#well now he's getting attention bc the head writer loves him but it's still not enough

[totally-not-a-tickle-blog]

I saw the requests for fics were open I just need to ask if it's ok to put one in and if it's ok to have an x reader even if platonic bc honestly I'm in a mood lol and I am craving LER ALASTOR idk why and I love your fics and you are a great writer

Author's note: EVERYTHING I NEEDED WAS AN IDEA AND WHEN YOU POSTED THAT ONE PROMPT I WENT

I KNOW WHAT I GOT TO DO NOW.

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"Good night"

Summary: You were struggling to sleep that night, so in defeat, decided to just give up and stay up all night. Sadly for you, Alastor didn't exactly approved your idea.

Warnings: Swearing.

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Bags under your eyes would appear if you didn't go to sleep, and you knew it pretty well. It sucks, really sucks, but laying down on your bed doing nothing and being unable to finally take a good night of sleep sucks the double of those two combined.

As much as the TV wasn't that entertaining, it was enough to keep you awake and slightly less bored.

3AM, still nothing. You took a nap on the couch, but then woke up again. Did you actually took a nap? Or did you brain just turned off? Not sure, not bothered enough to care.

But, suddenly, something else finally got your eyes off of the screen.

"And what are you doing down here so late?"

The sudden voice made you stop on your tracks, jump even, as it came right after hours of silence.

"Jesus fucking Christ Alastor, I almost had a heart attack!" You took a deep breath, calming yourself down. "I'm just watching TV."

Alastor looks to the TV with the corner of his eyes, squeezing them slightly to show his displeasure. "Those things can be quite unhealthy at this time, my dear. Why don't you just turn this off and go to sleep?"

"Because I don't wanna and I can't sleep." You didn't even wanted to sound abrupt, but your filters slowly disappear when you grow more and more tired.

"Now that's just rude." Replied, not offended at all but rather keeping this in his mind for later. "Can't sleep, you say? Well, I have a solution for that." He added with a confident grin.

"...does it include hitting my head onto a wall to knock me out or something?"

Alastor stared at you with a blank face, blinking a few times. "Two solutions."

You rolled your eyes and finally sat, raising an eyebrow. "What solution?"

Alastor lets out a snicker, and with a single snap of his fingers, both of you are back on your room. You fell on your bed a bit too aggressively, but it's not like he cares.

"We only need to get rid of that energy of yours. I'm sure it'll be as easy as pie, you're already almost falling asleep."

"Uh... okay... and what's your plan, exactly?"

Your question made him look at you mischievously, which startled you and already made you let your guard up.

"Alastor-"

But before you could react, something pinched your side right behind you. As you looked, it was one of Alastor's little creatures. Is that a little man? A doll? A little demon? A pet? Whatever this thing is, made you flinch with a single touch.

And just like Alastor could spawn one of those, getting more of them needed the exact same effort.

"What are those??"

"Oh, I never really gave them names, so call them whatever you want. They're also harmless."

Three of them surrounded you, poking your upperbody in different spots while giggling.

"H-Hey! Gehehet off!" They may be weird but also looked weirdly adorable, what made you hesitated on pushing them away. "Thehehey're tick-"

But you stopped yourself right away. It got the other demon's attention, since your fit of giggles was definitely not the cause of the sudden hold up.

"Did you just interrupted yourself?" He asked teasingly, leaning towards you with a more bratty smile.

"Whahahat?! Nohohoho!"

Alastor shrugged, throwing his staff lightly from one hand to another. "If that's the case, I must have misunderstood. After all, there's no reason for you to not say 'tickle'." His head turned back to you, curiously. "Correct?"

As they keep tickling you, you ended up falling on the bed, rolling back and fourth as a poor attempt to escape. "ShuhUHUHUT UP!"

The deer chuckled at your reaction to it. "Oh, I'm not the one who should! Your volume may wake up someone in the hotel."

"Thehehen STOHOP!"

Your words entered his ear and leaved the other, or even worse, didn't even entered in any at the first place, as everything he did was look at his nails.

"I can't, I already promised to help. It is getting you tired after all-"

"FUHUHUHUCK!!"

Your tone suddenly increased in a... huge volume. More than he expected, what startled the guy. Wanting or not, if anyone wakes up he'll end up getting in trouble aswell, so he's thinking twice about his plans.

However, something is off for him. Once you lay down, you didn't got up again nor tried to. It definitely isn't bothering you as much as it looks like, and this fact did not make it worse for himself. More likely to be the opposite, as an encouragement.

The inner conflict was agonizing to keep, and Alastor's eyes show that. With a sigh mixed with a humming, he snaps his fingers, finally sparing you from the shadows.

Your laughter slowly died down, and without realizing, your face shifts to one of disappointment.

"Hah... heh... what..?"

The taller one sits by your side, avoiding visual contact but, for some reason, not the physical one.

Before you could react, Alastor quickly recomposed himself, looking at you with a cheeky grin once again while his own hand touches your stomach.

"It is unfair for me to get punished because of your sensitivity, so I'll try something lighter this time."

The demon's fingers began to scratch, but not hurt, tickling you in a slow yet surprisingly effective way. You grabbed his wrist, but didn't have the courage to take it off as you knew it would come to an end if you did.

Your chuckles, snorts, cackles, any noises you would make, would spread the room as long as he wanted, and the silence would only return once you're finally asleep.

#tickling #tickle #tickle community #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #ler!alastor #lee!reader

[merotwst]

EVEN WHEN THE LEARNING'S DONE AND NOTHING'S NEW !

‹ . housewardens ›

· scenario drabbles

⇝moments that happened in your married life.

[ n: a little something to get myself out of a writers block. not proofread and not very confident of my writing bcs ahaha i havent written in a hot minute + no motivation. this took me almost a week to finish but i still hope u guys enjoy ! ilyyyy ]

⑇

- - - → tw. children (does that count as a tw?????? idk man kids jumpscare in kalim's part)

⑇

riddle rosehearts ‹ heartslabyul ›

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man and lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. you were aware of this when you said yes to his proposal to spend a life with him forever but as his spouse, it pains you to see him overwork himself sometimes. it wasn't the first time you woke from your quiet slumber at 2 in the morning to an empty space beside you. your feet padded across the cold marble floor through the hallway adorned with photographs gilded in gold of you and him that have been taken over the years. a soft knock at the mahogany doors to his study and a quiet response from the other side permitting you to come in. the tea on the tray you carried made riddle sigh with relief, the tension in his body seemingly fading away. he had a soft smile on his face as he brought the teacup to his lips.

“come to bed, riddle. it's so late.” you urge him gently as you made yourself comfortable on one of the chair on the other side of his desk.

he gave you weary look, “i'm not sure i can yet, my love. there's still so much work to do.”

you let out a soft sigh, “i figured as much.” you whispered, standing up and walking around the desk to give him a soft kiss on the lips, “i'll be heading back to sleep then.” you inform him and quietly made your way back to the room.

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man who lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. it was rare, however, for him to softly close the bedroom door behind him leaving his study and his paperwork unfinished to slip under the covers and wrap his arms around your form.

“what made you change your mind?” you asked, a loving hand on his cheek.

“you did,” he said with a sheepish smile on his face, “you always do.”

⑇

leona kingscholar ‹ savanaclaw ›

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse and till death do you part, the title of royal has been embedded onto your name and cemented into sunset savannah's history for all eternity. what you do and say will be seen, heard and talked about by the public. it's your duty to be present, not just for your husband the royal family, but for yourself as well.

so you do your part. you attend the balls, you speak out on important issues that need attention. you smile, you wave, conversing with other country's political leaders and powerful people. you learn to adapt and navigate through the life of a royalty one step at a time. you were doing your best but sometimes it felt like it wasn't enough. and that's when he comes in to yank an ipad out of your hands and snap you out of your trance. he says dwelling on ridiculous articles and getting yourself all affected negatively by it doesn't do anyone any good. that's when he wipes the frustrated hot tears from your cheeks as he sits beside you on the bed, a softer tone now etched in his tone when he spoke, “i know it isn't easy.”

you sniffle in response, your voice shaky as you spoke in uneven breaths, “i'm trying so hard,” a sob, “why does it always feel like i'm always running short? why am i sometimes being treated like i don't know what's happening?”

leona's tail flicks, “did the articles tell you that? or was it the servants whispering in the halls? the people in the ballrooms?” he places a hand on your chin and gently makes you look at him, “listen, i don't know what you overheard or read—but the fact that you undermine your own achievements for the validation of other people is annoying the shit out of me.”

his eyes bore into you as his hands squeezed yours, “you're not royalty from birth, but the amount of things you were willing to change—willing to do just so you can be with me still constantly leaves me in awe. the politics, the royal etiquette and other pointless bullshit takes years to master. you're almost halfway through the progress bar despite being so new to it all.” leona places his forehead against yours, “even if the whole world is against you, i'll be by your side. i've never been more proud to have you as my partner. fuck everyone else.”

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse. you've done all of this just for him. you would keep doing it just for him because know he'd kidnap every star in he sky if you asked him to. you can cry, you can scream, you can be angry—but he's always there and always will be and till death do you part.

you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in the entire time. and with a raspy voice and a genuine smile, you whisper back.

“fuck everyone else.”

⑇

azul ashengrotto ‹ octavinelle ›

homesickness is something you've dealt with the first time you were practically punted over to this twisted world you now reside in. but over time, you realize that this world was always more comfortable for you. it became home whenever you were in the arms of your lover. you found comfort in azul's arms so gentle and tender around you—as if you were the rarest and most fragile seashell he picked up from the depths of his home in the sea. eventually, you stopped thinking of the life you've left behind. you were happy here and that's what mattered.

likewise, he found his home in your arms around his neck in a warm embrace like the first rays of the sun just as the winter season was coming to an end. but unlike you, azul had access to his home. he just never had much opportunity to come back to visit. his life with you on land was what you both collectively decided on. a house near the beach, but nowhere near where his home is at. just enough to breathe in the salt air and the cool embrace of the ocean breeze on his skin. and on more than one occasion, you've seen him let the waves wash over his feet after he'd come back from work. his shoes in his hands as he mindlessly watched the sun set over the horizon.

“a penny for your thoughts?” your hand subconsciously finding its way to his, fingers interlocking together and fitting together perfectly.

“just thinking of the coral sea.”

“i've told you last time we should go to visit again.”

azul let out a sigh and you knew why he didn't like going back to the coral sea—to several memories of his past littered across every corner of the place. he looked at you wearily, the dimming orange beams of the sun coated his face with a lovely hue that made him look almost ethereal and melancholic.

“it's hard going back there sometimes,” he admitted, his head hung, “it took a lot for me to take you back there... to show you everything i've been running away from.”

“and i love every part of it. every part of you, azul.”

you squeeze his hand gently, “it's never always sunshine and calm seas. and i'm always here to embrace you when storms come.”

homesickness is something azul's never really dealt with in the years he's been away from sea. he was happy to be out of there and start anew—but he didn't have a home. no, he was always relying on himself. but over time, he realized that this world was always more comfortable with you. it became home whenever he was your arms, his lover. you were his new home. and no matter where he would end up, he always finds himself running home to you.

⑇

kalim al-asim ‹ scarabia ›

“baba's here!” was exclaimed by an energetic boy popping out from the blanket fort you all built together. giggles bounced around the walls as little pairs of feet padded along the floor. the children both ran to their father, the younger one trying her best not to trip and fall on her way there. kalim, who was still in conversation with jamil as he entered the room, had been cut off by the squeals and giggles of the children running to his embrace.

“ya malayiki! 'abi saeid jidana liruyatik maratan 'ukhraa!” (oh, my angels! dad's so happy to see you again!) your husband exclaimed excitedly, wasting no time kneeling to catch their warm embraces in full, “have you two been good?” he asked, lifting your daughter up in his arms earning an excited giggle from her and taking your son's hand in his free one before standing back up, “naeam ya 'baba!” (yes daddy!), your little girl giggled excitedly, “we built a house!” she squealed, pointing at the blanket fort. it was quite a big fort filled with small fairy lights and plenty of pillows and maybe a few snacks littered here and there from their 'construction break'. you three had spent hours making ‘the biggest house for baba’ for when he would get back and the kids are evidently very proud of the outcome of their hard work.

“(maman/baba etc.) said we could sleep here tonight!” the little boy chimed in, shaking his dad's hand to catch his attention. kalim could only grin widely at this, “well,” he started, “since you both worked so hard building the house, i say we all sleep here tonight!” the gasps from the kids and the happy cheers that followed indicated the joy they felt. he's always been a natural with them and you always adored him with children. it's just that he can get quite busy sometimes, which even he has told you about how saddened he is whenever he's apart from his family. and so whenever he has time, you can be sure every second is devoted to you and the kids. his whole heart is with you, after all. always has been since the moment he laid eyes on you all those years ago.

“alright kids,” he said, placing a kiss on your daughter's cheek and squeezing your son's hand gently, “jamil will take you to get you cleaned and ready for bed, okay?” they both grinned in response, “okay!” the kids said simultaneously.

“kalim.” jamil gave a disapproving look, “how many times must i tell you that this is the nanny's job and not mine.” he said in an annoyed tone while simultaneously taking the little girl in his arms and holding onto the boy's hand. this is when you come in from behind, wrapping your arms around your husband's waist, “aw, but they like you, jamil. don't you, kids?”

“i love uncle jamil!” the younger one giggled, “he's one of the funny grown ups.”

jamil let out a defeated sigh, “come on, children. let's get you both cleaned up.” he said, softly shaking his head and if you looked close enough you could see the soft smile on his lips as they walked away.

as soon as the silly questions of, ‘when will you get married’ and ‘can i pet your parrot, uncle?’ faded off into the distance, kalim wasted no time peppering every inch of your face in kisses and tackling you to the blanket fort as both of you giggled and laughed like middle schoolers rolling over the soft silky fabric under your skin. safe to say no matter how old you get, the love you and your husband share will forever remain the same as when it first blossomed from years ago.

⑇

vil schoenheit ‹ pomefiore ›

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. it's the same as when you were both courting. he had a routine to follow whenever you would see each other on a date. flowers, then he'd check if you dressed right, take you out and give you the best night of your life.

and you know how people say ‘change is good’? well, there are also some things that stay the same over the years. and that was good for you, too. like how he'd book the best restaurant in the city or take you out for a romantic cruise on your wedding anniversary. those nights were always perfect. and at the end of those nights is the same as well. paparazzi flashing their cameras at your face asking the most ridiculous questions. people getting in your business. that was the down side of your relationship with vil, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. you knew what you were getting into the day you married him.

but oh sevens. when will they give you a break? it's your wedding anniversary with vil again tonight and he had a whole evening planned out for you. but there was a swarm of paparazzi outside the penthouse you were staying in. your husband had an upcoming movie and that had everyone abuzz and trying to get some statements out of him. there were so many to the point where you both had to go back inside because you could see the camera flashes with your eyes closed. well, you could. vil was used to it. but he wasn't about to force you to run out there with him again. your perfect night hasn't started yet and you already looked exhausted from that temporary encounter. vil silently cursed them for that.

after maybe 30 minutes of waiting for them to leave and with no luck of it ever happening, the blonde stood up from his spot on the couch, “that's it,” he spoke with a tone of finality in his voice, “get changed, darling. we're leaving.”

the confusion was evident in your face and it only made sense when vil came out wearing a hoodie, jeans and mask over his face. he hated wearing such common looking clothes, but sometimes situations call for it. and for you, frankly, he would do almost anything.

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. he absolutely hated when his plans wouldn't pull through but sometimes he finds serendipity in even the most dreary situations with you. you could spend your anniversary on a special yacht with the best waiters serving you first class meals and a candlelit dinner or just in a parking lot inside your car with cheap wine that you both agreed tasted awful but kept drinking anyway and at the end of the day, everything still works out. as long as you're by his side, he can learn to be contented even with all the disorganization of ruined plans as long as he's laughing to trashy radio podcasts and temporarily (today's a special exception, he says) ruining his diet for you.

⑇

idia shroud ‹ ignihyde ›

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. you know idia better than most people around you. he wasn't exactly the easiest person to get to know because of his very reserved personality but he is one of the smartest and funniest people you know. and you'd hoped that since he is one of the smartest people you know and you're actually married to him, he'd lend a hand when you're trying to do a little bit of spring cleaning to at least make the house look like it's a habitable place and not just a reserve for an endless supply of red bull and monster energy drinks. though the house wasn't necessarily ‘messy’, but it always seemed pretty empty and lacking a bit of life to it. so you thought of doing a bit of rearranging, putting up new decorations and replacing a couple furnitures which you both had bought and majority picked out by him.

this has been the third time you'd checked in his office and your patience was growing thin. you watched him from the doorway as he typed away some sort of code in his computer which was the only light source in the room. you crossed your arms as you called out his name, “idia shroud.” before flicking the light switch on making him hiss at the sudden brightness. he flinched upon seeing you. uh-oh. you used his full name, this can't be good.

“i've been calling you down to help me assemble the table. i'm not good at building things!”

“and i told you i'd be there in a bit. i'm just finishing things up around here.”

