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#the hardest part is coming up with a good premise

elioslover · 3 months

Text

Worst Wingman - Harry Styles x Reader.

[Premise: Harry is a shite wingman... or is he?]

Prompt Requests- send a couple numbers and a trope or dynamic! (18, 26, 31, 32, 35).

"No goodnight kiss for me? " // "Are you daring me to kiss you?"

Main Writing

Word Count: 2.3k.

🫧

Harry doesn't even have a chance to pull up the handbrake before she has the door open, clutching onto her bag and stepping out into the brisk autumn air, her shoes swiftly scraping against the concrete, hardly caring if the door shut (or if Harry was following) behind her.

She is aggressively rummaging through a cluster of items in pursuit of house keys, huffing at the incredulity of the man she can almost guarantee is hot on her heels, ready to grovel his way back into her good books.

By the time she comes to a stop at her door, it’s difficult to ignore the sudden invasion of Harry’s presence nearing her own.

He keeps a small space available in favour of her comfort, but his confident energy is so palpable that she feels he might as well have his lips pressed against the crook of her neck, it felt as if his hands were already ghosting around her waist, holding her with soothing security.

The key takes far too long jingling as she repeatedly misses the lock, her hands start to subtly shake with nervous frustration, and though Harry- already peering over her shoulder- wants to chuckle, he pretends not to notice, and that’s an easy feat when his gaze dips to observe the divets of her collarbone and shoulders- almost bare of materials- dedicating his attention to the scatter of sunspots and freckles along her skin.

On the third and final attempt, the keys twist with triumph and the front door clicks, unlocking, and instantly she turns the knob and pushes the door ajar- just enough to slide a shoe- perhaps a leg- through.

Harry waits in anticipation as she readjusts her bag and slants the door wider, making sure not to leave any space for Harry to follow her through.

He softly chuckles at her petulant stubbornness, staying put as she slips through the cracks and peers back at him from behind the wooden barrier with a stern frown, secretly living for the feelings of empowerment that surge up her spine.

But, Harry is only amused, and it only increases the longer he studies the dramatism painting her wide eyes, blushed cheeks, and bushy eyebrows with adorable misplaced anger. Well, he seems to think it’s misplaced.

She does not. She and Harry have had a simple and seamless relationship up until the past couple of months when he suddenly started acting up.

An agreement of ‘we’re thirty, time is running out, we should be each other's wingmen’ has turned into a blurred line of kisses and touches behind closed doors, and her focus is now wavering from setting Harry up with someone else in favour of keeping him all to herself.

The entire agreement hinges on the fact that they're both looking for different things and as far as she’s aware, Harry’s mind hasn't changed, even though they have evidently adjusted the rules- romance definitely wasn’t initially part of the deal- her fears of rejected reciprocity help refrain her from fully indulging in the fantasy of what life could look like if they just chucked the plan and chose each other.

But Harry thinks he’s made himself quite clear- at least he thinks it’s quite obvious after the numerous times he has interrupted or completely compromised any of her recent romantic prospects.

He couldn’t recall the exact moment or reason why, but this little ‘agreement’ between the two had rapidly turned into something more for him, and he hoped that she felt it too.

Sometimes he’s sure she does- that she enjoys each touch and giggle with as much endearment as he does- but then moments like this have him questioning it all as she works her hardest to create distance, visibly frazzled and very disappointed.

Harry doesn't challenge her defence, he doesn't make any attempts to step forward or push back, only leaning his shoulder comfortably against the wall, cheekily smiling in light of her next move.

Naturally, her chest tightens at his borderline childish nonchalance, but, resisting the temptation to chide him for every single thing he does that irritates the life out of her, she takes a deep breath and puts on a sickly sweet smile,

“Thanks for the ride, Harry.”

As quick as the words leave her mouth, she uses her palm to weakly attempt to shut the door, hoping to leave Harry as confused as she currently is.

But he’s been expecting it- actually amused that it took her this long to formally dismiss him- and as gently as he possibly can, Harry uses his own palm to stop the door from swinging shut, ensuring her grouchy face remains on full display.

She is in no mood for games, and they both know it, but Harry cannot resist the electric currents of endearment surging through him as she scowls and scoffs with impatience, foot tapping in anticipation for his next- and sure to be audacious- action.

His chosen tactic is to smirk lazily, leaning further- if possible- into the wall, his arm still extended, holding the door ajar, head tilting, eyes enamoured and practically pouting along with his plump lips as he ponders,

“No goodnight kiss for me?”

“You’re incredulous!” Her voice raises, mortified, as she makes a final attempt to shut the door.

Without even confirming, she turns on her heels- ironically immediately starting to rid herself of this evening’s chosen stilettos- but by the sounds of it, Harry has followed after her, just barely standing in the entrance hall, his eyes like a magnet to her bent body as he mutters,

“You like that about me.”

Levelling on the ground, she whips back around to face him, arms angrily folded across her chest, and currently she has to crane her neck to address him directly,

“Right now, I don't like you at all.”

“Don’t be mean.” He whines.

“Oh, but it’s okay for you to be mean to me?” She huffs.

Harry feels slightly stumped by that one, his arms absentmindedly straying up his chest, crossing sternly with sudden defensiveness, frowning,

“When have I been mean to you?”

“When you kiss me!”

Her arms flail, brows furrowed with such frustration that Harry feels a new level of confusion, mostly focused on her plump, peachy lips as he asks,

“Are you daring me to kiss you?”

“Are you daring me to punch you?” She threatens.

“Ooh, kinky.” He mewls.

“You make my blood boil!” She all but tosses flames his way, pairing her verbal threat with a hearty step forward, entering his personal space.

“You make me happy.” He takes a mirroring step, meeting her in the middle, his features slowly sinking from jovial into a clusterfuck of perplexion.

But this only seems to make things worse, she seems close to fuming and Harry swears he can see steam spewing from her ears and nostrils.

And she only creeps nearer, one arm collapsing to her side, the other raising to press a stressed palm to her flaming forehead.

After what feels like an eternity, she has soothed her twisted stomach and the thumping in her chest has lulled enough for her to huff with unmistakable disappointment,

“What the hell are we doing, Harry?”

Harry’s stare swells and steals his confident security as he tries to sort through the clues she so sternly requires,

“Well right now I’m trying-”

“Not right now. In general.” She demands.

“What do you mean?” Harry- definitely discouraged- concedes and asks for her aid.

It’s a sting to his heart when her face only surges with what he sees as sorrowful hatred.

“I mean,” Her tone has lost all patience as she gestures wildly at him, “What the hell is this?” and then her body slumps sadly, “Us.”

“I dunno. Guess I thought we were having fun.”

Harry’s head bows, his heart has a headache, and all he really wants is to reach out and smooth out the furrow in her brows, rid her frown with reassurance.

But as soon as he attempts to get nearer, she furthers the distance,

“My wingman constantly kissing me and ruining my dates is not fun… For me, at least.” She hopes the severity of her hurt stays hidden.

“I haven't been ruining your dates.” Harry pouts, still puzzled.

“Oh c’mon. You know exactly what you’re doing.” Her eyes roll at his ridiculousness.

“I don’t!” He hadn’t consciously considered it until this current crisis, and… she’s right. He’s been actively sabotaging the same opportunities he so sweetly sent her direction. He concedes, “Okay, I do, but-”

“But?”

“I thought you liked kissing me.” With honesty, Harry shrugs weakly.

“I do! That’s the problem.” She can hardly stay still, dragging herself deeper into the depths of suffocating frustration.

“Okay, now I’m really confused.” He can’t conceive of what she’s trying to communicate.

Suddenly, she’s the one closing the gap, walking straight for him until the only thing separating their chests is an arm's length, peering up at Harry with a gaze he recognizes from brief moments in between the sheets, his head resting in her lap, and after midnight goodbye kisses.

“I like kissing you. And I like spending time with you.” She announces with certainty, “But I don’t think you want us to be more than… whatever this is.” Her shoulders slump as she weakly gestures once more, “The least you could do is be the wingman you promised to be.”

“Then I don’t want to be your wingman anymore.”

Harry says it with such simplicity that it seems like a total throwaway comment- like none of this meant anything more than a verbal agreement- like this whole thing was nothing to him from the very start. She feels a lot of things, but the shame of it all is sickening.

“Okay, fine! You could have just said that!” Her voice, booming- cracking on impact, “Didn’t have to pity me.”

Teary eyes trail down to stare at her shimmering toenails, blinking at a rapid rate to avoid any falls, she hopes to the heavens above that a miraculously giant bird would just swoop down and carry Harry away from this catastrophic nightmare so she can cry in peace.

He doesn’t wish for the same- in fact, he just wishes she would look at him- he needs her gaze to reassure his entire existence, for her eyes to confirm the words slipping past her lips.

So, with the softness of a summer breeze, Harry nears her and though she still won’t look up, he feels it okay to assert,

“I’ve never pitied you, and you know it.” He tries to sound void of accusation, “Just wanted to help you out.”

“Well, no need to worry, your job is done.” She spits, finally looking up. Harry almost wishes she hadn’t.

“Fine.” He scoffs.

“Fine.” She mocks.

They stay locked in a stare-off of lust and maybe love all wrapped up in a bow of a fiery gift box about to blow open and burst their bubble.

Harry’s chest huffs and his next exhale is as childish as the last,

“Good.”

“Great.” She grits through a sarcastic thin-lipped smile.

Harry loves the little strands of hair that have stuck to her skin with sweaty fervour, the promising taste of her peachy plump lips, chubby flared and blotchy cheeks.

Her eyes- tinted red and swooping lashes slightly damp- are as comforting as always and they give Harry the last little push he so clearly needs,

“So, can I finally ask you on a date now?”

“Excuse me?” She actually wants to ask, ‘What the hell is happening?’.

“I like kissing you. I like spending time with you.” His voice is as certain as his words, “I’d really like to take you out, properly, and I’d love to be yours completely.”

Timidly, she peers up at him and after a moment of glancing his gaze to seek out any reason for Harry to be lying. But, there’s nothing more than the glimmer of adoration swirling around amorously in the forest of green.

Then, shyly conceding with insurmountable relief, she somewhat cautiously asks,

“... Really?”

“More than anything.”

“Okay…” It’s becoming impossible to hide the smile creeping at the corners of her mouth, “I’d like- love- to go on a date with you.”

Harry sighs out and releases so much untended pressure that he feels momentarily lightheaded, or it has something to do with the words- he had unknowingly deemed a necessity- coming out in a silky ribbon of a sentence, sung like a prayer from the prettiest of lips from the prettiest of people.

He ignores how silly and giddy he must seem as he eagerly removes the remaining distance between them, shoes gently bumping against her toes. One hand makes a home on her lower back,

“How does tomorrow sound? Pick you up around 7?”

“Sounds good…”

“Good.”

Harry concludes as her palms tentatively press to his torso, lashes batting lusciously as his face boldly leans closer, mouth glistening, garnering full attention as his free hand comes up to cup her jaw.

She can feel her toes trying to leave the floor, ankles stretching to get closer, hand leaving his chest in favour of the nape of his neck, her fingers faintly brushing the base of his hair.

Harry’s thumb slowly strokes at her cheek, then trails along her chin and lingers along the pillows of her lips,

“Now, would it be cruel to ask for that goodnight kiss?”

💞

445 notes · View notes

iovetecchou · 8 months

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Pairings... Sigma x Reader

Contains..! soft!smut, established relationship, making out, dry humping, premature ejaculation, praise, use of 'good boy'

A/N; this week's episode had me thinkin... the header image is the whole premise of this blurb (:

GN Reader.

775 words.

“I don’t know why you insist on twirling me around like this, l-love…”

Sigma's face was painted a deep shade of crimson as you spun him around your shared apartment.

One of your hands intertwined with Sigma’s, and your free one came up to his waist. Lovingly holding him close, chests flush to one another as you hummed to the tune emitting from the radio.

“Because it’s fun! Plus, your expression is to die for. Why are you so flustered baby, hm? It’s just us!”

You chuckled, finishing your sentence by dipping your boyfriend. Your grip around Sigma’s waist tightened as you supported him. Your leg came between his own as you found your footing.

“See? Fun!”

You leaned in closer, coming face to face with your lover. The top of your thigh pushing further between Sigma’s parted legs.

“W-Wait, stop— ah!”

Sigma whined, immediately scoring his lip with his teeth; to avoid any more obscene noises from slipping out.

You examined his expression closely, worried that you might have hurt him. But the feeling of his semi-hard cock straining against your thigh put those worries to bed.

“Sigma— are you…?”

Your boyfriend quickly shot upright. Averting his gaze from your own as he struggled to find the words to explain himself.

“I-I oh god, my love… I’m so sorry. Please, excuse me— w-wait! I… hah…”

Your grip on Sigma’s waist tightened as you pushed impossibly closer to him. You added more pressure between your boyfriend’s thighs. Smiling to yourself as his hips bucked, chasing for more friction.

“Why are you apologizing baby, hm? You know I don’t mind helping you. Especially at times like this.”

You whispered, lips ghosting along his. Sigma refused to look you in the eye. Still, far too embarrassed from getting hard while doing something so trivial— so innocent; with you.

“Look at me, baby. It’s okay, I promise. There’s no reason to be shy.”

You cooed. Untangling your hand with Sigma's, opting to soothe his flushed face instead. But still, no luck. Sigma sealed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply through his nose as your leg languidly moved between his. Stimulating his clothed cock faultlessly.

“Hmm… this won’t do.”

You thought aloud, grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger before pulling him in for a kiss. Sigma gasped from the sudden embrace, eyes darting open for a brief moment before fluttering shut once more; losing himself as you deepened your shared kiss.

His hips were twitching so much as he tried his hardest not to hump against your thigh. But his resolve was melting away with each passing second. Your tongue gliding along his had Sigma’s eyes rolling back behind his closed lids.

Your hand around his waist trailed lower, grasping his hip. Guiding him in his movements and giving him the confidence he needed to let go.

Sigma pulled away from your lips with a strangled whine. His muted eyes finally met your gaze.

“There we go… good boy.”

You praised, hastily sneaking your other hand between your bodies. Your fingers worked on the button of his pants, never once ceasing your movements between his thighs.

Sigma was entranced by you. His gunmetal gaze followed your every movement. Breathy whimpers fell from his lips as he humped against your thigh with more vigor. You managed to tug his zipper down right before Sigma cried out,

“W-Wait! Stop, I’m—!”

Before your boyfriend could finish his sentence, his whole body shuddered. You watched as his eyes rolled back into his skull. A mantra of your name spilled from his lips. Your eyes widened as you noticed Sigma still against you, a wet spot now forming at the front of his trousers.

“Oh baby… I didn’t realize you were that—“

Sigma buried his face into the crook of your neck. His hands came up to wrap around your waist, hugging you tightly in an attempt to hide against you. Hoping the ground would open up at this moment and swallow him whole.

“Not… not another word, p-please.”

Sigma whispered into your skin, nearly inaudible if not for your proximity. You couldn’t help but smile, finding your boyfriend immensely endearing at this moment.

You held him tightly against you. Carding your fingers through his two-toned locks; in an attempt to soothe his nerves. This went on for a few moments before you sunk to your knees in front of him.

Sigma watched your every move with a puzzled look. He only caught on to your intentions when you began tugging his pants down along with his underwear.

“W-What are you—“

“What does it look like? I’m going to clean you up, baby. So, just relax. I’ll take it from here.”

#sigma imagine #sigma x reader #sigma smut #bsd imagines #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd #sigma #sigma bsd #sigma bungou stray dogs #bsd sigma #bungou stray dogs sigma

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the-californicationist · 2 months

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Sending hugs as always!!!! Soooo, another request with no rush intended. Not sure if you are familiar with “Cool.” Gwen Stefani song and video. Love lost but no love lost. Rainy days and nights. He sees you with your “new” love. All the memories come rushing back, and he has to have you!!!! Dripping wet in his fit!! Maybe he tries to sneak away with you?! You’re the genius!! Still loving your Fluff and Stories on AO3. Thanks always!! ❤️💜

hey babe!! love this ask. sorry for the wait! <3 <3 trying to get out chapter 2 of bear price before the weekend, but this one just wouldn't leave my WIP station, so i had to get it done. very cool premise. hope this comes close to what you wanted!!

Cloudy, with a Chance

John Price was not having a good day. He’d had worse days, to be sure, but as he trudged through yet another puddle, soaked through with this torrential rain, freezing to his bones, he thought it had turned out pretty bloody bad.

