#expressions are difficult and they nailed the ones in this scene
Text
You lied.
#critical role#imogen temult#critical role art#critical role fanart#cr3#if you saw me post this before no you didnt#didn’t tag it properly yk#anyway here’s my contribution#expressions are difficult and they nailed the ones in this scene#prompting me to crawl out of a hole and post after months#bells hells
224 notes
·
View notes
Text
not my fault ➛ 1/2
part two
✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader
✦ summary: discovering that a cute girl you saw at your college orientation is your roommate, you become eager to get to know her. however, things quickly go awry when she turns out to be much more difficult to get along with than you could've imagined and abruptly leaves you in the dust. fueled by your terrible experiences with her and rumors about her dating habits, you swear to stay away from her at all costs. will you be able to keep your promise?
✦ genre/au: fluff, my poor attempt at a rom-com, college!au, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, (very slight) roommates to lovers
✦ word count: 11k (im so embarrassed)
✦ warnings: isn't proofread bc this is toooo long. unrealistic portrayal of room-switching in college bc it's never that easy or quick irl. smut in part 2
✦ a/n: part 2 is already finished & will be posted very very soon. so, this is my first time writing a fanfic in like...years. this feels very strange, but i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope someone out there has a lot of fun reading it! also, although this fic doesn't really have anything to do with the lyrics, this song was somewhat inspired by not my fault by renee rapp and megan thee stallion. <3.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
It was the first day of orientation at Seoul University, and you were utterly bored.
You were sitting on a bench outside of the campus auditorium, people-watching as you waited for the opening ceremony to start. It was a hot day with the sun beating down on everyone, prompting an array of glistening foreheads and crinkling water bottles. There was a line of cars in front of you, people getting out with eager smiles and a mischievous glint in their eyes as they stepped onto the concrete, admiring what would be their home for the next four or more years. Your ears were filled with the excited chatter of hundreds of people, meeting new friends and catching up with old ones.
You sat there, the sun warming your skin, looking for something or someone interesting while you waited for orientation to begin.
You watched as a pairing, presumably mother and daughter, pulled up in a sleek car. They got out, and the mother began taking pictures of the daughter. The daughter looked around the campus with a wide grin on her face.
You looked away, taking a sip from your hydroflask. A boy wearing a shirt with your school's mascot. Boring. A congregation of girls who were so obviously here for sorority life, you almost laughed.
A tall, dark-haired woman, with blue highlights, bangs, and thick, black-rimmed glasses, surrounded by a group of people.
You raised an eyebrow. That was interesting.
There were people crowded around her. Guys. Girls. Some, you presumed, were family. They all seemed to have their eyes on her.
You wondered why. As she talked, you studied her.
Her lips were moving, her facial expressions soft and open. Her voice was quiet, though, and you couldn't hear her words. She was pretty, extremely pretty, with luscious lips and a full nose. You liked her eyes the best. They were dark brown, but when the light caught them, they shined.
She had a smile on her face, her head tilted, her hair cascading over her shoulders. It looked like a scene from a movie, her standing there, the wind blowing through her hair, the sun shining on her features.
She was laughing now, at something one of the guys had said. It was nice to watch. It made you feel warm. You smiled.
And then the girl looked at you.
You looked away, trying to pretend like you were not staring. But after a few moments, you stole a glance back. Her eyes were on you, her brow furrowed, a look of confusion on her face.
You blushed, feeling embarrassed. You looked down, staring at your nails.
“Holy shit it’s hot out here. If I pass out, I’m suing the school for child endangerment, because it is absolutely insane that we're still out here. Take your stupid water”
You looked up. Your friend, Lusher, was standing there, her hair frizzy, her makeup done, outstretching her hand to offer you the water bottle you told her to fetch, and dramatically holding her other hand to her forehead.
You laughed, grabbing the water bottle. “Thanks, but I don’t think you can sue them for child endangerment if you’re not a minor, Lush.”
“I may not be a minor, but there are definitely some here. I’m just advocating for them! We need to make sure that children have a voice.”
You laughed, uncapping the bottle and taking a drink.
Lusher plopped down next to you. She looked around, scanning the place as you did. The attractive girl you were previously admiring was still standing there, laughing and chatting with others, people flocking to her like a moth to a flame. So, you did the only logical thing that a woman would do in your position—gossip to your friend about it. You tapped your friend on your shoulder repeatedly. She looked at you, an eyebrow raised.
You nod your head in the direction of the girl, and her eyes follow. You could practically see her mind whirring.
"Well, hello there. Who is that?" Lusher said, wiggling her eyebrow, a smirk on her lips.
"I don't know!" you said, throwing your arms out. "That's what I was gonna ask you."
"Not you already having a crush. It's not even our first day, yet, y/n," Lusher teased.
"Oh shut up," you groaned.
Lusher squinted. "She does actually look a little familiar."
You shifted toward her, excited. "Really? How?"
"Like I've seen her around campus before or something. Or maybe Instagram? I'm not sure."
You nodded, watching as the girl said something, and the group around her laughed. Lusher glanced at you, observing your staring, and laughed.
"What are you even doing you stalker? Go talk to her!" she insisted, nudging your shoulder.
"What!? No. No. Absolutely not. Not happening," you exclaimed, shaking your head and holding your hands up.
"Why not?" Lusher whines.
"Because there are 5,000 people surrounding her, Lush," you said, vaguely pointing at the group of people around her. "I'm not about to compete with that. No, thank you. I'll pass."
"Y/N," she groaned.
"Lusher," you replied, mocking her tone.
She huffed, rolling her eyes. You laughed.
"You're ridiculous," Lusher said.
"Thank you," you responded, a satisfied grin on your face.
You took a final sip of your water and then closed the cap. "Come on. It's almost time to go in."
You grabbed your friend's arm, pulling her up. She grumbled, and you chuckled, walking her toward the auditorium. As you walked away, you felt the gaze of a pair of shiny eyes following you.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Your mother groans, dropping the last box into the tiny bedroom. "That's the last one. My back is officially fucked."
"Mom, please stop swearing," you say, cringing.
"You swear all the time," she retorts.
"And where do I get that from?" you shoot back.
"You're my child. I can swear in front of you," she responds, ignoring your comment.
"Uh, no. You can't. You're old," you say, picking up one of the boxes and ripping the tape off.
"I prefer the term 'mature'," your mother corrects.
"What about 'ancient?'" you ask, faking seriousness.
She rolls her eyes, grabbing one of your shirts and throwing it at you. You giggle, ducking to the side and letting it fall on the floor. She laughs, and you laugh too, and then you're both giggling uncontrollably. When you're laughing fit is over, you begin taking things out of another box.
The two of you spend the next few hours unpacking and organizing. You are not surprised when your mother decides that she likes her decorating ideas better, and rearranges everything. Finally, the two of you finish, and you step back, admiring the room. Your mom puts her arm around your shoulder.
"I think it looks good. What about you?"
You nod, smiling. "It does."
She sighs, leaning into you, and you wrap your arm around her waist.
"Are you hungry?" she asks, squeezing you tighter.
"Yeah. Starving."
"Good. Because I have some-"
The sound of your door opening cuts her off. You both turn around, and your heart leaps in your throat. Standing in the doorway is the pretty girl from the first day of orientation, wearing cargo pants and a hoodie.
You're too stunned to speak. She's staring at you, and you're staring back. Neither of you says a word.
After what feels like a long time, your mother speaks, her voice filled with curiosity. "Hello? Can we help you?"
The girl's eyes snap to your mother, her eyebrows raising slightly.
"Oh. Uh...hi. I'm sorry. I'm Bada. Your new roommate," the girl, Bada, says, her voice soft and smooth.
"Oh, yes. You are," your mom responds, a wide grin on her face. She extends her arm. "Hi, Bada. I'm Y/N's mom. Nice to meet you."
Bada's eyes widen, and she gives you an almost nervous smile, her gaze flickering between you and your mom. She reaches her hand out and takes your mother's. "Nice to meet you, too, ma'am."
