Flynn drinking her water, Julie passing her tissues, a question hanging in the air.

“I just–” Flynn starts, takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut. She’s not sure how to even explain any of this. She doesn’t even really know why she started crying. When she opens her eyes again and blows out a breath, she shuffles back a little from Julie so she can pull her legs up onto the sofa and cross them under her. Through it all Julie sits patiently and waits. Flynn almost wants to cry again.

“Sometimes, and I mean, like rarely. It’s not a big deal or anything. And mom took me to the doctors and they said it wasn’t a big deal either so, it’s just. Y’know. It’s just that– that sometimes I get sad. That the world gets too much and I’m just– I’m not enough. For the world. Or you,” she shrugs, fingers pulling apart the tissue in her hands and looking somewhere over Julie’s left shoulder. “And it makes no sense really, because nothing all that bad has happened to me, y’know? There’s nothing really for me to be sad about.”

She can see Julie opening her mouth, her eyes widening and getting ready to say something but Flynn stops her, finally making eye contact again and shaking her head quickly.

“No, no don’t. It’s true. Because I haven’t lost my mom and my family is happy and Bailey always covers for me if I spill soda all over the floor and I’m not dead unlike three people we know. My life is fine . But sometimes I just– I just get sad, Jules. And normally it’s fine, it passes and every things fine. And then today, Alex was just, he was so happy y’know? And so was Luke. And they’re dead, but they’re out there, being happy ! And I’m alive and I just felt so sad today and it’s stupid because there’s nothing to be sad about .”

Flynn doesn’t think anything she just said made sense, but it’s too late to take any of it back now. The words are out in the world and Julie heard them all. Dropping her head into her hands Flynn lets out a groan, her fingers gripping on to her braids and pulling lightly. And then Julie’s hands are on top of hers and gently detangling her fingers until she’s holding her hands.

“Flynn, look at me,” her voice is gentle, holding the tone that she usually reserves for when Carlos comes home sad about losing a baseball game. It’s also the tone that she knows no one can say no to. So Flynn lifts her head, shaking it a little as she looks at her best friend.

“Your feelings are a big deal Flynn. And it’s not stupid. You can’t help the way you feel, it’s okay to feel sad,” Julie squeezes her hand slightly, lets one go so she can wipe at tears Flynn hadn’t even noticed were falling again. “Just because you haven’t– you don’t have to have some big tragic event in your life to deserve to be sad. You’re allowed to just...be.”

“But–” Flynn starts, though she’s not sure what she wants to say, which is maybe for the best because Julie cuts her off by grabbing her other hand again and pulling both up to place a kiss on her knuckles.

“No buts. If you want to be sad, you can be sad. But you have to tell us, otherwise– we can’t help if we don’t know Flynn. And as funny as Luke’s reactions are when he sees a girl crying, I’d rather it just be when our favourite character dies on a tv show, not because you’ve burst into tears out here.”

And that startles a laugh out of her, a little watery and raspy, but it’s a laugh and she smiles at Julie, this time squeezing her hands.

“He really doesn’t know how to handle a crying girl does he?”

“No! He’s so dramatic about it too–” If Julie was going to say anything else it was cut off by the sound of someone letting out an indigent ‘hey!’ and then three ghosts were standing in front of the sofa, Alex and Reggie holding back laughter while Luke was wearing his frowny-pouty face, arms crossed.

“We weren’t listening, but that’s just rude! I so do know how to handle it when people cry!”

It starts an argument, about twenty-five years without a hug and sneaking into rooms when they were teenagers and how he’d been the first to hug Julie after The Orpheum. But Flynn is only half listening, because Julie is still holding her hands, and Alex has nudged her out of the way so he can sit down on her other side and Luke and Reggie have brought their little discussion closer.

She’s surrounded by them all, and yeah it’s still a bad day but maybe she doesn’t have to handle them alone anymore.

#julie and the phantoms #flynn jatp #julie molina #carrie wilson #luke patterson #alex jatp #reggie jatp #jatp #rosie vs writing #* #*fics

[becksfm]

hey CASEY “BECK” BECKHAM , welcome to dillon university . has anyone ever told you you’re GAVIN LEATHERWOOD’s twin ? no ? well okay , i heard you are TWENTY - TWO & a JUNIOR at the university . we hope BIOCHEMISTRY isn’t kicking your ass too much , especially since you’re a STUDENT PHYSICAL TRAINER . see you at the next game, BECK & character’s cismale + he/him . 

it’s me & i’m here for round fuckin’ two , friends . this time i bring you resident GOLDEN BOY . . . a whole 6′1 of soft boy energy . . . floppy overgrown curls . . . king of talking - your - way - out - of - everything . . . retired hockey player . . . a man of Many Talents , of which the most astounding is his ability to look like he’s got it all together when , in fact , he does not ! under the cut , you’ll find a lil more about him . . . & if you wanna plot hmu @ 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣#9956 on discord or pop into my ims here !! 

𝑩 𝑨 𝑪 𝑲 𝑮 𝑹 𝑶 𝑼 𝑵 𝑫 .

dillon , texas born & raised . on the outskirts of town is a ranch that is enough to house the beckham family: mom, dad, and all eight beckham children . beck is the second oldest , with one older sister , four younger sisters , and two younger brothers . . . not necessarily in that order . 

mother , sophia mattheson - beckham is a lawyer based in austin working with the ACLU , and father , michael beckham has a small private practice in dillon working as a pediatrician . they weren’t home often , but when they were , they spent as much time with the kiddos as possible . it’s just . . . they were so rarely home that it really didn’t matter. 

with the beckham name, though, comes the pressure to be SOMETHING GREAT , and that’s something that’s been a part of beck’s life since . . . he can remember . little league & kindergarten grades were always taken a little too seriously , and it didn’t help that his older sister was a shining example of perfection . 

growing up it was hard not to like him. he was quiet for the most part , but goofy when he wasn’t . there was a little extra charm about him that just gave him an all around magnetic pull . kids wanted to be his friend and he wanted to be theirs . he fit in , but around home , he was the odd man out . beck was always a little more interested in sports rather than math or music rather than reading . it wasn’t to say he wasn’t smart , it just kind of –– bored him?? where his family was v

there was give and take with beck–– the golden boy of dillon but the black sheep of the family . he could play hockey if he kept his grades up. he could take guitar if he was also on student government and model u.n.. his parents would applaud him on his grades but never cared to hear him play; they’d show up for debates but rarely ever saw a hockey game. it was touch and go, his relationship with them, and it still is.