For one, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. Your laugh and the stuttering hello of your voicemail greeting were taunting him like a vicious demon, and every time he brought himself to pleasure, it was your sweet moans that flooded through his mind. He’d also come back from the field to find his truck broken into and his storage unit payment almost three months overdue. Getting all of his belongings back in order had been a real fucking drag. None of this would’ve happened if you were still there.

But, you weren’t.

You’d left him before his last tour, and that was almost six months ago. He could still hear your complaints in his mind, clear and orderly, like a list of commandments:

I’m tired of being left alone, John!

I can’t keep wondering if every phone call is about to tell me you’ve died.

You promised you’d be here for me, and you’re not.

I’m not stitching up another bullet hole. I can’t.

How much more of yourself are you going to give them? They don’t deserve you.

What if I need you?

It had been a rough tour. He’d called you a few times, and when you’d answered, the guilt rent through his heart like a stake.

“John? What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Aye, I’m fine. Lads are fine. Just… I needed to hear your voice.”

“It’s alright, John. I’m here.”

And you had been. You were still there for him. Sometimes, when he got your voicemail, he thought he’d reached the end of your generosity, but that wasn’t the hardest part. No, the worst thing was coming home to empty drawers and his toothbrush, lonely in its glass, all by itself.

As he sheltered under the awning of a Nero’s coffee shop, he tried to get his bearings, deciding whether or not to wait out the storm. It was only by chance that he glanced into the window at Capello’s, and it was only by chance that the waiter had sat you and your date in the window seat.

His breath caught in his chest when he realized it was you, and his shock turned from yearning to sadness to rage in the blink of an eye. Who was that muppet with his bloody fuckin’ hands all over you? You were his.

Except you weren’t his. Not anymore.

No, fuck that.

He marched across the street, paying no mind to the honking traffic. A brief argument with the maître d' and he was through to the dining room.

“John?” Your voice had an edge of panic, and your eyes were focused on him as he dripped his way across the carpet.

In fact, all eyes were on him, but he didn’t care.

Your date looked more than a little put out, but when he started to stand up, Price grabbed his shoulder with no small amount of cruelty and shoved him back into his seat.

“What’re you doin’ here, love? You fuckin’ hate Capello’s.”

“I don’t…” You looked around, lowering your voice, trying to get him to match your volume, “I’m on a date, Jonathan.”

“Don’t be stupid. You need to come home. I can’t do this without you. I can’t do anything without you, and I don’t care who bloody knows it. I need you, love. Please.”

“You can’t keep doing this! I deserve to have someone who is there for me when I need them to be,” you raised your voice again, frustrated by his words.

Good. He liked it when you got all worked up.

“And you think this muppet can do more than me? Please.”

John rolled his eyes. The muppet tried to protest, moving to stand up again, only to be shoved back into position.

You took a deep breath, and you tried not to notice just how small your date was compared to your ex-boyfriend. John towered over him, and his thigh was more than twice the size of this guy’s bicep. Seeing John’s huge hand covering this man’s frail-looking shoulder kind of gave you the ick for your date.

You also tried to ignore your captain’s field-hardened body. He always came home so much more muscular, and so much larger, than he looked when he left. He was still soaking wet from the rain, drenched in his hoodie and tac-jacket. His canvas pants clung to his skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. But, that didn’t matter. You were imagining it anyway.

What you couldn’t ignore was that cold, blue hunger in his eyes. His beard had grown out, and the scruff combined with his long hair, all raked back under that disgusting boonie hat, were doing things to you that made you clench your legs together, becoming acutely aware of how every piece of fabric felt as it touched your body, and you knew exactly how it would feel when he ripped it off of you.

“Uh, hey. Listen, mate —” The date tried to protest weakly.

“Shut up,” you and John spat at your date at the same time.

John smiled at that, warming himself in your fire,

“C’mon, love. We’re leaving.”

He tossed a few wet hundred pound notes down on the table, not giving a shit if it was enough or not, and lifted the open bottle of wine from the ice bucket. His gaze fell to your date for a fleeting second, and he said,

“Cheers, mate.”

His hand grabbed yours and helped you from your seat, leading you outside. Once he had you back in your coat, he took you out into the rain, keeping his warm palm planted on the small of your back, and he didn’t say one single word to you until you were back in the foyer of his flat, dripping onto the marble tiles, panting and breathless in the quiet entrance, listening to his keys jingle in the lock.

“Let’s get you dry, love. Then,” he was breathless from the rain and from something else, “We’ll get your things. Put them back where they go, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly, shivering from the cold,

“Yeah. Okay, John.”

“Get inside, love. That a new dress?”

“Mmhm,” you let him towel you dry in the entrance, feeling how strong he was even though you knew he was trying to be gentle with you.

“Take it off.”

His voice had a tone that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on its end. You followed his command almost immediately, feeling your body rush with shock and excitement.

John caught you by your arms and shoved you against the wall in the foyer, his eyes bearing down into you with a fiery intensity you’d never seen. He spoke through his teeth, gravelly and dark, full of warning,

“You belong here with me. I don’t want any more dates. I want you to be mine, and I bloody well want to be yours. Let me.”

“Alright, John,” you whispered, holding your breath, nervous and waiting.

“Don’t,” he pressed his forehead against yours like he had a fever, “Don’t say yes unless you mean it, love.”

You pushed his head back with yours just enough to reach his cheek. You kissed it as softly as you could, moving down his jaw and onto his neck, feeling his blood rush through his veins warming his skin beneath your lips.

His hands fell away from your arms and you grabbed his hands, holding them in yours, still speaking to him in a low whisper, not wanting to break his spell,

“I’m yours, John. You’re all I have thought about for six months, and I don’t want to be without you. I don’t know what I was saying…”

He grabbed you on either side of your face and kissed you deeply, pushing his body into yours, grinding his wet clothes into you, and not caring a bit about the puddle on the floor,

“Shh. You’re mine. That’s all I need to hear.”

You looked into each others’ eyes and got lost for a moment. The blues of his irises were icy and sharp, tracking your every movement, your every breath. His sudden command pulled you out of your trance,

“Take off your dress.”

John watched you as you slipped the straps off your shoulders, revealing your bare breasts to him, your nipples pebbled from the cold, damp cloth. It fell, cascading down your body, showing off the black lace panties you wore underneath. Your strappy heels kicked the gown away from you, and you squirmed under his scrutiny,

“Were you gonna show him these?” John’s fingertips grazed the panties right above your clit, making little petting strokes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” you lifted your chin, challenging him, willing to face his jealous wrath.

“Yeah?” John growled, taking your bait, fisting your dripping hair in his hand and forcing your head back, baring your smooth neck to him, “On a first date? You must have been hungry for it, love.” He taunted you, touching your lips through the lace.

“Second date…” You flashed your eyes up at him, knowing he would snarl, and he did.

“Second… Mm,” John grabbed the panties by the front fabric and ripped them from your hips with one cruel tug. You gasped, and he caught your mouth with his, kissing you as his fingers found a different kind of wetness pooling between your legs, “My poor darling. You know he wouldn’t be enough for you. You’d have been so… fucking… disappointed...”

With every word of his last phrase, he thrust his fingers inside of you to their knuckle, lifting your body as he did so, his strength fully apparent.

“Did you miss me?” He asked you quietly. All the anger was gone from his tone, and a somber desperation was back.

“Yes, my love. I did,” you kissed him as sweetly as you could, telling him the truth.

“Fuck,” he grimaced, “I missed you.”

Suddenly, you were airborne, lifted into his arms and being carried into the adjacent kitchen. He sat you on the counter, shoving stacks of unread mail and keys onto the floor. You helped him strip off his wet clothes, pulling his hoodie and his jacket from his back, watching with admiration as he tugged off his undershirt, revealing his damp, furry chest, all of his dark hair laying matted against his skin. He was tanned and burned from the desert sun in odd tan lines, proof of his work, and your hands felt his sculpted form with joy, exploring all of him with abandon.

You knocked off his boonie hat and watched him rake his hair back again, trying to keep it out of his face. It was straight in the front, but it began to curl when it reached his ears, wild and unkempt.

Then, you heard the buckle jingle, and that familiar tool of his fell from the open folds of his pants. It was just as you had dreamt it, heavy and large, throbbing and flushed, excited to see you. He dipped the head of it into your lips, rubbing himself back and forth through your wetness, making you moan.

“Oh, fuck… There you are. My girl. Needed you. Fuck, I needed you.” He wasn’t talking to you. Not really. He was sort of lamenting aloud, lost in his selfish thrusting, slicking himself in the softness of your body, bumping your clit on the way up and teasing your hole on the way down.

Finally, he positioned himself at your center, carefully aligned with your tight opening, and he commanded you once more,

“Spread your legs for me. Show me. I wanna see you… that’s it. So damn pretty.”

“John, please…” You begged, touching yourself, trying to show him how ready you were.

He chuckled, pressing just the tip of his head into you, making you writhe,

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours…” You whispered, feeling particularly naughty about this call and response.

“Whose!” He got in your face, close enough to kiss you but holding himself back, his voice louder and more forceful.

“Yours! It’s yours. Please, fuck me, John,” you pleaded, gasping from being so near to your release and not being able to reach it.

“Mine,” he thrust himself into you and watched you fall apart, feeling you pulse around him uncontrollably, “My fuckin’ pussy. All mine.”

He found a rhythm, but it was punishing. You had orgasm after orgasm pulled from you cruelly. There was no lovemaking. He was claiming you. You were familiar with his need after his tour, especially if it had been particularly difficult, but six months of not knowing if he’d ever see you again had made him rabid. Each thrust was like the touch of a glowing brand, marking you as his, reminding you of where you found your pleasure.

You were not in control, not anymore. Any of your goading or teasing was immediately quashed by his dominance. You were just a mixture of screaming bliss and sopping, milking noises, made by his effort between your legs.

Frustrated that he couldn’t fuck you deeper, he pulled you from the countertop and down onto the cold tile floor. You were crawling onto the soft kitchen mat on your hands and knees, trying to catch your bearings when you felt him position himself behind you.

He grabbed your hair and pulled you into a high arch, shoving his fat cock back into you, sighing with relief as he did so, praising you in muttered, grunting words.

He began to slam himself back into you, somehow feeling harder and thicker than before, filling you up to your limit.

“Fuck!” You moaned, “Fuck…”

“Is that what you needed, love? Hm?” He leaned his body over yours like a hound, whispering into your neck.

“Yes, yes, yes yes…” You could barely breathe.

“Needed your man, didn’t ya?”

“Yes, please…” Whatever words came to mind, you said them. You didn’t care. You could barely put a coherent thought together much less a full sentence.

“I’m gonna fuck you like this until you can’t even remember his goddamn name.”

You smiled, cock-drunk and high from your repeated pleasure, peeking at him over your shoulder,

“Whose name?”

He laughed like a demon, fucking you faster, chasing his end,

“That’s my girl.”

When he lost his steady, pumping rhythm, he began to let out a barking shout, and you felt his come begin to drip from his body and into yours, heating you up in your core. He pushed his cock through it, frothing it inside of you, letting it drip down his shaft and coat his hair.

He fell out of you, sitting back on his knees, pulling you into his lap with his last ounce of strength, and leaned against the kitchen cabinets, legs spread, holding you to his chest. John was breathing hard, his eyes shut. You reached up and touched his bottom lip, earning your fingertips a soft kiss.

John opened his eyes and looked down at you, holding you close, begging you,

“Don’t leave me, baby. Please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere, John. I’m right here,” you told him, petting his chest in comforting strokes, breathing hard with him.

“Stay,” he whispered, so low you almost couldn’t hear him, “Please, stay.”

You kissed his neck and whispered back,

“I’ll stay. Forever. I promise.”

Your tired captain pulled you tighter into him, leaning a sweaty cheek against your forehead, smiling slightly, finally at some kind of peace.

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty #x female reader #john price x female reader #captain john price x female reader

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pupyuj · 4 months

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rei mentioned sugar is in the premises

okay but can we talk about how she would absolutely love having reader having an oral fixation.. like?? it’s not your fault that you just wanna give all your attention to her tits,, even when she’s on stage, giving a performance, despite trying your hardest to focus on her dancing you can literally just focus on her bouncing chest and she knows it AND LOVES IT???

also switch!rei thoughts but she’s either such a doll ready to be used and objectified or the caring praising mommy,,, wanting to be groped and titty fucked and ridiculed OR.. wanting to breastfeed you and pamper you while she fingerfucks you while she kisses your neck LIKE YOU GET IT RIGHT??

ask from suggy my beloved!! RRRAAHHH I HAVE TO DO THIS WELL OR ELSE I'LL DEACTIVATE 😤😤

i am a firm rei-big-boobies enthusiast as ya'll may or may not know and ugh.. i need her badly 🤤 switch!rei would be sooo cute tho?? as in her smirking and intentionally wearing outfits that show a lot of her chest to get you excited and then once you've got her alone she's completely at your mercy while you grope and squeeze her tits 😵‍💫 i just know rei would absolutely love having you leave hickeys all over her chest and tits and take pics of it... lowkey she can be such a troll (jiwon's influence istg) so she'd send them to the 04 gc just to show off and bring chaos upon wony and jiwon's lives 😭😭

mmmdsfhgfdh imagine coming home to a needy subby rei,, her climbing on your thigh the moment you sit down bcs she needed to be touched :(( pulling off her top and grabbing your hands, putting them on her bare tits herself.. stares at you with a pleading look that so cute to the point you don't bother to even tease her about how needy she was being! but she'd enthusiastically start grinding her cunt on your thigh without being told... whimpering at every little sensation she felt whether it was from her grinding or your hands.. and yes she can cum just from being groped bcs i said so!!

telling her to quicken her pace on your thigh so she does :(( watching her breasts bounce softly as she moved back and forth like the sick perv that you were 😵‍💫 even slapping her tits from time to time?? laughing at the way she'd whine and moan but she enjoyed every hit more than the next 🤭 her cumming on your thigh and she's sooo embarrassed 💔 but both of you know that she'd willingly do it all over again!!

rei also doesn't mind when you choose to make a mess on her chest tee hee 🤭 letting your drool spread while you sucked on her tits.. she absolutely loves how you'd look up at her and she could see just how obsessed you were with her 😳 oh, and since she already sends pics to her 04 sisters as a prank, why not videos as well?? reibear probs has an entire album of you just,, playing and sucking her nipples like a needy baby and she touches herself to them all the time—especially when you're separated for a while!!

if you were the super needy one, she'd definitely make you ride her fingers as a way to make you beg and beg for her boobs :(( "mhm.. baby wants mommy's tits in her mouth, hm? cum lots on my hand and maybe i'll consider even letting you touch them..." and then she gropes her tit herself just to make you whine and work yourself harder on her fingers 😣

now.. omg... the titty fuck part??? 😩 YA'LL KNOW I DON'T DO THIS OFTEN BUT FUUUCKKK this is so perfect for g!p reader EEHHEEHDK sitting on your bed while rei has her tits around your cock?? moving up and down while sucking you off at the same time she's actually insane?? again, her loving the sight of you literally drooling for her while she did what she does best 🫣 "a-am i... ummf.. doing good, mommy?" she randomly ask in the middle of her super awesome blowjob, knowing damn well you can't reply bcs you were too busy moaning her name 😣😣

and now the best part of the night.. cumming all over rei's face and tits with a cute squeak (which she soooo loved, by the way) and watching her lap up your cum obediently.. she's such a sight to see GAWDDD

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lifeandlies-of-regulusblack · 11 months

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JAMES YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO STAY STILL!

Premise: Regulus likes riding James best when he's about to cum because he's, well- he's the hardest when he's about to blow his fucking load. Admittedly, it feels good. Duh. But uh oh, James has a praise kink! Wonder what happens next.

(three cheers for trans reggie because he's a fucking monster in bed). PLEASE NOTE: [trans regulus | jegulus smut | edging]

SCENE: Regulus slow riding James with his pussy. James is near incoherent he doesn't even know what he's saying anymore. He's begging. He wants to cum so bad but he can't. Regulus is cruel — says he likes to keep him this way, right when he's about to cum. When he can feel every glide because he's at his hardest.

Minutes pass as Regulus keeps a torturously slow pace. He's delighted as he looks down on James: blissed out, face scrunched up in pleasure.

At this point, the other man has gone from a babbling mess to completely silent. His arms shake at the way he's grabbing on to the sheets. His feet are starting to cramp from the way his toes are curled in. James just wants to ram right into that tight heat.

They're both so close but his boyfriend always wants to drag this last part out. James feels thoroughly used.

In his silence, Regulus is moaning, keening, whimpering. He can feel James everywhere. When he's this hard all he needs to do is move his hips a certain way and ah, he breathes out. Right— "Right there. Jamie, you feel so good. Ngghh, so good..."