Your mother laughs. "No need to call me ma'am, dear. Please, call me by my name. And please, come in."
Bada hesitates, her gaze shifting to you, as if she's asking for permission. You smile softly, nodding your head, and she returns the gesture, entering the room.
"So, you're Y/N's new roommate. Tell me about yourself," your mother prompts, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.
Bada's eyes flick back to you, her smile turning awkward. "Um, well, I'm from Incheon, and I'm a freshman. I'm majoring in dance," Bada says, her words sounding rehearsed.
Your mother nods. "Cool. Dance, huh? Do you perform?"
"Oh, um, yeah," Bada shuffles her feet a bit. "Sometimes. I was on the dance team back at my high school."
"Very cool. How's move-in day so far?"
"Good. Yours?"
"Great," your mother responds.
Bada's gaze turns back to you, and you shift, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Your mother seems not to notice, or she does not care.
"Are you here with your parents?" your mother asks.
"Uh, no. Just my mom and sister," Bada responds.
"I see. Where are they?"
"Getting dinner," Bada replies, her voice still soft.
"Ah," your mother says. She glances between the two of you, a knowing look in her eyes. "Well, I suppose I'll leave you two to get to know each other. It was nice meeting you, Bada."
"You too, Mrs. Y/L/N."
"Please, dear, call me by my first name," your mother responds, reaching out and touching Bada's shoulder.
Bada smiles, and then your mother exits the room, leaving the two of you alone.
"Nice meeting you," Bada says, her tone polite.
"Nice meeting you too, Bada," you reply.
A moment passes. The tension is palpable. You can tell she's unsure of what to do, or say.
"Do you, uh, need help bringing your stuff in?" you ask, breaking the silence.
"Oh, no. I'm fine," she responds.
"Okay," you reply.
More silence. Bada is still looking at you, her expression guarded. You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.
"Is, um, this okay? Am I, uh, being a nuisance or anything?" you ask, choosing to stare at the wall behind her.
"Huh?"
"I mean, I can leave if I'm making you uncomfortable or anything. I don't want to be a bother," you say, shuffling your feet.
"No. No. Not at all," she replies, shaking her head.
"Oh, okay. Good," you respond, smiling.
She does not return the gesture. Her eyes are still on you, and her body is tense. You wonder if she's afraid of you, or something.
"So," you begin, clasping your hands together. "I guess I'll show you to your side of the room, then."
"Oh, um, okay," she replies, her voice still quiet.
"Here. Let me help you with that," you offer, stepping forward and grabbing one of her suitcases.
"No thank you. I've got it," she says, pulling the bag back.
"Okay. Whatever makes you comfortable," you say, letting go.
She drags the suitcase across the floor and sets it on the empty bed.
"I hope you don't mind. I didn't really get much choice in the furniture department. You're lucky you got the bigger bed," you say, laughing nervously.
"No, it's okay. Thank you," she replies, a tight smile on her lips.
"No problem," you respond, rocking back and forth on your heels.
Another moment of awkward silence passes. Bada begins unzipping the suitcase, taking out folded clothes and laying them on her bed.
"Can I, uh, get you anything? Like, some water or snacks or something?"
"No thank you. That's very kind, though," she says, her back turned to you.
"Okay. Cool. If you need anything, let me know. I'm always here," you respond, smiling.
"I'll keep that in mind," she replies, not looking at you.
"Well, okay. I'll just...leave you to it, then," you say, and then turn around and go sit at your desk, deciding not to push her.
You pull your laptop out, placing it on the desk, and log onto the college's wifi. You lean back in your chair, alternating between reading your syllabi and watching as she unloads her belongings. She has a lot of things. Clothes, books, shoes, accessories, makeup. She even has a large speaker system, which is surprising, considering the small dorm.
After a while, Bada stops, having finally finished unpacking. She stretches her arms above her head, revealing a tiny sliver of her stomach and the waistband of her boxers. Your cheeks burn, and you quickly look away.
"Hey, y/n?"
"Hm?" you ask, spinning around.
"Do you know where the bathroom is?" she asks.
"Oh, yeah. It's just down the hall," you reply, pointing to the door.
"Okay. Thank you," she says, standing up and leaving the room.
You sigh, and then get up, going over and plopping down on your bed. You could not get a read on this woman. When you saw her at orientation, she seemed so open, so friendly, so charismatic. But, right now, it was like you were talking to a wall. You couldn't help but feel a bit peeved. You wanted her to at least like you a little bit, or even tolerate you, but she was barely willing to even talk to you.
You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. Maybe she was just tired, or had a bad day. That's probably it. That had to be it. Which, is fine. You were her roommate. You had a year to become friends. You'd be fine.
You pull out your phone, deciding to scroll through social media. After a few minutes, Bada returns and sits on her bed.
"Did you find it?" you ask, not looking up.
"Yep," she replies.
"That's good," you start, sitting up and scooting toward the edge of your bed. "Hey, I was thinking, since we're gonna be roommates and all, we should get to know each other, ya know?"
Bada turns, a blank expression on her face.
"So, dance," you continue. "What's that like?"
Bada's face changes, the guarded look falling away, replaced with an excited smile. "Dancing? Oh, it's wonderful. I've loved dancing for as long as I can remember," Bada gushes, her eyes lighting up. "I've been doing it my whole life. My mom and sister dance, too, actually."
You grin, her excitement contagious. "That's great. How many of you are dancers?"
"Just the three of us. Me, my mom, and my sister. Well, actually, my mom is retired now, and she's teaching classes at the studio," Bada continues, her smile growing wider.
"That's amazing," you respond, leaning forward. "Do you all perform together?"
"All the time. My mom owns a studio, and she teaches there. We teach classes and choreograph, and then, when we have enough students, we'll have shows," Bada answers, her voice becoming softer, and less animated.
"That sounds really cool. Do you, like, teach little kids and stuff?"
"Oh, no. Not really. I mean, we do, but only if a student's parents ask. Our main audience is teens, and adults," she explains.
"Wow," you say, nodding. "That's awesome. I can't imagine what that's like."
"It's a lot of fun," Bada replies, her eyes sparkling.
"What about your dad? Is he a dancer, too?"
"My father's not in the picture," Bada says, her eyes dimming a bit.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry," you mumble, suddenly feeling awkward.
"It's alright," Bada responds, her tone flat.
"Well, anyway, that's cool," you say, changing the subject. "What's the studio like?"
"It's really nice. We have a small space, but it's cozy," she says, her eyes regaining some of their previous luster. "We've got a lot of mirrors and equipment, and the lights are low."
"Really? God, what you do sounds so cool."
"You think so?" Bada asks, her eyebrows raised.
"Totally. I'm kinda jealous," you admit.
"Thanks. It's nice to hear someone say that," she replies, grinning.
"Anytime," you say, returning the gesture.
The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, and you lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Suddenly, your phone pings, and you glance at the screen. It's a text message from Lusher.
Lush: hey u ready for ur first college party???
Y/N: no lol i'm exhausted from setting up.
Lush: oh come on. im trying to meet some cute guys here. dont make me go alone
Y/N: haha i'm gonna stay in tonight. maybe tomorrow or next weekend
Lush: boo. well, the invitation is always open. if u change ur mind, come find me.
Y/N: ok will do. ttyl
"Is that your mom?" Bada asks, interrupting your thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Your phone," she clarifies, motioning to the device in your hand.
"Oh, no, just a friend from high school, Lusher. She goes here," you explain, sliding your phone onto your bedside table. "She was trying to invite me to a party to scout out the scene for boys."
"Ah," Bada replies, turning her attention back to her side of the room.
"But there's no way I'm going tonight. I'm way too tired after all of that packing," you continue, lying down.
"Understandable," Bada replies, not looking at you.
"So, I'm pretty hungry? Wanna go to the dining hall and get some food, or something?" you ask.
"No thank you. I think I'm just going to take a nap," she says, scooting under her covers and turning her body toward the wall.
"Oh, okay. Alright," you say, feeling a bit disappointed.