DESPITE IT ALL though, you wouldn’t catch him complaining. he bore the crown of homecoming king his senior year and never went to a dance without a date. teachers loved him, so did his coaches. he found a best friend in one cameron sloane –– ( because of course he did ) –– when the sloanes moved to dillon , and they were an unstoppable kind’a duo on and off the ice.

when it came time to pick a college, he really . . . had his pick of the lot. coulda gone anywhere, but there were roughly six reasons , all with the same last name , that kept him close to home. his parents even agreed that if he went in as pre-med, they would pay for the whole thing . . . and even make time to watch him play hockey. 

things were good for a long while, until they weren’t. you can usually see the stars on the outskirts of dillon, but one night, his sophomore year, you couldn’t. storm clouds covered ‘em up, and he tried his damndest to get cameron to stick around a celebratory party until it passed, but sloanes are stubborn and there was no changing his mind. 

cam passing away was like losing a brother, and he spent countless hours pacing in a hospital waiting room . . . hoping for good news and never getting it. beck had never known loss like that, and it knocked him into a bit of a tailspin . he quit hockey and didn’t register for school the next year . he spent a lot of time at a family residence in austin and even more time drinking . for the most part . . . he kind of DISAPPEARED , losing himself in the process for a good nine months.

they say it takes a village to raise a kid, and it took a village to drag this one out of a spiral. his parents. his siblings. his friends. and eventually . . .  dillon’s football coaching staff. a loud knock on the door from coach buchanan and a swift kick in the ass from coach sloane, a man who knew the kid almost as well as he’d known his own son. come work for us, they told him . . . and it was a way to get him back on track under a watchful eye that. wasn’t quite as critical as his parents

so that’s where we are now . . . back at dillon, a year behind, and working with both the football and cheerleading team as a physical trainer, playing a heavy hand in making sure both teams are the best conditioned in the state of texas. his grades are looking up, and he’s still on the fast track for med school, much to his –– and his parents’s –– surprise. 

the beckhams don’t talk about his little stint of a spiral. no one in dillon does . . . unless in tones of hushed whispers alongside judgmental looks. beck doesn’t mind it too much ,though . . . even takes it as a challenge 

𝑷 𝑬 𝑹 𝑺 𝑶 𝑵 𝑨 𝑳 𝑰 𝑻 𝒀 . ( i’m getting tired so this gon be ugly )

you want inspo?? i’ll give ya inspo!! richard campbell gansey the third ( dick 3 babiiiie ) is my main inspo for beck. you’ll also find a lil bit of jim halpert, a lil bit of rob maclanahan from miracle ( even tho he w as a real person too shhh ), and *insert big eyed emoji here* grizz from the society 

ever since he can remember, there’s been pressure on this kid to be something great . . . so he feels like if he has the capability to do something, he has to do it. . . there’s no choice in the matter. a lot of this stems. from his parents, but he’s also really just . . . overly critical of himself sometimes

boy is a fucking PARADOX okay bc sometimes . . . . with the way he talks. . . . he accidentally puts his damn foot in his mouth . he’s smart so occasionally comes off as condescending , but he’s . . . incredible in conversation with people he needs to impress because he’s hella charming

that said... this quote is REALLY important and REALLY summative of beck: “Gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the Gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone, and then, the other, more fragile Gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing.” –– let’s dive into that!! when he feels like he’s got a sense of control of the things around him, when he’s in his element or in his comfort zone, when he’s feeling confident , the boy is a force. he can talk you and anyone else out of any situation, and he has. he can make friends with anyone put in front of him, and he has. when beck is ON . . . he is on . . . but it’s a bit surface level because when he’s not wearing the crown of GOLDEN BOY and he’s . . . vulnerable . . . or unsure . . . or stressed . . . he tends to put that foot of his in his mouth and spit. out whatever it is he’s thinking. he’s honest to a fault in this sense, and he’s hopeful beyond compare. 

an introvert. . . . can CHARM u but doesn’t want to because honestly that is so draining and he’d much rather be at home. the popular type but only has a few friends that are really really close to him

loyal to a fault . . . will give you 392847 chances that you don’t deserve .. fool me once shame on you ! fool me twice shame on me! fool me three time what the fuck bro now ur just taking advantage of me 

very . .. calm and even tempered.  he’s a mediating type and like . . would rather find a conflict resolution than sWING u feel me

he’s cute.  .. . and. people love him but .  . . despite it all, he really doesn’t let that go to his head?? the boy was raised to believe you had to earn things and he’s just. idk . . .. humble king

eloquent as fuck ( lol good luck @ me writing that shit )

quick witted and very sharp

probably a lawful good type ngl :\

Does Not Do Well.With Change. when his older sister left dillon to go to notre dame??? boy damn near blew a gasket how dARE SHE go that far away!!! 

v close with his sibs . .. . activate Dad Mode. he loves all of them equally and definitely does not at all favor the 10 y/o baby brother of the family or his sister closest in age, who is also a student at dillon. doesn’t favor them ONE BIT 

u want a vibe for the beckhams??? “ the beckhams were courtiers and kings . when there was no castle to invite them, they built one” ( we stan ONE weird author lady named maggie)

insomnia!! the boy nEVER SLEEPS1! always thinking. always planning what’s next. gotta go gotta go gotta go.

kind of .. . a hopeless romantic :\ dated the same girl for most of high school but when she fucked off to ole miss she broke up with him in a text. so that .. . . . .. went well for him ..... still a dumb bitch tho and would love to hold ur hand

wire rimmed glasses, wool sweaters, light colored hoodies, distressed denim, cuffed pants, :\ chelsea boots :\

phobia of bees. there’s literally no reason for this other than my own, personal, geeked out pleasure

prank king

Smart Jock Type

plays guitar to relieve stress and you bet baby’s got some pipes here u go 

literally nothing like nicholas scratch DO NOT call him daddy

tall and doesn’t know what to do with all the extra limb like .  . . . . the fuck

will push you to your personal best in any conditioning circumstance

okay I THINK THAT’S ALL . . .. i’m a big fan of basic plots that kinda ebb and flow with chemistry BUT!! gimme the basics man . . . a roommate . . . a past hookup or two . . . some spicy friendships or . . . fRENEMIES even u know the drill

ok that’s all i hope u love him bc i am v nervous about playing A Man buT IT IS WHAT IT IS U KNOW

#if this doesn't scream chaotic idk what does #friday:intro

[adrrianraines]

choose me.

—chapter i. | chapter ii. | chapter iii.

genre: romance

fandom: playchoices: the royal romance

pairing: LiamxMC (Riley Brooks)

disclaimer:

characters used are owned rightfully by pixelberry. all rights reserved. this is a trr UA (universe alteration) original idea storyline. unlike an AU or Alternate Universe, Universe Alterations or UAs are set in the canon universe, but with "alterations" to accommodate the plot.

grammatical errors, misspellings & typographical errors that i might have overlooked are to be expected. **also, my apologies for the long delay! thank u for doing the proofreading with me, @bi-cookie 😘

taglist:

–of course, hmu if u wanna be tagged for an update! for these lovely people who wanna be tagged in this mess, thank you! ✨

@miss-raleigh-carrera @sunandlemons @wolfychoices @juminssi @onomatorina @ao719 @vaticanwaltz @texaskitten30 @princess-geek @janezillow @cordoniaqueensworld @thecordoniandiaries @omgjasminesimone

Sometimes, the most scenic roads in life are the detours you didn’t mean to take. — Angela N. Blount, Once Upon an Ever After

Four rowdy guys stood outside the breezy New York City night, ready to take on whatever it’s willing to offer. One of them, however, was not as patient as the others.

“Who are we exactly waiting fo—” But when Drake turned with an expression that equates bafflement, he was caught in an loop of awestruck surprise instead. “—woah... You look… different. Wow.” Drake’s tone alerted the others, their gazes then focusing towards the figure coming out of the bar. Maxwell gaped before swallowing several times. He was able to regain his temporary immobility by nodding in eager appreciation.