The praise shoots right down to James' cock and he can't help but thrust up, sharply. His eyes snap shut at the intensity of pleasure that shoots up his spine.

They both moan.

"Fuuuck," Regulus keens. The sound they make together is that of hunger and depravity. They've been painstakingly teasing out both their peaks. Fluttering close, so close then stopping just the slightest bit.

Damn it, James was supposed to stay still, Regulus thinks.

Unbidden, his pussy starts fluttering around the hard length inside of him. "Jamie! I wasn't ready yet!" Regulus whines. "Oh god —" he groans both in frustration and in helplessness at a speeding climax set off by James' thrust.

"M'sorry! Babe, lemme fuck you," James grunts out. It's barely audible. Contained in one shaky exhale. He's trying so hard to stay still but Regulus is tightening around him, his thighs shaking as they cage his hips. Playtime's over. They're both barreling towards the edge, and he's got to move now. One, particularly damning squeeze around his cock and he's moaning so much louder than before. "Please let me fuck you," he breathes out. "I have to move, Regulus. Please."

Please

— he doesn't know how long he waits. He's just trying not to die.

Regulus collapses right on top of James. I'm gonna cum, he thinks. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. James— I'm gonna cum." Regulus, helpless, is approaching an orgasm he's sure will end in both of them drenched. He can tell. Regulus lets out a panicked moan. He's shaking and he goes impossibly tighter around James. He hears him growl out his name, "Regulus."

It's overwhelming, he's unable to speak.

He's gonna cum, he's gonna cum, he's gonna cum

— all he manages is a shaky nod

And James is grabbing onto his hips, fucking into him violently. It's exactly what he needs.

"Jamie!"

It's obscene the way his pussy sounds as James continues to pound right into it. There's a reason he wants James this hard. The sensation is especially beyond words. He's being fucked so roughly he can taste James' dick.

"Oh god. Baby. So tight," James chants. Words, shakier than the one before it. He sounds stupidly delirious. Each thrust up is punctuated by pleasure.

When Regulus comes, he lets out a long, helpless whine. A plea. Sometimes, the intensity of his orgasms scares him. He's vaguely aware of his boyfriend screaming his name in brutal euphoria, lost to his own climax, as he follows Regulus to the edge. There's nothing but lightning jolts of electric pleasure singing through his veins. He clenches, hard. It feels like cramping the way his pussy clamps down on the heated length battering its way in, but he can't do anything about it.

James, meanwhile, has taken to fucking him in a frenzied manner—pushing a pulsating cock in, in, in, further in. "Hhnggh, Regulus. That's it. You take me so well." he lets out, sounding pained. The feel of Reg's cunt around his throbbing cock makes it hard to speak. He's reduced to single mindedly fucking his cum into Regulus. James has to mark him! No one else gets to fuck his baby's pussy but him. No one else gets to feel the way his baby squeezes cock and milks it dry. He has to fuck his seed in so everybody knows.

Wet gasps fill the room as Regulus gives in to full body tremors. He's sobbing and he doesn't know when he started to cry. God, he's still cumming so hard. James has set off a series of multiple orgasms so close to each other as he tries to fuck them both through their peaks.

Lost to the tumble of sensations, he drops deep into a euphoric oblivion he's unable to pull himself out of. And Regulus promptly blacks the fuck out — spasming on his Jamie's cock.

*I write lots of good stuff here on tumblr. Mostly about Regulus and Sirius. Occasionally, I'll write about jegulus. Here's my writing tag: (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

PLEASE consider giving me a reblog if you enjoyed this :3 of you did, then someone else might like it too! this gets my writing to people who may like the things i write ~

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alphabetboyluvr · 9 months

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sundae (kinda love) | kth

pairing: non-idol!taehyung x female reader - childhood friends, unrequited pining, missed connection

premise: you always thought kim taehyung's lips would taste like chocolate sundaes, but when you learn -through a friend- that he tastes like watermelon chewing gum, the illusion shatters. so does your heart. in time, so will his.

warnings: a lil angsty, big question mark on a happy ending? (it's an ending! i'll give it that much!), short n sweet, mentions of alcohol, clubbing, tae is stupid!, but also not to be blamed (or at least not until the end), insinuation of emotional affair, big regrets, ballroom dancing, no smut and no fluff

wordcount: 1.1k

note from holly: originally written as a submission for my old writing groups monthly prompt - "I wanted it to be you. God damn, I really did." This is ooooooold, but it just felt apt with love me again and rainy days. i also believe it's the oneshot that someone on wattpad commented 'why are the tae ones always so shit' so MAKE OF THAT WHAT YOU WILL! lmaooo.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"Quick, quick, slow. Quick, quick, slow," repeats the familiar shrill of your dance instructor. "Nina, back straight! Namjoon, footwork!"

The village hall you're in is musty, dust particles imitating you as they dance in the sunlight that beams through the wide windows. It's a Saturday morning, and there's no place you'd rather be less. You're dancing with your best friend, Nina, because there are only three boys in your class of twelve.

There's Jimin, the star student; Namjoon, whose mother forced him to attend because she thought it would be good for him; And then there's Taehyung, their best friend.

He's only there because he has nothing better to do when his only buddies are too busy learning the paso-bloody-doble to hang out with him.

It's spring, and school is in full swing. They're growing, and as time lurches forward, they find themselves with less and less chances to enjoy one another's company.

And so Taehyung's shoes tap along the varnished parquet all rather naturally, much to the dismay of Namjoon, who really is trying his very hardest.

"Now! Turn!" Your instructor commands. "And switch!"

You throw Nina a look -one that she gives you right back- which you both understand to mean 'ugh'. Stupid switch you always think, and refrain from rhyming it with how you feel about your instructor.

There's no part of you that wants to hold hands with other random kids from your village as you Cha Cha Cha across the dance floor. You just want to spend time with your best friend.

The same can be said for Taehyung, but when the switch happens, he finds himself dancing with yet another random girl - Nina.

He glances over -checking who he stole her from- and when your eyes meet, he stumbles on his footwork. Nina giggles, and he looks down all bashfully; pink in the cheeks.

When he looks up, he's looking at Nina. She giggles again, and he gets a little shy, but he starts dancing with her like a duck to water. Something about them just seems to... work.

You suppose you should have seen it coming when the next week he asks to dance with Nina again.

At least, that's what you assume he's doing when he approaches the pair of you. She kind of just hops up and drags him away before he even gets a chance to ask.

When they reach an empty spot on the dance floor, Taehyung glances back over to you and purses his lips. His eyes are soft, and so wonderfully brown that you think he must taste like chocolate sundaes on a hot summer's afternoon.

You're fifteen when you watch from the sidelines as rosettes are pinned to their clothes.

Taehyung's in a suit - dark, a little too big for him. His bowtie is green; a congratulations gift from you, given on the night they smashed through regionals.

Nina is in a matching green dress. Pretty, hair pinned back, perfect. Just like always.

The village hall has been swapped for a convention centre in the heart of the big city. They've just won third place. Jimin and his partner snagged first. Namjoon didn't make the top twelve. He tried, though.

You're beaming, outrageously proud of their achievement - but when Taehyung's eyes find yours in the crowd, his smile falters. It softens after a moment, and he nods. You nod back. Smile. Whisper 'well done'. He grins, now, and Nina notices his line of sight on you, so she waves. You wave, too, but you'll tell her well done later.

When you're eighteen, in a bar in the heart of town, Nina tells you that Taehyung tastes like vodka lemonade and watermelon chewing gum. You don't see him that evening. He sends you a text as the sun begins to rise:

'Didn't see you tonight. Missed you tearing up the dancefloor.'

There's a smile on your lips, though you really wish there wasn't. You both know you've got two left feet. It was always Nina's thing.

You send him back a picture of the chocolate sundae you're nursing, and tell him that you hate watermelon.

He doesn't understand, and assumes you're drunk. You kind of are, legs slung over the side of a sitting room chair in your family home.

You mean what you say. Detest watermelon. Loathe it. Had been eating it the day before without a care in the world, but feel sick just thinking about it now.

You've loved the idea of Taehyung tasting like chocolate sundaes since you were a kid - but now you know otherwise.

It's ruined your perception of him.

Although it hasn't really.

Not in the slightest.

For when he shows up at your twenty-first birthday party without a gift, but a bottle of chocolate liqueur instead, you have to fight yet another smile.

"For all those sundaes," he says.

See, it's become a bit of a ritual.

Every time those pretty lips of his end up on Nina's -and he pretends to care about the fact you aren't around- a picture of a chocolate sundae lands in your message thread to him.

He still doesn't understand it.

Though he does smile when he sees them on menus, and he thinks about how much he'd love one whenever summer comes around. He never indulges, mind you.

Never.

Not until a few years later, when it's the only option for dessert in a gilded reception room, back in your hometown.

He doesn't think it's apt. It's autumn, not summer. Far too chilly.

It's been close to two decades since he first saw you dance - and you're still just as shit - but there's something beautiful about it, now. Maybe it's the flowers in your hair. Maybe it's the way you're looking at your groom, pink sunset pouring through the windows, fairy lights glittering above you. Maybe it's your dress.

Or maybe it's the way your eyes catch the light as you glance over towards him. He's holding your bouquet -Nina had palmed it off on him- and he nods. Smiles. The taste of chocolate is bitter in his mouth.

And only now does he really understand.

Because truthfully, he had wanted it to be you in that dreary village hall all those years ago, too.

God damn it, he really had.

Taehyung knows he shouldn't, but when he's had a few too many drinks, and your groom is off entertaining his friends, he sits beside you. You're watching your wedding party from the back of the room with a smile on your face.

When you look at him, you know -finally- he tastes like a chocolate sundae, now. Your smile falters. It's bitter. The sundaes are sweet, you assume. Haven't had one. Won't have one.

"Should've been you," he says so quietly it's almost a whisper.

You hate that you understand what he means. Hate that you nod. Hate that you're thinking about the way he tastes. Hate that your heart beats faster now than it did when you said 'I do.'

Hate that you say:

"Should've been us."

#bts fanfic #taehyung #kth x reader #kth angst #taehyung angst #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #kth oneshot #kth fanfic #taehyung fanfic #non idol au #kth #fanfic #bangtan ff #im so terrible with tagging still #waaaaaa #byholly

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getcuboned · 3 months

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The hardest thing for a show to do without absolutely Destroying its audience's belief in stakes is fake out deaths. It happens all the time during a season or even series finale: A main character dies, but then is revealed to be mildly/moderately/extremely hurt (throw a dart).

All the emotional payoff a character dying is immediately followed up with a cathartic return of a beloved figure. When its done right, it's Effective. That's why it was so popular, that and another reason.

The other reason is that its relatively Easy. It doesn't require the writers to change the status quo. Silly fun adventures with the gang go on as always without any real changes. This is so Cost and Idea effective, that it got overused and now everyone is jaded.

Now there's good ways to do this of course. AtLA comes to mind: Genuine threat of death, maguffin from last season finale which has been haunting the previous episodes comes into play, and the status quo changes: Aang is recovering from a serious injury for weeks, is furious that he died and failed Again when the world needed him, and he can't tap into god mode anymore.

So what's this got to do with the tags? Well if you know you know. Otherwise spoiler warning so gtfo already.

Sir Pentious, and I suspect Adam, did die a fakeout death, but the death part was genuine. Sir Pentious was not found in the rubble of the Hotel. Sir Pentious didn't respawn and explain that Adam's divine energy beams weren't angelic steel. Sir Pentious was Genuinely dead and the status quo has genuinely changed.

But! The show's premise is that the Hotel can help sinners redeem themselves. Redeption isn't a reward you seek. Its a condition that one meets on a personal, individual level. Sir Pentious came to the Hotel as a spy, and when he was shown that Charlie was willing to forgive him, it changed his understanding of the world. He realized that he could improve, it just starts with one good sorry.

Sir Pentious put aside his self loathing, his shame, his anxieties. He used his inventions to put himself on the line rather than keep himself out of danger (I mean that's what the airship is all about isn't it?). He fought for the people he cared about. He died to protect the ones he loved. And that transformation: from a paranoid worm of a human being (slimy? Snakes are not slimy), to an actualized individual willing to put himself on the line, earned him salvation.

Now Sir Pentious is an Angel! He's in Heaven! Even more so he bypassed the Pearly Gates and functionally respawned In the Seraphim's boardroom. Frankly He was one of the older sinners to be around so it doesn't surprise me the implication that he's powerful enough be worth the notice of the Seraphims.

So what about Adam? Why do I mention him? He was killed by a filthy janitor. Well. As another post mentioned: In the 10,000 years that Adam has been in charge of killing his own descendants because Lilith and Eve (where the fuck is she anyway?) screwed him over with the assistance of a short, dumb, naive angel (poor guy just wanted to share his ideas, look at him. 10,000 years later and he's hardly got a drop of malice in him that isn't put there by someone else), Adam has become Prideful, Slothful, Lustful, and Wrathful. Even one of those is enough to make you fall. Yet he was tolerated by heaven, most likely due to his extenuating circumstances.

Adam has died. He died full of Wrath, and Pride. He died because he was unmotivated to come up with a better solution, and unwilling to keep himself in shape. He died because of his Blood Lust.

So I think that very early on in season two, we will get to see Adam's demonic form.

Two fakeout deaths! But not really. Both characters have provably died and both (theoretically) will create a new status quo not just by dying, but by reincarnating across enemy lines.

#hazbin hotel spoilers #sir pentious #hazbin hotel #writing advice #hazbin adam #lucifer #hazbin lilith #hazbin eve

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rrxnjun · 1 year

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how to self-sabotage: a bulletproof guide by zhong chenle

pairing: rival! zhong chenle x fem! reader genre: college au | humor, fluff wc: 10.8k warnings: swearing, a mention of alcohol and weed, this is written like a bad disney channel sitcom. i really channeled my inner business graduate with this fic i am so sorry a/n: this is a repost from yesterday bc tumblr was shitty and turned my text black!! playlist: self-sabotage - waterparks ; are you gonna be my girl - jet ; countdown (1, 2, 3) - nct dream ; teenager in love - neon trees ; maniac - conan gray ; drama - txt

one would say it's ungraceful to turn a charity fundraiser into a competition, but you and zhong chenle have no boundaries when it comes to beating each other in a fight. crashing each other's plans, making irresponsible decisions, all just for the sake of winning a competiton you two made yourself; zhong chenle finds a turn of events when the whole thing turns into a self-sabotage.

❥ hello! this is y/n and welcome to my new youtube video! to celebrate my 600 followers milestone, I prepared something special: let's look at all the boys I've ever had a crush on and interrogate them with a fun questionare! for today's part, we have the boy that tried to sabotage me, but ended up doing quite the opposite: zhong chenle himself! ❥

this fic is a part of my collab! find the rest of the works from the dream chronicles collab here! [tba]

Sitting at the table, fingers drumming against the light wood, you stare into the unknown and make your dear friend Jisung a little afraid of what’s about to come. Being your best friend is always a challenging fact, considering your over-the-top ideas and drive that makes your clueless friend a little taken aback, but with the premise of a challenge– the charity event that’s going to take place at your university, he already knows he’s up for something wild.

Maybe taking a step back from your master plan would be a better idea. Jisung would save his sanity and also, most likely, a lot of trouble; but that’s not who Park Jisung is. If anything, he’s a loyal friend. No one will take that title away from him. And that’s exactly why he’s sitting opposite of you right now, listening to the hum of the cafeteria, waiting for what you have to say.

“How many people are joining?” you ask, voice stone cold and focused. You don’t meet Jisung’s eye, focusing on the people flowing in and out of the cafeteria instead, the gears in your brain turning faster than on your midterms.

“I don’t know exactly, but I’d say around ten teams of people, each one consisting of at least two to three people, so… at least 30..?” Jisung hums, quickly calculating the numbers in his brain.

“30…. so that means we have at least a 20% chance of winning,” you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip and furrowing your brows, seemingly lost in thought.

“That- that’s not adding up, Y/N…” Jisung mumbles, running the numbers through his brain once again, trying to see if he’s made a mistake or if it was you. See, Jisung is not a straight A student– that’s what you’re here for, after all– but when it comes to Maths, he’s pretty confident. He’s not quite sure why it’s the only subject he’s good at, considering it might be the hardest of the course, but for some reason, logical things are easy for him to grasp.