It seems like you are back to square one. You sigh, and then turn around, facing the wall. This was going to be a long year. You reach for your headphones, plugging them into your phone, and put on a playlist, trying to ignore the slight ache in your chest. You were not sure why, but, for some reason, it hurt. You shake your head, pushing the feeling down. No, you were not upset. You were not going to be upset. Everything was going to be fine with time. You stand up, grabbing your backpack, and then exit the room, closing the door quietly behind you. The least you could do was give her some privacy. Maybe she needed some time to adjust to sharing a room with someone.
You enter the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, and try to clear your head. No. Things would get better. She would warm up. You just needed to be patient. The elevator dings, and the doors open, and you step out, walking toward the cafeteria. You just needed to wait. She would come around. You were sure of it.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Your alarm blares loudly. You groan, rolling over and snoozing it. The sun is barely up. You feel like a zombie.
You reach over and grab your phone. 7:30 am. Time for a run.
You slowly slide out of bed, wincing at the cold floor. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you glance around the room. It looks exactly the same, except for the fact that your roommate is gone.
You yawn, stretching, and then walk over to her bed. The sheets are perfectly tucked, the pillows arranged neatly, and the blanket is smoothed out. She must have made her bed before leaving. You frown.
"I wonder what time she wakes up," you murmur, running a hand over the blanket.
You throw on some clothes, put your earbuds in, and stretch, before leaving the room.
As you walk through the hallway, your thoughts are still hazy with sleep. You have never been a morning person. But, running helps.
You take the elevator down to the lobby, and then exit the building, jogging onto the sidewalk. A cool breeze whips your hair around. You shiver, pulling the drawstrings of your hoodie tight. After a few minutes, you find a nice rhythm, your breathing steadying, the music calming your nerves. You pass the same few people, most of them in a similar state as you. Groggy. Disheveled. Exhausted. After 30 minutes, you start feeling warm. Your heart is pounding, and your chest is heaving. You slow to a walk, and then stop, resting against a tree.
You close your eyes and listen to the birds, the leaves, the wind. It's nice. Calming.
"Y/n?" a familiar voice asks.
Your eyes snap open, and you turn. A woman is standing there, a shocked look on her face.
Oh no, you think, once you realize who it is."Aiki?"
"Woah, I knew it was you," Aiki says, her eyes wide.
"Yeah," you chuckle awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck.
"What are you doing here?" Aiki asks, her mouth hanging open.
"I go here now. I'm a student. I have clases here," you overexplain
"Wow, okay," Aiki says, taking a breath. "So, how have you been? What are you studying? What's been going on with you? God, y/n, it's been forever."
"Yeah, it has. Um, I've been good. Just, ya know, moving and stuff so far. Haven't declared a major yet, though," you respond, feeling taken aback by her excitement.
"I see. Well, I actually have to go, but we should totally hang out. Maybe have coffee sometime, or something. Catch up," Aiki suggests, her eyes sparkling.
"Sure, yeah, that sounds great," you say, nodding.
"Cool, well, I'll see you around," Aiki says, a smirk on her face.
"See ya," you reply, waving as she turns and jogs off.
You stare after her, a strange feeling in your stomach. You had not seen Aiki since junior year of high school, when the two of you were forced to go on a trip with the rest of your class. During that week, the two of you became close, and, by the end, you were basically inseparable. The two of you spent the entire week attached at the hip, going sightseeing, exploring, and, on the last night, you even kissed her. It was a perfect week. And then, after the trip was over, you never spoke again. She transferred schools, and the two of you lost contact. And now, here she is, back in your life.
You shake your head, chuckling softly. It is almost too much. First, your hot roommate, and now, Aiki. The universe is messing with you.
You start walking again, continuing your route. You run for another hour, the sun now fully risen. Your skin is glowing with sweat, and you can't help but smile. You are feeling great.
You stop by the showers, washing up, and then head to the cafeteria. The line is long, and, despite the early hour, it is packed. You grab a tray, loading it with eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and a glass of orange juice.
"Oh my god, save some for the rest of us," a voice exclaims from behind you.
You turn, startled, finding Lusher behind you, grinning.
"Jesus, Lush, you scared me," you say, shaking your head.
"Sorry, didn't mean to, but seriously, I'm starving. Move faster," she complains, her eyes falling to your full plate.
"What are you even doing here so early? It's Saturday. You're never up at this time," you question, raising an eyebrow.
"The beds here suck. Couldn't stay asleep."
"So, you just came here?"
"Duh. They have free breakfast," she responds, her eyes wide.
"Right," you reply, not convinced.
"I'm serious. Besides, it's not like there's anything else to do this early on a Saturday," she adds.
"Okay, whatever," you say, rolling your eyes.
"So, how was the rest of the move-in? Is your roomate cool?" Lusher questions.
"Actually," you begin. "You'd never guess who my roommate is."
"Who?" she prompts.
"The hot girl I saw at orientation."
"No. Shut. Up," she responds, her eyes widening.
"I'm not kidding. Her name is Bada. She's a dance major."
"Holy shit, no wonder she looked familiar when I saw her. I think I've seen her around dance competitions and showcases."
"You have?"
"Yeah, a few times. She's really good. Damn," Lusher says, shaking her head.
"Well, I wish she'd open up more," you say, frowning.
"Why? Is she mean or something?"
"No, I mean, I'm not sure. She's kind of quiet. I'm not really sure how to describe it. She's not super friendly or anything, and we haven't talked a lot," you respond.
"Hmm, that's weird. I have a few dance friends who've interacted with her before. From what I've been told she's super nice."
"I guess. Anyway, she's not really interested in being my friend, which is fine. But, it's weird, 'cause it seems like she's super popular. She knows a ton of people. I don't get why she's so weird around me."
"Maybe she's nervous or something. I mean, you're kinda cute, after all."
"Shut up, no, I'm not," you deny, rolling your eyes.
"Whatever you say, y/n," Lusher smirks.
"You're crazy," you mutter, grabbing a juice box.
"Well, I hope you can change her mind. She's definitely cute."
"Thanks, Lush," you respond, not really meaning it.
The two of you grab seats near the windows. The food is mediocre, but your stomach is full and that's all that matters. You spend the next few hours chatting with Lusher about school, classes, and other things. Deciding you've had enough of the dining hall, you take Lusher to your dorm room, wanting to show her what your side of the room looks like. However, as soon as you open the door, you are met with the sight of Bada's side of the room-empty side of the room. Her bed is still perfectly made, and her closet is shut tight, and the desk is cleared off. Her things are gone, as if she was never there.
"What the hell?" you mutter, your eyes darting around the room.
"What's going on?" Lusher says, peering over your shoulder from the hallway.
"My roommate," you start.
"Bada, right?"
"Yeah. All her stuff is gone. Did she transfer or something?"
"Wait, what? Let me see," Lusher says, squeezing into the room and past you.
She scans the room, her eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure you weren't hallucinating her? Or having a strange wet dream?"
"Shut up. I'm serious. Look. Her bed is still made, and her side of the closet is completely empty," you insist, pointing.
"Well, maybe she's at class or something. Are you sure she's not just hanging out somewhere?"
"Why would she be? Class doesn't start for a couple days. And why would all of her stuff be gone?"
"Maybe she's one of those crazy studious types who starts early. And she has a very meticulous study routine that requires her room to be completely rid of stuff." Lusher suggests, shrugging.
"Who in the world would do all of that?"
"Someone who's organized. Maybe a person with OCD? A really anal-retentive neat freak?"
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"Hey, you asked," Lusher says, throwing her hands up in defense.
You're about to curse at her, when your phone vibrates. It's a text from the college housing office.
"What is it?" Lusher asks.
"It's from the housing office. They want to see me about a roommate complaint," you read aloud, frowning.
"Roomate complaint? That's weird. Why would they call you instead of her?"
"Maybe they're not able to get a hold of her. I don't know. I'm not sure," you say, scrolling through the message.
"Well, whatever, go find out. We can talk more later."