“idia.”

“okay! fine. jeez you don't have to threaten me.” he threw his hands up in the air in defeat as he stood up from his chair, “you're lucky i love you.”

you cocked a brow at this comment, arms still crossed across your chest and he rolled his eyes, “fine. other way around, i know. i'm lucky you love me.” he sighed but this time with a smile on his face as he leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead, “now where is that table you need me to build?”

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. but you know idia better than most people around you. and he sometimes would seem detached and spends most of his time in his own company in front of his computer, he truly cares about you and your happiness. the amount of love he shows through the things he does, even the most menial of tasks like bearing the new, less darker curtain colors that you wanted to put up on the windows or stopping whatever new project he was trying to develop to help you move the new couches around the house. he would never do this for anyone else. and as you both sit under the kitchen counter, a bag of open chips on the floor and soda in your hands looking over at the new house makeover you both spent all day working on, you smiled.

“i'm lucky you love me.” you said, taking a sip of your soda and putting your head on his shoulder. he let out a short, breathy laugh before placing a soft kiss on your temple, “wanna go play mario kart and ruin our newly bought couch with chip crumbs?”

“sure.” you said, slowly standing up. you took a few seconds to stare at each other before you started sprinting to the couch, “last one to get there is in charge of cleaning it up!”

“hey, no fair!”

“nothing's fair in mario kart, babe!”

⑇

malleus draconia ‹ diasomnia ›

you once told your husband that one of your most favorite things about him is his smile and the way it so gently breaks out around you. his booming laughter that follows as you eat dinner at the big, lonely castle that was once the place he walked around alone that now feels more alive after he'd married you. you make the most emptiest of places feel alive with love and laughter. you painted his life with colors that he could never see with anyone else.

and speaking of painting, he'd snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the metal part of he paintbrush clinked on the glass of the jar as the painter dipped the brush into the water. he gave you a glance where you were sat, looking straight at the back of the canvas as if trying to bore a hole onto the painting focusing on keeping your face straight and expressionless as instructed. it was traditional for briar valley's royalty to have their portraits painted whenever there was an addition to the family. and this case, the new addition was you when you both married. and now as he sat beside you, stealing glances he was sure you noticed by the way your lips twitched, he couldnt help but think of how the morning sun's rays seeping into the room that bathed your skin with the soft golden glow of the 10:00 am sun. it made you look absolutely beautiful. well, you always looked beautiful in his eyes. it's why—

someone cleared their throat.

“your highness,” the painter called out to him, “eyes front, if you please.”

he quickly straightened himself, “my apologies.” he hastily responded. he could hear you suck in a breath beside him, probably trying to contain the giggle that was trying to escape your throat.

another 20 minutes of silence passes. just the soft brushing of the paintbrush against the canvas and the occasional clink of the glass could be heard. he couldn't help but steal a glance at you again but to his surprise, you had your eyes on him as well. upon seeing his gaze shift to your figure, you immediately played it cool pretending you weren't looking but the way the smile threatened to break your facade betrayed you. malleus couldn't help the corner of mouth from twitching.

you did your little inhale again to try to compose yourself but uncharacteristically for him, he found that quite humorous abd had to clear his throat to keep him from letting out a laugh.

now that made you break out a smile and clear your own throat to try and stop yourself from bursting into full blown laughter.

you heard the irritation of the painter in the way he placed his paintbrush down. he stood up and gave you and malleus a sharp look before speaking in a very annoyed voice, “i shall go and have a drink delivered to both highnesses as to aid you both in the supposed strains on your throats.”

he made his way to the door, grumbling to himself about how ‘undignified’ or how ‘not taken seriously’ the situation was.

there was a moment of silence before you and malleus burst into a fit of bubbly laughter. his laughs were in his chest escaping in low vibrations while yours were loud and sharp simply to show how hilarious you found the situation to be. with how glorious both your attires were for the portraits looking like the epitome of royalty, the way you were both giggling like teenagers simply threw all the gloriousness out the window.

you once told your husband that one of your most favorite things about him is his smile and the way it so gently breaks out around you. his booming laughter that follows as you eat dinner at the big, lonely castle that was once the place he walked around alone that now feels more alive after he'd married you. even the most boring events in his life that once he would have been forced to accept in all its blandness would be splashed with the most vibrant colors whenever you were in the picture. his life, his love, his pride and joy—you. now that he's seen colors he never would've imagined to be possible to exist in all its dazzling beauty, he can never go back to the dreary shade of gray that hazed over his life. you were his freedom, and he would be ready fight the world to hear your laughter by his side till death do you part.

© merotwst 2023 · do not copy, translate or reproduce.

#. merowrites #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #azul x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #twst kalim #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #twst vil #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twst idia #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello! 👋 I love your work, especially your Pietro Maximoff stuff. He deserves more recognition and writers like you do an amazing job providing it. If you’re doing requests, what would you think of Pietro x Stark!daughter in AOU; enemies to lovers HCs or one shot? They meet when HYDRA is infiltrated & struggle w/ their growing attraction to each other. Maybe she takes a bullet for Pietro in Sokovia and he stays by her side as she recovers. It’s up to you. Take care!

hii!! thank you sm :(( I did hcs, hope that’s okay, im having writers block, and anything other than hcs breaks my brain. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

ACROSS ENEMY LINE (headcanons)

pietro maximoff x stark!daughter reader. 667

— I think tony and the rest of the team would be apprehensive about you going out into the field - wanting you to wait in the quinjet while they did their thing (the opening of AOU) 

— but while you're in the jet, you can see the people on the radar thing (im talking out my ass, but basically seeing wanda and pietro) so you're able to see them before the team - so you try using comms to give them a heads up, but the signal is lost

— so you'd do as you were instructed NOT TO DO - leave the jet. you make your way towards clint first, and then that's when you see pietro (he knocked you over as well as clint) so he's talking down to you too - he makes a quick snarky comment. maybe he says, "you didn't see that coming," to you instead (ik sorry canon) 

— im gonna say it and I hate it bc it makes me cringe, but maybe time stands still (guess that works for pietro bc he moves so fast he can slow down a singular moment???) anyway, you'd both be looking at each other (obviously communicating with eyes) until he speeds away, maybe nat tries to blast him, so she can help clint

— then all the usual movie plot happens. you regroup, offering to help - but tony kinda shuns you for not doing as asked

— then more movie stuff happens until you meet pietro again when they try to stop vision being born ?? (haven't watched it in a little while, but I think that's when they're all together next) maybe you exchange a few questioning glances, bc you're both once again on opposite sides

— while everyone is trying to stop each other - he and you do the same. he's focused on stopping you, like you him, but bc of his speed, he practically runs circles around you. then he repeats the comment to you again. or maybe he's keeping you occupied so you don't get hurt by being caught up in the middle

— vision is born and that's when you all truce - trying to find a way to stop ultron

— on the quinjet, you and pietro are seated next to each other, and it's kinda icy (maybe you're butt hurt about him beating you twice) he tries to call it even saying, "you know, we're on the same side now. you have to like me,"

— maybe you make a "mhm," sound - unamused. but he tries again, saying his name and extending a hand, "sorry for earlier... when I beat you... twice," but he's joking and laughing, not actually serious about a truce (your loss kinda thing)

— you don't talk for the rest of journey to sokovia

— rest of the movie stuff happens (but instead of ulton with the flying gun thing, one of the bots is after pietro who is protecting clint and that kid)

— you get shot in the shoulder when you basically become a shield (instead of pietro - sorry I had to say it)

— pietro helps you to the helicarrier - wanting you to get medical attention. he's all panicked, in shock of what just happened. he'd curse you out saying that was stupid and you shouldn't have done that but he's glad you're not dead

— he won't leave your side when you get stitched up, offering to hold your hand if it hurts. he'd have sympathy pains and would be encouraging (bc you literally just saved his life) !! after you're sorted he'd ask why you did it, maybe you say "you didn't see it coming," haha get it? bc it's switched over? he laughs, and it silently creates a truce between you. then you say the actual reason, something about not leaving someone behind, or it's what your dad would do

— maybe you're about to have a little moment, but you both brush it off - wanting to save it for when the adrenaline wears off 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

#request #🐬 #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff headcanon #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro marvel #stark!daughter

[intrstellarhearts]

the tuffest chick in tulsa - the outsiders x curtis sister!reader

fandom: the outsiders

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 1094

request: yes / no  

characters: reader, darry curtis, sodapop curtis, ponyboy curtis, dallas winston, johnny cade, two-bit mathews, steve randle

original request: do you mind doing the outsiders crew with a curtis sister!reader where she’s older than ponyboy but younger than soda. basically, the reader is short and the gang (except her brothers) don’t expect her to be very strong but in reality she’s really strong and does roller derby, baseball, wrestling, etc. just a little scenario or headcanons of the boy’s reactions to being shown up by a 15 yo :)

a/n: ty for this request!! i forgot how much i loved writing for the outsiders lol. just wanted to say that requests are super helpful, bc i often have writer’s block lmao. just send me an ask & i’ll write it!! (rn i have a lot of motivation to write for the outsiders, dead poets society and house md!!) again, these could be scenarios or headcanons, and can include the reader or not! the only rule i have is no nsfw :)

taglist: none right now for the outsiders!! (message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be included!!)

--------------------✰--------------------

“alright, c’mon ace! you can do it … go go go!!”

you bit back a smile at the loud cheers coming from your brother sodapop. a quick glance told you that he was right there, next to the dugout, with your other brother, ponyboy. you wondered if maybe darry got off of work in time to see you, but the quick call of the umpire quickly snapped your attention back to the task at hand. the sun was beating down on that hot april afternoon, and a bead of sweat came down your forehead. you adjusted your stance on home base, making sure your grip on the bat was tight. the game was tied, and you it was up to you to win. then the pitcher made his move, and there you were, swinging your bat. 

“y/n! run! c’mon!!” 

you were running alright. and now you ran even faster, having heard darry’s voice cheering you on. this was where you belonged, on the diamond. you could see the other team scramble for the ball, your own teammates cheering as you rounded the bases easily. one of the outfielders tried to throw the ball to the boy on third base, but it wasn’t going to phase you. gritting your teeth, you had an explosion of speed, and slid onto home base just in time. your teammates erupted into cheers as the game ended. you took off your helmet, a big grin taking over your face. you nodded to your brothers, and went over to get a drink of water.

you teammates were there to congratulate you, slapping you on the back and mussing up your hair. as the only girl on your school’s baseball team, you had quickly shown the boys that you were nothing to be messed with. growing up with three brothers, as well as the pseudo-brothers in your gang, you were way tougher than anyone thought. although, many of the boys in your gang still thought of you as fragile and delicate, despite years of showing them otherwise.

“aw, y/n, that was an AMAZING game!!” came the excited yell of your brother ponyboy as he bounded over to you, followed close behind by ponyboy and darry. 

“thanks, soda.” you said, and you couldn’t hide a smile. you took a hand to your cheek, trying to wipe some of the grease paint off. 

“here, use this.” darry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a couple tissues. one glace at him told you that he had come straight from work. he looked tired, but happy. “good job, kid. now give me that bat. we need somethin’ to eat.”

“how about the dingo?” you asked, handing darry the bat and your helmet, then taking a swig of water.

“aw, y/n, i don’t wanna go to the dingo.” ponyboy said, shaking his head.

“did you hit the winnin’ run today, pony?” you grinned, nudging your younger brother. “i didn’t think so!!” you, darry, and soda began to walk away, towards the road that would get you to the diner. ponyboy hung his head, kicking the dirt on the diamond, but he followed the three of you after a moment. 

the dingo wasn’t exactly the BEST place to hang out, but they could make a damn good milkshake and fries. plus, without steve there, you would finally be able to have food to yourself, instead of him stealing it all the time! it was a short walk from the diamond -- only about ten minutes. however, as you got closer, a familiar truck in the parking lot caught your eye.

“oh n-” you started, but they were already runnin’ towards you. of course the gang was here. of course. in the blink of an eye, two-bit and steve had already tackled soda and pony, and dally and johnny came over to you.

“how come your forehead has that bruise, shortcake?” dally said, leaning in to check it out. you had almost forgotten about it yourself, since it had happened earlier in the week.

“oh, nothin’, dal.”

“doesn’t look like nothin’.” johnny muttered, brow drawn with concern.

“aw, tell ‘em, y/n. it’s a good story!!” pony spoke loudly, dusting himself off as he got up, finally. you shifted your weight, suddenly seeming a bit less confident than usual.

“lemme guess.” two-bit started, and you turned to face him, an amused smile on your face. “you probably slipped or somethin’.”

“aw, lay off two. she ain’t that bad on her feet!!” steve said, punching him in the arm. the gang turned towards you expectantly, pony flashing a huge grin.

“well, i had a baseball game. not the one from today, it was a couple days ago. this guy on the other team started callin’ me names. y’know, stupid stuff. i didn’t think it would bother me. well, the ump started to tell me to shut up, all i was sayin’ was for him to stop!”

“and then what’d ya say?” johnny asked, completely invested.

“so then i get to third base. i decide not to go to home, ‘cause that would be too close of a call, y’know? so i’m on third base, and this jackass…” you quickly fixed your words after a stern look from darry. “this… guy thinks he’s all tough or somethin’. i try to go and run, but he trips me! i fell and hit my head and everything. the ump didn’t catch it, so i got up. he’s laughin’ so hard, and all i’m thinkin’ is that i wish he would shut up. so then i punched him.”

steve did a double take at that, and your smile grew. 

“that shut him up pretty quickly.”

“shut him up?” pony began, excitement boiling over. “shut him up??? he was about to cry!”

“yeah!” soda agreed, illustrating by mocking the bully’s crying. “just like this. he ran off to the umpire, who totally called him on his problems.”

“hey, good for you, kid.” dallas spoke, nodding approvingly.

“wow.” johnny remarked, nodding as well.

“i didn’t even think you had it in you!!” steve spoke, messing up your hair. you made a fist to him, and he flinched. 

“yeah, you better watch it randle!!” darry cleared his throat, and you put it down. “sorry.”

“maybe you should be our bodyguard from now on!” two-bit remarked, throwing an arm around your neck as you all made your way to the entrance of the dingo. “y/n curtis, the tuffest chick in tulsa!"

"and don't you forget it!" you remarked, grinning from ear to ear.

--------------------✰--------------------

#the outsiders #dallas winston #johnny cade #darry curtis #darrel curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #two bit mathews #steve randle #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x curtis sister!reader #curtis sister #dally winston #the outsiders scenario #the outsiders curtis sister #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders headcanons

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Can we get some more Creme Brulee Cookie content, that cookie's a power house in my team- I was thinking since there were hints about him and Linzer Cookie being in a past relationship, what if y/n Cookie did like CB but didn't pursue him bc of his history with Linzer?

I have requests from late December, how embarrassing. I'm such a bad writer for not feeding you guys for like 3 months-

Old Photos

Tw: murder

You dejectedly sigh as you stare at the ceiling of your room. Thoughts filling your mind: negative ones. You didn't like the thought of Linzer with Crème Brûlée. But who were you to interfere? She was clearly more valuable to him than you ever could be. Even if you were his biggest supporter.

But it still hurt. You wanted to be with him. Cheer him on for his performances; ensure he was well cared for. Sure you could do so as his friend. But you wanted to be much more than friends.

You didn't have the place to interfere. You shouldn't interfere. It's wrong.

Those sentences repeated in your head as you lay on your bed. You wanted sleep to overcome you, but your mind seemed unwilling to let go though. You needed to move on. There was no point in clinging to a future that wasn't even possible.

Until you hear a distant knock, from your front door. You turn your head in the direction of the hallway, before slowly rising from your bed and walking out the door. You glance at the living room clock: 2:43 AM. Who would be knocking on the door at this hour?

You saunter to the door, looking through the glass. Your eyes widen slightly: it's Crème Brûlée. What was he doing here? You open the door, and immediately you're encased in a hug far too tight.

...Was your desperate mind imagining his embrace? Oh, how pathetic you are.

"Crème Brûlée? What are you doing here?" You utter, your voice scratchy from not getting out of bed for the last 3 hours. Why was he holding you so harshly? Did something happen?

"I love you. I swear, I can't believe you looked at my photos from three years ago." He bluntly states, his tone almost seemed as if he was offended. His hair brushes against your cheek as he buries his head into your shoulder.

"What?" You blink. Absolutely frozen. Did your mind just manifest your biggest wish in front of your face?

The door is still open, the cold breeze freezing your body only in sleeping clothes. He speaks once more, now his tone less brash and more soft, "Darling. My darling. Linzer is hardly a thought in my mind now. I've realized you are much better suited for me." His head nuzzles your shoulder, holding you against him.

"Wait. Wait. Does that mean..." You trail off, not having the confidence to even say it. It's impossible. Your life had never gone right when it came to love, so why would it go right at this moment?

"I love you. I've loved you for the last 3 years. Now stop hiding from me." He nudged you over the couch, not giving you a moment before coddling you. He should become a koala at this point.