“I ruled out the freshmen girls, they’re absolutely not winning this. Also, Renjun and Jeno are out as well, because they will underestimate everything and not try hard enough. That leaves us with Yangyang and Hyuck, since I know damn well that each and every girl that’s ever hooked up with either of them will hop on their dicks and buy anything they’re selling,” Jisung chuckles at the seriousness of your voice as you talk, finding the fact that you’re taking this whole thing as your main mission of the semester amusing, “and then… Him. He’s the professor’s favorite. And he’s super good at persuading people. And I know damn well he’s gonna try hard, so actually, the chances of winning are split into three teams, so we have an approximately 30% chance of winning the prize.”

Jisung blinks at you a few times, trying to clear his head. Right now, you look like you’ve been programmed– a robot with no emotions, only set on the task it’s been told to do. You’re not even blinking, he notes and immediately gets freaked out– because what if they switched his best friend for a robot while he was sleeping? What if this is some sick experiment? What if he’s in the Truman show? You may never know these days…

“Y/N, that’s not-”

“It’s 50/50, actually,” you cut him off, nodding.

“How can it be-”

“Simple. It’s me or him. And I will do anything in my power to win, Jisung, so be prepared for a fight,” you order, taking a sip of your water, still not meeting eyes with your companion. Jisung’s kind of glad for that, though– what if you turned into a siren and eye contact with you will turn him into stone? He really doesn’t need that, he hasn’t even had his first girlfriend yet. He’s too young to die!

“It’s for charity, for fuck’s sake, don’t be so competitive…” Jisung sighs, taking another bite of his sandwich that he forgot he was eating for a second as you started with your business meeting, shaking his head in disbelief at your antics. Is anyone even taking this whole thing so seriously?

The business department at your university is having a charity event the upcoming month. The goal is to sell things and raise the most money you can– it’s all for a good cause, of course. The only thing is that your university already realized that your generation, although it loves to help people in need, won’t do anything without having enough motivation. And so, the head of the business department– professor Lee– promised that the team that raises the most money for charity (or the winning team, as you like to call it), will get an iPad pro for their efforts.

Jisung would understand if you were doing it for the iPad. Hell, even he wants one. But the reality is completely different– you just really, really need to be the best at everything. It’s your main purpose in life and when you fail, you fall into weeks long depression, mourning every single aspect that made you fail at your task and getting angry at every person in your sight. That is even scarier than your weird transe that you’re in right now, Jisung admits, and so he usually does his best to help you with your efforts, because he doesn’t like to get screamed at for multiple weeks if you come second.

That, and he also really doesn’t like to see you sad.

“Yeah, so I’m having the right intentions, aren’t I, Jisung?” you finally meet eyes with Jisung, your devoted business partner, as you smile with that kind of curve to your lips that doesn’t really meet your eye.

A shiver runs down the poor boy’s spine at that, pupils widening with terror. Standing up from your position at the table, completely ignoring Jisung’s half-eaten sandwich left at the red tray on the table, you move towards the exit of the cafeteria, expecting him to follow along. “Let’s go, Jisung. We have work to do.”

“I’m so so surprised at everyone’s interest in the charity event! Thank you so much for coming here today to discuss the details,” Ms Lee chirps from her spot at the top of the table, swinging her arms around like a Disney princess when she sings to all the animals that gathered around her in the backyard of her palace.

Your eyes scan the figures gathered around the room. You’re sitting at one of the big, rounded tables settled in the middle of the conference room, two of the same, mahogany ones to your left and right side, all filled with business students. Some of the faces are familiar to you– like your classmate’s Renjun and Jeno’s, but some of the other ones are foreign to your eyes. You doubt you’ve ever seen those people in your whole, entire life, and you were in the student council last semester, so you were pretty much friends with everyone back then. Maybe it’s the freshmen, you think, as you look at your overly-excited professor and try to listen to what she has to say.

“Only if she knew that half of these people are here for the iPad,” Jisung murmurs into your ear, making you chuckle. He’s right– almost everyone’s here for that. But not you– you could never make your interest in charity so surface-level like everyone else does. You care about much more than getting an iPad, your interests are deeper than that. You don’t need the iPad– although you wouldn’t hesitate to take it if you win, you’re not stupid, after all– you need to win and beat your longest academic rival.

You need to win against Zhong Chenle himself, the top of the business class– he owns the title mainly because his parents own one and he’s had enough time to learn about all the wonders of the business world long before the rest of the people in your class– because you need the satisfaction of being the absolute best. See, you were used to that your whole life. In high school, you were the model student. The one that was set as an example. The best student, the most praised one, the most talented one, the gifted one, even.

You may already know why all of this was more damaging to you than it was good. Getting into university– into the sea of people that were told just that while growing up– was a feeling that made you fall down from the tallest heights of talent to the very middle of it all. The shift from being the best to being mediocre was perhaps the most painful experience of your whole life, but after you managed to get your shit together– and studied your ass off, because it won’t work any other way anymore, it seems– you set your mind on being the best one again, because in your whole childhood, you didn’t know any better. And if you were raised to be the picture perfect child, it’s hard to outgrow these habits.

So if Zhong Chenle was the top of the class in most of your courses, you had to be better than him eventually. The charity event is just another part of the whole process.

“I know this is all for a good thing, but I feel like we still need to set some rules for this whole thing. The main thing is to sell something– anything you want, really– and raise the most money you can for charity. I think everyone already got that, since you’re all sitting here, but I know that the vision of the iPad can blind some of you and get you to be a little too competitive, and while I encourage you to try hard, I also want all of you to play fair. So, here’s the thing,” your professor announces, making you shift a little in your chair and whisper to Jisung to get his notepad out so he can scribble the important info down, preventing you from forgetting it.

“Rule number one. No bad mouthing the others, no anti-campagne. I want all of you to be nice to each other and play it fair, got it?”

A few of you nod, humming in agreement, when a disappointed sigh comes from somewhere behind you, a low mumble reaching your ears and making you chuckle. “I had so much dirt on Donghyuck…”

“Rule number two. I don’t want you selling alcohol, cigarettes, or pretty much anything that’s against the university rules. God forbid if you bring drugs. I won’t hesitate to call the police on you if you do,” your professor continues, earning herself another set of bored hums and nods, cut off only by a pair of your classmates sitting right next to you at the big, rounded table.

A disappointed sigh leaves Yangyang’s mouth at this one, shaking his head in disapproval. You won’t say anything, because you don’t really want your classmate to get in trouble, but the last time you were on a party where Liu Yangyang was present, you couldn’t shake off the smell of weed for weeks, so you’re pretty sure his plan was to sneak in a little something to get more money for the charity. His friend and business partner in one– Lee Donghyuck from your Economy class– grins as his hand shoots up into the air, waiting to be called to ask a question.

“Yes, Donghyuck?”

“Are condoms allowed?” he asks, the innocent grin on his face making the freshmen girls in the back of the room chuckle and hide their face behind their hands.

“Why are you asking that?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, the innocent smile not leaving his face for a second as his childish friend only giggles at the encounter.

“Please don’t sell condoms at the charity event, Donghyuck,” professor Lee pleads, her eyes already full of misery as she realizes just what she’s gotten herself into when agreeing to lead the whole event.

Another disappointed sigh leaves his lips at that, shaking his head. “That’s our whole business plan gone, then…”

Taking exactly three seconds to calm herself down, your professor takes a deep breath in as she runs her hand through her long black hair and then clasps her palms together at her waist, regaining her composure. “Back to what I was saying, we have one more rule you have to follow. You can’t lie about your product. No false advertisement, no made-up stuff to make what you’re selling be more interesting than it already is. We want this to be a serious event, so please, take all of these rules to heart and try your hardest to follow them. Got it?”

Scanning the room, waiting for each and every single one of you to nod, the gathering falls silent. “If none of you have any questions, I consider this meeting to be over.”

The room is instantly filled with the shrieking of chairs on the linoleum ground, making your hair stand up as you arch like an angry cat, hating the sound. Waiting for everyone to get out of the room, you find a pair of men sitting still opposite of you, a cocky smirk plastered on the face of your moral enemy, his friend Jaemin sitting next to him with a well rehearsed poker face. They already look like they run a company, you realize, the thought making your blood boil just at the thought of Zhong Chenle looking more professional than you do– in your baggy sweatpants and a cropped top you grabbed from the top of the pile of half-dirty clothes in your room this morning.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” Chenle asks, grinning to himself as your eyebrows furrow and you reveal an annoyed face to him. It makes him happy to see you like this– it gives him more satisfaction than anything in his life, to be exact.

“The game’s on, Zhong.”

Walking towards your table in the cafeteria, a pair of young boys looking very engaged in their conversation lands in your rear point of vision. Eyes squinting, as if it was supposed to make you see better, you watch your best friend Jisung walk side by side with the accomplice of your moral enemy, Na Jaemin. One of them looks cool, dressed in all black, flashing a charming smile, and the other one is truly bubbly– jumping up and down, almost, as he giggles like a boy and adjusts the straps of his backpack. I won’t tell you which one’s which. Figure it out by yourself.

“We have a visitor today?” you ask as the two of them sit down at your usual table in the cafeteria, both of them smiling to themselves like two teenagers in love. The sight is an unusual one, to say the least, and you don’t know what it is about it that makes shivers down your spine. You just know that you kind of despise it.

“Yeah, Jaemin will be sitting with us today, if that’s okay,” Jisung smiles, looking at you with wide eyes full of excitement.

“Great, great,” you mumble, eyeing the boy with suspicion. Is this how he chose to execute your plan? You did tell him to be nice to Na Jaemin– you did even tell him to try to befriend him, if that was what he needed to do to get under his skin– but at the same time, you didn’t think that sitting together at lunch exactly two days after you told him to try to get some information from Jaemin was the right way to go around this.

See, you’d call it intuition. You know something’s wrong, you just don’t know what it is yet.

“So, what’s up, Jaemin?” you ask, poking the food on your table around with your fork, avoiding eye contact. You despise even sitting at the same table with one of Chenle’s friends– you feel like you’re suddenly in his circle, and that makes you gag a little into your mouth. While you need to be better at everything than this young businessman, you also need to stay away from everything that includes him– and yes, that means his friend circle as well. Who knows, Na Jaemin might even be a nice guy. You just don’t care enough to find out.

“Oh, a lot of exciting things are happening! Aren’t they, Jisung?” he smiles, kicking the clueless boy into his shin under the table in excitement, “the charity event, for example! We are preparing a lot of stuff with Chenle, and I think it’s gonna be a lot of fun. What about you two?”

Humming, you try to take the opportunity by its reached-out hands, smiling a little on the inside. “You’re doing a lot of things? What things exactly, may I ask?” you lock eyes with Jaemin, seeing his cunning smile.

“That’s a surprise, dear Y/N,” Jaemin mutters, the combination of his low voice and glimmering eyes making your stomach twist in anger and frustration. Of course he’s not that stupid– he won’t reveal what him and Chenle have planned for the event. He knows who you are. He knows how far you’re willing to go to completely destroy whatever the two of them have planned, just so you could win. And he won’t even dare to give you a single hint on his plans, because he’s intelligent and cunning.

“Is it…” you mutter under your breath, matching his competitive energy.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning to Jisung, “but maybe if you tell me first, I can share. Maybe we can brainstorm together, you know, that would be so much fun. Wouldn’t it, Jisung?” he asks your best friend, smiling sweetly at him.

You know damn well about the effect Na Jaemin has on people. He’s charming and sweet, magically alluring. He pulls everyone towards him, and he does it oh so easily. You’ve heard enough about how this man worked his magic spells on the girls in your grade, getting them on dates and then deciding he’s bored of them a few weeks later.

Now, you didn’t know that your best friend Park Jisung wasn’t immune to this effect. He was, in fact, very much not immune to it– he was just like every other girl in your class, just like all the poor freshmen girls that giggle at his stupid jokes in the cafeteria.

It was a saddening fact and an even more devastating sight to see your best friend fold under the eyes of the local charmer. You should’ve expected it, though– maybe this was the intuition you were supposed to listen to the very moment Na Jaemin showed up at your table in the cafeteria.

“I mean, I think that’s a good idea, maybe we can work together on it as well,” Jisung hums, eyes big never leaving the man as he nods to his manipulation tactics.

“See? Amazing! That’s exactly what I love to hear. So, what are you two planning?”

“Me and Y/N wanted to-”

“Jisung, shut up,” you coldly say, taking a hold of the situation and trying to save the day. Your poor best friend looks at you all lost, the furrow in his brows breaking your heart as you had to be rude to him for no reason at all– well, there is one, he just doesn’t know it yet.

“Why-”

“Why are you shutting your friend down like that? That’s not really nice of you, Y/N,” Jaemin says, locking eyes with you. The look in his orbs is knowing, your wavelength matching as he knows that you finally see right through his plan, that you know exactly what he’s trying to do– because you and Zhong Chenle are more alike than you both think, it seems. At least with your business tactics, after all.

“How about we work on our stuff alone, Na Jaemin? I don’t need Chenle’s help with anything,” you snap back, watching as the boy grins to himself and takes the red tray into his hands as he stands up from his place at your cafeteria table.

“Okay then,” he mutters, “have a nice day, you two.”

With his departure comes a loud whine from Park Jisung himself, earning himself a kick into the shin as you start your scolding session.

“What was that? Why were you so rude to him all of a sudden?”

“Jisung,” you coldly stare at him, making him silence, “I told you to befriend Na Jaemin to get out some information from him. I didn’t tell you to do the exact opposite and get exploited of all our plans instead!” you finish your little rant, breathing heavily as you notice the boy’s face clearing into understatement, smiling to himself a little in shame.

“Oh. I didn’t notice that…”

Park Jisung’s good at Math. Social interaction? Not so much… Maybe you should take things into your own hands and get some information yourself, instead of sending your most gullible friend on a mission that requires interaction with Na Jaemin…

“I still don’t understand what we are doing here. I thought you didn’t like parties!” Jisung mourns as you two step your feet inside of a big mansion (or at least that’s how the house looks in your eyes), the loud music of the event that’s going on inside making your eardrums bubble along with the beat.

“Jisung, you have so much to learn about this world…” you sigh, smiling at some of the girls you encounter on your way to the big kitchen, aiming straight for one of the red cups waiting for you on the kitchen island, all filled to the brim with various alcohol.

Turning around in your spot, two solo red cups in the palms of your hands, you offer one to your companion and grin at him. “Here, have this,” you smile, “I know you’re not a fan of vodka, but they don’t have anything else… Try not to die while I’m gone,” you note, earning yourself a confused look from the tall boy standing in front of you, listening to your commands.

“And where are you going? What’s going on-”

Sighing, you take the boy by his hand and drag him into the half-empty hall, the dim lightning making the whole encounter feel more secretive than it already was.

“Jisung, this is Zhong Chenle’s party,” you say, the sentence alone enough for the boy to instantly widen his eyes and part his lips agape in understatement, nodding at you. There’s a slight glint in his eyes that’s telling you that he doesn’t like where this is going, but you don’t really care about what he has to say right now. Your mind is set on one thing– winning, and that’s why you’re not afraid to do even the most desperate things of them all.

“Try to enjoy yourself,” you say, “but please don’t talk to Na Jaemin while we’re here, okay?”

“But Jaemin is nice-”

“Okay then, just don’t talk to him about the event, alright? They’ll use it against us if they know anything,” you mumble, downing the entirety of the red cup, scowling at the taste of your most hated alcohol. It’s like Zhong Chenle knew you were gonna appear– it’s like he wants to kill you. You wouldn’t even have to drink the poison that vodka is, but having some liquid courage in you could be useful in the crime you’re about to do right now.

“Try not to die,” Jisung resonates with the same words you’ve said to him just a few minutes prior, making you smile at him with a tense smile, hugging him goodbye before you go. Who knows, if Zhong Chenle catches you, you might not even make it out alive and see Jisung ever again. You might as well embrace your best friend for the last time.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you march up the stairs. The second floor of the house is not as crowded as the first one– the stairs are too steep to walk up if you’ve had too much to drink already, so it’s quite understandable. Looking around like a spy, you try hard to stay as natural as possible, not wanting to make anyone suspect you. Walking casually through the halls, you figure this is the best way to make everyone believe that you’re supposed to be here, that you were invited, and that you’re not just about to do a very, very bad thing.

Opening the first door to one of the rooms, you notice a king’s bed and flowery wallpaper. Closing it again, deciding that this isn’t the room you’re looking for, you continue your search on the second floor– opening the room to one of the bathrooms, and then what you presume is a guest room occupied with someone moaning loudly on the bed, making you shut the door behind you with disturbance.

Finally finding the right one– you assume so by the obnoxious Gucci hoodie sprawled on the chair right opposite of the door– you silently walk inside and close the door after you, making sure you’re alone and not watched by anyone. Trying the hardest to not make any sound, you walk through Zhong Chenle’s room and let your eyes roam across the furniture, looking for the thing you broke into his room for in the first place.