“You look hot!” The Beaumont Lord blurted, totally unaware of his surroundings. One gentleman was not very pleased with this. Liam’s eyes narrowed, mouth preparing to reprimand Maxwell’s choice of words and behavior.

Riley, on the other hand, had a different thing going on inside her mind. Her prompt reply immediately silenced Liam’s attempt for words.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” Her tone was saccharine, face producing a smooth wink which caused Maxwell’s cheeks to flush. Liam stared in shock at how, in an instant, the empty and almost translucent bars on top of Drake and Maxwell’s heads appeared then began to be filled with a shade of red.

Much like his own.

Now, how does a gentleman deny such an obvious display of attraction?

He felt a tug of pain inside his chest and the yearning that was caused by her absence grew. This was a reality in which Riley never met him yet but the longing he felt negates the rational thoughts he was trying to settle himself in. Liam watched how her hair swayed against the wind, how her lips curled into a smile as she conversed with the others, how she smoothed the pleats of her green dress as she straightened herself. Then, he immediately stopped.

You wouldn’t want to scare the lady now, would you? He scolds himself.

Riley’s gaze caught him. It was as if, all in slow motion, the wind got knocked out of his pipes, rendering him incapable of coherency. Liam carefully kept his mouth shut and pressed a smile on his face as he watched her approach him. His heart thundered while a million thoughts ran rampant inside his head. Yet, time seemed to slow down for them.

“Liam.” She called, her eyes twinkling against the dimly lit city lights. He was quiet, unbearably so, that Riley looked worried. “Are you okay?”

“My apologies, I…” Liam, who always was a master of his own emotions, did his very best to push the lingering tinge of jealousy at the back of his consciousness. He slowly reached out to take her hand in his to brush his lips against the softness of her skin. “It’s just that... You look breathtaking, Riley.”

“Oh…” Her cheeks flushed, and he almost did a somersault. Riley quickly recovered by teasing him. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“But the night demands us journey and you will be our navigator.” He grinned, letting his fingers brush against her own for a bit longer before pulling away. It wasn’t hard to ignore that Riley’s cheeks flushed red before clearing her throat.

He was pleased.

“I have the perfect place for all of us tonight. I promise you guys won’t regret it!” She says, and Liam, as the one who already lived through this moment, smiled to himself. He knew where exactly they would go.

“The beach?” Drake put an emphasis on the word as they all found themselves sinking mildly against the fine sand of the shore in a beach somewhere in the city. The moon was shining high in the sky and the waves were calm. There were not much people in sight.

“Oookay. Not what I had in mind, exactly.” Maxwell commented then stunned everyone by removing his shoes and folding the edges of his pants up. “Hah! I’m not gonna say no to this!”

Drake only shook his head and followed with Tariq in tow who’d been grumbling about how expensive his shoes were. Moments later, all three of them were splashing each other and laughing. Maxwell and Tariq were focused on attacking Drake which deliberately almost pissed him, if only he weren’t attacking them himself.

Liam removed his coat and slowly laid it down against the sand. He turned and urged Riley to sit with him, in which she followed without question.

Silence passed and Liam grew antsy. He wasn’t sure of how to tackle the changes that were beyond his control nor grasp.

“So pray tell, what exactly brought all of you here?” She broke the silence first, her gaze searching. He looked at her while biting his lip, as if unsure how to respond.

“I should thank you first... that was rude of me to forget. Forgive my rashness.” Liam smiled. “This was a great idea.” Being this close with her only drove him at wit’s end. His mind travelled to how he wanted to kiss her that moment. How he missed her touch. It took a good amount of self restraint as he focused on the more important topic at hand. “The guys are having fun because of you.”

“You’re welcome…” Riley trailed, smiling softly as she leaned in a bit.

Too close. His mind did a little scream.

Focus. He commanded. This is not the time. He knew better. Yet, his body move of its own accord, ignoring the warnings his thoughts deliberately showed. Easily, his hand found itself caressing the side of her face. At first, her eyes widened... then she bit her lip, and slowly... she closed her eyes.

The tiny string of sanity that was keeping him together snapped.

Liam leaned to close the distance between them, lips just lingering a few inches away from hers.

It’s not too late to back out. A voice inside his psyche reprimanded. And for once in his life he didn’t listen.

He kissed her and the flame in him, slow and deep, flickered alive. Their lips stirred in sync, mouths doing a little dance together. His hand now held the back of her neck, while the other firmly held her waist. Her hands gently curled against his chest, as if pulling him close. He couldn’t stop himself, not if he’s obviously aching to be with her again. Everything around them seemed to vanish like thin smoke in a clouded veil.

It felt forever. She tasted angelic.

And once upon a time, she married him.

When the kiss ended, they were both gasping for air. Liam briefly closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers as Riley let out a small giggle.

“That’s a first.” She commented which made him chuckle. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Oh dear. He let out a soft sigh. Riley noticed the change in his expression and almost began to take back her question. Liam straightened himself, gaze never leaving her. She deserved the truth, much like how he disclosed the information the very first night that they met each other.

“It’s my Bachelor Party...” He breathed. Riley’s eyes widened.

“What?” Her voice faltered yet it was loud enough that he could hear the surprise in her tone. “You’re going to be married?”

“Yes. However... whom I’m yet to marry remains unknown.” He smiled sadly and she looked more confused than ever.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“The truth is… I’m the Crown Prince of a Kingdom.” Liam began and he carefully studied the different emotions that presented themselves in her visage. Surprise? Confusion? Disbelief? Amazement? It was all present.

He leaned back when she didn’t answer. “I have to carefully choose a bride for my country before the end of the year.”

“Wow… that’s… a lot to take in.” Riley’s voice trembled the slightest. “So, you mean to say that you’re a real prince…?”

“I believe so, if you’d like to humor me.” He laughed at how that almost sounded like a joke. But the weight of the crown always kept his sanity rooted to the ground. Riley was the only one who could shake him to the core.

A Prince must never let his emotions dictate his decisions. Much less a future king should let his internal turmoils affect his governance. But right that moment, with her features being illuminated in the moonlight, the sound of his friends’ laughter and the crashing waves against the shore rendered him vulnerable.

Liam thought long and hard at how empty he felt since he woke up without his wife by his side. The idea of losing his family churned his stomach into knots and the possibility of him losing her this time, albeit permanently, left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Liam?” She said as a tremulous smile graced her lips. The wind carries her voice to him. He gazed that it hurts to even look at her, knowing for a fact that right now, she isn’t his to hold. But he can’t not look at her, not when the breeze that came from the sea swayed her hair, fingers beginning to itch to hold her.

It would be so easy to close the distance between them once more, just to kiss her, and declare his love then. The heat of jealousy whenever he thinks of how mesmerized both Drake and Maxwell were with her earlier produced a writhing sensation in the pit of his belly. It was unbearable.

Then, Liam reached out to take Riley’s hands against his own as he whispered the words he never thought and couldn’t keep himself from declaring, “Come back with me to Cordonia.”

Liam woke up with a start.

There was a reverent knock on his door as he tried to rub off the remnants of sleep from his eyes. He swung his legs down the carpeted floor accompanied by a soft groan then moved towards the door. With a soft click and a twist of the knob, his eyes widened upon the visitor who made themself known in front of him.

“Bastien?” He asked, a bit confused.

“Your highness.” With a curt bow, Bastien greeted Liam. “May I come in?”