You wanted to say more. It doesn't matter though. You were too ecstatic to even begin forming words. Finally, your mind calms and you fall asleep: exhaustion taking over. He was warm. Like you imagined him to be.

An hour passes by, before a sudden grin forms on the usually quiet Crème Brûlée. He caresses your head gingerly, loving the feel of you in his grasp.

"Finally, you've come to realize. I should have killed that terrible Linzer earlier, otherwise, we would have been happier earlier. No matter, we can be where we were supposed to be...together." He closes his eyes too as he continues to snuggle you.

You were too blinded by your love to notice why Linzer never was over at his house since three years ago.

——————————————————

Wow! I got this one done in one sitting. I'm so proud of myself. Usually, it takes multiple sittings to do requests. My attention span is non-existent.

- Celina

#cookie run #yandere cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom #yandere #yandere x reader #crk x reader #blurbs #crk #crème brûlée cookie

[marshmallowdarling]

hi, i was wondering if u could write for a yandere batfam reaction to the batsis growing REALLY tall, like 6’0(opposite of ur short one). just overall head cannons on how they would react and such.

only do this if u can tho!!! i completely understand if u can’t, and i’m just glad i found out how asks work!! drink some water, sleep well, and have a wonder weekend!!!!

I kind of wanted to distance myself from Batfam stuff just because the only blogs I've seen bout them always turn into a Batfam blog bc of the demand and while I love them and I know some blog writers do love them like that I would rather not continue to write them.

But you anon are just so nice and cute how was I not supposed to???? 🥺

Also sorry for the delay in writing, I just didn't have any creative juices at all. I'm trying to get out of this funk so please send me asks!!

If you thought the batfam fed short foster! Reader then you haven’t seen anything yet!

Because your taller and bigger your body needs more food and they know this, so instead of them kind of backing off and making sure you eat no matter how big, NOW they will be feeding you 24/7!

They still keep the same type of snacks but now they try to keep protein on them, the bat mobile having a cooler into it now to keep everything fresh. 

Tall reader! Still gets regular check up’s, making sure that you growing too fast doesn’t hurt you and that your body can support your new weight. Checking that your joints and bones are oki doki hoki poki!

Batfam! Worries about your height too, wondering if your height might give you some disadvantages with your body with age or if your genetics might give you something bad.

I’m sorry to say but if your taller than them you won’t be stronger than them, you still get picked up and they modify their holding styles to make sure your comfortable. Though Tim and Damian both have thought about if you could pick them up, Damian having once had a dream that he was on your shoulders while you were running through the manor, he was very huffy and pouty after and was even more of a brat for your attention that day even though he wouldn’t tell you why.

Dick once had a nightmare that you had grown as tall as a house and escaped, when he tried to bring you back home you just stepped over him like an ant. When he flung awake he immediately sneaked into your room to make sure you weren’t like his dream, he definitely listened to his old man and Alfred’s nagging about having some sort of sleep schedule after that. 

If ANYONE says anything about your height or even looks at you the wrong way the whole family are going to torture them slowly but not before making a show of telling them off and praising you up and down for your height.

Clothes are tailored for you anyways no matter your height or gender so you never have to worry about nothing fitting, same with shoes. You get the grandest biggest bed they can get, bigger than an Alaska king sized bed as they had it made to order just for their little precious sibling.

That’s another thing too, your still their precious little thing. No matter how tall you are or how old you are, and they will not even think twice before reminding you about that.

“Aww aren’t you just a little precious thing. Hu? What do you mean your taller than me. Pfft- that doesn’t matter silly little cub, you aren’t as strong as us are you hmm? You still need your big boys to take care of you! There’s no shame in that little cub! We are more than happy to help!”

I head cannon that the BatBoys! Always show a range of body types in the magazines they pose for so best bet if your ever feeling low they will show you how beautiful and handsome your body is. 

You never get mocked for being too tall but Jason does put things juuuust out of reach to ‘coincidently’ walk in on you struggling and tease you even if he himself can’t reach and needs to climb on something. 

“You were just saying how tall you were, what happened hmm? That too far away from you?” He chuckles and teases you while he gets it down but gives your head pat while he’s up there.

I don’t put specific heights but it’s going to be rare that you are taller than them or all of them. Bruce is 6’2 (from a quick google search don’t kill me) and the boys are around the same so some of them might just be an inch or half an inch taller than you. Though even if you are taller than them it won’t change much, they will find ways to pat your head and give forehead kisses but back, arm and shoulder pats so come more frequent.

#yandere batman #soft yandere #soft!yandere #platonic batboys #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere chubby reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x tall reader #yandere x tall darling #yandere x tall y/n

[gyuhanniescarat]

Um for starters, I hope you don't have covid and if so, I wish you a safe recovery and I hope you get better soon.

Secondly, I was re-reading one of my PyeongHongNovember fics.

Yes, I read my own fics because I write them FOR ME.

And it was Hongjoong and the readers first time and omg, he would be so gentle and loving with you!

'You look so pretty underneath me, you feel so good, I love you so much'

Hi my darling Ruby!

for starters, it unfortunately IS covid 😭😭🤧🤧😭🤧😭😭😭🤧😭 thank you luvvie, i'm hoping this sht will pass soon. i've mainly had a dry ass cough and a fever, but it's been hell on earth for the past week about. i guess after 3 years of no covid... the streak had to come to an end at some point 😔

YES!! I love that you read and re-read your fics, I think we need to normalize writers consuming their own media. because yes. as you said, my luvvie. We. Write. For. US.

Hongjoong would be THE BEST person to have your first time with! I just know that man would absolutely do you so right. You could 💯 trust Hongjoong with your virginity bc he would make sure your first time together would be nothing but magical and special. He would be the most gentle, loving, considerate man in this setting.

Love Talk — R18+

kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem! reader, fluff, smut (MDNI — if you're not 18+, see the door n let it kick ya on the way out), conversation about sex, late bloomer reader (for all my late bloomers out there, you are not broken, ain't nothing wrong with waiting to have sex), first-time sex, slice of life, hongjoong being a love drunk simp for his girl

You trust Hongjoong in every aspect of your life. You’ve never trusted someone as much as you do Hongjoong. But that doesn’t make you any less nervous, after all, no matter how much you love and trust the man standing in front of you, there is still very much a nerve-filled aura around such an intimate act.

“Hongjoong, I- I trust you with my life. I know… I know you would never do anything that could hurt me, but I’m still a bit… well anxious.” You shyly express, hesitating to look up into your boyfriend’s eyes out of worry your words somehow offended him. To which the fairly average-height, platinum-blond-haired man responds, by taking you into his embrace and quelling your fears with words of love. 

“Darling, that’s a perfectly normal feeling. I think I’d be more worried if you weren’t slightly anxious. Of course, I won’t. I don’t ever want to do or ask you to do anything that could potentially hurt you. As long as you trust in me, I promise I will do everything in my power to treat your first time with the dignity and respect you deserve, baby.” Hongjoong coos, gently caressing your cheek while smiling brightly at you. His touch on your cheek working to further soothe the ever-racing spirals going on in your mind. 

»»———-　　———-««

“Hongieee, I- I want… I want you to be my first. Will you teach me? I want you to make love to me, Hongjoong.” You more confidently remark. “Gladly, baby. I’ll love you all night long.” He smirks, bringing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. Before you can even catch up, the kiss is already deepening as he picks you up and guides you toward his bedroom. Kisses being exchanged as a trail of clothing is being shed along the way. 

Once you reach the bedroom, Hongjoong gently deposits you on his bed. Not even giving you a second to overthink, the hem of his shirt is immediately being lifted over his head, drawing your attention away from any potential triggers and directly up toward his upper torso. “Something caught your eye, yeah, darling? Should we take your pretty little top off now, baby? It’s only fair right?” He grins, tongue poking out just ever so slightly. 

Reaching back, you slowly unzip your top, taking your time to slide your arms out. Teasingly, you hold the fabric up against your chest, as you capture Hongjoong’s full attention. “Baby…” The look in his eyes screams ‘don’t play with me’, but humor and brattiness is your way of pushing down the fears inside. You give him a mischievous grin in return before flinging your shirt in his direction. Mesmerized by your beauty, the man stands there for a minute, frozen in place. Making a ‘come-hither’ motion with your finger, your eyes invite him closer, as your hands pat the empty space of the bed. Like a man under a sorceress's spell, Hongjoong glides over to where you are. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, y/n… Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, baby.” Hongjoong comments, taking the moment to commit your beautiful soul to memory. You whine, hands desperately trying to pull him in closer, “You. I want you, Hongieee. I want you to touch me, and make me feel good. I want to feel you deep inside me. Please, Hongjoong, Please?”

“Don’t worry, I got you. I’mma take care of you, angel. Thank you for trusting me to be the first, and hopefully, only one, to share in this intimate moment with you. Relax, I got you, baby. Just trust me, okay? I’m going to kiss you some more, and touch you first, okay.” Hongjoong comments, looking for your consent. You smile and enthusiastically nod in agreement. Leaning above you, hands resting against the mattress, on either side of your head, He pulls you into another quickly growing passionate kiss. Your hands come up into his hair and pull tightly against the strands. 

Throwing your head back against the pillows and moaning out from the arousal coursing through your veins, Hongjoong shifts his focus and his kisses towards the crook of your neck. Biting down and then soothingly licking the skin, he leaves his love bites across your body, as his hands continue downwards towards the valley of your breasts. “May I, princess?” He asks, gesturing to your soft pink-laced bra, one hand hovering close to the clasp at your back. “Yes, Hongiee. Take it off me, take it all off me, babe.” You moan, granting him the permission he needs. 

Hongjoong finally reaches for the clasp and pulls the garment away from your chest. Your hands move down towards your hips and pull the matching laced panties down your legs, before throwing them off the bed. Hongjoong’s gaze is locked in on your eyes despite your clothless state. “I can’t believe your mine.” 

»»———-　　———-««

“Ohh, my god. I-I… Oh my god. Yes! Y-you, You’re making me feel so good, Hongieee. I love it, I love it, I love it so fucking much!” Your back arching off from the mattress as a response to the sensations your body is feeling for the first time, “I love how you feel inside me. I love the feeling of your cock buried in my tiny walls. Just like that, Please don’t stop. I need you to make me cum so bad.” Your legs seem to have a mind of their own as they come up and wrap tightly around Hongjoong’s waist. 

“Ohh shitt, you’re clamping down on me so much. So tight, so warm, so wet, and all for me, yeah? What did I do to deserve a beauty like you, darling? I’m glad I can make you feel good. From now on, I’m always going to try and make sure you always feel this good with me.” Hongjoong groans out, feeling himself getting high off the feeling of your hot, wet pussy clenching tightly on the girth of his cock. “I’m going to make sure you get used to this feeling, to the feeling of my cock stretching your tight little pussy out, get your little pussy used to the feeling of me buried snug within your core. You feel so tight and wet around me, angel. Ohh god, it feels so good being inside you…” 

“Hongjoong…. Ohh… Oh my god, oh my god. I love you. Thank you for being my first, thank you for being my everything. I’m yours, all yours, forever, babe.” You cry, feeling all the feelings of one’s first time. You lean up, lips gently intertwining with Hongjoong’s lips. “Mhmm. It feels so fucking good. You feel so fucking big and deep inside my little pussy. Just like that, babe. Oh fuck, just like that. Don’t stop, Oh godddd, yes, yes, Yes! don’t stop, Hongieee. Make love to me. Keep making love to me, baby!” 

“You look so pretty underneath me, angel. My beautiful princess, my butterfly. Just as you’re mine, I’m yours. I’m yours, and only yours, forever and beyond, I belong to you, darling. I love you so much, baby. Mine. I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

©️ gyuhanniescarat | 2023 — all rights reserved. Reposting/Modifying of any fic, scenario, drabble, reaction, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

#gyuhannie answers #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez hard hours #hongjoong hard hours #ateez scenarios #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong thottts #other group thottts #gyuhannie writes #jess's thoughts 🤔 #whatudowhennooneseesyou #gyuhannie.txt

[daincrediblegg]

2, 9, 11, 12, 22?

2. Do you read/reread your own fics? It really honestly kindof depends on the fandom on this one. Generally speaking when I put some creative thing out there of any kind I am loathe to re-watch or re-read it (with the exception of looking at my own fanart- unless it was especially bad I love looking back at some of my old stuff just for the sheer thrill of seeing how much progress I’ve made) BUtT!!!! There is the exception of when it’s like. I’m either in a fandom in which the character I like gets character assassinated in fics a lot of the time and I need enrichment from outside sources or my own. OR when I’m just in a fandom where people don’t write x reader fics that much for the character and I’m the only one writing them and I have to re-read myself bc that’s the only content out there (current predicament re; everything Jared Harris has been in and it’s a crime that I’ve spent the whole year trying to remedy lmao).

9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written!

OK SO!!!! This was actually a couple of paragraphs I got down yesterday and it’s some of the more solid stuff I’ve put out in recent months, but I’m very proud of how it turned out:

Sinclair was never particularly fussy when it came to her appearance, which made changing for dinner a fairly brief affair. She had learned from an early age that there was certainly no room for such attentions on a ship, and in fact had great fun in witnessing first-time sea-faring ladies, passengers of course on The Demeter, who tried to keep their appearances in spite of the swell and sway of the high seas. She remembered fondly then, the laugh of Mrs. Rose Anthony. How she’d wished to hear it now and all these months gone past. She would have laughed to see Fitzjames on the deck this morning, with that ridiculous cloak flowing behind him like a peacock with his feathers at half mast. None of the men would see it as she did. Not that she was in too much want of friends among them. But fewer still would understand her sense of humor as Rose had.  Pondering this, Sinclair forewent her shirt and waistcoat- both of which were custom tailored, as it wouldn’t do for the navy to commission such a garment. But her father had, for her sake. One of his many parting gifts. The very same man whose picture Sinclair’s gaze drifted to as she buttoned the deep blue bodice that had also been part of the set he had purchased for her, this one long sleeved to match the deep blue flannel day skirt she kept on, and which had served her so well in the chilly climate. She’d missed too how well he’d been able to do her hair for an occasion like this, where Sinclair now only managed a bun tied fairly neatly to the back of her head (more than she’d dare to manage for her daily duties, she might add), but it suited her all the same for the impression Sir John, and indeed, most of the men had of her. Neat as a pin. Diligent. A fixture of a plain sort of beauty in the corner. Never the center of their attentions, but never quite ignored.

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!

As I said in the other ask I have like. Just so many. None of them coherent- but THIS ONE has been my instrumental inspiration for a little while so there you have it. Someday I will consolidate all my fave lady terror vibes into a proper playlist... but that is not today...

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

I mean… sort of. Like in general I do like to have some kind of sense where something is going before I start it- if it’s anything I’ve learned from commercial failures like GOT and the Star Wars Sequels it’s that poor planning will fucking kill you because actually as it turns out narrative structure is important. But at the same time- I think this was a quote from George R.R. Martin that some writers are “builders” who have everything pre-conceived before they put anything down (in reference to Stephen King), and some are “gardeners” (like George) who let stories just grow as they go. For me personally I’ve never felt too tied to either camp, so I put forth my secret third option being: “chef”. I know what I want the end-product to be. I have a general sense of what it should taste like and how I should cook it-thematically speaking. But things still come up as I go. Sometimes it needs a bit more of one spice than another and I try to listen to those instincts when they tell me to add something to what I’m making. 

11 ANSWERED HERE

#ask games #PHEW. quite a bit but there you have it #also yes. rose anthony is heavily inspired by fiona shaw's character in true detective. I have a problem #anyway have fun with all this jesus christ #lady terror #egg's oc's

[roobylavender]

Your post earlier made me think about how Bruce is really dedicated to learning and acquiring knowledge and how over the course of his life he has acquired a wide array of skills across multiple fields and it just really makes we want to see a version of Bruce who loses his wealth somehow and has to do a normal job in any field because I honestly think it'd pull him out of the doom and gloom mentality and make him genuinely happy. I'm not that far into my Batman reading but I really think it would be an interesting move to make Bruce a normal dude given all the discourse around billionaire superheroes right now and it's probably the best thing for his mental health/general issues to actually be around people.