When you don’t find what you’re looking for anywhere at sight, you choose to walk over to his desk and open the first drawer. It’s full of textbooks and other notebooks, making you sigh and close it in disappointment, moving over to the one under it that surprises you with a stash of snacks and a single sock laying on the very top. Disgusted by the state of everything, you result in looking through the last drawer, wanting nothing more than to find the materials you saw Chenle write on the last meeting your charity event group had.

You needed to know what he had planned, so you could plan something bigger, better.

A stash of white paper appears in your eyes, the handwriting of none other than the owner of this house recognizable to you for various reasons (no, you never look at his exam papers over his shoulder just to make sure you did better than him. Never…), the title “charity” in a wobbly, light blue pen making your eyes light up. Bingo.

Excitement flowing through your veins, you scan over the paper and try to find any clues about the boy’s plan. The handwriting is a little hard to read, though, and so you squint your eyes, slowing down your breathing as you try to focus all of your attention to decoding the content in front of you–

–when the paper is swiftly pulled away from your grasp, making you gasp in shock and surprise. Turning your head around, you see the owner of the handwriting looking at you with a glare, making your body instinctively shoot to your feet and taking a step back.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, although he knows damn well what your previous actions were already.

“I’m- I was- I-” you stutter, your brain not allowing you to form coherent sentences.

He takes one step towards you, which leads in you taking another one back, repeating enough times for you to be pressed against the wall, shivers running down your spine either at the contact of the cold against your shoulders, or the look that Chenle gives you as he towers over you both physically and mentally, scoffing.

“Are you really that low? That desperate?” he spits, making your blood boil. You feel red in your face as the hint of his cologne makes its way up your nose, feeling both embarrassed and flustered by the whole encounter.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you peep, seeing the boy shake his head in disbelief, putting his hand up against the wall, close to where your head is resting.

“So what were you doing with this, then, huh?” he asks, showing you the paper in his other hand, waiting for you to answer, but not stepping away from you.

The truth is, you have no words in you to defend yourself. Suddenly, you’re left unarmed, empty and humiliated– but what’s worse, you’re left with no new information about the charity event, which means you’ve done all of this for absolutely nothing.

Seeing that you’re making no effort in answering the boy, he leans even closer to you, which makes your whole body tingle with what you presume is uncomfort, biting at your lower lip as your eyes lock with his mouth as he speaks to you. “Play fair, Y/N.”

Focusing on his plump, pink lips, you wonder if he uses a lip scrub or a lip balm– because there’s no way his lips are this luscious and beautiful, and so inviting…

“Get out of my room,” he orders, making your body unfreeze, feeling sweat drip down your back as you run out of the place, suddenly not having enough oxygen.

Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Jisung, we gotta do something,” you mourn, head in your hands as you sit at the table in your room, papers scattered all around you and a half-made banner laying on the carpet in the middle of the floor.

“We are doing something right now, Y/N,” Jisung mumbles with the paintbrush in his hand, leaning over the white sheet of paper, trying his hardest to not go over the lines you’ve scribbled onto the banner just a few minutes prior, ordering him to paint in the bubble letters of your banner.

Grunting, you turn around in your office chair, looking at the boy. He doesn’t seem as stressed as you feel right now– it’s only a week until the charity event is supposed to take place and you really, really don’t want to be thinking about how badly it will go if you don’t think of something big at this exact moment. You feel defenseless. You have zero information about what Chenle’s about to do, so you can’t get prepared to do something better. Jisung didn’t manage to get any information out of Jaemin, and while you were able to find Chenle’s plans in his room, he took the paper out of your hands and cornered you against the wall before you even managed to read a single sentence.

You’re selling cupcakes. Jisung said his mum will help and chip in more baked goods, since she’s a good cook, but you doubt that cookies and pastry will help you win the first place. This sounds like something Renjun and Jeno would do– and you hate to put yourself onto their level, because they’re not the greatest when it comes to business. You doubt you’ll beat Hyuck and Yangyang’s condom stand either. There’s a lot of guys at your university that will rather go for a condom than a cupcake.

“No, Jisung, you don’t understand. Cupcakes won’t win. We won’t win. Zhong Chenle and his big head will win, and that will be absolutely fucking infuriating. I won’t let that happen,” you exclaim, huffing.

“But you don’t even know what they’re going to sell! What if it’s really bad? We still have a chance to win,” Jisung smiles at you, trying to encourage you.

Bless him. Even when seeing you so annoyed and having to deal with your snappy attitude every day, since the nerves always get the worst of you, he still tries to be your rock and help you through it all. His words might not help you win and they for sure do not help you calm down, but he’s trying– and that’s the important part.

“Chenle’s the son of the wealthiest business man in this country, Jisung. He has winning in his fucking genes,” you roll your eyes, “and that’s why I need to think of something right now or else I’ll physically combust.”

Jisung just sighs at you, not really knowing how else to help you. He’s trying his hardest– and you appreciate it, despite the fact that your actions suggest otherwise– and this is not even his battle. He’s okay with being mediocre– he’s just cursed with the burden of his friend always trying their hardest to be an overachiever. It’s not healthy, but he doesn’t feel like he can do anything about it, really.

“Maybe I can… Maybe I can tell everyone that if I win, I’ll do a giveaway with the iPad. I’m sure that will lure some people in,” you mumble, fixing your eyes onto the poster of Ross Lynch stuck on your bedroom door, lost in thought.

Jisung looks at you with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what’s going on inside of that brain of yours. The scheming look on your face doesn’t look the nicest, but he won’t tell you that in fear of being beaten up on the ground.

“That’s…”

“An amazing idea? I know, right?” you grin, looking at your friend with euphoria running through your veins.

“Y/N, I don’t think-”

“Bingo!” you yelp, eyes glimmering with joy and excitement, “We are about to give everyone who buys two cupcakes a lottery ticket and then, if we win, we randomly pick someone and give them the iPad! This is a brilliant idea!!”

No amount of effort can make you stop now. Jisung won’t even try anymore.

“I’m going to work on it right now. This is perfect!” you grin.

Jisung sighs.

He kind of wanted that iPad…

Sitting in the library, your laptop open as you try hard to focus on studying after the frantic preparations for the charity event, your eyes are stuck to the screen, starting to hurt a little from how hard you’re concentrating. The world around you is a mere blur, the background noises being no distraction to your brain as you type away on your keyboard from time to time, taking notes.

You like to study alone. You never really got the magic of studying in groups, since every time you tried it with Jisung, you two just grew distracted and didn’t know how to focus on your studies, too busy gossiping and talking about anything and everything. So to go here like this, in the evening, the university library has become your safe haven.

When suddenly, there are footsteps landing into your ear, the noise making you lose your focus for a moment when the owner of them decides to sit in the space next to you, making you swiftly look around and see who dared to pay you a visit when you’re studying.

Met with the gaze of none other than Zhong Chenle himself, you suddenly shrink in size and bashfully look away from the male. You’re not used to the feeling of embarrassment in your veins, not used to how you feel pathetic in his eyes and how you really want to disappear from the face of the earth every time you notice him registering your existence. It’s all your fault anyway, for snooping around in his room and being caught, but you’re not ready to admit that to yourself just yet, even though the reality is slowly catching up on you.

“Hi,” he greets, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. A conversation between you and Chenle is a rare sight– you just like to jab at each other and scream curses each other’s way– and starting one with a greeting is even more unusual for the two of you. It’s like both of you lose all sense of formality whenever you’re around each other– only the hatred remains.

“Hello,” you mutter, nervously scratching your forearm. Not daring to meet his eyes, you suddenly feel like he has something above you– the reality of catching you red handed, the very moment at his party. You won’t admit it out loud, but it’s the most defeating thing you’ve ever felt in your whole entire life, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to recover from it. Never in a thousand years did you expect to be met with the fact that Zhong Chenle is above you in something, but it came down to it, and you don’t know what to do with this information.

Your posture screams hesitance. Not knowing how to act around him, you refrain from acting at all– you don’t think you’re in the position to be rude to him anymore, for it would make you seem even more petty. His presence makes you nervous, the tingling sensation in your whole body and the heat you feel rising to your cheeks making you the most uncomfortable you’ve felt ever since you were cornered up against the wall of Chenle’s room last weekend.

“What’s up?” he asks, the casual tone of his voice confusing you even further. Taking one short look at him, you try to scan his features and somehow find out his true intentions. The boy has an inviting smile on his face– making your heartbeat quicken with a detail you choose not to pay any attention to– and his eyes are soft, opposed to the stone cold look he usually has reserved for you.

“Um… not much, ‘m just studying, I guess…” you mumble, too confused to pay attention to just how lost and puppy-like you must look right in this moment. Kicking your foot up and down under the table, a nervous fixation to ground yourself, you await his next steps.

The boy hums in acknowledgement. If he noticed your state, at least he didn’t mention it– a fact you were grateful for. Cracking your knuckles in the silence of the library, you forget how to keep up a conversation– or you just never learned how to keep up a conversation with Zhong Chenle, of all people. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, when he just takes out his stuff from his backpack and starts working on his homework.

Watching him for a while, you clear your throat and just decide to get it over with. You don’t like the quiet tension in the air, wanting it to disappear, so you just face it with a confident face (well, the most confident you can master up right now). “What are you doing here?”

Your rival looks up at you from his textbook with furrowed brows, shrugging. “Studying.”

“Yeah,” you blink, “but… why are you studying next to me?”

“Is this spot not free?” he asks, obviously teasing you with how the very well-known shiteating grin slowly starts to appear on his face.

“I- I mean it- it’s free, but-”

“Then I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t study here,” he shrugs, momentarily pointing his look back to his textbook, driving you absolutely insane. Did he lose his mind? Was he having a fever?

“Chenle-”

“Look,” he says, looking up from the textbook again, turning to you with his full body– while also bumping into your knee with his for a second, making you jolt in a weird sense of electricity, “I know we’re not really on the best terms, but I think I’m done with being petty and acting like a child. Seeing that we’re kind of similar, in a way, I think we could even make good friends, so that’s what I’m trying to do here,” he says, smiling at you with that friendly expression he only reserves for his closest friends, making you feel light-headed. Are you having a fever?

“I- I don’t think I understand,” you mutter out, your expression lost. What was going on? Why did your rival suddenly want to be friends with you? After you searched through his room at one of his parties? You felt like you were having a weird dream.

“Let’s just… focus on our own projects for the charity event and forget about the rivalry. What do you say?” he asks, the glint in his eyes taking you off-guard.

What does one even say to that? You’ve spent your whole university years hating this boy, all for being too good at things you always wanted to be exceptional at. The rivalry made you so crazy you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore in the actions you were taking, and while it all felt worth it at the time, to see Chenle himself not even taking it that seriously made you feel even more embarrassed. Was this all just a one-sided battle?

Blinking a few times, you notice the boy out-stretching his hand for you to grip, the handshake a silent seal of the war between the two of you ending. “Friends?”

Gasping for air, you hesitantly reach for his hand, too lost in your own brain and thought spirals to even register what was going on around you. The contact of his skin on your burned, but you shook it nonetheless. “I- I wouldn’t say friends, exactly…”

“Acquaintances on good terms, then, got it,” he grins, seeing your empty eyes and the mess in your brain at the very moment. Suddenly, you feel a hand ruffle your hair, making you jump up in shock. “I’m sure you’ll do great, Y/N,” he grins, making you turn back to your homework and– although to no use– try to focus on the assignment again.

Feeling heat rising to your cheeks and your hands shake with nerves, the rest of the afternoon comes by like a blur.

Mixing the batter in one of the big bowls Jisung’s mum provided you with in their spacious kitchen, you are too lost in thought to even sing along to your favorite baking playlist your best friend put on to make the atmosphere lighter, despite the tension of the upcoming charity event rising. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy, when he cautiously approaches the matter.

“What’s gotten you so weird?” he asks, opening the oven and taking out the cupcake tray that’s been sitting in there, prepared for your baking session, since yesterday evening.

“I’m not weird,” you mumble, but don’t even meet his eyes. That’s an instant hint.

“Y/N, you’re not even singing along to One Direction right now, of course something’s up,” he says to prove his point, seeing you sigh and look up to the ceiling for a moment, seemingly debating on finally talking about what’s bugging you the most these days.

“Chenle approached me the other day… to make amends? I guess?” you mumble, shrugging.

Your best friend takes the information in, analyzing what you just uttered out of your lips. Are you sure you weren't dreaming? He wants to ask you if you’re sure it wasn’t all an image of your imagination, but he choses against it as he steps closer to you, scanning your face for any signs of mania.

“He did that after catching you looking through his stuff?” he clarifies, seeing you nod.

“That’s strange.”

“Isn’t it?” you ask, still not believing what you saw at the library the other day.

Jisung hums, furrowing his eyebrows to get his brain cells to work better, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Well, maybe he was sincere, however strange it might sound… He realized the little war you two have is childish and wanted both of you to have fun,” he shrugs, mirroring the exact words Chenle said at the library. Is this really so easy? Is this the final conclusion? The end of everything? You couldn’t just believe that.

“I don’t know…” you hum, moving to drape the cupcake batter into the tray, ready to bake it for tomorrow's event. Jisung helps you with the cleaning-up process, not wanting the burnt batter stuck on the tray to make the whole house smell like forest fire, wiping the excess away with tissues. After you’re done, he plops the tray into the oven and sets a timer for 15 minutes, resting his tall figure against the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you can… quit with the iPad giveaway thing? I mean, now that you don’t have to win, you can forget about that part. I think it’s kind of against the rules as well, since it’s a hint of false advertising? You’re supposed to win by selling the goods, and not by bribing them with an iPad, so I don’t think professor Lee will like that,” he mutters hesitantly, seeing your mouth open agape, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not. Just because Zhong Chenle hit his head or something, I won’t back away from this fight,” you sternly say.

“Y/N, I promise you it’s not a good idea. You’re just going to get in trouble-”

“I’m not! It’s totally legal, and if I really win, I’m ready to give the iPad away, if that’s what I’m gonna have to do, Jisung.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips at this, shaking his head. Yeah, maybe he is petty– maybe he just wants the iPad for himself, but at the same time, what he said was right. This wasn’t a fair game and he doesn’t think it will get approved by your business professor, no matter how hard you try to back it up.

“Life would be so much easier if you constantly didn’t try to impress Zhong Chenle,” Jisung mutters, making blood boil in you, anger felt at the tips of your fingertips.

“Take that back. I am not trying to impress him,” you coldly say, snapping.

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung rolls his eyes, “every single time, it’s all I have to be better than Chenle, I have to win against Chenle, I have to beat him in this and this and that… to me, it just seems like you want him to be impressed with your abilities, because you like him.”

Gasping, you catch the edge of the kitchen counter to steady yourself. “I do not like him. I absolutely despise him, that is,” you grit your teeth, trying to convince your best friend…. and maybe yourself as well.

Jisung just hums, mocking you. The look on your face is enough of a confirmation to him, he doesn’t have to fight you anymore. Besides, the looks you give the boy are surely not you trying to get his business strategy. Not in the gym class, when your rival is a little sweaty and overly-enthusiastic about basketball, at least.

“I still think you should stop with the iPad thing, though,” he says, crouching down to the oven to check up on the cupcakes.

Angrily stomping, you reach towards your backpack on the ground, taking out your papers for the charity event so you can quickly calculate how many batches of the batter you’re going to have to make to fill your goal. Looking through the stack of papers, seeing worksheets from English class and old exam papers that you should’ve thrown out long ago, you disagree with your partner. “Absolutely not, I think-” you stop in your tracks, looking through the papers, still not finding the ones you’re looking for.

Leaning back towards your bag, you stumble through it, still not finding your charity event plans and documents. Stress rising inside of you, knowing too well that you always have the papers with you and there’s no way you left it at home, the reality dawns on you, making you scream in despair. Of course Zhong Chenle’s sudden amends were a little weird.

“That motherfucker stole my charity event plans while I was too busy freaking out over his charming smile!” you yelp out.

Jisung snickers at the state of you. He called it.

When you’re 6 years old, you go to school for the first time. You manage to make every single teacher in your elementary school gasp in amazement as you tell them that you already know how to read and that you don’t need help with signing your textbooks– you know how to write your name as well. As you grow, you only get more intellectual; being put into special level classes, being told you were the best pupil out of the whole school, being constantly praised and made to believe that you are, simply put, much better than everyone else your age.