"You're not coming?"
"No, I'm tired. Gotta catch some Z's. Go figure this out."
"Fine. I'll talk to you later, then."
"Later, loser," she responds, before walking away.
You sigh and exit the building, beginning your walk to the housing office.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
"Hello? Anyone here?" you call, stepping inside.
"Ah, hello," a voice responds.
A man walks up, an overly friendly smile on his face. He extends his hand, initiating a handshake.
"Hi. I'm y/n," you start, shaking his hand. "I received a message saying you wanted to talk to me about a roommate complaint?"
He nods. "Yes, yes, of course. Please, follow me."
He gestures to a door, and you follow him into a small office. He motions for you to sit down, and you do, the chair squeaking loudly.
"Now, let's see," he begins, studying a piece of paper. "You're living in the new dorms, correct?"
"Yup," you confirm. "The one with the fancy bathrooms."
"Right, yes. So, your roommate is a Ms. Bada Lee?"
"Yes, that's her."
He sighs, letting the paper fall onto his desk. Clasping his hands together, he asks, "And, is there a problem between the two of you?"
You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable."I mean, not really. I haven't seen her since Friday morning. Why do you ask?"
The man clears his throat. "We received a notice from her this morning, stating that she no longer wanted to reside in her dorm with you. She requested a room transfer and had all her things moved out into another room."
Your heart sank. This had to be a joke
"I'm sorry, but...what? Why? Why would she do that? I barely know her," you protest, shaking your head.
"Unfortunately, the decision has already been made, and the paperwork has been processed," the man replies, a sympathetic look on his face.
"But, this doesn't make any sense," you insist, leaning forward in your seat. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"I'm afraid the reasons are confidential, as is standard practice. All I can tell you is that the decision was made by the student, and we must abide by it."
You fall back in your chair, scowling. "This isn't right."
"I apologize, Ms. y/n, but there's nothing we can do. I'll inform the RA's and staff to expect you for a new room assignment. You likely won't get a new roommate until next semester, though. Otherwise, we're done here. "
"Alright, thank you," you mutter, standing up and heading to the door.
"Thank you for your cooperation," he calls.
You slam the door and storm off, furious. This is complete bullshit. What could you have done yesterday that was so bad that Bada would request a room change and make a complaint?
As you walk back to the dorm, a thousand thoughts race through your head. Were you too loud the first night? Too pushy? Did you say something offensive or insult her?
You rack your brain, trying to remember if you said or did anything wrong, but nothing comes to mind. There was the one moment when you asked about her father, and she seemed a bit upset, but was that really it? Surely she couldn't have built resentment for you after that one, small slip-up. You even apologized to her.
Maybe she just thought you were annoying? You're as confused as ever, and, pissed off. Whatever the issue was, there was no way it was significant enough for her to go directly to the housing office. She could have spoken to you about it, and you could have worked something out but didn't give you the chance. From the moment you met her, she didn't give you a chance. And now you probably have some sort of criminal-esque record with the housing office because of it. Great.
When you arrive back at the dorm, you go straight to your bed, laying down and burying your face into the pillows.
"God damnit," you mumble, your frustration overwhelming.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, with you alternating between fuming, moping, and ranting to Lusher about the incident with Bada. The more you thought about it, the more irritated you felt. Why did such a sexy person have to suck so bad?
Despite the annoyance, you decided not to focus on the issue, opting instead to hang out with Lusher and your other friends. By Sunday night, however, your emotions had shifted back to sadness, and you were once again moping about the incident.
Before you knew it, it was Monday morning, and time for classes. You were excited, yet anxious, about the beginning of the school year. Despite the rocky start, you were determined to make the most of it.
Currently, you're in your last class of the day, bored out of your mind. You're supposed to be taking notes, but your professor lost your attention halfway through the lecture. You fix your gaze on the window, where raindrops are running down the glass. It was cloudy and grey outside, and you could see a flash of lightning in the distance.
"And that concludes our lesson. Don't forget to check your emails because I will be sending you a reading assignment. Class dismissed."
The sound of people packing up their things and moving around causes you to snap out of your trance. You quickly gather your own materials and head out the door.
On the way back to the dorm, the sky opens up, and it starts pouring. You pick up the pace, wanting to avoid getting soaked. As you approach the entrance to your building, you slow down, spotting Bada walking toward you. She looks just as unhappy to be out in the rain as you are, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her hood hanging over her face.
Uh oh, you think, not expecting to see her.
"Um, hi," you stammer, attempting to appear friendly.
She stops in her tracks, eyeing you cautiously. "Uh, hey," she says, her tone cold.
You cross your arms. "So, um, how's your day been?"
"Fine," she replies curtly.
"Cool," you reply. "Enjoying your new room?"
"It's okay," she says, shrugging.
"That's nice," you respond, not sounding sincere.
An uncomfortable, but at this point, familiar, silence follows. You couldn't believe she wasn't taking this as an opportunity to apologize or explain what happened. If she weren't so tall and admittedly intimidating, you'd do something petty, like snatch the hood off of her head. Or pin her down until she fesses up. Or throw something at her pretty face to remind her that—yes, you are hot, but that doesn't mean you can escape consequences! But you're too gracious and realistic to do any of that, so you take the peaceful (though painful) route.
"Well, I should get inside, I don't want to get too wet," you state.
"Okay, yeah," she replies, giving you a curt nod.
"Uh, have a good day," you say, turning around and heading toward the door.
"Thanks, you too," she calls out.
She walks past you, and you can't help but turn around, watching her retreating figure. "What a weirdo," you mutter under your breath, heading up the stairs.
You hurry into the building, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Three months into the semester, you begin to hear Bada's name everywhere. Apparently, within the short time period, she's taken your school's dance team far and has gained quite a bit of attention for it. You're not surprised, given her athletic build and seemingly graceful demeanor. However, this has come with a price, and now, wherever you go, she seems to be there, her presence almost a constant. Similarly to when you first saw her at orientation, many people flock to her, and you hear a number of girls gossiping about how cool and attractive she is. With that, you begin to hear the rumors.
You've heard a lot of things about Bada, some good and some not-so-good. For example, you've heard that she's an excellent dancer and extremely talented. She's also very outgoing, sweet, and has a large group of friends. On the other hand, it seems as if she's built up a reputation for herself. You've heard people calling her a player and a flirt. Others have claimed that she sleeps with women just for fun, never sticking with anyone for too long.
You aren't sure what to believe, but you do know that your opinion of her is low. You still have no idea why she changed rooms and never gave you a straight answer, despite the numerous attempts you've made. In the beginning, you'd attempt to strike up conversations and casually ask her about it, but she would either ignore you or give you a short, vague response. You eventually stopped asking, knowing it was futile. Even when the two of you pass each other in the hallway, her eyes never meet yours, and you swear you can feel the disdain radiating from her.
But it's impossible to completely ignore her because, again, she is loved by many. To make matters worse, Lusher joined the dance team. Meaning, every time you visit Lusher during practice, Bada's there. Lusher tells you that she's a great teammate, but you aren't so sure. After all, you've only spoken a handful of words to her, and they haven't been particularly welcoming.
It's one of those days when you find yourself sitting on the bleachers, observing the dance team. You've come to watch Lusher, and you have to admit, the other dancers are amazing. However, your eyes always drift back to Bada. As much as you try to stop it, you can't help it. She's just so...stunning. She's wearing a tank top, showing off her arms, and baggy pants. Her hair is tied back in a bun, accentuating her features, and she has a serious, focused expression on her face.
You bite your lip, watching as she moves across the floor, her body flowing with the music. It's like she's gliding, and it's mesmerizing. You've never seen someone dance with such strength and power. You've been a fan of dance for a while, and you've never seen anything like it.
As the song comes to an end, everyone strikes a final pose. You watch Bada, her chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.
You grab your water bottle, suddenly thirsty, and take a drink. You're still staring at her, and she glances in your direction. Shit.
You look away, hoping she didn't notice you watching her.
Lusher unfreezes herself from her ending pose and immediately comes running up to you.