I also would like to see how it would affect his relationships with his family, friends and allies because he would be out in a position to genuinely experience their reality. Also would love to see him get a job utilising one of his obscure skills that he genuinely likes. How do you think an arc of Bruce having to live like a normal person would go? I love your comic book insights and would love to hear your take

To clarify the previous ask I know he loses his money in current canon but he still seems to be a billionaire? I think? I don't know I cannot get through most modern comics. Anyways good luck with law school and I hope you have a nice day! 🌻🌻🌻

i'm not reading the current dc or batman run and haven't been for the past few years so i am as clueless as to that situation as you are! (and thank you for the well wishes hehe i am sat in criminal law right now utterly bored out of my mind)

i couldn't agree more though! a slight tangent to this idea but one criticism of the dark knight rises that i have noticed bleeds over into opinions of bruce's future in the comics is this idea that he can only ever be batman and if he does not intend to die as batman then the writer behind that decision has failed to understand his character. it's one i'm very confused by and heavily disagree with. before bruce is batman he's bruce. batman exists bc of bruce. it took at least a decade before the specific idea of batman was even implanted into bruce's head if we're going by classic takes on the batman origin story. he had interests before that! he had a life! we are able to see on several occasions that he still wants to have a life even though it grows increasingly difficult to do so while he takes responsibility for being the city's savior. which is what i think makes the concluding thesis of the dark knight rises (for all of its well-criticized flaws) so, so good bc it allows bruce to acknowledge that he doesn't have to carry the world on his shoulders alone, and that acknowledgment isn't reproachful in and of itself, esp where he has people to carry on the cause

i've talked here before about critics' attention to the nihilism of the nolan movies and their focus on the batman as a singular, crucial savior without whom the city falls to pieces, and i totally agree that criticism of building vigilantism on nihilism's foundations is viable. but i also think it's a criticism conveniently made for that movie bc the scope of bruce's immediate posse is incredibly limited. at most he is only ever closely accompanied by two people in any given movie so it's easier to be skeptical of the idea that gotham is presented to only ever need one savior bc there aren't many others to choose from. i do think the dark knight gets close at challenging that notion with the boats set-up towards the end but nolan fails to really see it through when he carries it forward via john blake, who is not only one person, but also a cop. there's a great idea there in bruce indirectly inspiring someone else to do good and act of his own volition but whether its impact is completely effective is debatable and i think most people would agree using the actual robin would have been a far better alternative. the novelty of batman comics in comparison to the nolan trilogy is that superheroes are everywhere. people who do good are everywhere. we are all heroes inherently if we so choose to be. bruce has an entire support system he can trust to carry forward the same faith and duty that he has been for years if he happens to lose it all or need a break or whatever

and i know you're only specifically talking about him losing his wealth so my sincere apologies for going off on such a wild tangent lol! but i do imagine the loss of wealth or even voluntary removal from it would be attached to a departure from batman as well, whether temporary or permanent. i think there's an interesting thread to follow there with how bruce's wealth not only isolates him from certain realities but also enables his dedication to being batman bc he simply always has material and resources at his disposal by way of that wealth (he kind of has to bc otherwise he's more exposedly human). what does he do when he doesn't have immediate access to those things? how does his awareness of ordinary people's circumstances increase and how does that in turn influence the way he chooses to live going forward? it's a really great way to connect him more deeply to people like selina and leslie whose entire survival is premised on their brutal understanding of normalcy and its tension with survival in a place that is anything but normal. bruce has a good head on his shoulders and an even more sympathetic heart but i want to see him really come face to face with the things that only ever exist in his periphery bc his attachment to resources always demands that he fights the foes to match those resources. get him involved with the community on the ground and lead his inclination towards good will to its natural conclusion of people interaction. bc bruce loves people! he craves companionship. if he could spend the rest of his life working with people and for people i think he would. so on the note of what i think he would do i genuinely feel like bruce would love anything to do with community service. involvement in things like student mentorship programs are great bc they're a huge well of creativity for teachers trying to inspire kids to be passionate about their interests and skills. and bruce definitely has the experience from how he trains his robins (esp how he used to in the olden days when it was all chummy gymnastics and boxing friendlies!)

#sorry this is so all over the place this is what happens when i get excited about answering a question and i don't read #it carefully enough and end up going on tangents everywhere. but i hope even a lick of this makes sense bc it's truly such #an interesting point along which to explore bruce as a character esp if it's executed genuinely! #i feel like no man's land was potentially a way to explore this with bruce but unfortunately bc there was such a strong focus #on pro govt and pro cop morale the potential to explore bruce's integrity was obscured #outbox

[hall0ween-twn]

Hello! Can you please write a incubus Jaehyun?

INCUBUS!JAEHYUN??? ANON YOU WANT ME TO DIE?????

oh he's such a pretty one too, got some of the others jealous. <333

this is kinda a dream i had and i kinda dont remember some of it so but it was based off of fear street bc i love those books, really inspires me as a writer ngl bc i love point horror books but - gasps for air

you just moved into this weird town with your mom, it's the late 80s.. maybe '89. it's a quiet town, for the most part but conspiracies run amok. moms in a small, quiet town don't have anything else better to do besides talk gossip and conspiracies, especially in the late 80s.

anyways, you moved in next to mark lee. he's cute and funny and he slowly became your friend. every friday, you have a movie night with him, well, as best as you can. sometimes life gets in the way.

one thursday night, while the two of you were looking at the movies in the local rental store, you accidentally bump into someone. you say sorry and go on with it, not really paying attention to him. you did get a glimpse of him and wowie! he's so pretty! he was probably a college student anyways.

next night, no movie night. go figure. it didn't bother you much, you needed to study anyways. you're in your room and you hear a door open, thinking it was the front door.. but mom yells she's home when she comes through the door. you're now starting to get worried too, because she should've been home by now and she hasn't even called you?

you get up from your desk and go check the front door. closed and locked. hm. you turn around and the back door is wide open, which is odd because it was also locked. mark doesn't have a key to your door. you don't really think nothing of it, just closed the door and relocked it, tired from the studying.

you head to bed but you just struggled to sleep, hearing all of these sounds and you swore you kept seeing something in the dark corners of your room. part of you thinks it's mark playing tricks on you, naturally of course. he's really your only friend anyways.

this goes on for months too. your mom says she's never heard anything, mark swears on his life he has nothing to do with it. it gets worse as the months go on, you're hearing and seeing things outside of your room. in class, in stores, hell even in mark's own room.

one night, you wake up from another light somber, just really frustrated. you felt your soul leave your body the moment you lock eyes with the guy from the rental store. you don't know his name but it's jaehyun. how did he get there? how did he know where you lived? shit, was he stalking you? rightfully so, you're terrified. he kissed your head and tells you to go back to sleep before vanishing, but he's still there, watching you sleep.

i'm sorry if this came out dry af, like i said, it was a dream and i barely remember it and im coming off a burnout but i still hope you like it nonetheless

#[twn] incubus!jaehyun #[twn] ask #[twn] anon #jaehyun blurb #nct 127 blurb #nct blurb #kpop blurb

[silentxxsoul]

The 'Season Sex...I mean Season Six' reaction dump

^ Live look @ me, rejoicing my fruity lil firefighters are back on my screen

Last year my attention was divided by October Baseball and this show.

This year is not last year, and we do not speak of the Red Sox atm bc it makes me sad.

However, fantasy football is in full swing and literally all three of my top players play tonight, so this (as if it isn't already) will be a complete shit show of 911 feels and me yelling about grown men chasing a football across the field.

Anyway, quick top of mind predictions to look back on to see how wildly wrong I am:

Buck has dinner with the Diaz boys and laments about Bobby not thinking he was put together enough to be interim captain when Chris hits him with "Buck, you don't even have a couch."

For legal reasons, that will make it into a fic of mine (that will only exist on my hard drive) if it isn't in the show.

Buckley-Han family feels, primarily we get talking Jee-Yun and some good quality therapy time for Madney. I'm still firmly in the camp that the 'non spoilers' was for Madney moving back in together permanently, but I literally can't get Bobby helping May move into the dorms out of my head and y'all...I'm emotional.

Bobby already talked to Hen about the captain thing and she declined, but then reconsiders after Lucy's niece took her out.

Buck himbo moments, and the o/u of facts spewing is set at 3.5. I'm taking the over btw

So much of Eddie 'Heart Eyes Diaz'. Seriously, I need so much of that man on my screen. Especially with his smitten 'can't stop looking at my husband' faces.

HenRen celebrating Hen's promo, because they deserve all the fluffy and lovey scenes

aaaaaaaand now on to the *actual* reactions

I'll be honest P!ATD opening S6 was not on my bingo card lmao

*narrator voice* Something in fact, did happen

Maddie is back and all is well ahhhhhhhhhhhh ♥♥♥

Driver Buck is back ??????? say less

The anxiety while she searches for the other backpack is killing me

Eddie back in action I just --

Like, on one hand I'm bummed the blimp thing was that fast but on the other hand it leaves so much room for activities (see: domestic 118)

BUCK COOKING AT THE LOFT WHILE HIS HUSBAND AND KID PLAY BOARD GAMES I MEAN THE FAN FIC WRITERS KEEP WINNING

CHRISTOPHER LMAO

Seriously, like father like son. 🥰

I mean, this whole fucking domestic scene made my heart explode like, you're going to look at me and tell me that I'm wrong? Those men are married, your honor.

Wood chippers are a hard no from me, no way sounds like a good time to check in on the Bills game

WHAT A FUCKING TERRIBLE TIME TO LOOK BACK I REPEAT TERRIBLE TIMING WTF

pretty on brand for 911 tho

Neither did I Eddie, neither did I.

Eddie is so over Buck's antics, I can't lmao

Like father, like clipboard toting-overprepared son

I could never have the willpower or patience to win a car that way, and that's coming from someone who was two seconds from torching my own car because it once again exploded coolant from a random orifice.

Eddie nailing the disappointed dad tone before wanting to yell at a bitch 😂

Buck looks way too happy to be toting a saw around 🤣

Y'all they weren't joking about packing in the emergencies

I love, love, love the friendship between Athena and Hen ♥♥♥

YES MADDIE OVER COME THE PROBLEMS AND GET YOUR HAPPY ENDING PLS PLS PLS IM BEGGING YOUUUUUUU

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

(full disclosure I was pretty sure his hand wasn't aiming for her hand 🤭)

Oh so they hooked up hooked up and he ghosted oh no no no no no

Eddie sipping coffee like the little gossip he is 🥰🥰🥰

Also can we just salivate appreciate the arms on that man I mean wowwwwwww

MADNEY IS BACK BITCHES

So hear me out, Buck helps Eddie by patching his walls, Eddie helps Buck pick a couch by moving him into his house, sharing his bed, and wooing the fuck out of his husband

Buck baby, I'm begging you to stop while you are a head bc she's going to eat you alive

The look of realization on Bobby's face I'm crying

Anyway, I need them to have a serious talk bc Buck is clearly spiraling and oh christ the couch 🤣

Was that Eddie doing curls in the background ????

Yo you can't just have him walk around with a chair like that I need a little warning here

I'm going to need 8-10 business days to process everything in this episode, most centering around that dinner scene because aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

*insert buddie manifest circle*

Like I barely remember this all started with the poor girl and her temporary heart, and we went through a whole ass rollercoaster to get to the end.

What a cliffy to end on WHATTTTTTT

I'm going to need 8-10 business days to process everything in this episode, most centering around that dinner scene because aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

*insert buddie manifest circle*

Like I barely remember this all started with the poor girl and her temporary heart, and we went through a whole ass rollercoaster to get to the end

#911 fox #911 spoilers #911 fox spoilers #reaction dump #tldr:im thirsty for eddie; loving the diaz fam feels; obsessing over madney; living for buck angst and self discovery; hyped for hen #and terrified for bathena bc those poor babes need something to go right for them for one

[cryscendo]

35 Asks for Fanfiction Writers

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

thanks for the ask!!

7. this is gonna be weirdly specific. a younger version of me would have said that description is weakness. however, now that i’m older, ive gotten better at it. where i feel like i struggle now its more just knowing what is a good balance of description to dialogue. i love dialogue and feel like i write it well. i just don’t want my writing to become over encumbered by dialogue.

23. independent ideas! i struggle with prompts sometimes bc like being able to come up with stuff like that on my own. however, a small bank of prompts to choose from is usually fine!

34. below is another excerpt from the songfic i’ve been working on! i’ve been really proud of how it’s been coming out <3