When you’re 19 years old, you get to university. The gifted child in you starts slowly dying out with the pressure of assignments and the realization that maybe, your whole life, you’ve been lied to and you’re not as extraordinary as everyone told you you were. At 19, you meet Zhong Chenle– the model student, the social butterfly, the teacher’s pet– and suddenly, he’s your enemy. You promise yourself to always be better than him. That itself was your only goal.

When you’re almost 20, standing in the enormous gym of your university, looking over at Zhong Chenle’s stand with fast food and the giveaway tickets for a brand new iPad being given with every purchase above 5 dollars, the flood of people gladly giving money to the man dressed in a neat black suit, looking like the businessman he, at heart, truly is, you finally admit that you’re losing.

The cupcakes stay abandoned at the trays, no one paying attention to all the effort you and Jisung gave into the charity event. If you really think about it, it’s kind of unfair– you did play fair, despite your previous antics, and you did everything in your power to raise as much money as you could. Looking at the lonely pastries, you feel defeated.

“Want one?” you ask Jisung, pointing towards the ones covered with pink icing– the exact ones he wanted to eat yesterday evening instead of dinner, after several hours of baking– seeing the boy furrow his brows in confusion.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat them until the event ends,” he says, watching over your dull look.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it’s over for us anyways, so I don’t really care anymore,” you proclaim as you take a bite of the cupcake, not even paying attention to the icing smearing all over your face.

The boy next to you only pouts at your argument, not used to seeing you so discouraged. He can’t say you’re not right– hell, he does have eyes and common sense, he can see the row of people waiting for Zhong Chenle’s fries from McDonald’s and pizza from Papa John’s– but still, he expected more determination from your ambitious persona.

“Y/N,” he whines, “it’s okay. Maybe we can still win,” he lies through his teeth, trying to cheer you up.

“Jisung, look at Chenle’s stand.”

“I am looking.”

“Do you still think we can win?”

“No,” he says, “but I thought my white lies could make you feel better.”

“Well, they can’t.”

“Okay, just eat your cupcake, will you?” he mutters, sighing at the state of you. Some freshmen girls come by to buy a cute little cupcake, but the few dollars in your basket right now won’t make any difference to the money moves your moral enemy is making.

“I tried so hard, Jisung,” you mourn with a full mouth, letting your emotions run free, “I tried so hard, and I still got nothing. This is so embarrassing, you can’t even imagine. I was supposed to be the winner, I was supposed to have the masterplan,” you complain, seeing Jisung sympathetically, although a little absent-mindedly, nod at all your points and arguments.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you can’t win all the time. It’s not embarrassing,” he encourages you, slyly taking a cupcake off the tray and biting into it, still acting cautious in case you decide to change your mind and revoke your approval to eat your goods.

“It is! You can’t imagine how defeating this feels.”

“I can see it on your face, sweetheart. Maybe if you stop frowning…?” Jisung mumbles, making you glare at him momentarily, his insides loosening up a little from the image of taking your mind off the issue at hand for just a few seconds.

“We have the last few minutes until the charity event is over!” you hear the voice of professor Lee through a megaphone she borrowed from the drama club, making you grunt. “Everyone, the sale is over at 2pm! Count your money after and bring it to me.”

Sighing, you don’t even try to sell any last-minute cupcakes anymore, opting to gather the money you’ve raised today. Quickly counting it and finding a scrap of paper to scribble down the amount (which is a sad, poor 20 dollars, if any of you were interested), you put the money into a zip-lock back and walk over to your professor, handing it in.

“Why did you rush it? Maybe someone would want-”

“Jisung, just… leave it. I’m over this already,” you say, sitting back next to your best friend, seeing him pout– mirroring your saddened expression– suddenly making you feel bad for impacting the mood of your business partner so much. “But hey, we had fun, didn’t we?”

Jisung looks at you in disbelief, breaking out into a grin at your poor attempt at easing the mood. “I guess we did, yeah,” he notes, “I know I did, although my stomach kind of still hurts from eating all the left-over icing from yesterday.”

“I told you there were raw eggs in that, what if you get salmonella, for fuck’s sake?” you sigh, shaking your head at him.

“It’s not salmonella! I just don’t handle sugar well-”

Your conversation is ended soon with a noise of a gong, signaling that the charity fundraiser was now over and every single stand should stop selling their goods. Looking around, you see the gym slowly empty out, leaving behind only the business majors that participated in the event, all counting up their raised money.

“Dude, I think we got around 150,” you hear Yangyang gasp from the stand next to yours, making you sigh with the information that even the condom stand raised more money than your cupcakes that were baked with care and love (and maybe a little bit of spite for Zhong Chenle. You can’t see it on them, though, so you guess it’s fine).

The next events come by in a whim– everyone hands in the money they raised at the fundraiser, one by one, gossipping about how much they’ve earned and how good they’re doing. Throughout the whole process, your eyes are glued to one person in particular– the one you were competing with in the first place.

Zhong Chenle moves through the place like he owns it, like it’s his own prestigious branch of his successful business, dressed formally, now shrugging off the suit jacket, leaving him only in a stylish white button-down and black pants, leaving you gasping for air. Grinning to his companion, Na Jaemin– although dressed similarly, but not leaving the same impact– you can only imagine how much he’s shit talking you right now, laughing maniacally at the fact that he stole your plan and won with it, taking all the credit and being the best yet again. It makes your stomach turn and twist in angry knots, feeling stupid each time your eyes flash down to his toned forearms when he moves away the things from the little stand, cleaning it up; for if you would’ve paid less attention to the man with the name Zhong Chenle, you wouldn’t feel half as defeated as you do right now.

“Stop ogling him,” Jisung teases, making you grunt.

“I’m trying to kill him with my glare.”

“I think you confused it with heart-eyes, sweetie-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’ll choke you with your favorite pink cupcakes,” you smile at him innocently, making the boy shut up instantly, fearing for his own life.

Professor Lee triumphally stands in the middle of the gym, looking around at everyone. The proud smile on her face tells you that the other stands most likely made more money than yours did, earning the charity a solid amount of money that your university doesn’t have to be ashamed of. The only thing is that you are ashamed– of yourself, though. You thought you’d do better than you did, but you guess you have to come to terms with the fact that you can’t always be the winner.

“Everyone,” the professor starts her speech, “I am really grateful for every single one of you standing here right now. I want to thank you all for your effort, and I also will be grading everyone with an A for this event, because I can see that all of you truly worked your hardest. Now, though, is the time to announce the team that earned the most money, and therefore, won the little competition I made to motivate you.”

Looking around at everyone, you suddenly feel like you’re watching Eurovision, waiting for the points to be added up until 2am, slowly losing your motivation to keep watching further. Professor Lee smiles before she turns to the stand expected to win, making everyone’s suspicions correct.

“The team that made the most money, ladies and gentlemen, is Zhong Chenle and Na Jaemin,” she proclaims, making the boys scream in joy, jumping up and down in their places as they rush into a hug. They look like their hard work has paid off after 20 years of effort, however, the only work they did was steal your plan and buy some fast food… pathetic, really. Seeing the wide grin on Chenle’s face, you find yourself rolling your eyes, especially when your make eye contact with him and quickly force yourself to look away. “However,” the professor continues, making the boy’s faces fall.

“I was met with the information that you two violated the rules,” she says, making Chenle furrow his brows in confusion.

“H-how-”

“You worked with false advertisement, which, as I already said, was against the rules of the whole event.”

“How was this false advertisement?” he asks, getting all defensive. Something inside of you lights up at the sight of him all frustrated, but you wouldn’t say it out loud, for you think Jisung would accuse you of being a sadist.

“What you were supposed to be selling was the food, although I don’t agree with it being store-bought either, but I’m willing to ignore that fact,” she explains, “but what you did instead was sell tickets to your iPad giveaway, which was not in the business plan you’ve given me a few days ago.”

“But professor Lee, it’s not like that-”

“Therefore, you will not get the iPad, and the price goes to the second place, which is Lee Yangyang and Lee Donghyuck. Congratulations, boys.”

The duo on your right fist bumps and screams at the top of their lungs, making everyone in the university gym scowl with the sharp pain in their ears. Now, this wasn’t exactly the outcome you were expecting… you can’t say you hate it, though. Turning to Jisung, ignoring the yells of despair uttered out of the mouth of Zhong Chenle, complaining that condoms weren’t technically allowed as the product for sale, you hug your best friend with stars in your eyes, tugging him closer. He was right with his previous arguments, after all. Not that you'd admit it to him, since you're still super petty, but you're glad you didn't proceed with your innitial plan nonetheless.

“Woah, there,” Jisung gasps as he hugs you back, “we didn’t win, Y/N, though…”

“I know,” you hum into his chest, satisfied.

“So…”

“I’m just happy Zhong Chenle isn’t the winner,” you grin, pulling away from the boy, ready to celebrate the win of the two dumbasses in your business class. You never thought you’d see the day when Chenle is beaten by a duo that rarely attends the class, but you’re more happy than ever to let them indulge in the joy right now.

Hearing someone clear their throat behind you, you turn around. Surprised to see Chenle there, your smile freezes at your face, making you look like you’ve just been paralysed, earning yourself a kick into your shin from Park Jisung sitting at the chair next to you before he excuses himself and leaves for a bathroom break.

“Hi,” you greet as you see Chenle sheepishly look at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“You got me there, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief, “I didn’t take you for such a mastermind,” he adds, making you confused.

“What?”

“The plan in your bag… you had it there because you knew I’d take it, didn’t you? You were trying to make me lose all along,” Chenle adds, finally bringing clarity into your brain. He’s not right– you were just too stupid to realise the consequences of your future actions in that moment, but now you’re glad the universe worked in your favor and you were too gullible to trust your moral enemy in the moment. You may have been weak back then, but now, you’re the winner out of the two of you– and you can’t say it doesn’t make your ego rise to enormous heights.

“Y-yeah…” you hum, not realizing your expression gives it away almost immediately, bringing Chenle the last hint of confidence he needs before he takes his next step towards you. The knowledge that you didn’t plan to sabotage him, and that this was self-sabotage all along, makes the boy content– you may hate him, but not as much. The fact that you were so out of your mind to let him take your plans right under your nose must be a hint of something.

“So…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “what I said back then in the library still stands, though,” he says, chuckling. “I know I kind of lied back then, but now I mean it. I don’t… I don’t really want us to fight anymore, and I actually think the two of us would make a great pair- I mean, friends, so…”

Blinking at him a few times, feeling heat rising to your cheeks, you feel like you’re having another fever dream. There’s no competition right now, no business strategies, no exams to be taken. So… the intentions behind his words must be truthful, right?

“Um, I…” you start, but end up gasping like fish on sand, at a loss for words. Flickering your eyes from his to your feet and back to his shy smile, you feel like your brain is overheating. Curse hormones, really… it can’t be anything other than that. There’s no other reason why your brain keeps contemplating if this is him asking you out, and no reason why you so desperately want that accusation to be true.

“We can hang out after this, if you want,” Chenle suggests, rocking a little in his place, “with- with Jaemin and Jisung as well, since they seemed to get along…” he adds, the hint of blush creeping onto his cheeks making you want to scream into your pillow with overwhelmingness.

“That would be great,” you say, seeing the boy nod at your words, relief visibly flashing behind his eyes.

“Okay, great,” he smiles, “I’ll just get my things and I’ll find you later?”

“Sounds good,” you nod, your brain turning into a foggy mess.

Watching him turn on his heels and walk towards Jaemin standing on the other side of the gym, grinning at his friend with a suggestive wiggle to his eyebrows, you zone out. Is this your reality? Did you shift into another universe where the two of you don’t want to kill each other? How did you even move on from those emotions?

“You okay?” Jisung suddenly emerges from behind you, feeling shocked at the sight of you completely unfocused and still in your movements.

“Mhmm,” you peep, taking deep breaths.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, turning to your friend. “Do you wanna hang out with Jaemin later?”

You meet Zhong Chenle at 19, hating everything about him with burning passion, despising the way he always made you feel challenged and on your toes. He shakes with your word, turning you into a competitive mess, always trying your best to be better than him at everything, just so you could see the defeated look on his face and get acknowledgement.

When you’re almost 20, you realize that a hint of what you always wanted was acknowledgement from Zhong Chenle.

It might not solve all your problems, but maybe turning less competitive is a start.

#nct #nct dream #chenle #zhong chenle #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #chenle x reader #chenle fluff #chenle scenario #chenle fic #chenle oneshot #chenle fanfic #chenle drabble #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct dream scenario #nct dream fic #nct fic

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suzyq31 · 2 months

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A little slice of bittersweet

A micro that grew rapidly out of control, whoops! @jilymicro-oops. I've wanted to write a larger piece for ages centered around this type of premise (ie one of them lives). Reading KSFM by @nodirectionhome-ao3 has only cemented this desire. Not sure whenever I'll get to it, or what it may end up looking like, but it was fun to play with this for now. Thanks for the inspiration Cam! I definitely borrowed a bit from your Lily here. Also some inspiration comes from the book Bittersweet which had a really cool chapter about the making of the film Inside Out.

Prompt: Inadequate

Lily always found it hardest to be with herself when the house fell quiet. Rain fell against the window pane, blurring the reddened trees in their back garden. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, her breath adding to the condensation. She wrapped the throw tighter around herself, shivering from the coldness seeping through the pane, matching her insides.

It was the same every year, the sudden turn of season that never failed to catch her off guard. A natural reminder that time continued, and that another year had passed in a daze. One that felt simultaneously slow and quick.

Her eyes closed. Even moving across the country, the memory of Godric’s Hollow haunted her, following her all the way to Brighton. Her last view of it was one of charred ruins. Then there were the other images, the ones that made her wake with a scream caught in her throat night after night. Tears burned, hot and prickling, and she wiped them away as they came.

She could picture him now, knew he would encourage her to get up, put a record on and get to it. He’d pull her up with his large hands, saying something ridiculous to break her out of the ruminating she’d always been good at. When she quieted herself enough, she could almost hear it, the timber of his voice saying her name; how James had always been able to say so much with just those two syllables.

A creak on the stairs brought her back to the present. She glanced over her shoulder towards the hallway where the staircase was just visible. Between the banister was a small face, a mop of dark hair falling into green eyes that blinked at her sleepily in the faint light.

Despite the ache in her chest, she smiled. “You’re up.”

Harry remained silent but continued his descent. In his hands was the blue crocheted blanket Mary had made him in another lifetime, golden snitches stitched into the edges. His bare feet padded softly on the hardwood until he reached where she was perched on the built in window seat. Without any prompting she reached down and scooped him up, enveloping him in her arms and tucking him amongst the fold of the fuzzy throw blanket. His body was soft and pliable with his leftover sleepiness. Lily breathed in the sweet smell of her son, growing warmer with him there .

“Did you have a good nap?” she asked against his neck.

Harry shrugged his small shoulders, burrowing further into her.

Lily stroked his silky dark hair, the exact same texture and look as James’s. Most of the time these reminders were manageable, wonderful even. She was grateful that he’d left a part of himself behind. But at that moment her already tender heart squeezed like a vice in her chest.

She closed her eyes and willed the tears to stay put.

Eventually Harry pulled back and she opened her eyes to find his combing over her features, hot little hand coming to her cheek, voice gravelly from sleep. “Are you sad?”

Lily’s breath hitched as she stared into his face. Of course Harry didn’t just look like his father. Even at three he so eerily read her moods—despite how hard she worked to keep the worst of her grief tucked away from him.

Harry’s brow furrowed and Lily released a breath, taking his hand in hers she pressed a kiss to the back of his dimpled fingers. “A little,” she said softly.

His brow furrowed further. “Mummy, you have to be happy.”

Lily stilled, heart skipping at the certainty in his tone. Another trait he shared with James. She brushed the fringe of his wild hair and kissed the soft skin of his forehead.

“I am happy,” she replied. She touched the apple of his cheek, already less full then they’d been a year ago. “Sometimes grown ups feel happy and sad at the same time.”

Harry seemed to think this over. “How?”

“That’s a good question,” she said, her throat tight even as she couldn’t help smiling at Harry’s intense expression, this side of him the one that was more like her. “I don’t really know. I like to think as we get older and our bodies grow…you can hold more feelings inside you at once.”

“Because you get bigger?”

A wet laugh caught in her throat. “Maybe.”

She didn’t have the first clue how to really answer him. How did you explain to someone so young the way that the years built up around you, unexpected and hard won in many cases. That like a muscle, your ability to carry it all grew stronger, mainly because there was little other choice. Grief wasn’t exactly something you set down.

She continued to run her fingers through Harry’s hair, willing herself to think. She had a pile of books on how to talk to children about death and loss. Purchases she��d made out of desperation when Harry had begun speaking in more complex sentences, which had soon turned into questions she felt completely inadequate to answer.