"So, what did you think? Wasn't that awesome?" she asks, excitement evident on her face.
"Yeah, it was great. You guys were incredible," you compliment.
"Aw, thanks," Lusher beams. "You should come to more of our practices. They're a lot of fun."
"Yeah, maybe," you agree, noncommittally.
"Actually, do you mind coming to the locker room with me? I need to change, and we can grab something to eat afterward."
"Yeah, sure," you agree.
Lusher gives you a big hug, causing you to laugh. "Thanks, y/n," she smiles.
You follow her into the locker room, and she changes out of her sweaty clothes. You lean against the wall, tapping away on your phone.
"You can look, y/n, I'm not shy," Lusher teases, her shirt pulled up and bra strap undone.
"I know, but, I don't want to be a pervert," you giggle.
Lusher laughs. "You already are one, and I've accepted that fact a long time ago."
You pick up one of her spare pants, throwing at her.
"Hey!" she cries, feigning annoyance.
You smirk. "Sorry."
She rolls her eyes. "I forgive you."
You glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. You've never been in here before, and it's kind of fascinating.
"Where's the bathroom in here?" you ask.
"Down the hall, to the left," she informs.
"Alright, I'm gonna go pee," you announce.
"Okay," she says, not looking away from her locker.
"Be right back," you call, exiting the room.
You walk down the hall and open the bathroom door, making your way inside. You go to the first stall, shutting the door behind you. You take care of business, and as you're finishing up, you hear the sound of footsteps, and voices, entering the room.
Not paying them much mind, you flush the toilet, standing up and zipping your pants. Until you here something that freezes you in your spot.
"Lusher's friend is pretty cute. Your type," a voice says.
"I guess," another, deeper, voice responds.
"Don't be so indifferent, Bada, she is pretty hot," the first voice chides.
"She's alright," Bada says, nonchalantly.
"Why not? It's not like she'd say no," the first voice presses.
"I'm not really interested, Tatter. She's good-looking but, I'm not attracted to her. At all. Not worth my time." Bada says.
You're stunned.
"Really?" Tatter asks.
"Yes. Really." Bada says, firmly.
You feel a rush of anger. She has every right to not find you attractive, but you can't help feeling insulted. Did she have to be so adamant about it?
"Well, damn," Tatter chuckles.
"Sorry to burst your bubble," Bada shrugs.
"No, it's cool," Tatter assures.
"Let's head out, the others are waiting for us," Bada suggests.
"Yeah, sure," Tatter agrees.
Their voices fade away, and their footsteps become more distant. You step out of the stall, making your way toward the sink. You glance at your reflection in the mirror. You look tired and upset because, well you are.
The more you think about it, the more things start to make sense. No wonder why Bada has been so aloof and unfriendly with you. She didn't find you attractive, and henceforth decided that you weren't 'worth her time.' But what kind of shallow thinking was that? You had plenty of things to offer. Your personality, wit, intelligence, humor, and a bunch of other things. So, what did it matter if she found you physically attractive?
You splash some water on your face, trying to wash away your frustration.
It's settled. You didn't want anything to do with her. She had no right to dismiss you, and, as a result, you didn't have to treat her nicely, either. Two can play that game.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
You managed to go the rest of the school year without interacting with Bada. You saw her in passing and heard her name plenty of times, but you largely succeeded in your efforts to avoid her. For the most part, you didn't even think about her. Except, of course, when you got your new roommate after winter break, who was much friendlier, but ridiculously messy and, to be quite frank, annoying. Although this turn-out was not directly Bada's fault, throughout your 2nd semester you laid awake at night, cursing the tall sexy mean woman, as your roommate blasted Bhad Bhabie songs into the early hours of the morning.
It's a new year now, though. And luckily, you do not have to worry about roommate troubles, because you you've gotten an apartment with Lusher. It's tiny and run-down, but incredibly close to campus, and after the issues you had your first year, you're just grateful that you're rooming with someone you actually get along with.
Knowing that, you're excited to see what your second year will bring you. You walk to your first class of the day, which is, unfortunately, an 8 a.m. English class.
You make it to the classroom, finding an open seat near the middle. You sit down, pulling out a notebook and pen.
As the seats fill, the professor begins his lecture, and the class starts.
However, about ten minutes into class, the door opens, and someone walks in. You look up, and your heart drops.
Bada is standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"So sorry to interrupt. I'm late," she says.
"It's okay, take a seat. We're just starting," the professor replies.
Bada's eyes scan the room, and when she spots you, she frowns. You look away, pretending like you didn't notice.
She continues to stand there, looking uncomfortable, before she decides to walk further into the classroom. The professor stops talking and looks at her.
"Do you have a seat yet?" he asks.
"Uh, not yet," Bada stutters.
"Take a seat anywhere, we're getting started," the professor responds, continuing his lecture.
You hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and when you look back, Bada is walking towards the empty seat next to you. She sits down, dropping her backpack, and your heart races.
"Can I borrow a pen?" she asks, her voice soft.
"Sure," you mumble, handing her a pen.
"Thanks," she mutters, writing something down.
Your heart is beating out of your chest. She's sitting next to you. Why is she sitting next to you? Is she doing this on purpose? Maybe she has some sort of vendetta against you. You're not sure.
You try your best to focus on the professor, but it's difficult. You can't help but stare at Bada, your eyes drifting down her body. You take in her attire. She's wearing a white t-shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and a cap. Despite the simplicity of it, she looks phenomenal. It makes you want to scream.
As the professor goes on, Bada takes notes, seeming completely invested in the lecture, and you almost scoff. Who was she trying to fool?
Once the lecture ends, you quickly pack up your stuff and rush out of the room, eager to put some distance between the two of you.
"Okay," your professor begins, clapping his hands. "If you look at the syllabus, you'll see that a big portion of your grade in this class is determined by your final project. This is a research-based assignment, and will require extensive library work. I've randomly assigned you partners to help you out, so, if you'd like, feel free to move around and meet your partners once I call out your names."
A group project? Great. Those always went well. Who was the sorry excuse for a partner you were going to—
"Y/n y/l/n and Bada Lee."
Fuck.
You feel sick. What the hell is this?
You look around the room, frantically, hoping to see someone who shares the same name. Alas, no such luck.
You see Bada shift in her seat, turning toward you, and you try your best to conceal your irritation.
"Hi," she says, quietly.
"Hey," you reply, coolly.
"I guess we're partners, huh?" she asks, a small smile on her face.
"Yep, looks like it," you respond.
"I'm, um, sorry for being late today. I had a meeting with a counselor," she explains.
"I'm not the professor, Bada. I don't care."
Bada seems taken aback by your harsh response.
"Right, um, okay."
"So, uh, do you have any ideas for the final project? I've thought of a few things," she continues.
"I haven't given it much thought," you lie, knowing that you'd spent the majority of last night planning and organizing your entire project.
"Oh," she says, disappointed. "That's okay, we can talk about it some more."
"Sure," you shrug, standing up and grabbing your stuff. "I've got to get to my next class, so, I'll see you later."
You quickly pack up your items and rush out of the room, eager to put some distance between the two of you.
"Y/n, wait!"
You freeze.
"Your phone number," Bada says, jogging up behind you.
You turn around, eyeing her cautiously. "What?"
"Your phone number, so we can communicate," she clarifies, her tone a little more stern than it was a few seconds ago.
"Right," you mutter, fishing your phone out of your pocket and giving her your number.
"Awesome, thanks. I'll text you," she smiles, and then, to your surprise, she turns around and walks away.
You watch her leave, still confused. What just happened?
The next few days pass uneventfully, and you've been avoiding Bada like the plague. It's not difficult, given that the two of you only share one class together and remain silent the entire time. Truthfully, you weren't expecting to get anything out of Bada for this project. As soon as the professor called her name, you were resigned to the fact that you'd probably have to carry out this project yourself. Between dance and the apparent trail of girls that Bada has to deal with on a daily basis, there was no way she'd make time for it.