send me an ask!

~~~

“I would have liked for acting to work out, but realistically, no male leads are ever really written with someone like me in mind.”

Blaine shook his head, though it was by no means condescending. “I think that’s the theatre industry’s loss then. You were always twice the talent of any other actor out there.”

Kurt really hoped that his cheeks weren’t heating up at Blaine’s words. He schooled his expression well, but the man always had a way with saying the right thing at the right time. It’s easy to see how Kurt fell for him, in retrospect. “That’s easy for you to say. You were every casting director’s dream man. Hell, you probably still are. It was different with me, and you knew that. I had to work twice as hard to get half the amount of attention.” This really should come as no surprise to Blaine, especially given how they met. They met at an open casting call and though Blaine had received a role, Kurt, unsurprisingly yet still disappointingly did not. Many would attribute it to age and experience, — both of which Blaine had a considerable amount on Kurt, — but with some things, it is simply superficial. Blaine has the look that those directors were going for, not Kurt. “And don’t think I don’t see right through your flattery. I’m still mad at you.”

Blaine cracked a small smile, nodding. “Understood.” Kurt watched as Blaine took a sip of his coffee. It was still somewhat surreal looking at the face of a man that he had convinced himself that he could eventually build a future with. Blaine wasn’t like any other boy that Kurt dated. Blaine felt like a potential for forever. “But I wouldn’t call it flattery. I truly do just feel that way.”

It was hard to always trust what Blaine felt. Through experience, he had begun to learn that what Blaine felt did not always line up with his actions.

#asks #bitbybitwrites #ask game

[nbwriteschaos]

i've returned with more book rambles!

**mild spoilers for exhale by joel abernathy. content warning for discussions of smut & death ??? weird combo but i promise it's in different contexts**

i find it quite funky that both of the silly little book (over)reviews i've posted here now are about gay werewolves and shifting... i promise i don't have a thing for it. (🤨📸) i actually picked this up on kindle unlimited bc i remembered i had subscription that i abandoned and still paid for, and therefore decided to expand my pallete and start diving into the world of adult queer fiction.

to quickly sum it up for all of my fellow short attention spanned friends: rough southern human dad joins his dead wife's werewolf pack lead by her ex-alpha bf to save their daughter and falls in love with said dead wife's ex-alpha bf. good story, great smut, 3.5 ⭐️

i started this a few days ago and just kinda went for it based off of the description, but i was pleasantly surprised! it was a pretty quick paced, smooth ride which is exactly my cup of tea in novels and always earns a quick star from me. immediately upon the start, the setting and atmosphere became clear and immersive. even though i found that the the writing style wasn't very descriptive and instead pretty straight forward (this is coming as a purple prose loving writer tho), the small town of clarksville came to me as a sepia colored place with rich history between it and the main character, jack. it really drew out the vibes of who he was as a character, and who he would be as the story progressed-- which certainly wasn't disappointing! plus, i reallyyyy think joel abernathy hit the nail on the head with the worldbuilding in this series. each character had a connection somewhere with something and that made it all the more enjoyable.

jack was a great character to begin the story with. i didn't find there to be too much intense growth for him throughout the plot as he was kind of already built with a decent amount of positive traits like being a supportive dad, having that gruff dad attitude, and not-so-subtly hiding a soft spot for his daughter and pretty alpha werewolves, BUT i still found the development of his character to be quite sweet and satisfactory especially when it came time to reveal those secrets about his wife. the very last development that came with him was sort of a surprise and seemed a little out of place despite the foreshadowing, like it was kind of put in there for more shock factor, but it seemed a little too far out of the storyline to even be considered a breaking point. i loved his relationship with his daughter, ellie, and the trans representation she brought was great as it was not subtle or skipped over like many other novels will do on that topic. even though we don't see much of her, i loved her a lot as a character.

AND THEN, we have nicolae, the male alpha of the pack who is conveniently jack's dead wife's ex-mate and his eventual lover (not a spoiler, like, at all). from the start he was enjoyable and super fun to read, i couldn't take him seriously at all. i don't know if that was the point, but as my own interpretation, he was just a silly sarcastic guy who had to be unfortunately serious in regards to his role. plus, he was hot as hell even through the written word. which gets me started on this: the smut scenes in this book were *chefs kiss*. like, tears rolling down my legs, blushing, screaming, flailing around *chefs kiss.* they were so GOOD. so detailed and fun and hothothotttt. their relationship throughout the story was great and well built, but i probably would also be okay just reading 250 pages of smut about them too. seriously tho, their dynamic is great and i always love to see a good little sunshine x brooding character moment. i found they thrived in that department and it gave so much oomf to their chemistry in scenes. their reasoning for being together, their past, their future, etc, was very well executed, albeit maybe, just maybe a little questionable and/or rushed? but tied the story together nicely by the end.

on another note, the plot was good! i did find it fell short in some areas and went sky high in others. there were certain plot points that felt a little out of place, and the pacing between character and relationship developments were kind of all over the board, but considering the length of the novel and the rest of the coming books, it was tolerable and made me eager to learn more about the world. because like i said- the worldbuilding is fucking fantastic.

all in all, i would definitely give this like a 3.5 star out of 5. it lacked in some places and thrived in others, so it's appropriate to give it an in between rating i guess?? (i truly hate rating books because i love everything i read in one way or another but...) i believe it's totally worth checking out and supporting if you're interested in werewolves, angst and.... romance ;)

#book reviews #book rambles #exhale joel abernathy #lgbt books #writeblr #kindle

[castle-dominion]

c4x5 eye of the beholder

I'm so freaking excited it has been so long since I've been able to bingewatch & liveblog!

Heist film ok! Fellow's just playing with wires & having fun. Love the music.

Thank goodness for subtitles I like how her first thought is "excuse me" before she realizes he's dead

Castle is in the groove. Point for the adhd headcanon. I'm adhd I get to decide which characters have adhd & the answer is most of them. RC: Too late. He just went kersplat. Now…how can I help you? Hey A Doll's House was a... an interesting & tragic but beautiful play & I got to play the audio version while my brother was talking to his friend named stella. "Stella! Stella!"

MR: Fiasco? You married her. Well he has the occasional poker club, he played with The Team & capt montgomery a while back, he had a gotham city crew with the judge, the mayor, & montgomery, he has his writer's poker club...

Sometimes art is about emotional response not looking pretty. It is about intrigue, anger... Tho sometimes the real art is the essay the artist writes explaining it not the art itself.

Oh yeah beckett never told castle she was a model

RC: Somebody stole The Fist of Capitalism? Anyone check up the ass of socialism? ASDFHSKLJDFHAKLDSJFAKJSDFJKALSDFJ MY POOR MOTHER WAS NOT PAYING ATTENTION WHEN WE WATCHED IT SO I REPEATED IT FOR HER & SHE WAS CSO DISSAPPOINTED WITH ME BUT IT WAS SO FUNNY. ANYONE CHECK UP THE ASS OF SOCIALISM XD XD XD I'M LEGITIMATELY LAUGHING OUT LOUD & I HAVE HEARD IT BEFORE IT'S JUST SO GOOD. Some ppl are probably thinking "what's so funny? It was just a little comedic comment, nothing more" but I say f you it's funny to me. Wait what anticapitalist would make an art piece called the fist of capitalism worth 50mil & sell it to wealthy capitalists? You know what? I don't care, they can make money off of it then let them. They can spend the money buying land for their community garden.

If I remember correctly, why was she so shocked when she found him dead? Ryan is not wearing a tie but still has a green button up shirt & a brown double breasted coat what hehas undone except I think it is designed to LOOK double breasted but it is not since I can see both buttons on one side & it is not done up... I like how RYAN at least takes notes. Must have a good shorthand to be able to record it. of course he was worried someone would steal it bro maybe he WAS paranoid & his paranoia turned out to be right. I'm paranoid that doors will lock behind me (too much dnd) but sometimes I'm right so that paranoia pays off

How sharp are those spikes? I feel like it would take A Lot of force to get him impaled & it would be difficult to get him stuck on there that far back w/o you yourself getting impaled

I wanted to do vulnerability assessment at some point. Still, I wouldn't mind. That's one of the reasons I learned how to pick locks. BECKETT'S job is proof, so you should help HER find the proof. becks is so territorial, just let the gal help

it is not a lucky guess it was an educated hypothesis (that "mno" ryan said <3) [Gates pokes her head out of her office.] GATES Beckett! [Gates returns to her office.] RYAN Oh, great, what'd you do now? BECKETT (whisper) Shut up. So is this the next day or smth? bc castle went from red to blue, ryan went from green shirt no tie to thinly striped red/purple/grey (i can't tell) shirt WITH a tie this time. Becks is wearing a cute tie too today. Castle *spits drink in a mist* Ryan *looks up at it*

Girl he has expertise at writing, at getting into the mind of a killer.

Castle & ryan watching them but as soon as becks looks over just *quick get back to work* Girl shut the up she wants her finder's fee & she is helping!

Ryan *explaining the case* sericka (serena/rick) *googoo eyes* Ryan *uncomfy* Exceot she took the flash drive didn't she? why doesn't she give it to them if she's trying to help? She's right, too hot. Espt: *yo info!* *stops when seeing a pretty lady* Castle: "she's with us" Espt: *uncomfy* ok. Anyhow. *to beckett* [info]

SK, being just a little bit smug & a-hole-like: Now that we have some direction, I can get us some leads. KB: Great. Let’s go. SK: You can’t come. KB: I’m sorry, you might have misunderstood the word “consultant”. This is my case. SK: The people there won’t talk to cops. But they’ll talk to me. RC: *starts following* KB: Where are you going? RC: Uh…I’m not a cop either… He's right transript: "Ryan makes an "ooh, dangerous territory" look."

Finn: Busy with what? Jason Bateman over here? RC: Hey, that got me out of a speeding ticket once. Castle u don't know NOT to tell that!

JE: Serena was right. Falco’s a badass. Look how phat his Interpol file is. She just comes in out of nowhere interrupts them in the breakroom, which reminds me, I need to talk to my coworker about his legally required breaks. He needs to take them & clock out for that time. Grab a drink. Sit outside for a few. Yeah a good apartment is SO divorce worthy lol Becks he said any means necessary, Joy it does not necessarily mean theft

Why doesn't he have a lawyer? Ryan playing with his pen point for the adhd hc He knew falco was a person! How?

Ryan *walks all swaying* *sees sericka* *walks straight* Hayes was paranoid that it would be stolen & fenced, he was probably asking for the same reason sericka asked "the usual" Becks is so jeally. She told castle she's a one writer girl & isn't cheating on him by working with alex conrad but now rick is cheating on her with another sexy muse. it's the fbi agent again.

psychologist moments <3 Martha moments <3

Basically asking her permission. espt looks like he's wearing pyjamas. (long sleeve pyjama looking shirt with only a few buttons on the top & a lighter grey breast pocket.) & then ryan is wearing a nice v light grey dress shirt with a nice square patterned tie & darker grey coat.

Hostess: That’s right. She was in her 30s, but still really hot.

KR: No, no, thank you. (hangs up) Hey, just got off with the insurance company. Guess what Serena did before she worked for them? RC: Kindergarten teacher? JE: Art thief. KR: Alleged art thief. JE: Whatever. Vulnerability assessment bro! Check her hair gel tho! I like gates. *stink eye*

Ah yes, heist movie style. I like castle's square patterned coat

Where is ryan? Esposito talking feelings with beckett <3 She just readily admits she was a thief Indigenous rights! Heck yeah screw nazis screw the ss, steal back that painting babe! Return the mummy from the previous episode to the indigenous people it belongs to! Go to england & take back that totem pole for my wetsuweten cousins! Give kookum's blanket back to her grandbabies! I'm glad I was not eating cereal at that whip comment Tha'ts a giant hotel room WITH EXTRA WHIPPED CREAM-- Why does she have her phone out? Why does she have it on the table? what if she LEAVES it? oh those are some sexy tools. Oh at least becks got her phone & texted him back. You know what? Good on him. Now sneak away behind him quickly now hsakjhhsdjfh why did you say "hey" to her bro!?? Espt just there & castle has lipstick on his face now lol

KB: Yeah, well, you’re thinking with the wrong body part. He's thinking with his head, not his heart, the head of his dick eyoo! SHe's right, don't let him in on the investigation. Still, where is ryan? Castle don't make that gesture, that's how u get arrested for murder RC: I was only doing--! [The interrogation room door slams in his face.] RC: …what you asked! [Castle turns away from the door then turns back around and makes a strangling motion. He pulls down his suit coat as he enters Observation.] [Ryan and Esposito look at Castle.] RC: I thought I’d sit this one out. (bro they heard) [Esposito nods "Uh-huh." Ryan moves over some files for Castle to have a seat on the desk. I wish I could describe what they look like, the way ryan moves the files is so Something. Castle sits Right Beside ryan & it reminds me of that time castle was sitting on the desk & ryan pushed him half off in 3x1]

SK: And here I thought Rick was the only writer on your team. KR: Rick? You guys on a first name basis, now? JE: Well, he was making out with her in the hotel hallway. KR: *looks at rick shocked* RC: Beckett told me to stall her. JE: She also tell you to use tongue? KR: *shakes his head* Her eyes are really pretty. A nice dark blue. KR: Yeah, like, strangely calm. Maybe she didn’t do it. Either that, or she’s a psychopath. In which case, *hits castle gently* you sure can pick ‘em. Yeah SK is really hot tbh, & not just in a physical sense She's right: Because in my experience the police just get in the way. My job’s to recover the sculpture, not play nice.

Hotels are insane. *intense music* *Ryan, Esposito, and three S.W.A.T. members stand in the elevator with a hotel manager while ditty elevator music plays.* *intense music & breaking down doors*

I swear man didn't do it Oh nvm he def did. But I like him. How did he get the name falco btw? Who gave it to him? I love him. Hair gel is perfectly manly bro, the only women I know who use hair gel are punks. Then again punks often get called fags so idk. Oh he is falco. I really like him

*sees sexy lady* Whoa. Bad cop struck out, good cop gets a turn? they totally are thief flirting. See? Vulnerability assessment! You didn't catch her skin colour?

it CAN be paranoia

Castle you can OPEN it you don't need to Kick It Open! Yeah lol if it was her why did she flip when she found the body?

Oh nvm it's this lady

U missed the "t"

I like how serena actually thanks becks. I also like how castle flips that cup. Made them each a coffee <3 She doesn't steal things that belong to someone else aaaaaaah Well castle that's what u get for breaking their stuff! Date night! nice music! thank god I'm rich

#castle 4x5 #castle 4x5 spoilers #castle 4x5 quote #the heist episode

[batarangsoundsdumb]

STOP COMPLEMENTING MY MIXED JAPANESE TIM HC YOURE MAKING ME WANT TO WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT IT OR SOMETHING

go check it out!

#i love your headcanons so much!!!!!! #like i love tim headcanons because he doesn't get enough attention from dc #well now he's getting attention bc the head writer loves him but it's still not enough #also jewish! tim is such a cool headcanon im pretty sure latchkey by goldkirk talks about that #especially since comics as a whole has its roots in jewish-american culture #i love you so much is what im talking about haha write this fic please and thank you :) #anon #bataranswers #tim drake #red robin #edit: im adding a few tags bc some folks dont agree with racial headcanons and i want to make my blog enjoyable for everyone #racial headcanons #asian tim drake #mixed japanese tim drake

[leejungchans]

scored! : l.c

word count | 12.4k (SORRY idk why i do this to myself either)

pairing | lee chan (svt) x female reader

warning(s) / includes | swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, food mentions (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour, university au, enemies-to-lovers au

notes | uh i don’t really know how game season works bc it’s not really a thing in unis here (?) so ;-; please forgive me for any (inevitable) inaccuracies hghhghe also this is my first time making a moving banner so shhh just ignore how bad it is gwhsha

summary: lee chan should really stop winning so many games for your university, because as the resident writer for the sports column of the student newsletter, you’re starting to get really sick of having to cross paths with him all the time.

a/n: happy birthday to my boyfriend (/j) chan who’s also a loser (affectionate ig) bc he never pays rent for living in my head 🙄💗 also just thought everyone should see this clip that kinda inspired this whole fic okay bye—

WEEK NINE.

You love writing for your university’s student newsletter, you really do; you just hate the person you have to write about.

“Stupid Lee Chan and his stupid wins,” you grumble, stomping across the football field with your notebook grasped tightly in your hold. Seungkwan kindly got you one with a hard cover for the new school year, because he will never forget that particular afternoon last year when you stormed into Wonwoo’s office and slammed down a crumpled sheet of recycled paper onto his hardwood desk, with LEE CHAN’S STUPID INTERVIEW #4 messily scrawled across the top of the page.

Something about the look on your face that day told Seungkwan you didn’t particularly care if Chan saw the title, written in all caps with a black marker. Hell, you probably wanted him to see.

Thus entered the hard-cover notebook so no other innocent sheet of paper would have to meet its unfortunate demise at the hands of your never-ending feud with the star player.

“Well,” Mingyu begins, easily catching up to you thanks to his long legs, “they don’t call him the ace of the team for no reason, you gotta admit that those goals he scored at the game were pretty awesome. Redstone U stood no chance.”

You hate everything about the soccer field; the dirt that gets trapped between the grooves of your soles, the occasional rogue ball that comes whipping at your head at light speed, the jock who’s currently waiting for you at the bleachers…

“Yeah, he’s a good player, I guess. But I think he let all the attention get to his head.” You lift your free hand to shield your face from the late afternoon sun, beads of sweat already forming along your hairline. Damn you for always forgetting to apply sunscreen before heading to the field, Minghao will have your head when he finds out. “Every time he poses for you while you take his photos, I just want to throw up.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mingyu singsongs, “people don’t throw themselves at him for no reason either. Plus, I think that blonde hair he has going on right now suits him really well.”

Your lips purse together as you swallow down a bitter remark about how you absolutely do not find Lee Chan attractive, especially not with the new hair colour he got done over the summer. Who cares that a compliment from Kim Mingyu, most-eligible-bachelor-on-campus extraordinaire, means you’re undeniably hot with a capital ‘H’ and the trademark symbol? Certainly not you.

“Whatever,” you mutter, annoyance rising upon spying the bane of your existence in the third row, seventh seat from the left, “let’s just get this over with.” You don’t notice the smile that creeps its way onto your photographer friend’s face as he trails behind you, amusedly observing the way you stomp over to Chan.

“Glad you finally showed up, Y/N,” Chan says with that insufferable smirk of his, “you can never get enough of me, huh? Who knew you’d still be writing for the sports column despite claiming to hate my guts.”

“Because I actually enjoy writing about the other athletes at Pledis U who don’t walk around acting like people worship the ground they walk on.”

Chan places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “You really know how to hurt a man, don’t you?”

“Only if it's you.”

“Aw, I didn’t know I was that special to you.” He has the audacity to lean in, his cocky grin unwavering as the afternoon sun accentuates all the sharp angles of his face. “You find me irresistible, Y/N, admit it.”