Really, that was the matter of it all. She felt inadequately up for the task of raising Harry without James. Trying to explain to him again and again why his father was gone. That there was a sadness inside her that would never leave. That a piece of them would forever be missing.

Then there was everything else that came along with parenting. The big emotions that often took hold of her young child, the curious questions that were only growing more frequent. James would be a million times better at answering them than her. At all of it. He’d always known what to say and do. He’d always been the light that kept them all going.

She looked down at the crown of Harry’s head, now resting against her chest. All of James’s light shone through him. For Lily he kept the darkness at bay. She knew this was an unfair burden to place on a child. But it was true. He was the reason she kept going at all. The purpose that made her pry herself from bed each morning. Still, she wanted to do better.

She pressed her lips to his hairline. “Do you remember when Padfoot brought you a new broom?” Harry tilted his head, eyes meeting hers before he gave a nod. “You were so excited and happy, but then what happened?”

It only took a second for her to read the memory in his eyes. “I fell down,” he murmured, “and my knee got blood on it.”

She remembered that afternoon clearly. The bittersweet feeling of watching Harry fly higher than he had in the past. His small body already so adept and confident. He’d flown in large circles around the forested garden surrounding the tiny cottage that had belonged to Remus’s parents in Wales. The entire time she’d been unable to avoid remembering James encouraging a tinier Harry on his first broom ride. The sheer pride on his face—that would still be on his face if life was fair.

Not that she wasn’t grateful for Sirius, Remus and Mary, who were there to cheer him on, but James’s absence had been glaring and unshakable. Then Harry had taken a corner too fast, slamming his legs onto some rocks.

Lily traced the side of his face. “How did that make you feel?” she asked quietly.

Harry paused, squeezing his well loved blanket. “Sad… and scared.”

“I know sweetheart. You were hurt and that’s normal to feel. Do you remember what happened after though?”

He went still, then his eyes brightened. “We ate ice cream.”

Lily smiled. “Exactly. Uncle Padfoot saw that you were sad, so he cheered you up.” Harry nodded along and she tilted his chin so they were gazing at each other. “Sometimes sadness helps other people see that we need them.”

There was far more complexity to it than that, but she knew this type of conversation would happen over and over throughout her son’s life. She’d already had to explain difficult things to him, swallowing down the pain of Harry slowly forgetting his father outside of pictures and memories shared by her and others. Another cruel part of time passing. Though the memory of a much younger Harry searching repeatedly for James in the months afterwards had been its own agony that she would never want to repeat.

The pain was inevitable, and Lily didn’t have all the answers, but she was determined to do her best. She refused to have Harry be afraid of his feelings. James had been brave with his love. They would be too.

Harry was quiet and she kissed the top of his head again. “It’s okay to feel sad, it doesn’t mean you won’t be happy too.”

“You’re happy now?” he asked and she smiled through the tears gathering in her eyes.

“I’m very happy to be here with you right now. But I’m also sad because I miss your dad today.” Harry nodded thoughtfully and she continued to run her fingers through his hair. “I also think my heart has grown a lot, so it can hold all of that. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Harry said softly. His small fingers fiddled with the buttons of her blouse. Lily let the rain fill the silence, hoping that she was saying the right things.

When Harry looked back up at her, there was curiosity shining in his eyes. “Mummy?"

"Yes, love?"

A smile tugged at his lips as his hands framed her face. "Do you need ice cream?”

A hiccupped laugh escaped her and she hugged Harry tightly. All of the happiness and sadness swirling inside her as she felt the weight and feel of him. That the cheeky baby that James had known and loved was still there, even as he continued to grow and learn in leaps and bounds.

“You’re a bit of an ice cream monster,” she said finally, when she relaxed her hold.

He eyed her like he’d suspected her of having gone mad. “No. I’m just Harry.”

She taped his nose, smiling as she took in every detail of her sleep rumpled little boy. “Is that so? Alright, Just Harry…should we have a teeny tiny bite of the good stuff?”

His returning smile was all mischief, and right then the familiarity filled her with gladness. She stood up, hoisting Harry onto her hip, the blanket falling away.

“Let’s get to it then.”

#harry potter fanfic #jily #jple #toddler Harry #angst #Lily lives #james/lily

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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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i don’t know if you answered something like this before, but what if there was another woman that came into könig’s life, say someone who genuinely is attracted to him and who actually wants to pursue him as a partner (for whatever fucked up, weird reason she might have), would he break it off with Engel? i mean, there is this other woman, who is willing to be in a relationship with someone like him, willing to give him the attention and affection, willing to make up for everything Engel has lacked and more. and könig does have a weak spot for any woman that gives him any morsel of attention, so do you think he would pursue something… better? if it was on the table, right then and there? or does he truly believe Engel is his one and only??

Oh man. :")

Premise one: König loves women. He can't help it! So it's better to just deal with it.

Premise two: Women don’t love König back. Or at least 99.9 % of the women population don’t (I myself am part of the 0.1 % who do, and I'm proud of it)

Also… women don’t usually flirt with König. Or if they do, they eventually realize this guy is crazy and abort the mission. König gets obsessed really soon, and at that point the said ladies are nowhere to be seen. Reader of course is an exception – there's some circumstantial evidence she might belong in this 0.1 % group as well.

König is used to the fact that all women play hard to get. (...) Usually it’s he who takes the first step. So, if a woman flirts with him, it’s such an odd situation that he freezes at first! Attention is like the hardest drug you can give to this dude.

Now it depends what kind of a woman is approaching him and how, but it's safe to say that König wouldn’t be mean. But he would make it clear that he’s, eh, NOT AVAILABLE. His eyes might wander, he might feel a little funny, mainly because of the sudden attention. But Engel is still his one and only! This man is loyal to the death, even if he's happily surprised (he's in seventh heaven) that a woman shows interest in him.

If this woman doesn't back down but flirts some more, starts to show kindness and affection and obsession, sees what kind of a man König really is and still falls in love… Starts to cherish his craziness & adore and worship him…? Oh no. Sound the alarm.

Our man would be in HELL.

If König and reader have a loving relationship, König doesn't really pay attention to other women: they are only brief distractions. Engel is pretty much all he can obsess think about.

But if reader is hesitating, isn't so in love, and a woman who is ready to give König everything he has ever wanted walks into the picture, he would be soooo tempted. He would be torn between his Engel and this new, intoxicating attention, especially if reader is trying to detach from him, has mixed feelings about their relationship, isn’t 100 % committed or is still scared.

Due to his turbulent childhood, König has developed a sixth sense. It tells him when something is off. If he doesn't feel secure and loved in a relationship, of course he would hope to find these things someplace else... The temptation would be torment, however, because under all that sexism and those flaws, König wants to be a good man. He wants to be good to his chosen one. He has put reader on a pedestal, holds her in such high regard. She is the purest of angels in his blood-tainted, rotten world.

But what is he to do if his angel doesn't want him…? With a heavy heart, he would slowly start to succumb to the temptation of this infatuated, passionate, attention-giving, obsessed woman.

So long story short: if Engel loves him, no other woman could ever come between them! But if she doesn’t, if the situation is unstable, there is a chance he might slip. Poor thing.

(Because of course it’s all women’s fault, they're simply too sweet and make him confused, make his head spin. What is he to do when women flee from him all his life and then suddenly there's two girls who don't, like, refuse him?? He doesn't know if he's in heaven or in hell.)

#answered #könig headcanons #yandere könig

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princess-of-the-corner · 7 months

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Can we get a full rant about the Paris special?

You're probably going to get more out of me once it fully airs but for now just.

The evil characters motivations just kinda suck for comparing them to the originals. Which again: I don't want to do because I hate the 'oh this other person had the same trauma and handled it better' thing, but when it's the same character going through the same trauma it's bullshit.

Shadybug's reason for being evil sucks because it's literally just 'she didn't meet Alya' which is supposed to be part of the Derision Retcon of how awful Chloé was even though it doesn't match with anything we saw in Season 1-3 but I can ignore that because it commits a worse crime: Letting us know that if Marinette didn't meet Alya that exact day, she would've gone full murderous villain before the day was over. Like literally Alya is the only thing different, which means even Canon!Mari is just one bad day from snapping and killing everyone.

Claw Noir makes no goddamn sense because Canon!Adrien was able to healthily handle his mother's 'death' even having Canon!Gabriel as his abusive neglectful bastard of a father. How is it that a version of Adrien that had a genuinely good father end up handling his mother's 'death' so poorly that he's down to kill whoever gets in the way as a coping mechanism?

All of this might be rendered unnecessary anyway with the fact that they're working for whatever 'Supreme' that's actually the Big Bad and might be forcing them into this? I need more info on that before I give a verdict.

I thought Hesperia being 'Good' would be the hardest sell considering Season 4 and 5's insistence that his evil plans have been 15-ish years in the making(despite the finale's insistence that he's only 'evil' because he misses Emilie) especially since clearly said plans are still in place as Alt!Adrien exists and Emilie 'died' meaning they got the Peacock. But other than the above plothole of somehow Good!Gabriel let Adrien end up as Claw Noire, he seems fine.

There's a lot of missed opportunities where they're trying to show alternate universes but only focusing on a single one. Like again: give us an Into the Ladyverse. We appearently see them for a few seconds during a Scooby-Doo Chase Scene™ which is the biggest slap in the face.

Other than the fact that this entire special on a base premise shouldn't be possible due to all other episodes insisting that there is only One True Timeline and that if anything somehow diverges, Bunnyx will come and make sure everything goes exactly as she remembers it.

We have yet another round of mass murdering terrorist supervillains who are validated because 'oh they were sad' so it's okay that they committed horrific crimes that they don't feel any remorse for outside of a 'let me just say, from the bottom of my heart: my bad.' but they're now redeemed with no consequences. And I wouldn't even care /that/ much because like a little hypocritical coming from an MLP fan if it weren't for the fact that 1.) they feel no remorse whatsoever and 2.) we have the narrative constantly beating us over the head about how none of this applies to the one abused teenage girl who's acting out because of trauma despite not going full supervillain on her own terms just being a jerk to her classmates.

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fyonahmacnally · 4 months

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20 Questions More

This is a deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks to @casualsavant for the tag. I'm not even sure I did the first 20 Questions round, but rules be damned.

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship/fandom?

Well, like anything I write, I get ideas from everything around me - they come to me from dreams, something I see, from random prompts, etc. As most writers know, we are simply the vessel, it's the brain goblins that tell us what to do.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

Geez, we have so many in the Supercorp/Supergirl fandom. I'm not even sure that's a fair question. HA. I will inevitably leave someone out, but here are a few of my favorites @searidings, @jazzfordshire, @chaotic-super, @lovesastateofmind1, @innamorament0, @someoneyouloved93, @lostariels, @luthordamnvers, @thornedrose44, and @fazedlight. I read such a variety of genres, tags, and tropes that I will give almost anything a chance so the authors I read will vary. There's oh so many to choose from in this fandom and the vast talent is beyond imagination!

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

Hmmm, I like writing Sam, Andrea, and Jack. The rest of the main cast is fun too, but those three characters are fun to explore in fics. The shenanigans they get into together makes it easy to play with.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

Karamel, Lames, and Kalex. I am pretty open-minded, but those are my hard limit ships. To each their own. It's not my thing at all. I'm pretty open to tropes, too. Haven't had a chance to explore too many yet.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

I'm not sure how to answer this one, really. It can vary depending on what's going on in my life and how the idea came about.

Generally speaking, I get an idea, outline the basic premise of the story (usually in a word or google doc), do whatever research is needed (longer fics), and just start writing (or staring at the outline and empty doc). That's writing too, ask any writer. LOL

One shots tend to be more like: get idea, sit at desk thinking while blank doc stares back at me tauntingly, look out window, turn back to blank doc, write three sentences, back space all three sentences, look out window again, write three more sentences, repeat previous steps, then the brain goblins take over and suddenly it's 4 hours later, somehow there's several thousand words staring back at me.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

Because I am a huge nerd, the research. I love to research the things I write. Not all of my stories require it, but when they do, I dive right in. Completing the story is a big one too. The anxiety and excitement that comes with yeeting something into the ether is indescribable.

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

Weirdest thing...pagan rituals and ancient runes or bondage/fetish clubs in Amsterdam. There is some really interesting things out there. I learned a lot during that time.

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

I think tense is one that slips on me. I try to catch them all during rereads and edits, but those little bastards are sneaky.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

The panic attacks and abuse scenes relating to Lena in Carterhaugh-Wood Academy (CWA). Lena is my absolute favorite character and writing anything that causes her harm hurts my soul.

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

Is water wet? My characters always do what the brain goblins want despite my initial protest. I am just here to convey the message, after all.

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Oh, hands down, Lena. I wouldn't pass up a chance to speak with any of them, let's be real, but Lena would be #1.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

I am by nature a fluff and happy-ending writer. However, I am working on an angst with a happy ending fic at the moment. The tropes I have written so far have been limited to friends to lovers and a little light angst with happy ending. I'm still exploring other things. Hopefully 2024 will be the year I can flex my writing muscles and expand into new territory.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Friends and other writers. Nothing beats a good brainstorming session with writer pals. I also like to do improv writing to boost creativity. You never know where a story will go when that happens.

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

The strategy depends on the story. For longer fics, I have a few writer friends that help with reading over it and helping with typos, grammar errors, and helping fluff up the places that need it. For one shots or shorter fics, I will let it sit for a bit, go back and read it again to do the editing and rewrite the places that my brain doesn't like.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

Oooof, definitely the posting anxiety. I usually immediately find something else to do so I don't obsess over it.

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

Hits, kudos, and comments are always fun and rewarding, but I write for my own enjoyment and sanity. I have plenty of fics that barely get any love, but I enjoy writing them. It's therapeutic for me. The rest is just noise. Also, like any writer, I love to hear from readers and try to respond to all my comments because they mean a lot to me.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character/ship?

Sometimes, yes. It depends on what I am writing and how I am feeling. Most of the time it is instrumental piano and/or cello music because I will start accidentally typing the lyrics of a regular playlist. If I am going for a specific vibe or writing because of a specific song, I will have the song on repeat or at least an album by the artist.

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

SCBB delivered that on a platter for me. CWA got art from the multi-talented @bigmammallama5. If you haven't seen it, you can check it out here.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

13 total with another one that is in the planning stages.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

Write for yourself. If you love it, it brings you enjoyment, and adds to your life, continue doing it. You're not going to please everyone and there will be people who are less than kind about something you publish. Those voices don't matter. There is someone out there that has read or will read your work and it will stick with them for the rest of their lives. Always do it for you.

Tagging but no pressure: @lovesastateofmind1 @casualkoalatea @fabulousglitch and @sssammich

#20 questions more #ao3 writer #ask me stuff #writer #writing #fic writing #fyonahmacnally #Mac things

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bramble-scramble · 6 months

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A Bite for Good Luck

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

(Early, but I'm impatient)

Sooo, I haven't felt like writing in a while, and I'm still mostly inactive here, but I'm not done being... myself. And I may have been really inspired by @hostess-of-horror yet again. Thus I present to you a little vampire-themed Phandrow thing that came to me in a fit of insomnia. It's kinda saucy! Nothing explicit, but, y'know. Vampire stuff.

Enjoy 🩸 🧛

The poet was working again. A multitude of candles illuminated his words, their light reflected in the polished mahogany desk seen on either side of his parchment.

It was hard to believe it had been just over a month since he had received the letter. The summons. So much had changed since then; he had lived a lifetime in those weeks. Become something of a different creature.

He had always been one to stay up late, but now... now the night was his world, and he spent the days languishing. There was little else he could do. He hardly considered... perhaps hardly remembered... the orange and red hues of his homeland, the plump squirrels and healthy pumpkins. His brain was filled with the howl of wolves, the flap of bats' wings- the sounds of the castle and its grounds, which he was forbidden to leave.

Of course, he had hardly known it would come to all this. Despite Sweetlopek's fears, despite Dryad's dire warnings, he had said goodbye to them both. That was the hardest part. And yet... and yet he would do it again. He would make the same choice, knowing it all. He had been more prolific in these past few weeks than in a year or more combined. Because, after all...

Sir Poet-Warden, the letter had said. I request your services. I am in need of a chronicler of my life, my deeds. In return I can offer you room and board, sturdier and more reliable than that with which I know you currently make do. Moreover, while you are under my roof, I can make you a promise. No curse shall harm you, no ill luck will cross my threshold. I know it may be hard to believe, but my powers are great. You may write as much as you desire, on any subject, with no fear of cosmic retribution. In return I only require that you not leave my premises until released, and handle my particular needs with your utmost devotion and priority.