As a result, you were shocked when, after a week had passed you received a text message from an unknown number.
Unknown: hi! it's Bada. do you have a chance to meet up sometime? i have a few ideas for the project and wanted to talk to you about it.
You're not sure how to respond. This is the last thing you expected from her.
"Who are you texting?" Lusher asks, suddenly appearing beside you.
"What?" you ask, locking your phone.
"I was asking if you'd be home later, but you're clearly too busy texting someone to listen," Lusher laughs.
"No, I'm listening," you insist.
"Then, who are you texting?" she presses, curiously.
"No one. Just a girl," you reply.
Lusher wiggles her eyebrows. "I knew it," she giggles.
"Shut up," you laugh, smacking her arm. "It's not like that."
"Whatever you say," she teases, grabbing her jacket and slipping on her shoes.
"Are you leaving?" you ask.
"Yeah, I'm gonna go study with a few people. You coming?"
You shake your head. "No, I think I'm just gonna stay here."
"Alright, I'll see you later then," she says, waving and exiting the apartment.
You sigh, flopping down on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. You're not sure how long you lay there, but the sound of your phone vibrating snaps you out of your daze.
You grab your phone, checking your messages.
Unknown: this is y/n, right?
"Shit," you mutter, realizing that you forgot to respond.
You: Hi, sorry, it is. I got busy. Um, yeah, I have time tomorrow if you're free.
Bada: i'm available after 5 tomorrow. meet me at the library? 3rd floor?
You: Okay, sounds good.
Bada: great! see you then.
"Fuck," you whisper, tossing your phone onto the couch.
This is going to be a horrible year.
The next day, you find yourself walking into the library, coffee in hand. You check your phone, noticing that it's already 5:30 p.m.
"Crap," you whisper, picking up your pace.
You finally make it to the third floor, scanning the room for Bada. To your surprise, you spot her immediately, sitting alone at a table in the corner.
"Sorry, I'm late," you apologize, speed-walking over to her.
"It's okay," she smiles.
You pull out a chair and sit down, feeling awkward.
"So," you begin. "How are you?"
"Good," she says, quietly. She glances at your coffee cup, a frown on her face, before looking down at the items scattered across the table.
You furrow your eyebrows, looking at the array of items in front of you. Bada's textbooks, her backpack, her phone. Two coffee cups.
"Wait," you say, realization hitting you.
"Yeah?" she asks, looking up.
"You bought me a coffee?" you state, the words sounding dumb as they come out of your mouth.
She blinks. "No."
"But, there are two coffee cups," you point out, feeling more and more confused.
"It's fine, you already bought one," she rushes out, sliding one of the coffee cups farther away from you.
"Wait, no! It's okay. I'll take it."
She stops. "Really?"
"Yeah," you nod, reaching out and grabbing the cup. "Thank you."
"Of course," she shrugs, looking embarrassed.
You pick up the cup, analyzing it, wondering if she put any poison in it. Unfortunately, you are not a chemist, and cannot decipher the contents of the beverage, so, you opt for the safer route and place the cup back down on the table.
"Did you have an idea for the project?" she asks.
"I did," you nod.
"What is it?"
"I was thinking that we could write an article. One of the prompts that was on the syllabus is an exposé, and I figured that it'd be easy to do a deep dive into the school's athletic program."
"Huh, that's interesting," she replies, a thoughtful look on her face.
"Interesting, good or interesting, bad?"
"Interesting, good. I like the idea. How far did you want to go into detail with it?"
"Well, I was hoping we could focus on the women's athletic department. Have you heard anything about them?" you ask.
"A lot. I hear my friends complain a lot," she says.
"About what?"
"So much. The coaches are demanding and strict and don't give the players don't get enough breaks. They don't get as much funding as the men's athletic program, either."
Disappointing but not surprising. "Is there a particular sport or athlete that stands out to you?"
"Um," she starts, a slight blush covering her cheeks.
"Yes?"
"I know a couple of basketball players. The captain, Doyeon, is really good, and I talk to her a lot. She'd probably be willing to help us out. They have a big game coming up, and their coach is going crazy because the school isn't giving them as much access to facilities as they did for the men's team. The basketball players were forced to practice outside, and the coaches are furious."
You can't hide your shock at this. Although you knew the women's team had it rough, you didn't realize there was so much drama happening behind the scenes. "Wow, that's...a mess. Did you want to talk to her about it? I'd love to meet her and get her perspective."
"Yes, definitely," she nods. "They should be practicing tomorrow. We can go watch them and interview her after. Would that work?"
"Sounds good," you agree, mentally making a note to cancel your plans tomorrow. You raise your coffee cup to your lips, momentarily forgetting about the possible dangers, and take a sip. The moment the liquid touches your tongue, you are hit with a profusion of tastiness. It's sweet and delicious and everything you could have ever dreamed of. It's exactly the type of drink you'd order yourself. You glance over at Bada, seeing her watching you nervously, and decide to speak up.
"This is really good," you praise, taking another sip.
She smiles. "You like caramel lattes, right?" she asks.
"Um, yes," you respond, confused. "How'd you know that?"
"Just, um, a lucky guess," she replies awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
You raise an eyebrow at this. Crap, you think. She must've put some sort of poison in here that mimics the taste of your favorite coffee flavor. You're screwed, but it's too late. You might as well enjoy the coffee. You take one last sip, savoring the flavor, then set it down.
"Alright, well, I have some notes I want to go over, if that's alright," you say, pulling out your laptop.
"Okay," she replies, also taking out her laptop.
The two of you spend the next hour discussing the project, both of you getting lost in your own thoughts. By the time you're done, it's nearly eight o'clock, and the sun is setting.
"We should probably head back now," you state, packing up your items.
"Yeah, we should," she agrees, standing up.
The two of you walk out of the library, the campus quiet and dark.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says, walking toward her car.
"Yep," you reply, waving and heading towards yours.
Once inside, you turn on the car, blasting the air conditioning. You turn on the radio, trying to distract yourself from the heat outside.
"And in other news, the women's basketball team is still having trouble securing proper facilities. According to sources close to the team, the coach is frustrated and the players are exhausted.
"In other sports news, the football team is preparing for its season-opener against their rivals, the..."
You groan, turning off the radio and focusing on the road. Your stomach growls, and you realize that you haven't eaten anything since lunch. You consider stopping somewhere, but decide against it. You'll just eat when you get back to the apartment.
As you drive home, you think about the last few hours you spent with Bada. She was...interesting, to say the least. Today, she seemed more responsive to you than she had previously. In the past, she had mostly ignored you, rarely speaking to you unless necessary. Today, though, she'd been engaging and helpful. Perhaps, it was just because she cared about getting a good grade on this project. Once it's over, she'll probably return to her normal, snide self. That was okay with you, though. As long as she was cooperative while you worked on the project, you couldn't care less what she thinks of you or how she treats you afterward.
You park your car, heading up the stairs to the apartment, your mind wandering. Despite your best efforts, Bada is starting to worm her way into your head. It's stupid. You're being ridiculous.
This was going to be a long semester.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
"I think I'm going to fall asleep."
Bada turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, please. You've never seen the game before. This is just the warm-up."
You glare at her. "It's been two hours," you point out.
"Yes, and the game hasn't even started yet," she says, matter-of-factly.
"I hate you," you grumble, crossing your arms.
"You know you're the one who suggested we research a sports team, right?"
"Shut up," you mutter, glaring at her.
The two of you have been sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs for the past two hours, observing the team's practice as they ran around an outdoor basketball court under the sweltering heat. Bada was not lying about the terrible working conditions these women were put under. You didn't understand how they had the ability to exercise in these circumstances. You were dying.
"I need a break," you declare, standing up and stretching.
"No, no, no, no. Sit," she demands, pulling on your wrist and dragging you back into your seat.
"Let me go!" you yell, struggling against her grip. Why the hell was this woman so strong? For christ's sake, she was a dancer, not a wrestler.
"Not until the end of the game," she states, gripping tighter.
"This isn't fair!"