Still bewildered, he stepped aside and was immediately drawn towards the familiar decorations of his surroundings. His eyes immediately narrowed, thoughts slowly forming a riot inside his head. He turned sharply towards Bastien who looked as equally alarmed as he is.

“Where am I?” Liam blurted, almost as if he didn’t know where he was. The King’s Guard only looked at him, certainly caught off-guard with the question.

“...You’re in Cordonia, of course.” Bastien answered, voice firm with certainty. Liam almost toppled over his feet but he caught himself immediately. In a swift motion, Bastien was immediately by his side.

Cordonia? He rubbed his forehead, as if he was trying to recall the past events that transpired. He recalled being in New York—his Bachelor Party. Right! His Bachelor Party!

“Liam.” There was a mixture of worry within the depths of Bastien’s eyes and Liam couldn’t afford to provide an explanation of such bizarre events that jarred his mind. “Drake told me about this. What’s happening?”

“I…” Liam began, doubt lacing his thoughts. He bit his lip then shook his head after. “I’m quite alright. Thank you, Bastien.”

“Tonight’s the Masquerade Ball. The King asked me to check on you.” Bastien gave him a do-over before stepping back. “Then, I will leave you to prepare.” The knight nodded, though unsure, but proceeded to walk out. When Liam was sure that he’s finally alone, he slumped back to his bed, head hanging low, mind trying to remember the events from the night before.

Masquerade Ball… So, it hasn’t been a full day yet since he last saw Riley.

But why was his memory extremely clouded? It was as if he couldn’t remember ever going out with her. From his previous night’s memory, he knew they went together to the beach and had a magical night that was unbearably hard to forget. Yet, he wasn’t sure if they ever went to the Statue of Liberty. He wasn’t sure how their short trip to the beach rolled out after he told her he is a prince.

Something was amiss.

“Tonight will be the start of the Social Season.” His father’s voice - King Constantine of Cordonia - gently reminded him. The orchestra inside already began playing and they were only waiting to be announced. Liam squared his shoulders and nodded as an answer.

So far, so good. Just like how the previous events happened.

“I have an announcement to make, son. Be sure to be there.” His father said as they all walked towards the large ballroom doors. Not a minute later, the trumpets sounded and he could hear his father’s name together with his step-mother being announced.

“His majesties, King Constantine and Queen Regina!” The herald’s voice echoed and the grand doors opened. The lights basked the royal couple in shimmering glitters. There was a round of applause as he watched his parents walk together towards the center stage, surrounded by all other nobility present inside.

The herald stepped outside and looked at Liam as a signal before he nodded for confirmation. “His Highness, Prince Liam!”

He squinted at the blinding luminscence of the ballroom—ears tingling at the unanimous chorus of claps from what seemed like a hundred pair of hands. He walked and smiled to each noble who greeted him. Liam’s eyes caught several noble women giggling while coyly smiling at him, masks hiding their countenance.

He never expected to undergo the pain of choosing a marriage partner once more. Never in his lifetime had he dreamed of going through similar situations again. His heart constricted at how ridiculous and pitiable he was before he met Riley, nestled in all these fake visages. Pleasing and making sure to never commit a single mistake while being forced to marry for the Kingdom he was expected to take care with as much as what his hands could handle.

One by one, the ladies that were present to win his hand in marriage were announced. He heard a couple of names he knew but none of them mattered when he didn’t hear Riley’s name being called nor the house she was supposed to represent being declared.

His vision caught a few familiar faces in the crowd—Olivia, Hana, Penelope and Kiara. They were huddled together on one part of the room, then several noblewomen he couldn’t even remember and some other figures of Cordonia’s circle of nobles. He carefully scanned the crowd, trying to find the face he wanted to see the most. Yet, all were futile as most of the ladies wore masks for the ball. As what he could remember, she wore an ensemble of clothing so stunning it knocked his breath away. But to his surprise, no matter how much he scanned the crowd, he couldn’t find her. Nor Drake and Maxwell for the case.

Wouldn’t she have arrived already? He asked himself. Or has he missed the announcement? Truth to be told, he couldn’t actually recall hearing her being announced. He was that preoccupied. Yet, even seeing her in Cordonia back then was what surprised him the most.

The herald blew his trumpet again, the sound gathering the attention of everyone inside the crystalline ensemble. “The King would like to say a few words!”

A flood of shush echoed throughout the men and women alike as they halted their business to listen towards the esteemed King of Cordonia. His father beckoned him to step closer. Liam’s feet gingerly walked towards his father, unsure of why he was suddenly being called in the middle.

“My dear citizens of Cordonia, I welcome you all! I hope from the bottom of my heart that all of you are enjoying the festivities our Kingdom offers tonight. Truly, all of you are shining brighter than the stars in the sky.” His father, through practiced pleasantries to diplomatic talks, announced. The nobles slowly clapped one by one until it became a chorus of deafening noise.

“However, as much as my family would love to extend our personal greetings to each lady who graciously presented themselves for this year’s social season, the Royal family has come to a decision that would benefit the entirety and all the while, securing the Kingdom and its future. I, as the current King of Cordonia, do announce that we have already chosen the most suitable candidate for the throne.” There was a hush amidst the crowd. King Constantine took this opportunity to continue. “Hence, the Social Season for this year is going to be postponed.”

The sudden announcement not only shocked Liam but also collectively earned gasps from the people itself. Murmurs then began to break out as furious ladies expressed their grievances of the sudden change of plans. However, Liam stayed rooted, eyes wide and unbelieving towards his father.

“Ah, we would like to extend our deepest and most sincerest apologies. This is selfish, I’m perfectly aware. But for the circumstances that presented itself, we would also ask for the gracious support from the people of this Kingdom as we announce the chosen Lady.” Liam’s ears rang badly, breath turning ragged, gaze in a daze as he tried to process everything. “I would like to formally make it official that I will be stepping off the throne and... therefore, paving the way for the Crown Prince to be crowned as the new King of Cordonia!”

Everything happened impeccably fast, almost like a haze or a gust of wind. Liam couldn’t even process the information himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Queen Regina with a lady wearing a mask from behind the stage. Then, the two of them made their way towards the center as the crowd collectively gushed and murmured among themselves.

He couldn’t think straight.

He heard Olivia’s voice from the crowd, fiercely stating her defiance against the sudden decision.

“I’m insulted, dear Prince. It wouldn’t be a good image for the people to see their future leader caught in a binge.” The masked Lady strutted to his side, voice familiarly eerie and calculating. The smile on her face impossibly cold yet determined.

Liam’s eyes shifted in a frenzied manner as he tentatively took a step back in perturbation. The familiar blonde hair and piercing gaze cut through his facade despite the mask she wore.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way… it wasn’t supposed to go this way. His mind ranted.

And then louder. This wasn’t supposed to happen...!

“Here we present, the new Queen-in-Waiting together with Crown Prince Liam!” He breathed several times as he tried to relax himself. Then, Liam squared his shoulders and plastered the fakest of all smiles he could ever managed and focused his gaze ahead. He could feel Madeleine smirking by his side as she gently wrapped her hand on his arm, pulling him a bit closer to her. The herald continued to announce. “Please, help us welcome Countess Madeleine of Fydelia!” The herald’s voice boomed in an excited cheer as he presented the two of them, standing side by side.