Mingyu, sensing you’re only minutes away from bursting a blood vessel, graciously cuts in. He’s always been on friendly terms with Chan, anyways. “No practice today?” he asks, nodding towards the athlete’s casual wear as opposed to the team uniform he usually dons whenever he’s on the field.

“Nah, Coach gave us a few days off. If this is your way of asking me to hang out, I guess I can make some time for you guys, especially for Little Miss Reporter over here.”

“No thanks,” you snap, “I see enough of your face already, and the same goes for Mingyu since he has to edit your stupid photos for the column all the time.”

“Suit yourselves. So… the interview?”

You really should’ve known that Lee Chan would never make your job easy, because you’re only at your third question when he lets out a scornful chuckle.

Your eyes narrow as your hand subconsciously tightens around your pen. “What now?”

The boy leans back on his hands, still watching you with that shit-eating grin on his face. “You ask the same questions every time, it’s kinda boring, don’t you think?”

“And you give the same answers each interview, but you don’t hear me complaining,” you shoot back, “it’s not my fault that people want to read these things about you.”

It’s true. For one of his interviews last year, you decided to mix the questions up a bit just so you could get a change of scenery, only to later have people come up to you in lectures asking why you left out the riveting part about Lee Chan’s workout routine.

You almost screamed, and after that Minghao started getting you to meditate with him.

“Ah, I see... Well then, please continue. Wouldn’t want to disappoint my fans.”

“I don’t know how you can still stand up straight with that huge head of yours.”

“I was just joking. You’re cute when you’re all grumpy like this, by the way.”

“I have a pen in my hand, Lee Chan, I would try being less infuriating if I were you.”

The smirk that tugs at his pretty pink lips burns your insides with anger, a clear sign that he did not find you threatening in the slightest. “See? Cute.”

Unfortunately, your woes don’t end with the interview. Having Kim Mingyu as the newsletter’s photographer is a double-edged sword, because while his photos always come out looking like he plucked them from some high fashion magazine, his need for perfection also meant that you have to sit through 20 minutes of Lee Chan’s posing.

So you settle for doodling flowers in the margins of your notebook while you wait on the bleachers, hoping it will make you appear occupied while keeping the temptation to watch at bay.

“It’s a little hot, do you mind if I lose the jacket?”

“Sure. Wait! Drape it over your shoulder like thi—yeah, yeah, yeah, like that! Okay, hold still…”

Against your mind’s warning, your gaze tears away from the page to where Mingyu is currently taking Chan’s photos on the field, mentally slapping yourself for gawking at the way his white T-shirt clings to his figure.

Much to your embarrassment, your eyes meet when he looks away from the camera momentarily, and the ever-growing grin on his face tells you it’s far too late to avert your gaze and pretend you haven’t been staring.

“Like what you see?” you hear him call out.

“You wish!”

“I don’t blame you for looking!” Chan yells back, and it just makes you want to bury yourself in a hole before someone else can hear him. “Let me know if you want my shirt off too!”

“Fuck off!”

You want to take his denim jacket and fling it into the sun where it can burn like your extreme dislike for him. (“Hate’s a strong word, Y/N,” Minghao always says.) You also hate how Mingyu’s looking at you, like he’s trying very hard not to say something that will have you chasing him around whacking his head with your notebook.

Hm, maybe Seungkwan was right to get you one with a hard cover. You make a mental note to thank him later.

“You sure you didn’t want his shirt off?” Mingyu asks teasingly on your way back to campus.

“No, I did not.” It’s just the heat that’s making your cheeks burn. Just the heat.

“He’s totally into you.”

“He flirts with everything that walks on two legs. Plus, he was definitely doing it just to piss me off.”

“Whatever you say,” your friend hums, so engrossed in clicking through the photos he took that he would’ve walked right into a pillar if you hadn’t pulled on his sleeve to steer him away. “Anyways, these are some pretty cool shots, especially because of the sun! Ugh, I love golden hour. Wanna have a look?”

He wags his camera in your face, to which you gently push it away with a scowl. “Absolutely not. Now watch where you’re going.”

WEEK SIXTEEN.

“No.”

“But it’d be a fun team-building activity for all of us!” Despite putting on your sweetest smile, your editor doesn’t seem convinced.

“I know you’re just trying to get out of doing the sports column for a bit because the soccer team won another game,” Wonwoo reveals as he pushes his glasses up, “I know you don’t like Lee Chan, but he’s not all that bad. I’ve spoken to him before.”

“W-Well, he’s different with you guys than when he’s talking to me! Anyways, swapping columns would be so fun even if it’s just for a few issues! Like, imagine me taking over Michelin Shua!”

“‘Take over’?” Joshua whines, “Michelin Shua is doing just fine and you don’t know the nuances that come with it!”

“You go to restaurants outside campus and review their food! What nuances can there possibly be? Ugh, fine. What if I do Project Vernway?”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Vernon teases, pretending to check his nails like a haughty socialite, “Project Vernway is serious business.”

“You rate students’ outfits on whether or not they’re related to The Simpsons, Powerpuff Girls, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!”

“Precisely. It’s a very serious business that requires someone with an eye for fashion to handle.”

You whirl round to face Seungkwan, the newsletter’s resident advice columnist who also happens to be your last hope. He’s always been the most sympathetic to your predicament with Lee Chan, the two having butted heads quite often from their time in elementary school.

He beats you to it before you can even present your case. “Sorry, Y/N. I love you, but I wouldn’t trust you with giving advice to anyone.”

“Rude!”

“Minghao told me you once almost fought a squirrel in the quad,” he deadpans.

“It hissed at me! Plus, he was the one who told me I needed to start asserting myself more!”

“I don’t think he meant doing it to a glorified rat with a bushy tail!”

Vernon gasps, utterly scandalised. “Hey! You crossed the line with that one!”

God, you need new friends. Like, right now.

“Aw, don’t look so down, Y/N,” Joshua coos, smiling brightly despite your obvious despair, “we all know you like him more than you let on.”

“Yeah, and don’t think I didn’t catch you looking through the photos I took for him from his last interview,” Mingyu chimes in, shooting you a pointed look from his desk in the corner of the room. He’d been so silent the entire meeting that you almost forgot he’s in the room with you all.

“I—I was doing quality control!”

“Liar,” Vernon coughs, quickly raising his hands in mock surrender when you swivel around to give him your best death glare. “Sorry, just a tickle in my throat.”

“Anyways, we’re not doing the column exchange,” Wonwoo concludes. The steely gaze he sends you through his wire-framed glasses tells you it’s not up for debate, hence effectively ending the conversation. “You’ll be fine, Y/N, the people like what you write for the sports column, and besides, this will probably be the last piece you write on Chan before winter break.”

A heavy sigh pushes out of your chest. “Fine.”

•••

It’s not fine.

mingyu 🐶 [15:23] okay don’t kill me but

mingyu 🐶 [15:23] sth came up with the photog club and i can’t come :(

y/n [16:01] WHAT

y/n [16:01] IM LITERALLY ALREADY AT THE BLEACHERS

y/n [16:01] I CANT DO THIS ALONE MINGYU PLEASE

mingyu 🐶 [16:03] YES YOU CAN!! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!

mingyu 🐶 [16:03] c’mon i’ll buy you ice cream later 🥺

y/n [16:03] ……..fine

“Your muse has arrived.”

You look up from your notepad with a scowl as Lee Chan walks up the steps to where you’re sitting, wrinkling your nose upon taking note of his damp hair and uniform. It physically pains you to admit that despite it all, he still manages to look good.

“Trust me, you do not inspire me in the slightest,” you sneer, putting some distance between you two when he unceremoniously plops himself into the seat next to you. “But thanks for agreeing to do this during your break.”

The wink he flashes you makes you almost regret thanking him. “Anything for you, Y/N. Where’s Mingyu?”

“Busy. He’ll text you later to schedule your photos.”

“Aw, why the sad face? Missing him already?”

“So what if I am?” The challenging cock of your eyebrow wipes the mocking pout off Chan’s face as his heart involuntarily beats a little faster, unable to help himself from secretly wondering if you were serious.

He huffs in mild aggravation, miffed at the thought of you and Kim Mingyu being a thing. As much as he’d like to deny all chances of that happening, it’s impossible to ignore how much sense it makes—you spend so much time together on the newsletter, who knows what looks are shared or what touches are exchanged in the editor’s office when Jeon Wonwoo steps out for TA duties?

It’s a horrific seedling that’s been sowed in his mind ever since the two of you first approached him a year ago for an interview much like this one; a seedling Chan would like to leave out to die in the blazing afternoon sun.

“Whatever, let’s just start. My break’s gonna be over soon.”

You don’t know what’s caused such a sudden shift in the athlete’s attitude, but you don’t like it one bit. His answers become increasingly clipped, which definitely won’t give you much to work with when you start on the column in between essays later. You don’t comment on it, though, wanting to maintain your last shred of professionalism around him.

“Okay, next question… what are your personal goals for—”

“Chan! Coach said two more minutes!” Choi Yeonjun yells from the base of the bleachers. “Better wrap it up with your girlfriend!”

You barely know the blue-haired boy, yet something compels you to abandon all self respect to screech back, “I’m not his girlfriend!” He hardly seems fazed, simply shooting you a sheepish smile along with a shrug of his shoulders.

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, and much to your alarm you find the seat that was occupied by Chan just seconds ago abandoned, said boy already making his way down the bleachers towards his teammate. You spring to your feet. “Wait! Lee Chan! I’m not done asking! He said you have two minutes!”

He doesn’t spare you a look, blonde hair bouncing with each step he takes away from you. “Yeah, but I’m done answering!”

“But—”

Finally, he tosses you a quick glance over his shoulder. The sneer tugging at his lips has you seeing red immediately. “You said I give the same answers all the time, right? Just whip something up yourself!”

Defeated, you can only watch dumbly as he continues his descent before huffily grabbing your bag and shovelling your things into it with more force than necessary.

You hate him, you really do.

WEEK SEVENTEEN.

“Wait, she really said that?”

“Who said what?” you ask curiously, throwing your backpack onto the nearest surface with little regard as to where it lands. “And why is Gyu’s face as red as that time when Joshua got drunk?”

“Hey! I’m right here, you know!”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes teasingly. “They were talking about this girl who’s going to be in the coming Project Vernway, basically—”

A loud groan rumbles from Mingyu’s chest as he buries his face into his arms. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Can we please change the subject?”

“Nope,” Vernon says, popping the ‘p’, “anyways, I asked her if we could feature her because she was wearing this super cool Powerpuff Girls shirt—ten out of ten, by the way, you guys need to take notes—but yeah, after Mingyu took her photos she asked him for a goodnight kiss before bolting away. And that’s not all: right after that he said he would’ve given her one if she hadn’t run away.”

Another embarrassed howl erupts from the photographer. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he sulks, crossing his arms over his chest, “she was cute.”

“Okay, okay, before Gyu actually starts crying, I just wanna check up on everyone’s progress,” Wonwoo says, “remember your parts are due three days before winter break ends so I have enough time to edit everything and send them to Professor Nam.” He goes around the room, nodding in approval as each of your fellow column writers confirm that they’re in the homestretch of their pieces.

You shuffle nervously when the editor’s eyes land on you, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. A soft utterance of your name leaves Wonwoo’s lips, and his eyes are gentle as he asks, “Do you need help with yours? Because you know you can always tell us, right? I’m sure any of us will be happy to help.”

You smile gratefully as your friends nod in agreement. “Thanks, guys. It’s no big deal, it’s just that… I didn’t really finish the interview with Chan because he got called away, and since he kept whining about how I ask the same questions over and over again I actually added a few new ones this time, so I can’t exactly make up answers for him…”

“But winter break starts next week,” Wonwoo frowns, “you might not see him again until after, which is past the internal deadline Nam gave us.”

“Maybe she can text him the remaining questions,” Joshua supplies helpfully to ease your growing panic, “that way they won’t have to physically meet up during the break for the interview.”

“Except Lee Chan is notoriously bad at responding to texts.” Your heart practically drops to your stomach because you know Seungkwan’s right, and for a reason you cannot fault Chan over. “Something about random students asking around for his number and blowing his phone up. Honestly, I don’t envy the poor kid.”

“It’s okay, guys,” you reassure, yet your tone betrays your absolute lack of confidence, “I’ll think of something.”

•••

The ‘something’ is what led you to the doorstep of Seo Changbin’s house where he’s throwing a big bash right before winter break starts tomorrow. His end-of-semester parties are always lavish, and while they’re not as exclusive as one might expect, you’ve never found yourself at one of them.

Until tonight, because you happened to be scrolling through Instagram when you saw him on one of the partygoers’ Stories.

The doorbell chimes loudly as you run your hands up and down your arms to warm them. In your haste to get to the party you had forgotten to grab a jacket to wear, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold thanks to the sheer sleeves of your dress.

The blue-haired athlete who answers the door has your shoulders sagging with relief. At least Choi Yeonjun’s somewhat of a familiar face. “Hey! Y/N, right?” he greets brightly as he steps aside to let you in. “I didn’t know you liked coming to these parties, not that it’s a bad thing, though! I always see you running around interviewing people for the newsletter, so it’s good to let loose once in a while. You look great, by the way!”

You laugh shyly while smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles on your slip dress, a timeless number the colour of champagne that was one of your many 3am impulse purchases. “Thanks, Yeonjun. I’m not really here to party, though, I’m looking for Chan—oh, don’t give me that look!” you whine, shoving lightly at his shoulder as he cackles, “I just need to ask him a few questions.”

As the two of you head deeper into the house, you quickly realise that all those rumours about Changbin’s legendary parties are indeed true; the marble floors are so shiny that they’re no different from mirrors, the open kitchen you just walked past had shelves upon shelves of what you assume are expensive wines, and you’ve lost count of how many crystal chandeliers you’ve already walked under.

You have to practically yell over the loud music and the chitter-chatter of the crowd just so Yeonjun can hear you. “Wow, Changbin really is loaded, huh?”

He chuckles into the rim of his cup before taking a large gulp. “That’s the biggest understatement of the year. Do you want a drink?”

You refuse with a gentle smile and shake of your head. “It’s okay, I have to go after I talk to Chan since I’m taking an early bus home tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s a shame, but I can assure you that there’ll be lots more parties like this, so—”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Speak of the devil.

You tear your gaze away from Yeonjun and come face-to-face with none other than Lee Chan. Despite a majority of the partygoers’ choice of fancy attire, he dons an oversized letterman jacket over a snug black shirt with ripped jeans and sneakers, it shouldn’t work so well on him, but it does. His wine-stained lips purse tightly together as his eyes flit between you and his blue-haired teammate suspiciously, and you can’t help but feel small under his intense gaze.

“Oh, okay, got it,” Yeonjun mutters, already beginning to inch away from you, “I’m just gonna go look for Binnie. See ya, Y/N.”

Your heart hammers violently against your rib cage when Chan takes a step closer to you and leans in to speak into your ear, his breath fanning across the shell. “You never answered my question.”

You take a shaky step backwards, plastering an expression of indifference onto your face and resolutely ignoring the dizziness that resulted from your proximity. “I came here to look for you, actually,” you say coolly.

“Me?”

“Yeah, did you forget that we haven’t finished our interview?”

A disbelieving scoff pushes past his lips. “You mean to tell me that you got dressed and put on that,” he vaguely gestures to your dress, “just to talk business with me?”

“Yes, because there’s no way I’m showing up to one of Seo Changbin’s parties in my pyjamas.”

“You could’ve just waited until after the break.”

“My internal deadline is before that.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you as he nonchalantly takes a sip from his cup. “And why should I care? You’re the one asking me for a favour, need I remind you of that?”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t walked off! Please, I just need five minutes!”

His lack of response is truly maddening, reaching a tipping point where the frustration coursing through your veins brings along a newfound burst of confidence, prompting you to wrap your hand around his wrist before pulling him along with you through the throng of tipsy students. You have no idea where you’re headed, but you figure there’d be a spare room upstairs where you could talk without having to yell over the noise.

A crisp clacking sound echoes off the marble as you march up the stairs with Chan in tow, and you breathe a sigh of relief upon reaching the second floor, already finding it much quieter with the party downstairs reduced to mere buzzing. Your streak of good luck persists when the first door on the right opens to an empty bedroom, which you immediately pull Chan into, shutting the door behind you.

You clumsily reach around the dark for a light switch, brightness flooding the room in seconds as you press yourself against the smooth wood of the door. “Five minutes,” you repeat firmly, “and I swear I’ll leave.”

“It’s not that, Y/N,” Chan says softly, “the guys on the team will be looking for me soon, there’s no time. Look, you can write the interview however you want, okay? Make me look like as much of an asshole as you want and all that. I don’t care.”

“But I do.”

Your voice comes out a whisper, so quiet that for a second you fear he didn’t hear you. “I care about my column and believe it or not, I care what my interviewees have to say.” You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, your gaze instead trained on the carpeted floor as you continue, “I want to be a journalist after graduation, and I take the column seriously because everyone else on the team certainly does, which makes it even more worthy of my dedication. Can I at least text you the questions so you can answer them over the break, please? I’d really appreciate it if the response came from you, even if it’s all bullshit.”

You wonder if he’s listening, what a blow to your pride it’d be if you were to find him completely zoned out and bored. You will never be able to show your face around him again if that’s the case.

Hesitantly, your eyes find him again. His expression is unreadable, but his stare is piercing, intense, boring into you in a way that has your heart almost leaping out of your chest. Before either of you can speak again, muffled voices outside in the hallway cause the two of you to freeze.

“—Mina said she saw him head upstairs with a girl.”

“Then… shouldn’t we head back?”

“Let’s just try first. Yo, Chan! Are you there? Rocky’s starting Just Dance in five!”

Your head whips away from the door as you stare at Chan with wide, panicked eyes.

He’s the complete opposite, unfazed and composed, when he asks you in a hushed voice, “Are you going home for the holidays?”

You nod.

“Okay, well, where do you live?”

“Excuse me?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

You supply your general area through gritted teeth, bewilderment growing at his chuckle. “I live, like, a fifteen-minute drive away from you, Y/N. How about this: we meet over winter break at some place—a café, park, wherever you want—and I’ll finish the rest of the interview with you. Sound good?”

You blink owlishly at him, mind reeling as you process the offer he made you. “Really? Y-You’d do that?”