"Life isn't fair," she retorts.
"You're such a bitch," you seethe, finally ripping your arm from her grasp.
"So, I've been told."
"Why are we here again?" you ask, slumping in your seat.
"Look, just try to pay attention. I'll buy you a smoothie if you stay focused," she offers.
"Deal," you say, straightening your posture and turning to watch the practice.
"And now, the final play," the coach yells, blowing a whistle.
The team scatters, moving to their positions. Doyeon, the captain, dribbles the ball down the court, passing it to another girl, who moves closer to the net. Just as she's about to shoot, the girl trips, sending the ball spiraling out of her hands and in your direction. You gasp, scrambling out of the way, but you're not fast enough. The ball hits you square in the face, causing you to yelp as you fall backward in your chair.
"Fuck," you whine, holding your hand to your face.
"Oh, shit, are you okay?" Bada asks, kneeling down next to you.
"Do I look okay you goofball?!" you shout, removing your hand to reveal a bloodied nose.
"Ooh, ouch," she cringes.
"Are you okay?" a different voice asks, and you look up to see the woman who had tripped approaching the two of you.
"I'm fine," you mumble, feeling embarrassed.
"I'm really sorry," she apologizes, bowing her head.
"It's fine," you shrug, standing up.
"You should come see the nurse," Bada says.
"No, I'll be fine. It's not that bad," you insist, wiping away the blood.
"Are you sure?" the basketball player asks.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's not the first time this has happened," you explain, trying to alleviate her concern.
"What?" Bada chokes.
"Please don't ask," you sigh.
"Okay, well, I should get back," the girl says, gesturing toward the court.
"Of course. Go kick ass," you cheer, smiling.
"Thanks," she grins, running back onto the court.
You and Bada watch the girl's retreating figure. Bada then turns to you, a look of concern on her face.
"Okay, come on. Let's get you cleaned up," Bada instructs, pulling on your wrist and leading you towards to one of the entrances into the building.
"Where are we going?"
"The locker rooms," she states.
"What? No, no, no, no," you protest, planting your feet and resisting her.
"I'm not letting you sit here while your nose bleeds. Besides, the girls have to go in there eventually. We'll interview Doyeon once she comes in." she explains.
"But—"
"Who cares? Come on, let's go," she urges, tugging on your arm.
"Fine," you concede, allowing her to drag you through the building.
Once inside the locker room, Bada leads you to a sink and forces you to stand still.
"Hold still," she commands, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it.
"What are you doing?" you ask.
"Cleaning up the blood," she responds, bringing the towel to your nose.
"Don't!" you hiss, swatting her hand away.
"You have to," she argues.
"No, I don't. I can do it myself," you retort.
"Just let me do it," she whines. "I've had to do stuff like this more times that I can count. I'm basically a professional."
"What? You having to clean up your own bloody noses? Why? Because of the amount of times you've gotten slapped in the face?"
"Hey!" she pouts.
"Well, are you going to answer the question or not?"
"Dance injuries. Now, will you let me help you?"
"Ugh, fine," you groan, rolling your eyes.
She brings the towel to your nose, gently dabbing the blood away. Her hand brushes against your cheek, sending a tingle down your spine. She's standing so close to you, her chest nearly presses into yours. You can smell her perfume, a subtle vanilla scent that seems to surround her. It's intoxicating.
When you glance up, her eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. They're a deep brown. Warm and inviting. You've never noticed how beautiful they are. Or maybe, you just haven't had the opportunity to study them this closely.
Her fingers linger on your skin, the tips grazing over the sensitive flesh.
"There. All better," she says, throwing away the paper towel.
"Thanks," you say, clearing your throat.
"No problem," she grins.
The two of you stand in silence, neither of you wanting to move.
"So," you start, breaking the tension. "Should we, uh, wait for Doyeon here?"
"Sure," she shrugs.
"Okay, um, I'm going to, uh, sit over there," you stutter, pointing to the bench behind her.
"Okay," she says.
You awkwardly make your way to the bench and sit down, keeping a safe distance between the two of you.
"How are you feeling?" she asks.
"A little lightheaded," you admit.
"Hmm, do you want some water?" she suggests.
You think of the possibly poisoned coffee. "No, I think I'm alright," you say.
"Okay," she nods.
Another awkward silence.
"So, you, uh, have a lot of dance injuries?" you ask.
"Yeah, a few," she laughs.
"Like, what kind?"
"Oh, nothing serious. Mostly bruises and sprains. Once, I twisted my ankle, but that was ages ago," she says, waving her hand dismissively.
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm," she nods.
"How many times have you had a bloody nose?" you inquire.
"That's a secret," she grins.
"C'mon," you press.
"Nope, not telling," she shakes her head.
"You're no fun," you huff.
"I'm lots of fun. You're just not asking the right questions," she smirks.
"Like what?"
"Like.."
The locker room door opens, and a group of women walk in, all chattering excitedly. Bada looks over, her smile growing wider.
"Doyeon!" she calls, waving her hand.
You turn, spotting the captain running over to you. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and sweat drips down her face. As worn out as she seemed, she still looked incredible. In a flash, you became hyperaware of your probably still disheveled looks as a result of your recent injury. Way to embarrass yourself in front of a pretty girl.
"Hey, Doyeon," Bada greets, standing up and smiling at her. Doyeon outstretches her arms, enveloping Bada in a lingering, tight, hug.
"Bada! I missed you," Doyeon sighs.
"Missed you too," Bada replies.
"And who's this?" she asks, pulling away from the hug and nodding in your direction.
"Oh, um, this is y/n, she's working with me on the project. I told you about."
"Nice to meet you," you smile, extending a hand.
"Likewise," she replies, shaking it.
"So, are you ready to do this interview?" Bada asks, eagerness dripping in her voice.
"Yeah, let me get changed first," she replies, walking towards the lockers.
"Sure," Bada nods, watching as Doyeon disappears into the showers.
You glance over at her, her eyes still trained on where Doyeon had just disappeared. Something in your stomach sinks.
"Oh my god," you scoff.
"What?" she asks, turning to face you.
"Don't tell me we're interviewing one of your little girlfriends," you grimace.
"She's not my girlfriend," she frowns.
"Whatever," you say, rolling your eyes.
"Seriously, y/n, we're just friends."
"With benefits?" you inquire, raising an eyebrow.
"Why does this matter so much to you, anyway?" she asks, crossing her arms.
"Because, it's my project, and I don't want it ruined because you can't keep your hormones in check," you reply, glaring at her.
"I'm not going to 'ruin' anything, alright? I'm perfectly capable of keeping my personal life separate from my school work."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," you mutter.
"God, you're so frustrating," she huffs.
"So are you," you snap.
"Well, it's a good thing this is just for a project, and you don't have to deal with me outside of class, then."
"But it's a shame I can't get rid of you sooner."
"Believe me, the feeling's mutual," she growls.
You open your mouth, ready to unleash a verbal assault, but you're cut off by the sound of footsteps. Doyeon walks up, her hair still wet, and her bag slung over her shoulder.
"You two ready?" she asks, grinning at the both of you.
"As we'll ever be," Bada sighs.
The three of you sit on the locker room bench, a small space in between each of you. Bada is scribbling something down on a piece of paper while Doyeon waits patiently.
"Alright, um, first question. How have the recent changes affected the team's practices and games?"
"Honestly, it's been pretty tough. We're used to practicing indoors, so the outdoor heat has been brutal. On top of that, we've had less access to facilities, which has made things even more difficult. All of this has taken a toll on our performance, both on and off the court."
"That's unfortunate," Bada frowns. "How have the coaches and other staff members been handling the situation?"
"Not well, honestly. They've been pretty angry and stressed. They haven't taken it out on us, but it's been noticeable. And, honestly, they have every right to be upset. This is a big change for everyone, and it's not something that was anticipated."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Bada sighs.
"Thanks," Doyeon says with a smile, placing her hand on top of Bada's.
The sight of it makes your stomach twist, and a scowl forms on your face.