King Constantine clapped his shoulder before breaking into an applause himself. The herald then stepped closer and bowed down before offering the microphone back to the King himself.

“Beautiful, indeed. The future of the Crown are in good hands.” The mirth reflecting on his father’s face was no match against the blinding chandelier lights. “I’d be more than delighted to share with you all that preparations are in tow and the wedding will be happening in a month’s time!”

A month?!

Liam heard the large double doors creaking, and when he tilted his head to take a look, his world came crashing down in an instant. She heard. Dear god, she heard everything. His eyes softened at the sight of beauty that was beyond his reach, dressed like an angel and the most captivating pair of eyes he had ever seen hiding beneath a masquerade. Riley was there, rooted to the spot together with Maxwell and the Duke of Ramsford, frozen and completely stunned in silence as much as he was.

Then, as the trumpets collectively played a congratulatory tune and the crowd of nobles slowly loosened up from the surprising news then started cheering. His emotions only screamed in pain as his thoughts wildly raced towards the lady that just made her grand exit from the ball just after a few moments.

Within the chaos of his own mind, the enclosed space inside the dance floor, the fast beating of his heart and the utterly problematic situation he caught himself into, Liam couldn’t breathe.

His hands curled into fists. His ears started ringing in silent frustration. He froze in place.

And when the love of his life exited the grand doors, he couldn’t even move to run after her.

#playchoices #the royal romance #trr #choices trr #trr fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #choices fanfic #king liam #liam #liam rys #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #bertrand beaumont #riley brooks #liamxmc #liam x riley #liam x mc #liamxriley #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #the royal romance fanfiction #tariq #writings

[all-hail-the-witcher]

you make me feel like I'm loved

well well well

I finished my writing homework and decided to write a little something of my own. its based off a song buts its Fairly Obvious so I'm not saying which one hehe

____

ship: ralbert

genre: hurt comfort

warnings: anxiety attack, talk about death/death trigger, ummm, like half a sentence of potentially suicidal thoughts, loud music, race is a good boyfriend okay

words: 1196

editing: nahhh

____

Well, this was not how Albert had been expecting to spend his 19th birthday. Mush had decided to throw him a huge party at the diner his aunt owned, closing early and everything just for the occasion, despite the fact that Albert had insisted many times that he did not like his birthday and he especially did not like parties. Mush clearly had not listened. His boyfriend Blink was DJing some trashy pop crap that Albert had also insisted (many times) that he did not like. Blink and Mush could be horrendously stubborn when they wanted to be.

So, in hindsight, Albert really should have really expected the fact that he was going to spend his 19th birthday in the bubblegum pink bathroom at Mush’s Aunt’s diner. By himself. Having an anxiety attack.

What a way to ring in his last year of teenagerdom.

“C’mon DaSilva,” he muttered as he gripped the sink as if that would be able to reestablish his grip on reality. “Get a fuckin grip.” However, his dumb mind decided to process this as grip the sink tighter and not reality. Fuckin figures.

With a frustrated sigh he let go of the sink, opting instead to play with the increasingly uncomfortable bowtie that Race had made him put on. He hated bow ties. He never wore them. The only one that he owned was from his 10th grade play when he had to play the hostess at a very fancy restaurant. And it was Chartreuse green.

He tugged at the bowtie uncomfortably, his rough movements greatly contrasting Race’s earlier gentle ones. At the sudden thought of his boyfriend Albert slammed his hands back down onto the sink to avoid collapsing onto the floor.

He was older now. Being older meant being closer to death. He was going to die sooner. And leave everyone behind. Leave Race behind. How could Race even be with him, how could he look at him much less kiss him when he knew that one day he would just cease to exist and leave him behind, especially since it was bound to be sooner rather than later because if he was just going to die anyway than why not just do it-

“Stop” he said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to try to take a few deep breaths. At some point during his concentration, his hands became unclenched from the sink and his knees gave out as he plopped onto the floor as he began tapping on his upper thighs. It helped, but still the very thought of having to go back out to the party made him want to curl up into a ball and cry.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that he was going to have to sneak out the back. That was alright. He didn’t fit in with his friends here anyway and they wouldn’t miss him, probably wouldn’t even notice that he was gone to be honest. He was just the forgettable, disposable friend. So much so that no one would notice if he deserted his own damn birthday party.

Slowly, Albert worked at dragging himself up off of the floor, willing his numb legs to cooperate with him. The back exit was just down the hall from the bathroom, he could make it, probably. He put his hand on the wall to steady himself and was about to walk toward the exit when he remembered that he had left his phone at the table. Groaning loudly, he turned around to make his way back to the table.

He braced himself for the loud music as he entered the diner once again, fully planning to make a beeline for first his phone and then the backdoor, but his plan was foiled by an overenthusiastic Romeo thrusting a glass of something - maybe chocolate milk - into his hand and screaming loudly about something. Albert’s whole body froze in shock, concentrating on nothing except not dropping the glass in his hands.

He must have been concentrating really, really hard because the next thing he knew Race was taking the glass from his hand and downing it, Romeo nowhere to be found.

Albert jumped a little bit, both at the shock of Race taking the glass and Race himself. Shouldn't Race hate him now that he was older? Why was he still here? Why-

But before Albert’s thoughts could take over again, he felt Race’s hand take his own shaking one. When had his hand started shaking? Race had his trademark smirk on his face, although Albert could see in his eyes that he knew something was off. However, that didn't stop him from mouthing Shall we dance? and quirking one eyebrow in question.

Albert found himself nodding despite his numb legs, something about his boyfriend’s presence calming him, and Race led him to the center of the diner where Mush had pushed back all of the tables to form a makeshift dance floor. Head still clouded with unwanted thoughts, Albert found it slightly difficult to focus on his surroundings, but he was able to discern that Blink must have out on a slow song due to the swaying couples he was just able to make out around him.

He allowed Race to place his floppy limbs around his neck, trusting his instinct that was telling him Race wouldn’t do anything he wasn't comfortable with. In a matter of a few short seconds, his head was pressed against the crook of Race’s neck and they were swaying back and forth to music that Albert could hardly hear.

Slowly, Albert’s insecurities melted away as he focused on simple things such as the texture of Race’s button down shirt, the scent of his cologne, and the lyrics of the song Blink was playing which seemed to consist exclusively of the words “I got you, it’s alright.”

It took Albert several moments to realize that that was not actually the song, but his boyfriend whispering in his ear.  

Sighing contentedly, Albert let the last of his negative thoughts slip away as he lifted his head to gently kiss Race’s lips.

He felt Race smile against him. “Hey, there’s my handsome boyfriend,” he murmured, just loud enough for Albert to hear above the music.

“Sorry,” Albert muttered. “I don't know what happened.”

Race seemed entirely unbothered. “It’s okay. I’m glad I was able to help you though. I didn't want you to leave before you got to eat your cake.”

Albert exhaled against Race’s shoulder, a knowing silence passing between the two of them.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

He felt Race pull away slightly. “For what?”

“For making me feel like I’m loved.”

“Oh, Albie,” Race sighed. “I do love you. And so does everyone else here, no matter what that silly head of yours tells you alright? I love you, and I’ll love you no matter what age you are.”

Of course his boyfriend had figured out what had caused his earlier breakdown. Albert couldn't help but feel like a small child as he pulled back to look up at Race. “You promise?”