Chan shrugs. “Sure, it’s not like I have anything to do. Plus, I do feel kinda bad that you came all the way here just for me to turn you away.”

“I’m so touched.”

He throws his head back in laughter at your dry delivery. It’s a contagious chime, one that has a smile unwittingly tugging at your lips. You feel like you can breathe easier now. Who would’ve known that you and Lee Chan would come to some sort of an agreement for once? Certainly not you.

“How are you getting home?”

“The bus, probably.” You grimace, the thought of standing in the cold waiting in your thin dress highly unappealing.

“Please tell me you have a jacket somewhere.”

Chan rolls his eyes at your telling silence. “My God, Y/N, you’re going to freeze out there,” he mutters in disbelief while shrugging off his jacket before drawing close to you so he can drape the garment over your shoulders. You pray he can’t hear the thundering of your heartbeat as his cologne overwhelms your senses, intoxicating notes of fresh linen and jasmine flooding your system and threatening to make it go haywire.

He gives you a pointed look when you remain unmoving, and you realise that he won't be satisfied until you put your arms through the sleeves. So you do, already feeling much warmer with the thicker material enveloping your arms.

It’s a peculiar combination, his letterman jacket and your silky dress. You peer down at the ensemble with amusement. “What an odd mix.”

The fluttery sensation in your stomach only intensifies tenfold at his grin; it feels like a thousand elephants are doing cartwheels inside you. “Really? Because I think it looks quite nice on you—almost as good as it does on me.”

“You’re actually the worst.” Your words, however, don’t hold any hostility this time around.

“I just gave you my jacket!”

“… Touché.”

WEEK EIGHTEEN.

True to his word, Chan meets you at a cute café you used to frequent with your high school friends. It’s a quaint little place, with potted plants lining every windowsill, fairy lights strewn across the walls in various designs, the smell of freshly-baked pastries wafting through the air. You like that it’s tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city, you like that it’s not trying to be perfect with its wobbly tables and overgrown plants that dangle just inches from your head, you like that it feels like home.

It feels weirdly intimate to be somewhere like here with Chan, someone you once considered a loathed enemy, especially when the owner, a kind lady in her sixties who treats every patron as though they were her own grandchildren, brought over a slice of chocolate cake for the two of you to share after recognising you from your teenage years. Neither of you have the heart to tell her that you’re not a couple as she strokes your cheeks and reminisces about how much you’ve grown, not wanting to drag down her spirits during the holiday season.

“That was a nice place,” he says when you step out into the freezing cold, regrettably no longer in the comforting warmth of the café, “and the owner was really sweet too. I can see why you used to come here a lot. Thanks for bringing me here.”

You smile. “You’re welcome, and thank you for coming. Honestly, I was a little surprised when you told me you don’t have much to do over winter break, I thought you’d have more places to go, what with being Mr Popular and all.”

Chan matches his footfalls to yours as you wander aimlessly through the icy streets. “Nah. I already spend so much time on practice and games that I’m ready to just relax and sleep until noon. Plus, I miss my family.”  

“That’s fair, you’re always so busy.”

Your cheeks grow warm when he playfully nudges you with his elbow. “I mean, so are you with the newsletter. What about you? Any fun plans for the break?”

“Mm, not really. I’ll probably just stay home for the most part to spend time with my family, and maybe meet up with some friends from high school. Minghao and I did plan on going ice-skating so he could teach me, but his parents were in town a week earlier than he expected so I told him to spend time with them instead. The rink is open all year, anyways.”

“I can teach you, if you want,” Chan blurts out.

“Wait, you know how to ice-skate?”

He nods, “Yeah, my dad taught me when I was little. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

The Lee Chan asking to hang out with you? You almost have to slap yourself to believe that this isn’t some dream your mind had conjured up to taunt you.

“Are you sure? I’ve taken up enough of your time…”

“No, I want to, and you’ll love it! What do you say?”

You’ve never seen him so enthusiastic like this, reminding you all too much like an excited puppy. If he was one, his tail would surely be wagging back and forth eagerly. How could you say no to that?

“Okay.”

•••

“I swear to God, Lee Chan, if you let me fall I’ll actually smack you.”

He laughs as he coaxes you out onto the ice, wincing a little at the vice grip your fingers have locked his hands in. “I won’t, I won’t, I promise.”

“If I die today, please tell my friends that I love them very much even though all they do is bully me.” About my maybe-crush on you. 

“You’re so dramatic,” he says with a roll of his eyes, “I can assure you, Y/N, you’re not gonna die today.”

“We’re walking on ice with blades stuck to our feet.”

His grin only widens while he continues guiding you along the rink walls. You’re aware that it’s very much giving the same energy as swimming next to the edge of a pool, but you might actually rather perish than fall on your butt in front of Lee Chan.

“Fair enough, but it gets easier once you know how to do it. Relax a little, yeah?”

He attempts loosening your hold on his fingers, alarm bells going off in your head instantly at the thought of him leaving you to your own devices, stranded on frozen water with kids half your age whizzing by without a care in the world.

In your panicked state, your hand flies up to grip the wall while the other squeezes his as though your life depended on it. “No, no, no! Chan, please! If you leave me here I will make sure your sorry ass regrets it for the rest of your life!”

“Spend a lot of time thinking about my ass, don’t you?”

Heat assaults your cheeks, burning a fiery trail up to your ears as he throws his head back and cackles. “S-Shut up. You’re so annoying.”

“Just relax a little, okay?” You’re surprised at how much softer his voice becomes once his laughter ceases. “Don’t panic, focus on putting one foot in front of the other… See? There you go.”

You’re still not entirely confident—after all, next to Chan’s relaxed, graceful movements you probably look like a fumbling idiot who’s never walked a day in their life. If he feels the same way, he doesn’t show it; instead he’s patient with you, never pushing you too far out of your comfort level by letting you stay close to the wall. Slowly but surely, the two of you establish a rhythm as you glide across the ice with his assistance, emboldened by the murmured words of encouragement that spill from his pretty lips.

“Do you wanna start moving towards the middle?” he whispers.

You look up from your joined hands, heart skipping a beat at his gentle smile and the way his blonde hair falls over his eyes just a little. Perhaps you’d dare be bold and brush it out of the way for him if you weren’t as wobbly as a newborn fawn, but alas you settle with returning the smile, accompanied by a tiny nod of your head.

And so he pulls you out into the wide open, occasionally looking over his shoulder to avoid crashing into the other skaters, though he doesn’t forget to turn back to you with encouraging grins. It’s unclear what has your heart pounding a mile a minute, it could be the lack of distance between you two or simply the fear that you’d slip and send yourself sprawling across the ice, or perhaps it’s the surreality that you’re willingly spending time with each other when it feels like you were vehemently insisting to your friends that you hated him with every fibre of your being just yesterday.

The placement of your next step is just a tad off, and everything happens in slow motion. Your left foot trips over your right, you lose balance, knees buckling as gravity forces your body forward, your surroundings flash and you brace yourself for impact.

The icy impact that doesn’t come.

Chan stares down at you with widened eyes. “You okay?” His hands are gripping at your biceps tightly as you scramble to steady yourself, suddenly feeling very warm because fuck, you totally jinxed yourself and now he’s going to think you’re a loser—

“Woah, woah, slow down. Don’t panic, remember?” he reminds you, “panic will only make you slip more.”

“This would be a really bad time to let go of me,” you joke breathlessly, still trying to get your skates to stay upright.

“I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” Chan asks, before adding, “put a little more trust in me.” He sounds mirthful, as though you’re not supposed to take the latter part seriously, but even in your frenzied state you can tell his gaze doesn’t share the same jest he conveys with his voice.

You smile at him sheepishly when you’re finally able to stand properly again. “Thanks, I think I tripped because I got distracted.”

“It’s okay, it’s totally normal to slip on your first try.”

“Still, you saved me from humiliating myself in public.”

He smiles wryly, “Well, I couldn’t just not catch you.”

For a moment neither of you say anything; you stare into his eyes, fully aware that both his hands are on your arms still, holding you close as your eyes flit from one part of his face to the other. He’s close, so close. And so unfairly pretty.

You trace his features with your gaze as if trying to commit them to memory, from his cat-like eyes to the tiny moles on his cheek to his soft lips—pretty, pretty, pretty. Everything about Lee Chan is so pretty, and you knew that, you’ve known it all this time; you just didn’t want to admit that you found him attractive.

Chan quietly observes your flusteredness, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth to suppress a grin as fondness blooms in his chest like flowers in a meadow during springtime. He really wasn’t lying when he said you were cute when angry, then again he just finds you cute no matter what. There’s something so endearing about how your eyes nervously dart from one place to another before eventually landing on his face, or how your earlier tumble had left your hair adorably tousled.

He frees up a hand to fix your hair, and your heart practically stops at his gentle touches as he neatly tucks your hair behind your ear, with every brush of his fingertips against your skin sending jolts of electricity through your body. He smiles proudly at his handiwork, seemingly unaware of the effect he has on you. “That’s better.”

You insist on buying Chan hot chocolate from a vendor at the nearby Christmas market despite his protests. “Just take it,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes as you shove the paper cup into his hands, “think of it as a ‘thank you’ for teaching me today.”

“It was fun, I had fun.” He gingerly takes a sip of the piping hot decadence, tongue peeking out to lick the foam off the corners of his mouth. “You weren’t bad for a first-timer, y’know. I’m surprised how quickly you sorta got the hang of it.”

“What can I say? I had a good teacher—what? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just… I think that’s the first time you’ve given me a compliment. Keep going, don’t be shy.”

You wrinkle your nose at him in mock distaste before taking another sip of hot chocolate, gooey half-melted marshmallows coating your tongue in sweetness. “No, thank you. I like humbling you.”

“You’re so mean to me… I kinda like it.”

“Is this your way of telling me you have a—”

“Excuse me, can you take a picture of us?”

The couple that stops you, dressed in tasteful, coordinating maroon outfits, looks to be around your age. You agree immediately, and the girl beams gratefully before handing you her phone, eagerly pulling her boyfriend to pose in front of the towering Christmas tree at the centre of the market.

The girl practically glows with joy when you return her phone. “These look amazing, thank you so much!” Her happiness is contagious as she scrolls through the photos you took, her boyfriend looking on with a smile with his chin resting atop her head. You can’t help but feel somewhat proud, perhaps Mingyu’s photography skills have rubbed off on you just a little.

“C’mon, I’ll take some for you two as well!”

You look to Chan, desperately pleading for help with your eyes. “O-Oh, but we’re not—”

“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“Huh? What are you—”

He shoots you a warning look as though daring you to finish the sentence. With a sigh, you realise he’s right: there’s no use turning the situation into an uncomfortable mess for everyone involved.

Cheeks growing hotter by the minute, you stand next to Chan for the pictures. Shoulders just barely grazing the other’s, arms awkwardly hanging by your sides, smiles stiff and unnatural—if the assignment was passing off as a couple somewhat convincingly, the two of you would still be a million light years away from hitting the benchmark. The real Christmas miracle would be if the ground split into a chasm and swallowed you whole, because this is definitely enough embarrassment for a lifetime.

Chan waits for the couple to be out of earshot before buckling over in hysterical laughter, his guffaws unceasing even when you stare at him like he just grew an extra head. “Why the hell are you laughing?”

You roll your eyes when he holds up his hand as a signal to wait, tapping your foot against the pavement impatiently with your arms folded over your chest as he gasps for air.

“I just think it’s funny,” he begins, finally having calmed down, “that we look so painfully awkward. Wait, let me send them to you right now so you can see.”

“I’m not sure I want to—” Your phone chimes from his message. Unable to evade your curiosity, you quickly go through each one, unable to conceal your disgust as your features contort from the grimace that takes over your face. “Ew, I look horrible in literally all of them.”

“You look fine, Y/N. Look on the bright side, in a few months’ time we can look back on these and have a good laugh over them.”

“You already did and it’s only been two minutes.”

“Oops. I did, didn’t I?”

•••

An hour later, you catch him changing your contact photo to the worst one out of the bunch, devious giggles spilling from his lips as he zooms all the way into your face before hitting ‘save’.

Obviously, you do the same to him.

WEEK TWENTY.

“A little birdie told me that you and a certain soccer player sneaked upstairs at Seo Changbin’s party.”

You pointedly ignore your friend’s teasing grin. “It’s not what you think, Hao.”

“Then do tell, who are you so desperately searching for?”

“I just need to return his jacket,” you mutter absentmindedly, eyes scanning the quad for a certain head of blonde hair with an all-too-familiar letterman jacket folded neatly over your arm.

Minghao’s eyes widen dramatically, an expression so uncharacteristic of him that you can’t help snorting at the sight. “It’s his? I thought it was Vernon’s all this time! Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you loved me!”

“It… it slipped my mind,” you admit, “but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal…”

“Of course it is!” He seems almost scandalised that you thought he’d brush off such news. “You were sworn enemies with the guy just before winter break! And now you’re telling me he gave you his jacket and you also hung out over the break? You owe me a week’s worth of lunch.”

“What? Why?”

“If I hadn’t cancelled on you because my parents were in town you wouldn’t have gone ice-skating with your Prince Charming. I made this all possible.”

“Your parents did,” you point out matter-of-factly, “and anyways, he’s not my Prince Charming.”

“I beg to differ.”

You whirl around at the familiar voice only for your jaw to drop to the ground quicker than Professor Park can give out failing grades. Lee Chan stands before you in all his glory, head attractively tilted to the side as he gazes at you with a lopsided smile, one hand tucked in his jean pocket while the other runs through his hair. His purple hair.

He looks… good. Really good.

“You’ll catch flies like that,” he muses when he realises you’re not going to stop gaping anytime soon, and places a curled index finger beneath your chin to gently push your mouth closed.

“You—your hair—when—”

“Oh, that?” he dismisses casually as though he’s not currently the source of all your distress, “like, two days ago, thought a change would be nice. Why? Do you not like it? I knew I shouldn’t have gotten it trimmed—”

“No!” The answer comes out far louder than you had intended it to and draws more than a few confused stares from passing students. You can’t see, but Minghao’s about to burst a blood vessel from how hard he’s holding back laughter at your accidental outburst. “It—it looks… good,” you mumble, ears burning under the blanket of your hair.

Chan’s telling smirk is all you need to confirm that he asked the question fully knowing what your response would be. “Well, if you like it then that's all that matters.”

You hate it, you hate him, you hate what he’s doing to you.

“Your jacket,” you blurt out, not trusting yourself to formulate a full, coherent sentence as you thrust the material into his arms. “Washed and everything.”

“Keep it.”

“What?”

“Keep it,” he repeats, a little firmer this time.

“Why?”

“Because I like how it looks on you more.”

Stupid Lee Chan and his stupid flirty self. “I—but you—”

“She’d love to have it,” Minghao interrupts, paying no mind to the look of betrayal splayed across your face, “and she says ‘thank you’.”

Embarrassingly, your voice comes out a mere squeak. “I—I guess?”

With Minghao’s support, Chan gently pushes the jacket back into your arms. “You’re welcome,” he says with a genuine smile, “I’d love to stay but I have a meeting with my academic advisor. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You can only nod dumbly, still in shock over all that happened even after he’s long become a speck in the distance. Minghao calls out your name softly but you remain unresponsive, eyes unfocused as he waves his hand before your face. He wonders if you’re still breathing.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he breathes out. Of all his years of knowing you, he’s never seen someone reduce you to such a state before. It’s kind of impressive. “You’re so whipped.”

You blink down at the jacket, subconsciously clutching it tighter to your body.

“Shit,” you curse softly after several beats of silence, “I think I am.”

WEEK TWENTY-FOUR.

As members of the newsletter team, it’s only fair that you’d be the first to get a copy of the latest issue.

“This bakery looks really good, Josh,” Vernon remarks, idly flipping to the next page of his copy, “ooh, are those cinnamon rolls?”

“The best cinnamon rolls,” Joshua corrects, “they got the pastry-to-cinnamon-to-icing ratio down perfectly.”

You hum, stomach quietly rumbling at all the photos of the treats he tried. “They must be really good if you gave them such a glowing review. I’m gonna get Hao to go with me sometime.”

Bless Joshua Hong for essentially being the student population’s little lab rat. You’ve almost never had a bad meal whenever you go outside campus to eat because of Michelin Shua.

Almost.

Seungkwan snorts, “My sweet, innocent child, Y/N, you keep forgetting that he writes nice reviews for all the places he goes to even if their food sucks.”

“I don’t wanna be mean or make enemies! Plus, have you guys never heard of the phrase ‘see the good in everything’? I swear this place is actually good, though.”

“Mm, you sure it has nothing to do with the girl who works there?”

“How—how did you…”

Seungkwan regards him haughtily, lips stretching into a cheeky smile. “I have my sources.”

“Did you spy on me? You creep!”

You shake your head fondly at their banter as you glance down at your phone, eyes immediately bugging out of your head when you notice the time and all the missed calls. “Gotta go,” you mumble, aggressively stuffing your copy of the newsletter into your bag.

“Woah, what’s the rush?” Vernon asks. To no one’s surprise, he’s on Seungkwan’s page because you all know he’s not-so-secretly-anymore invested in the drama people anonymously confess, in particular the girl who’s recently been asking for advice on confessing to her best friend.

Wonwoo smiles amusedly, eyes twinkling with mirth behind his glasses. “You’re going to meet Chan, aren’t you?”

“I’m not. What makes you think I’m meeting him? I have other friends outside of him. I could be meeting with Hao.”

“You start babbling when you get defensive.”

You freeze, hand hovering just above the doorknob. “No, I don’t. You’re a liar, Mingyu.”

“Just go,” Joshua says, making a shooing motion with his hand, “don’t keep lover boy waiting.”

“He’s not lover boy!”

The last thing you hear before closing the door behind you is a smug “called it”.

Damn you, Mingyu.

•••

The field is practically empty when you arrive, only a few jocks remain as they gather their stuff from the sidelines, neither of which are Chan.

Huffing at your own forgetfulness, you take your phone out from your pocket and scroll until you get to his contact. You pace around as you wait for him to pick up, lazily gazing up at the darkening sky with your phone pressed to your ear.

“Sorry, the person you are calling cannot be reached right now. Please leave a message after the beep.”

You end the call and switch to your messages instead, hoping to find texts from him about his current whereabouts. Shoved in a box at the back of your head is the thought that perhaps he’s given up on waiting for you and went home; you want to take that box and burn it.

You decide to try calling again.