Ever yours,

Lord Tom Phan

Woodrow kept the letter near his heart, in his coat pocket, but he need not pull it out to see it clearly before him. The red ink, the lovely cursive, the gramophone seal... he had memorized every word before he had even set foot in the castle.

The poet found himself stuck on a rhyme, and got up to stretch. As he arose, a sudden rush of dizziness greeted him. He swooned, and stretched out his paws to catch himself on the desk. Stars and sparkles danced in his eyes behind his glasses. When he had regained himself, he lifted a paw and looked down at it in the candle-light. It was hard to remember how pink it had once been. It was certainly a very pale pink now. He wondered how the rest of him must look - he had not seen his own face in an age. There were no mirrors here. Why would there be?

He sat back down on the chair, wondering what Sweets and Dryad would think if they could see him now. But even more than them, he missed... her. Jinx. His cloud. She was not allowed past the threshold. A storm had taken up residence outside the courtyard, a thick and constant rain in the woods that deterred any visitors even moreso than normal. But, true to the master's word, ill fortune could not come in.

...Was all of this really worth it?

The sky outside was beginning to brighten, ever so slightly. Woodrow knew what that meant. He got up and drew the blinds closed in preparation.

Yes. It was worth it.

And before long, the familiar huge shadow filled the doorway to his room. The poet could sense it before he even saw it.

"You're home," said the writer, turning joyously, ready to approach. There was his lord indeed, his black cape, his piercing eyes, his imposing form- but the poet stopped short. There was red on the corners of his lord's mouth, and in his bulbous transparent belly, streaks and rivulets of crimson sloshed and whirled.

"You- you have eaten already," said Woodrow in shock.

"Only a little, my dear," came the reply. "A small hors d'oeuvre."

"Am I no longer enough for you?"

"Of course not," was the cooing answer, and in a smooth movement the master of the house was upon his guest, one paw on his back, the other caressing his hair. "Nothing can satisfy me the way you can. Perish the thought."

Woodrow smiled in relief. He thought he might be blushing, but- he doubted he had the means.

"It is only..." the Lord continued, "I fear I have been pushing too hard. Taking too much. I fear to let you sate me alone."

"I am fine," said the poet. "Truly."

"I do not think so, my darling." He smiled, sweetly, his pointed fangs digging into his lower lip. "And yet... I am still rather hungry, if not famished. So if you are ready-"

"I have been waiting all night," said the other breathlessly. "I have tried to keep myself warm for you."

"Very well, very well," chuckled the ghost. With ease, he lifted the other and carried him to the bed, laying him down, taking off his glasses, settling his head on the red velvet pillow that awaited. The Lord reached for the pink bow that his beloved wore - every morning, it was there, wrapped tightly, keeping the poet's collar close around his neck; and to untie it was to open a present, the same one every day, but one that never got stale. It was a test of patience, and yet, a ritual. With paws trembling in anticipation, Lord Phan pulled at the ribbon until it loosened, then took it off and set it aside. He opened up the collar of his beloved like peeling back the rind of an exquisite fruit. And then-

Woodrow gasped as the fangs found their familiar indentations, and pierced inwards. He may have gotten used to the pain, but he would never fully deaden to it. And he didn't want to.

Despite his claims, his Lord seemed no less hungry tonight than any other. The familiar suction of the skin, the desperate movement of the tongue to clean up any missed drop- the poet moaned and turned his head, an instinctive bodily reaction to such sensation - and soon found a paw on the other side of his face, turning it gently but firmly back - the message was clear: stay still.

"Mmmnm," the soft, involuntary, almost musical hums of bliss that emanated from the Lord as he fed made Woodrow want to melt into the blankets. He had never had much reason to be proud of his body, but apparently his blood was a delicacy. And of that, he was happy... he was lucky, after all... he was precious, wanted, needed so desperately... he...

He passed out.

----

Some time later - he knew not when, for the blinds kept the room as dark as night at all times - he awoke. His coat had been removed in favor of warm blankets, and while he was tucked under them, laying on top of them at his side was his Lord, gently stroking his hair and his cheeks.

"Are you happy?" was the first thing he mumbled as he came to. In his blurred vision, he could make out the red swirls gorging his beloved's clear tummy, cascading around the musical device at his center.

"Of course, my delight. You need never ask," said the vampire-ghost, red still streaking his chin. And yet... he frowned. "But again, I must warn you. When I get started on you, it is ever so hard to stop. And I fear... well, perhaps we shall take a week off, or so."

"My... My Lord..." said the poet in sorrow. He needed the break, of course. And yet...

"Look at this, mon cœur." The Phantom touched Woodrow's hand and brought it up to his face, and the poet saw that his own paw-pad was barely distinguishable from the white fur around it. "You are not well. I shall bring you whatever you desire, and as much of it as you need, whlie you recover your precious health."

Woodrow nodded, feeling that sleep would soon overtake him again. "Pumpkin and carrot soup," he said weakly.

"What?"

"Soup..." he repeated. "The way Sweets makes it... I shall write him for the recipe, when I... when I am up. That's what I need. I'll be... myself in... no time." And he closed his eyes, his breathing slow and heavy.

Lord Phan kissed him on the forehead, leaving a mark of red. He tucked him in even tighter, and arose, heading for his coffin, for his own daily rest.

#mario + rabbids #mario plus rabbids #phandrow #woodrow #ts woodrow #the phantom of the bwahpera #soh vampire au

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jennagrinsoverml · 2 years

Note

hello, idk if you've done this yet, but do u know any good post reveal pre relationship fic recs? sorry if this request is kinda vague lol

General requests are easier than super specific ones lol so you don’t need to apologize for that! I have been meaning to do a PRPR rec list for a while now (and, not directed at you, anon, but yes, PRPR stands exclusively for post-reveal pre-relationship) so thanks for giving me the push to finally do it! (Sorry, I may have gotten a little carried away with this one, but it’s truly one of my favourite things to read.)

The Official Summer Buster Kiss List by @peachcitt

“You’d really be alright with kissing me?” he asked, and Marinette popped the cap of her dry-erase marker on and off.

“I mean, yeah,” she said, and they stared at each other for a moment. “Of course,” she hurried on, “you’d have to be alright with being my candidate. Teacher. Guide. Whatever.” She made a few empty gestures with the marker, and the loose cap flew off the end, bouncing off the wall and rolling off her desk.

Adrien caught it before it could fall to the floor, handing it back to her. “I am,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I’ll do it.”

a very simple four-point plan to tackle the issue of marinette's abysmal kissing life that turns into a six-point plan and also results in an outcome that literally no one could have predicted (sarcasm)

One-shot. They’re just so incredibly stupid (affectionate). The writing is gorgeous, the humour is spot on, and I loved all the little details of their lives with the passage of time. It’s so clear that they love each other, but as always, it takes them way too long to admit it haha.

Emergency Contact by @coffeebanana

When Marinette invites Adrien to live with her temporarily while she recovers from an injury, she thinks the hardest part is going to be hiding her feelings from him. But Adrien's idea of being helpful might go...a little overboard.

Post Shadow Moth defeat, Aged Up Characters, Read the Tags

Multi-chapter. This fic is just so real and messy and beautiful. The mutual pining is absolutely perfect! The backstory and how that impacts their current dynamic is so well woven through and adds another layer to their relationship. But also, I love the lack of perfection, that these are real people with real flaws and the way that all plays out. I absolutely love this fic!

rainwater and brown sugar by @aerequets

He knew they shouldn't do anything (whatever that 'anything' was). They couldn't. Not until they defeated Hawkmoth. Not until their relationship wouldn't get in the way of their work (or whatever other excuse they'd come up with over the course of three months). He knew all this. He knew.

But it was the raindrop that did it for him.

One-shot. It’s seriously unfair that someone who draws so beautifully should be able to write equally so. And yet. This is just so beautiful and SOFT and lovely. And then THAT KISS!!!!!

An Open Secret by @kasienda

Adrien whirled around toward Marinette. She smiled at him.

He couldn’t smile back. He stared at her like the dumb blond model that he was often accused of being.

Something shifted in her expression. And her warm open Marinette smile transformed into Ladybug’s grin. He was looking at Ladybug right now.

He knew Ladybug’s name!

Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

And he couldn’t say anything! Not to Marinette! Not even to Plagg, who had confided two weeks prior that Master Fu was growing increasingly paranoid since the location of his home and hideout had been compromised. Their master had apparently decided that Chat Noir and Ladybug would have to give up their miraculouses if they ever discovered each other’s identities.

It wasn’t fair!

...

A fic where they both know, but can't openly talk about it.

Multi-chapter. I absolutely love the early reveal in this fic. I’ve read a lot of reveals, but this one is really fun and original! And then the premise of the fic itself isn’t one I’ve seen anywhere else, which makes it very different from the usual PRPR fare. Because even though they both know...they can’t actually talk about it. And it’s so interesting and different and sweet?

A little push by @emsylcatac

Alya asks Chat Noir to record a video of himself encouraging Marinette to confess...to Adrien.

Of course his mouth speaks on its own. Of course he says yes.

Of course his Lady is most likely sure to kill him.

...And of course Marinette feels like she's the one who's about to die.

One-shot. @emsylcatac‘s fics never go the way that I expect them to, and I really love that about her writing. Although this starts off really silly, the way Adrien expresses himself at the end wasn’t something I saw coming at all, even though it’s SO TRUE to his character. The pining and miscommunication is wonderful, but it’s the ending that really sells me on this one.

17 days, 2 hours and some odd minutes by @miabrown007

It has been 17 days, 2 hours and 14 minutes since Chat Noir flirted with Ladybug for the last time.

It has been exactly 17 days, 2 hours and 13 minutes since Adrien realized his very good friend and his best friend were, in fact, one and the same.

Consecutively, it has been exactly 17 days, 2 hours and 12 minutes since he constantly fought the insurmountable desire to kiss the said friend.

One-shot. The yearning in this fic is absolutely e x q u i s i t e . I love it when Adrien stops flirting post-reveal and Marinette takes it the wrong way. And they’re just SO STUPID here, and then they get to be adorable in love dorks.

the wonderful part of the mess that we made by heresie_irisee

They knew.

They knew, and there would be no magical reset button for the memories they'd made today. She'd have to see him at school every day, and she'd see the Chat in him, as surely as he'd see the Ladybug in her.

One-shot but a lengthy one-shot. How about some post-Oblivio fic that has the magical ladybugs NOT erase their memories of the fight (because lbr that made no sense anyway)? Oblivio is probably my favourite episode and this is such a great fic. The mutual pining is so, so, so good! Especially love Marinette struggling to assimilate Adrien’s identities and Adrien’s obliviousness.

The Boy She Loves by @goth-bias

Adrien just wants to know who Marinette has been in love with this entire time, but she refuses to budge. Accidentally reading a part of her diary, however, gives Adrien the answers he has been looking for.

One-shot. So you may not know this about me, but I’m absolute sucker for the trope of Adrien fixating on the boy Marinette loves post-reveal. (And tbf for him fixating on the boy Ladybug loves pre-reveal.) I love how well done the miscommunication is here, where their failure to confess makes sense and all of the tension naturally follows.

Make it clear by @amiraculousplatypus

After years, the masks have fallen. Marinette and Adrien figure out what has changed. And what hasn't.

One-shot. This one is all about the yearning. And then Adrien’s beautiful honesty that pushes Marinette to finally do something. They’re both so in character and I love them so much!

White Lies Over White Nights by meirencollector

“Tell me, Marinette. The other boy, is it me?"

There’s something about the way he says it. The way his lips move. The way his eyes glaze at her. The way he looks at her as if she hung the moon and stars. The way there’s a warm glow when he's drawing close to touch. Even in this snowstorm, he was a ray of sunshine, and she was a sunburn.

One-shot. This one is really interesting because of both its device--a game of Truth or Drink--and its use of non-linear storytelling. Even though the fic is set post-reveal, we get all kinds of flashbacks to memories of their pre-reveal interactions that really illuminate the present and are extremely well woven into the narrative. I also really appreciated how honest Adrien was about his feelings, even with their relationship being so ambiguous.

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

your lips are meant to be kissed by @zimtlein

During a tipsy evening, Adrien kisses Marinette’s forehead.

Understandably enough, Marinette has a complete meltdown.

One-shot. Rated E for sexual content. This is one of my favourite fics and I’ve read it a good half a dozen times at least. The pining is absolutely phenomenal and Adrien is so, so oblivious. And the tension between them just builds and builds and builds until I thought I was going to die! But instead it all leads to a phenomenal resolution.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ml fic #ml fic rec #adrienette #adrinette #ml love square #post-reveal pre-relationship #prpr #jennarecsml #ml fic recs #marichat #ladrien #ladynoir

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phaerlax · 4 months

Text

The GaruKaru to-do list

My most important notes.

Characters I've contrived into fucking Karu

Morvay (sucked his brains out through his cocklet after refusing to let Karu top in a size queen moment)

Edmond (receives a blowjob after getting a dose of devious sex pollen poison meant for Eiden)

Olivine (gets dry-humped after curing his food poisoning)

Quincy (plows his ass after healing it from Garu's offscreen ass-plowing session the night before)

Kuya (flogs him in magical chastity until he cums on release)

Eiden (gets ass eaten in heat until he begs for cock)

A sparrow yokai (ass beaten with a switch, figged, fingerblasted, tail-stroked)

Characters I must contrive into fucking Karu

Aster. I can easily come up with Aster/Karu 'punishment' scenarios, but I'm usually more interested in Karu coping with the aftermath. I must find something interesting that Aster would want to do himself, and maybe make it a bit more sexual than strictly punishing. Just to give Karu a break from all the mistreatment I always have in store.

Yakumo. Easier to come up with Yakumo/Garu. There might be potential in Karu's 'apprentice' delulu, though. And I think it would be fun if Karu was very offended by Yakumo's crushing anxiety about his dick being too big for him XD

Blade. This one is easy, I have more than one concept lol (nosy Blade embarrassingly prodding Karu in the aftermath of an Aster/Karu punishment; Blade giving Karu and Garu the full belly rub special after they give him a cute birthday present)

Dante. God as my witness I will have Dante go OOC and wrestle overpower and spank Karu's spirit out over petty tsun bullshit. Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings + check notes.

Rei. Need a bit more canon info but I love the concept of Rei letting Karu top out of guilt, being unsure of how to handle the novel feeling of caring a lot about his partner's pleasure, and giving Karu pointers. I also love the image of Karu fucking Rei and burying his face onto him as he angrily vents about stuff that is stressing him out and Rei is like there there. Idk.

Rin. Need a LOT more canon info to make this more than generic noncon.

Characters I've contrived into fucking Garu

Aster (bullied him a little, bit his ass, and then more)

Morvay (fucked him with enthusiastic consent as part two of a birthday present after Karu's balls were empty)

Blade (gave him a handjob while they were both missing Eiden)

Eiden (bath sex after some teasing, right after Howling Cyclone room 2)

Characters I must contrive into fucking Garu

Yakumo. This feels like a gimme, I can think of infinite scenarios in which horny Garu initiates and Yakumo is like okay... ;~; and then awooga. The challenge is in picking one that doesn't feel bland tbh.

Edmond. I actually have a "Garu is working as a K9 officer to sniff out drugs with Edmond and the knights but oh no sex pollen" premise, I hope someone else writes it for me but I might do it myself eventually.

Olivine. Okay this is probably the hardest... I got nothing. I do have images of Garu and Karu being really into booba for pubby reasons, but that doth not a fic make... or doth it?

Quincy. The reference in my Karu/Quincy does not count, it needs to be onscreen! I can easily think of situations in which these two would be alone in the forest. All it would take is some essence shenanigans to get things going.

Kuya. My kuyaru fixation mostly lies in Kuya/Karu so this is harder than it may seem... it would probably begin as Garu broaching the topic of Kuya/Karu. I also like the idea of Kuya giving him a condescending bath, but again, I'd rather do that for Kuya/Karu.

Dante. I think the dynamic would work quite well, because I like to write Dante as being weak to cute things, and he would probably appreciate and praise Garu's obedience, which would really do it for Garu. The problem lies only in a good premise...

Rei. I prefer the potential I see in Rei/Karu, but maybe a simple concept of Rei having an 'episode' and Garu being the only one around to help. Or Garu getting himself into a Predicament that needs a sexual solution (these mushrooms will only leave your system once you cum six times-)

Rin. See above.

Also a more direct Garu/Karu needs to happen of course...

#nu carnival #nu carnival fanfic #nu carnival karu #nu carnival garu #feel free to whisper concepts to me

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