“Pinky promise,” Race said, kissing his forehead.

Suddenly, being 19 didn't sound too terrible after all.

____ 

aww my boys

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

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IF YOUR USERNAME HAS CHANGED LMK PLEASE

#saphie scribbles #newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #racetrack higgins #Albert dasilva #theyre cute okay #race is a good boyfriend #I want a race

[seabreezc]

[ SHAWN MENDES, 22, CISMALE, HE/HIM, PANSEXUAL ] – welcome to the love island villa, DAKOTA KERSEY! they’re a SPORTS PHOTOGRAPHER from TORQUAY and they’re the HALCYON. people describe them as FRIVOLOUS & IMPETUOUS, but once you get to know them they’re OPTIMISTIC & CALM. i’d recognize them by their ( blue raspberry bubblegum, head tilted up to the clouds, & tracing smiley faces onto skin ). honestly, i think they’re really here for LOVE. (hayley, 24, she/her)

listen. i’m a simple british person. i see love island, i automatically get excited for the dramz.... it’s how they reel us in every year. but hello hi!! i’m hayley, stressed out final year uni student, and i’m hyPED to introduce you to my babiest baby, dakota. 

bio || pinterest 

about 

so if you don’t want to read the rambled garbage that is the bio i wrote (and i don’t blame you)... here’s the part where imma do my best to summarise yay! 

dakota was born in torquay, england to celia penhaligon-kersey (an nhs emergency doctor) and robert kersey (former paralegal/stay-at-home dad) and is the oldest of two children. honestly had a pretty good childhood. he has a good relationship with his family and other than making their lives a living hell being a bundle of energy up until the time he was six..... things were pretty normal in the kersey household! 

he started surfing at an early age under his parents’ encouragement, and quickly surfing became his entire existence. nearly all of his memories until the age of twenty involve surfing in some capacity. 

he took up photography as a way to be around surfing even when he wasn’t doing it himself. it started out with borrowing a friend’s camera so he could take photos of his friends on the waves, but gradually developed into a genuine passion for capturing that one shot of the perfect hang 10. seeing people be happy with his work is a nice bonus. by taking photos, he also got to be out of the house as much as possible, so it was pretty much a win/win.

didn’t go to uni because he wanted to chase the ~surfing dream~ but uh, that never really happened and he was gently pushed by his parents to stop lazing around their house  find another outlet for his time. so!! packing his bags he decided to go where the money is and head to london where he spent his time doing bar work, hospitality... anything that would have him and didn’t have high entry requirements. 

responsibility who? dakota’s first year in london was spent enjoying most of the freedoms he didn’t have when he was competitively surfing. partying... sleeping in until the afternoon... spontaneous trips back home just so he could go to the beach... actually working was probably the lowest concern he had and he job-hopped because he lost them just as quick as he got hired.

after being kicked out of his house following rent arrears, reality finally hit dakota and he tried to think of ways to do what he loved and make money. he started taking photographs for his surfing connections for free, built a portfolio and gradually turned it into paid work. he now works for an independent photography agency as a sports photographer and often photographs football matches/tennis matches/anyone who will have him. 

was contacted on his instagram account to join love island and honestly almost rejected it and would have if it weren’t for his friends pushing him. follows his heart more than his head so hahaha.... SHOULD BE GOOD! 

personality 

so easy-going it’s unreal. 

would never say yolo but... likely thinks it way too often and most of his decisions are based off this anyway so!! like... he has a bunch of scars from surfing and has just as quickly got back up on his board with a loud laugh and wanted to do it all over again

forever listening to music, humming to music, will make you a playlist or tell you what song you remind him of 

tender and soft™ and probably sneak attacks people with hugs tbh 

CHAOTIC GOOD ENERGY! honestly doesn’t take him much convincing to get into any form of mischief. say the word and he’s already pretty much in, but he at least likes to come off like he’s not strongly considering it. he’s gotta give the image that he’s responsible now, ya know 

other

always has a pack of gum on him at all times. if there’s one nervous tick dakota has it’d be this. he has an incessant need to chew on a piece when he’s stressed and honestly probably thinks others do too??? like...... he will offer you some if you look upset before even thinking of comforting you. gum 

has a painted turtle called marzipan who he’ll talk about all day every day. he misses her. long distance sucks. 

wanted connections

so imma mostly go off chem for this for oNCE due to the nature of love island but uh, we could definitely work off clients he’s shot for, london neighbours/acquaintances, fitness class acquaintances. or if you have any other ideas i’m all ears! hmu either here or discord and i’ll love you downnnnnn. 

#villa.intro #im out later so im just...... getting this up now #can i pls stop rambling in my intros tho #pls

[cvseydeidrick]

bridget mosely, youtuber/mua ; isfp / cancer / enneagram type 3

grew up in a broken home, but refuses to be a broken person. outwardly very confident and caring, strives to be compassionate, empowering, and to inspire those around her. a tough love kinda gal who will tell you what you need to hear no matter how the truth hurts. isn't here for your drama or your bullshit, doesn't know what fake friends are - mess with this bull, and you will see horns. can put on a charming front but is hesitant when it comes to forming new relationships, absolutely has trust issues and is used to people exiting her life in a haste. oh, and her ex has some rather lude videos of her that she's terrified of being leaked somewhere so..yeah, there's that. needs: ngl, a girl squad of sorts would be cute, esp if they were fellow youtubers/influencers of sorts!! past flings and exes, including said ex-boyfriend w/ the lude content.

cooper dalton, zookeeper ; enfp / gemini / enneagram type 7

possesses probably the greatest zest for life of anyone you will ever meet. curious, enthusiastic, and fearless - would rather know a little bit about everything over being in expert in one or two things. so optimistic and up in ths clouds that he often forgets that life is more than just a sunset walk on the beach. doesn't mean to be dismissive of life's issues, but his 'hakuna matata' kind of attitude can make him seem like it's either not important or that he doesn't care. think the "i like to smile, smiling's my favorite!" scene in elf, but australian as hell. needs: HIS FOUR YOUNGER SIBLINGS (formal request to follow but please throw someone in beforehand if you have someone who will fit - they moved to the states from australia roughly 5 years ago), a plethora of friends, people he parties with, etc; some fellow zookeepers would be cute as heck as well if you have a character who needs a fun job! otherwise, exes or past things for romance would be great too!!

enzo ashby, aspiring rapper ; istj / pisces / enneagram type 5

keeper of a rusted heart of gold; the definition of a diamond in the rough, or so he'd like to think. self-reliant and innovative, a macgyver in his own right who emobodies the phrase "when there's a will, there's a way". doesn't want to rely on anyone for anything, but would take a bullet for those closest to him. quiet but strong-willed, will relish in his own successes by himself knowing that he defied the odds something or someone placed against him. has been stuck couch hopping pretty much ever since he was eighteen, and released from a juvenile detention center after a 2-year sentence for a drug possession charge. finally has some stablility (or so he hopes), living in the garage of his friend/music producer but in the back of his mind he's not sure he can count on it. needs: his music producing friend!! i've decided that while rapping is his dream, he works as a cook in a diner/restaurant so if you have a request for something like that, take him please!! he's completely open in terms of a love interest so if you'd like him please hmu xoxo other than that, he'll get along with just about any other laid back, music-minded person. extra kudos if you #smokeweedeveryday.