“Come on, come on, come on…” you mutter, already starting to curl into yourself as a gust of icy wind rustles through the field. Maybe you should head inside the sports centre, he might still be in there if you’re lucky.

“You’re late.”

A startled yelp escapes you, and you whip around with a hand on your racing heart to find Chan levelling you an unimpressed stare.

“Sorry,” you squeak, “I was going through the new issue with the team and lost track of time. Why are you soaking wet?”

He looks at you weirdly like you just said something totally bizarre. “Because I just took a shower? I’m not going to dinner with you dripping with sweat and in my uniform, I have standards too, y’know.”

“You should’ve dried your hair completely,” you say disapprovingly, “it’s still winter and you’re out here standing with wet hair, you’re gonna catch a cold.” You don’t bring up the way his white T-shirt clings to his damp torso, teasing the defined muscles underneath. You don’t even want to think about it. “Go back inside and dry it, I’ll wait.”

“But I’m starving,” he complains, but follows you to the sports centre anyways.

“I don’t want you catching a cold and then passing it to me. I can't be sick, I have a column to run.”

“Mhm, and it totally has nothing to do with you caring about me and not wanting to see me sick.”

You shiver as you step through the automatic doors. Universities love running the AC on full blast like electricity costs nothing, you’ve come to realise. “Exactly.”

Chan folds his arms across his broad chest—again, you don’t want to think about it—and a pout settles on his lips. “Fine, then let’s just go eat. You can just avoid me if I do end up getting sick.”

“For God’s sake, just go,” you groan, pushing him in the direction of the first hallway that leads to the men’s locker room.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he grins, “it’s attractive.”

“I’m going to leave if you don’t hurry.” That seems to do the trick and he relents, but in true Lee Chan fashion he turns around and winks once he gets to the door.

You have to duck your head so he doesn’t see the growing smile on your face.

•••

“This is why I don’t dry my hair completely, with damp hair I can at least push it back, but now it’s just getting in my eyes.”

“Okay, you big baby.” You don’t know what he’s talking about, his hair looks so soft and fluffy like this. Your hand itches to run through it.

“Oh? We’re on ‘baby’ terms now?”

You dodge his question in favour of gazing up at the neon sign. “Rocket Diner? Good choice.”

Chan hums. “Yeah, saw it got a good rating on Michelin Shua.”

“You read the last issue?”

“I read most of them,” he admits. “I skip your column when it’s not about me, though.” He must’ve seen the pure horror that flashes across your face, because he chuckles. “I’m just joking, Y/N, I do read them. You’re good at writing, seriously.”  

You smile shyly at his genuine compliment. “Thank you, really.”

The two of you pick a booth at the far back and place your orders, most of the selections being Joshua’s recommendations. He’d be so flattered. 

“So… one more game before the championship, are you nervous?” you ask as the server takes away your menus.

“A little… we want to keep the winning streak going, so we’ve been practising more, but everything’s going well so far. Are you coming to the next game?”

“Of course,” you reply, smiling at the server in thanks when he brings you your sodas, “what kind of sports column writer would I be if I didn’t?”

“Will you make me a glittery sign that says ‘Go Chan’ in all caps?”

You pause to mull over his request, “I’ll make you one if the team makes it to the championship.”  

He grins cheekily, “I was joking again, but since you’re the one who offered—sure, I’d love one and I’ll definitely hold you to it.”

“You better keep it forever after that, I want glitter to haunt every crevice of your life.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, “You have creative threats, I’ll give you that.”

You smile over the rim of your glass, idly stirring the ice cubes around in the fizzy beverage. “Thanks, it’s my redeeming quality.”

It feels odd, but not unwelcome, to be giggling and talking over dinner with Chan as though you’ve been close friends for years. Perhaps it’s odd because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice them too—the longing glances, the lingering touches, the flirty remarks that still feel genuine somehow, it begs the question if this is a date. Or more importantly, if there’s something between the two of you that goes beyond a simple friendship. How cliché of you, growing a friendship with an old enemy only to then fall for him.

But as he walks you home after dinner, your hands grazing each other’s in that will-they-won’t-they manner while your laughter echoes through the dark when he recounts yet another story about his teammates, you’re starting to think that maybe clichés aren’t so bad.

WEEK TWENTY-SEVEN.

News spread like wildfire at Pledis U, this one is no exception.

You’re walking out of your last lecture of the day with Minghao when gasps and murmurs break out around you. You only manage to catch a few words at a time, but it doesn’t take long for you to piece everything together, and it takes even less time for the blood to start draining from your face.

Minghao knows the look on your face all too well. “Go,” he tells you softly as he takes your bag, “I’ll bring it back to your place, just go.”

You manage a grateful smile before you’re pushing yourself through the swarm of students leaving the lecture hall, hushed apologies spilling from your lips. Your legs carry you as fast as they can possibly go in the direction of the university’s medical centre where the staff at the counter gives you directions to the room he’s in.

Yeonjun and a few others are sitting on the benches outside when you get to the third floor. His neck cranes to where you stand at the top of the stairs upon hearing your quiet pants and offers a tight-lipped smile when your eyes meet.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun whispers back, “the doctor said it’s just a minor sprain and he should be able to fully heal by the championship. He’s just… understandably upset about it all. He trained really hard and then this just… happened.”

“Can I see him?”

“Sure, I’ll go in and talk to Coach for you.”

Nodding in gratitude, you watch as he heads into the room. There’s muffled conversation for about a minute before he steps out followed by an older man who immediately makes a turn around the corner, mumbling something about making a call.

Yeonjun’s still holding the door open for you when your attention shifts back to him, the small smile on his face telling you you have the green light to go inside.

The door shuts behind you as you hesitantly look around, eyes finally landing on Chan who’s already staring back at you. Your heart cracks a little when you see his ankle wrapped in bandages. Even before you became friends with him, you already knew how much the sport and being on the team means to him, so you can’t imagine the pressure and frustration he’s under when a major competition’s just around the corner.

“I have the worst luck ever,” he says when you sit in the chair across from him, “literally right before the championship and this happens.”

“It’ll be okay, Chan,” you say, “if you take it easy and focus on healing, you’ll recover with at least a week left to practise.”

A single tear escapes his eye and falls into his lap as he tilts his head back, blinking up at the bright lights in order to keep his tears at bay.

“I just feel horrible,” he whispers after several moments of uneasy stillness, “this couldn't have happened at a worse time—if I can’t make it to the championship all the guys’ hard work will have been for nothing and it’ll be all my fault. I let them down, I let Coach down.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say firmly, “you didn’t let anyone down and you’ll make a full recovery before the match.”

“But what if I don’t?”

Your hand finds the side of his face, and it’s that moment when he breaks like glass shattering on the ground, droplets gliding down his cheeks behind shut eyes as your thumb wipes them away.

Your other hand finds his clasped ones, resting over them in hopes it’ll provide some degree of comfort, in hopes he’ll feel a little less alone.

“You will, Chan. I promise.”

WEEK TWENTY-NINE.

You should’ve known to never trust Lee Chan.

His ankle healed a few days ago, but he was still advised to take it easy and to avoid vigorous movement for the time being. Yet, as you watch him practise for the first time in two weeks from the bleachers, you can tell he’s doing anything but that.

So when the team takes another short break, you head down to the field to talk to him with your bag hiked over your shoulder.

“Uh-oh, I think you’re in trouble,” Yeonjun says to Chan when he sees you approaching. Even from several feet away, the stony look on your face is unmistakable.

Chan glares at his friends half-heartedly when they let out teasing ooh’s before jogging over to you. “What’s wrong? Why the long face?”

“What’s wrong?” you repeat incredulously, “what’s wrong is that you’ve clearly been over-exerting yourself when your ankle just healed! You’re supposed to take things slow for at least a little more!”

His smile instantly fades away. “There’s no time for that, we only have two weeks left, you know that.”

“I do, and I know the championship is important to you all, but you’re only going to increase your chances of getting hurt again if you keep playing like this today.”

“Geez, I’m fine,” Chan snaps, “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you! Excuse me for not wanting to see you hurt again!”

“I just said that I’m fine!” The two of you are too busy heatedly staring the other down to notice the rest of his teammates observing you, prepared to intervene in case things get too ugly. “I didn’t know you cared so much about me.”

You can’t help but flinch at the scorn that drips from his voice; it’s like a poison, paralysing your every nerve until you can’t move an inch. “O-Of course I do…” you stammer out, “why wouldn’t I care about you?”

He angles his face to the left, refusing to meet your eyes. Genuine hurt consumes you and burns through your flesh like acid, it feels like a large rock’s been lodged at the back of your throat, making it difficult to speak or swallow.

“Chan,” you call out softly, reaching out to grab his hand. He doesn’t pull away, which you take as the first good sign. “Chan, I care about you so much… and look—at the end of the day you know your body best and you can do whatever you feel like is right, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you again, okay?”

He still doesn’t respond, but you know he’s calmed down judging by the steady rises and falls of his shoulder and the unclenching of his jaw.

Your phone vibrates with a reminder, disrupting the silence between you two.

You check the notification before shoving your phone back in your pocket. “I have a newsletter meeting,” you tell him regretfully, “but I’ll try to stop by later again. Just… just take care, okay?”

The lack of reaction from Chan worries you, a sinking pit forms in your stomach as you wonder if you’ve truly upset him to the point of no return. Perhaps it’ll be better after you both have some time alone. With one last glance at him, you begin making your way off the field.

You barely make it twenty steps when you hear his call of your name.

The last thing you register before your mind goes blank is him jogging up to you; there’s a light pressure on your left cheek, a feeling all too similar to that of soft lips against your skin. Chan’s cheeks are tinted pink when he draws away, the rosy hue growing in intensity as hollers and whistles erupt from his teammates, evidently still watching your exchange from where they sit in a circle just a few feet away.

His shy smile is endearing, as radiant as the sun shining down on you.

“Just so you know, I care about you a lot too.”

WEEK THIRTY-ONE.

“Hold still, something’s in your hair.” Joshua leans closer to Minghao, his fingers picking seemingly nothing out of his silvery hair. He examines the sparkling, minuscule speck on his fingertip before giving your friend a questioning look. “Glitter?”

Minghao groans, your name leaving his lips in a long, drawn-out whine. “See! I told you it got everywhere!”

“It’s not my fault!” It kind of is. “He’s the one who wanted it with glitter!”

“You owe me big time for helping you with that sign,” Minghao pouts, ducking his head after Joshua very kindly offers to check his hair for more glitter.

“I know,” you agree, certain that it wouldn’t turn out as well as it had without the assistance of Minghao’s artistic flair, “feel free to name your price anytime.”

As always, Wonwoo had managed to get you all front row seats at the championship, his reasoning had been the same as last year’s—“How is my sports column writer going to write about the game if she can’t even see what’s going on?” Works like a charm every year, and neither of you are ashamed about sneaking the rest of the team plus a few other friends into your exclusive section.

But this also meant the hanging shade covers do little to shield your faces from the blazing sun, prompting Mingyu to fish his sunglasses out of his bag. Along with his to-go cup of iced tea (at least it used to be) he looks like a dad on vacation, but he makes it work. “When’s the second half starting?” he asks, grimacing after taking a sip from his watered-down beverage.

Vernon checks his watch. “In about five minutes.”  

“You think we can catch up?”

“We can, I hope. Belville is doing way better than I’d expected this year, though…”

You find it difficult to tune into the conversations around you, your mind far too occupied by a certain someone on the massive field below. From where you’re sitting, you’re just able to spy him sitting on one of the benches whilst being flanked by his teammates, purple hair almost appearing red in the sunlight as they listen intently to their coach. You wonder how Chan’s feeling; discouraged by Belville University’s unusually good performance? Or is he confident they'll break the tie?

Minghao gingerly sits down next to you to avoid startling you. “Still worried about him?” he asks gently.

“I just hope he’s not feeling too burdened,” you reply quietly, “he puts enough pressure on himself being their ace and all, not to mention how he needs to be careful with his ankle.”

“I’m sure he is, especially after you talked to him about it,” Minghao smiles, softly nudging you with his elbow as a reminder of that afternoon when Chan kissed your cheek on the field. You had called him that day as you were speed-walking to your meeting, words jumbled and frantic as you attempted to tell him everything in a single breath. He still distinctly remembers your almost incoherent rambling before finally putting together the pieces thanks to context clues.

You stare longingly at Chan’s figure, eyes tracing the ‘DINO’ on the back of his uniform as a smile tugs at your lips.

“I hope so.”

•••

You’re sure the frustration the Pledis U players are feeling at this moment must be tenfold of that of your fellow students. Belville manages to score another goal just as everyone was starting to believe it’d be another victory for your school, once again bringing the match to a tie with just four minutes left on the clock.

“This sucks,” Seungkwan groans, burying his face in his hands, “they were so close to winning.”

Wonwoo nods. “Yeah, but you have to admit that this makes it all the more exciting. Y/N, you’ve been taking notes, right?”

You roll your eyes teasingly as you wave your mini notepad around, showing the editor your full page of notes. “Of course, boss,” you joke, “it’s not like I do this for the past games I’ve been to.”

“Well, but that was before you started being distracted by Lee Chan,” Vernon pipes up before shoving the rest of his hotdog into his mouth. This has to be this third or fourth one, much to Joshua’s disappointment, who had already asserted that the stadium still has yet to improve the ketchup-mustard ratio on their hotdogs, but Vernon eats practically anything you give him so no one is surprised.

“I was not distracted by him!”

Seungkwan looks wholly unconvinced by your statement. “Please, you were totally ogling him when he scored that goal just now.”

“And you choked on your water when he lifted his shirt to wipe his face.”

“Xu Minghao!”

“Just telling the truth.”

It’s almost funny how quickly your friends’ collective teasing (read: bullying) dies down when the match resumes, your section falling into severe silence as none of you dare make a sound lest you miss out on a single moment. You and Minghao soon find yourselves pressed to each other with your arms linked, sharp inhales and hisses escaping you two every now and then as the Pledis U team endeavours to score one final goal.

You’re unable to peel your eyes from Chan, his purple hair bouncing as he runs across the grassy pitch alongside his teammates, skilfully passing the ball from one to another towards the goalpost.

Regardless of how many games you’ve been to in the past, you’ve never once felt immune to the effects of the adrenaline you get as the timer counts down to the final seconds. At this point, you and Minghao are squeezing the hell out of each other’s arms, and despite no words being exchanged you know you’re both hoping the team will manage to pull through—no, they definitely will.

Yeonjun passes the ball over to Chan as they near the Belville goalkeeper, and it feels like time has stopped when he kicks it with full force. Your eyes follow the ball slice through the air like a sharpened knife, you don’t know if you’re even breathing at this point.

It goes in, and time unfreezes as the entire stadium erupts into cheers and applause. Next to you, Seungkwan and Vernon squeal while crushing each other into a bear hug, and even the usually-stoic Wonwoo lets out delighted shouts before clapping you on the shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips when he remarks that you’ll definitely face no shortage in material to write about.

Out on the field, the Pledis U team tackles Chan in a huddle, their hollers so loud you can hear them from all the way on the stands. It doesn’t take long before they’re raising him to their shoulders, even tossing him into the air a few times. Yearning blooms in your chest, and you secretly wonder if it’d be appropriate to run down there to celebrate this moment with him.

As though reading your thoughts, Minghao lightly bumps his hip against yours. “Go,” he urges with a grin, “you know you want to.”

“What if he doesn’t want me there, though?”

“He definitely does,” Mingyu reassures, shoving the glittery sign you and Minghao spent all night working on into your hands, “go get him, tiger.”

The smiles on your friends’ faces are all the encouragement you need as you make your way off the grandstands, heart thumping wildly in your rib cage like a rogue drum when you reach the edge of the pitch. You take the first step onto the field, grass crunching under your feet as you make your way towards the team, the sudden realisation that everyone on the spectator stands can see you with your big obnoxious sign has your previously-gained confidence dissipating into thin air little by little.

Yeonjun’s the first to spot you, pulling away from the group huddle with a smirk before exchanging whispers with the guys beside him. Confusion writes itself all over Chan’s face when they abruptly set him down, the look of bewilderment in his eyes melting away when he sees your approaching figure.

He jogs up to you, sweaty purple hair pushed off his forehead and practically glowing with happiness as he beams. “You came,” he breathes out. 

You grin back. “Of course I did. Congratulations, I knew you could do it. Is your ankle feeling okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s okay.” His gaze flickers down to your sign, his smile so wide that it threatens to split his face as the blinding gold ‘GO CHAN’ glitters up at him. “You actually made me one?” 

“Hao helped a lot, you know I’m hopeless with the arts and crafts stuff,” you admit shyly, “think of it as a victory present.” 

“That’s it? Don’t you think I deserve a little more for that last goal?” he teases. 

“Well, what were you thinking of?” 

He steps closer to you with a coy smile. The proximity makes you dizzy, makes you feel like a blushing schoolgirl talking to her crush for the very first time. “Hm, I do happen to have a few ideas...” 

You raise a brow. “Why don’t you show me, then?” 

“I’d prefer if you do it.” 

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

Chan tilts his head, challengingly, enticingly. Huh, you never noticed how long his lashes are. “Am I at least your idiot, though?” 

This is it—you’ve truly fallen. Somewhere along the line, traded insults and heated glares evolved into shared giggles and longing glances. Somewhere along the line, you went from hating him with your whole being to making room for him in your heart. 

Somewhere along the line, you’ve fallen for the boy with infectious laughter and endless zest. 

And so when you reach up to cup Chan’s cheek, pulling him in to press your lips to his, you know in your heart that you don’t regret it one bit. 

“See?” he murmurs when you part for air, smiling sweetly as he rests his forehead against yours, “I knew you can never get enough of me.”

“You talk too much, Lee Chan.” 

“You should do something about it.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. 

a/n: everyone wish my love the bane of my existence a happy birthday or you owe me 20 dollars /j (uh it’s not the 11th anymore where i live but that’s my fault </3) anyways feedback is always highly appreciated and important to me :> so do let me know what you think hehe 💕 thank you for reading besties!!!

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