nadia halloway, student ; esfj / virgo / enneagram type 2

single child, spoiled sweet, taught that books come first and everything else comes last. was told from the moment she was born that she is capable of pretty much anything which has led to her being anxious as hell more often than not. a perfectionist who can't stand the idea of possibly letting down others or portraying herself as anything other than happy & thriving. constantly looking over her shoulder and hoping that she makes a good impression on anyone that she meets. inevitably has a breakdown from stress every other week, but she'll bake you apology cookies if you let her cry on your shoulder. needs: like-minded close friends that she's probably met through some sort of student organization or book club - also much more outgoing, sociable friends who will attempt to drag her out of her shell and give her boy advice!!! some exes and crushes, maybe a nice boy to distract her from the fact that she's actually really into (and also kind of afraid of) her roommate, pierce griffin.

theodore "teddy" wyatt, tech support rep ; isfj / leo / enneagram type 9

reliable, practical, and loyal, you'll never finding teddy doing a single thing that he hasn't already turned ten times over in his head. has difficulty seeing things outside of a black & white dichotomy. got the short end of the nerd stick compared to his brother - basically, not the cool one between them. loves d & d, videogames, card games, anything that requires him to be methodical and really use his brain power. definitely thinks he's smarter than you but too afraid of the repercussions of saying so out loud. probably can't look you in the eye, or get a full sentence out the first time but he means well underneath his awkward persona. needs: fellow nerd friends, whether or not they be coworkers or fellow d & d players that he's run into at a comic shop somewhere. maybe some people to pull him out of his shell (other than his brother, who he hardly listens to anyways). also, something romantic please and thank you ((( :

#throwshaderp #im on discord @ jem4420!!! #please say hello!!! : D

[hcrcwitz]

last but not least! please HMU or LIKE THIS to plot again, i luv u all for stickin w me in this trying time.

❝   constance wu.  cisfemale.  she/her.   ❞   ━    𝕝𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨  welcomes  heather zhao  with  open  arms.  the  thirty-five  year  old  botanist has  been  living  here  for  fifteen years,  give  or  take.  on  a  good  day,  they  seem  the  vehement  &  eccentric  type,  but  their  deceitful  &  capricious  tendencies  shine  through  when  there  are  no  taxis  into  the  city. 

heather was also a freak as a child. why??? bc i find freaky children to be very relatable ok. im incapable of writing a character w a normal childhood.

born in raised in toronto, her was was a dentist & her mom stayed home to watch her & her 2 siblings!!! she’s the middle child and u can TELL

she was a science kid!!! like....u know the kind w all those little science kids to like grow ur own crystals and blow shit up and whatever. thought lighting stuff on fire was cool. 

she was fairly popular in school!!! although most definitely a trouble maker. top of her class, student council president, yearbook editor, track star, valedictorian, her plate was FULL. and yet.....the little shit was always in detention

everything was just so BORING, which is why she chose to keep herself busy and do so many things. there was never one place she fit in, always bouncing around trying new things and befriending new ppl. 

she graduated early and ended up getting hella scholarship money & she went off to uni to study dentistry just like her dad

her uni roommate was..........a horrible influence on her. well, they were bad influences on each other tbqh because heather wasn’t exactly a good egg to begin with LMAO. 

they definitely focused more on their social lives than their grades, but heather still did p well in school.

heather decided pretty quickly that she did NOT want to be a dentist and eventually, after her and her roommate decided it would be a great idea to grow pot plants in their dorm closet, switched her major to botany instead and the bitch was a whiz! casually growing & selling closet pot to fund their horrible spending habits

she got engaged to her college bf on a whim & she moved to lakeview w him & they got married as soon as she finished her degree. needless to say it definitely did NOT last. she stayed married to him while she finished her masters and then the two called it quits, but she stayed in town. 

a few years later she ended up pregnant w her first child shortly after she finished her doctorate!!! she’d only been dating her boyfriend for a few months at the time but of course......being the impulsive gal she is, they got married!!!! they ended up having another child before they inevitably split up. they currently share custody and they’re on v good terms!!!! there rly are no hard feelings, things just didnt work out for them romantically but they’re still v good friends!!

she got engaged again at some point but never quite made it to her third marriage, which is fine by her. she’ll probably be married another 3 times before she dies but who cares!!!!! weddings are fun. when will she learn her lesson???????? we may never know

anyway, now she out here doing plant things and being a Cool mom. she mostly does a lot of environmental research w her job but also......she runs a grow op on the low, pls don’t tell the police. she’s making bank for the future of her CHILDREN.

she rly is a whackadoodle y’all

she is Loud. generally a cheerful person but she can flip flop so quick it’s SCARY. blames her lack of sleep but she’s always been like this.

indecisive as hell, moody, generally just........a little bit psycho. 

kind of has her head in the clouds???? 

kind of wants to fight everyone she meets.

she rly still is that little trouble maker she used to be and has only smartened up a LITTLE bit since becoming a mom LMAO. 

likes to to reckless things to feel alive. still thinks everything is boring, which is probably why she’s being risky af with her fuckin grow op???

she’s like nancy botwin but actually a Good mom LOL.

a bit of a creative type! never really had the chance to explore that side of her growing up but she’s fully exploring it now that she has kids. makes their halloween costumes and now she’s 10000% a pinterest mom.

she’s Out there. marches to the beat of her own drum, doesnt care what the other bitch pta moms think. she’ll FIGHT THEM!!!! karen better watch her damn back sis

some extra lil bits bc i Gotta

her two kids are ava (8) and miles (6) and she loves them more than absolutely anything in the entire world ofc!!! they are her angels............if u let her she will show u a million photos of them and brag abt them forever.

wine mom??? we don’t know her. heather is a VODKA mom 10000%.

her ex has the kids on weekends so........that is her time to SHINE sis!!! she rly loves to go out and dance and she slays karaoke. 

she rly likes cooking and she thinks she’s AMAZING but.....anyone else will tell u that she is horrible. 

but she’s rly into healthy eating & her and her kids have a garden and they grow their own veggies & shit its a wholesome family activity 

honestly she rly is a kid at heart!!!!

always stressed out but still crackin jokes

she’s smart but still bad at most things??? bad at cooking, bad at driving, bad at time management, but good at helping her kids out on their school projects and REALLY good at planning the best sleepovers

honestly the best way to sum her up is just..........she’s nice but she wants to fight u 

#thirtyintro #finally #i can REST

[desdinovas]

untitled - part ten

not my gif

pairing: ceo!tom x female reader

warnings: just fluff

word count: 1.8K

notes: if any of you can’t add yourselves to the taglist pls let me know (if you also know how to fix it hmu lmao)

series masterlist

add yourself to my taglist!

The moment you got home you put on a jumper and a pair of shorts and threw your hair into a pony tail so you could finish writing. You ate peanut butter crackers and wrote non stop from 6 pm until 9 pm.

"It wouldn't be fair for me to say I wasn't partial to Tom and the way he ran things. From the moment I laid eyes on him there was something different about him I couldn't figure out. He was different than any other person I'd ever met. At first I saw a stone cold, harsh boss with no inkling of a good time in his body. Now I see a man who loves passionately about making business, about music, about cooking, about super heroes, and most importantly, his family."

You stopped typing. It felt finished.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You scrolled to the top and began to read all the way through. It took you about ten minutes to read and to edit before you printed it off and stapled it together. You wanted to talk to Tom.

You got in your car and put your paper in the passenger’s seat. You had been paying attention when Max drove you home and you knew exactly how to get to the neighborhood.

"Name please?" The security guard asked you at the gate.

"Oh, I'm (y/n) (y/l/n) here to see Tom Holland. But could you not tell him? I'm trying to surprise him. His driver usually drives me and-" you paused, realizing that she didn't care. You closed your eyes. "Will you call Harry instead of Tom?"

"Sure." She said with sass. She went into the office and made a phone call before giving you a pass and letting you inside the gated community. You drove to the back and up the hill to get to Tom's property.

You parked in the driveway and walked up to the front door. Before you even made it up to the door, you could hear the sound of a grand piano being played beautifully. You wanted to stand and listen to it all night knowing it was Tom playing. Finally, you gathered the courage to ring the doorbell and the music stopped. "Harry, are you expecting someone?" You heard Tom call out.

"Nah, man." Was his loud response. You could hear foot steps coming down the stair case next to the outside wall and the door unlocked.

He opened the door and you stood there quietly and held your paper out to him. "What is this?" He asked as he took it from your hand.

"It's my paper." You swallowed. "It's called Untitled: The story of the rise of Tom Holland." You smiled to yourself and he looked back up at you. He opened the door widely and set the paper down on the table next to the entryway before taking your hand and pulling you inside.

How you had longed for the feeling of his hand in yours for weeks now and you could finally feel it. "Is it finished?" He asked. "Like, entirely, completely, ready-to-be-turned-in, finished?"

"A hundred percent done." You assured him. 

He looked you over and in an instant his hands went to your hips and he brought his body down to kiss you with the most passion you'd ever felt. Your hands went up around to his shoulders and then your arms around his neck to give yourself something to grasp. His strong arms had you off the ground and almost involuntarily you had wrapped your legs around his torso as your lips connected and moved together. You felt movement and he pressed you against the wall.

"I hate to break up such a beautiful moment," Harry interrupted and caused you both to jump at the sound of his voice. "But you left the front door open and it's cold for once." He smirked and closed the door.

"Was it necessary to interrupt that?" Tom put you down and turned to his brother.

"Oh, yes. It was well worth it." He said with a laugh.

"Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes and turned to you. "May I read now?"

You intertwined your hands as you had wanted to do for a while and nodded at him. "Absolutely."

One of the most nerve racking things you've ever experienced had to have been right in this moment. Tom sat in an armchair with his legs crossed. In one hand he held your paper, and his other hand rested on his chin, brushing his finger over his lips slowly. With a straight expression, you watched his hazel eyes skim slowly over the lines. Licking his thumb, he grasped the edge of the paper to turn the page.

You sat in the chair across from him and crossed your legs, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees as you watched him. He'd take a sharp breath in, or exhale heavily out of his nose. Once or twice, you saw him smile. And finally, he finished the last paragraph and sighed.

"Well?" You asked quietly with a hint of anxiety. He remained silent and skimmed the last few sentences slowly and you groaned. "Tom!" You laughed nervously. "Tell me what you're thinking. The silence is killing me."

With a small crooked smile, Tom glanced up from the paper and over to you. "I don't disapprove," he replied. You reached over to grab a pillow off of the nearby chair and tossed it at him. "Okay, okay," he chuckled. "It was good, (y/n)."

"Good?" You sighed playfully. "That's all I get?"

He got up from his chair and slowly walked over to you. "You're a talented writer." He admitted. When he handed the paper back to you, he took hold of your hand and sat down on the coffee table in front of you. "It really is your art."

You watched your hands with a steady gaze, how they fit together perfectly. His hand was warm and comforting, which was a perfect contrast to your cold skin. "Can I say something?" You nearly whispered.

"Go ahead," he said lowly.

"All I've been thinking about was how good that kiss felt." Your eyes flickered up at him and you saw that he was mostly looking at your lips. "What?"

"Good?" He joked. He was getting much more playful. "That's all I get?"

You bit your lip gently. "I don't know. I think one kiss isn't enough to truly judge your skills." You teased.

"Mmm," he hummed and leaned in, breathing you in. His hand that was running over his own lips not long ago found its way to your chin and his long index finger brushed over your lower lip. God, he knew how to be seductive. "Maybe I'll let you have just one more taste."

Goosebumps raised on your skin as your lips met. It was slower this time and you leaned into him, savoring the moment. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth and when he pulled away, you kept your faces close. Your thumb ran over his cheek. "What do you say now?" He asked in the same low voice, his accent making you go over the moon.

"Umm," you batted your eyelashes a few times to regain your composure. "Now we’re talking." You breathed.

He knew what powers he had, you were sure of that. He just kept them locked away. Without the professional barrier, his reasons for keeping them hidden were falling away.

He let go of a breath he had been holding and looked down at his watch. "It's getting late," he said. "I don't want you driving when it's this dark out."

"I'll be okay." You told him, but it was no use.

"You're staying." He nodded. You couldn't find the energy to argue.

You followed him up the stairs and to the same elegant room. With a quick flick of the wrist, he peeled the corner of the pristine white comforter, then he pulled his tee shirt over his shoulders. You furrowed your brows. “So, where am I sleeping then?"

“Right here," he pointed to his bed.

“Umm,” you shook your head. You hadn't felt this scatterbrained around a guy in a long time. Your eyes scanned his muscular body and sighed, trying to find the words to say. “But you have so many empty rooms.”

His shoulders tensed for the first time since your first kiss. Without turning to face you, he said quietly, "if that would make you more comfortable,” you took a moment to consider it and before you made up your mind, he spoke again. “(y/n)?" He turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. “Please sleep with me tonight. I've waited so long to be close to you. Don't make me wait anymore.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Okay,” yoy gave in yet another time that night. “But I don't like wearing pants in bed, fair warning." He shrugged with a small grin.

Tom pulled his own jeans off and climbed under the covers and you sat down on the other side. This bed was even more comfortable than the one at the beach house, if that was at all possible. It was like a cloud. “Do you want to cuddle?" You asked, trying as hard as you could no to stare at his chest.

“How do you like it?" He asked as he laid back.

The bed shifted underneath your body as you scooted closer to him and placed your hand on his bare chest. He really was so muscular, it was impressive. Slowly, you pressed your cheek onto his skin and took a deep breath. The close contact was electrifying. You felt his hand comb through your hair and finally settled firmly on your shoulder. His thumb rubbed slow circles against the cotton of your shirt. 

“I like this.” You sighed and let yourself be completely comfortable with him.

Once he turned the lamp off, it was pitch black in that room until your eyes adjusted. You listened to his heartbeat and ran your finger over his chest. “Tom, can I ask you a question? And you’ll give me the real answer this time?”

“Anything,” he breathed. He really was giving himself over to you completely.

“How come you only call me (y/n)?”

It was quiet as he thought. “It rolls off of my tongue effortlessly. Like the perfect lyric to a perfect song. It's like music to my ears.” He replied slowly.

You felt yourself smiling like a complete idiot, Suddenly it didn't frustrate you anymore. You only ever wanted to hear him say your name like that for as long as you lived. “Well, keep doing it." You yawned and nuzzled closer to him until you drifted off.

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