"Uh, next question," you start. "Do you have any idea when the situation might improve?"
Doyeon tears her eyes away from Bada. "Hopefully soon. We can't keep playing like this. Something needs to change."
"And if nothing does?" you ask.
"Then we'll have to keep fighting. Like always," she shrugs.
"I'm proud of you guys. You've all been handling this whole situation with a lot of grace," Bada compliments.
"Well, I have a great team. Everyone has really stepped up and supported each other. We've got a lot of good people," Doyeon smiles.
"That's wonderful to hear," Bada grins.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes.
"Anyways, let's wrap this up," you say, clapping her hands together. "Last question. Is there anything else you think is worth knowing for our project?"
"Hm, let me think," she hums, placing her finger to her chin. "I don't think there's anything..."
"Well then, I think we're done!" you announce, swiftly standing up.
"Already?" Bada asks, glancing at her watch.
"Yeah, time flies, huh?"
"I guess," she mutters. "Alright, thanks for your time, Doyeon," Bada smiles, reaching across the space and squeezing Doyeon's knee.
"Of course," she beams.
You roll your eyes again.
"Well, I'll see you later, okay?" Bada says, standing up.
"Absolutely," Doyeon agrees.
"Great," she grins.
Bada turns to face you, a forced smile plastered on her face.
"We done?"
"Yep, let's go."
You and Bada make your way out of the locker room, leaving Doyeon behind.
"That went well," Bada sighs, once the door closes.
"Sure did," you mumble, barely able to contain the sarcasm.
"I can't wait to write up the report," she exclaims, her eyes lighting up.
"It'll be nice, yeah," you say.
"Maybe after, we could—"
"I need to go," you blurt out, cutting her off.
"What?" she asks, frowning.
"I'm, uh, late. For class. Sorry."
"Oh. Okay, um, I'll see you around, I guess," she says.
"Bye," you say, rushing past her.
You're not lying. You are late for class. But not nearly as late as you're making out. You speed-walk across campus, a million thoughts racing through your mind. No wonder Bada was so eager to do this project. It was just an excuse to spend time with Doyeon. And, judging by the way the two of them interacted, it wasn't the first time they'd spent time together.
You're not exactly sure why this is bothering you so much. You knew Bada got around. Maybe it's because you're annoyed that Bada didn't tell you the truth. Or maybe it's because you feel stupid for not seeing this coming. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that you're upset, and you have no one to blame but yourself.
You make it to your lecture hall, and as quietly as possible, slip into an empty seat near the back. Your professor drones on and on about the importance of deadlines and punctuality, and you find yourself completely unable to pay attention. Instead, you replay the day's events over and over again. Each time, you cringe at the memory of how oblivious and naive you'd been.
read part two
#bada lee#bada lee fanfic#bada x reader#lee bada#street woman fighter 2#swf2#swf2 x reader#bada lee x reader#bada imagine#bada lee x y/n#bada lee fluff#bada lee imagine
355 notes
·
View notes
Text
I have. Something to talk about and its very very VERY important.
We know that last scene of TDJ where its just PEAK yearning but can we PLEASE appreciate the micro-expressions that passed over both Yohan & Gaon's faces when they faced each other DIRECTLY after a MONTH (if im not wrong) of that whole blowing up fiasco + Yohan's arrest before that??????? Because my GOD.
So we see Gaon call Yohan by his Full Government Name™ (which wasn't very wise for a declared dead enemy of the state who is ALSO wanted but we'll let it pass for romanticisms' sake) and look at his face. His face is one of a scared man. He's not hesitant but he is afraid of how Yohan views him after what transpired between them.
In turn, Yohan looks back and well.
He is also somewhat apprehensive. They're both testing each other & the waters they're in. Although Yohan doesn't have a revenge vendetta shackling him down anymore, Gaon, on the other hand, has tremendous stuff to unpack. They're carefully, if not gently, evaluating the distance between them.
And then, Yohan gives a clear sign that he holds nothing against Gaon. An open arm, an open invitation. To join him? Maybe. To decide what to do with them? Perhaps. It's vague but it's also clear that Yohan is done manipulating Gaon & that he has left the ball in Gaon's court.
Then come the positive changes. With Yohan's green signal, Gaon is somewhat relieved but also incredibly guilt-ridden. I think these frames speak for themselves.
The wet smile & the eye crinkles. He is so relieved to be in Yohan's good graces but also just looking at Yohan be his ever glowing self after serving his life's purpose.
Yohan. My dearest Yohan. Look at him. He's equally heart-broken to be seeing Gaon like this, to be leaving him behind but that little nod he does???? Like he's made a decision that he needs to stick with for the betterment of Gaon???? That's what truly gets me. It's so clear the distance between them is hurting him but he also knows that it's necessary to give Gaon space & time, to unravel & to explore things on his own. Perhaps another assumption on his part because who truly knows what Gaon wants except Gaon himself?
Then it's a brief look exchanged. As he turns, giving Gaon one last reassuring smile as he turns and leaves behind one of the most important people to him.
And gaon watches. Look at his micro-expressions here. Look at his breathing. His sagging shoulders. His eyes. His wet smile. His balled hands. His tiny nods.
He also thinks this is necessary but you can so clearly see its taking every bit of nerve & fiber in him to stay rooted to his place & not chase after Yohan. He's DELIBERATELY not taking a single step towards Yohan. He thinks he doesn't deserve to chase after him, that hes content to see Yohan: alive, well and so utterly free. That's all that matters.
I would genuinely like to appreciate both jinyoung and jisung for their acting bcs they NAILED the raw emotions needed for this absolutely stunning yet gut wrenching scene. It's so difficult to convey such complex emotions through such little means yet they did it to PERFECTION. They both gave their characters LIFE. And for that i will always be grateful bcs i dont think anyone else could've done Kang Yohan and Kim Gaon the way they did.
#The devil judge#the devil judge meta#kang yohan#tdj#kim gaon#ji sung#kdrama#gahan#lawful husbands#the devil judge#park jinyoung
151 notes
·
View notes
Text
i think peoples understanding of alicent very much hinges on whether or not they have enough empathy and self-awareness to overcome that first scene we get with older alicent.
we are reintroduced to this character as this callous, passive agressive woman who apparently plots to snatch newborn babies from their mother's arms, someone who lashes out with her tongue and eventually a knife, a far cry from the 'inoffensive' sweet pro-rhaenyra girl that she was. and then like.... we never see her again. not really. because every other scene we get after that walks it back a little, giving us new (or maybe renewed) reasons to understand her point of view; she's frantic. she's scared. she's angry. she loves her children. shes scared for her children. she still loves rhaenyra. she's a caring wife. her husband doesn't love her. her husband barely acknowledges the children he forced on her. she wants peace. she abhors violence. she thinks of the smallfolk when no one else does. she expresses an ability for genuine self-reflection and regret, especially after her own loss of control at driftmark (something we see in absolutely no one else btw, except for rhaenyra once). and i think having your entire view of her dictated by that first scene with her in the Princess and the Queen and never exploring the character further because you've already decided she's not worth it is such a huge mistake.
it speaks to an ability to change your views when presented with new information and reconcile the fact victims can also be perpetrators. because the alicent we meet in the Princess and the Queen is still Alicent. people will say 'oh younger alicent was innocent but older alicent is just a bitch' to justify their hatred of her and it stresses me out because how can you have seen what younger alicent was subjected to, empathise, and then see that she is STILL being subjected to it, and yet not understand and empathise with the woman shes become? is it just because she is now expressing her pain in uglier, more outwardly damaging ways? expressing it in ways that hurts others and not just herself. ways that hurt rhaenyra and her children.
victimhood isn't always going to look like a timid young woman with bleeding nail beds whos easy to feel sympathy for because she doesnt make life difficult for your faves. sometimes its seething, spitting, and wielding a knife but that doesnt make it any less worthy of acknowledgement.
929 notes
·
View notes
Note
🎤 VOCALIST ── send in a character + any prompts in this cool tag or a lyric prompt of your choice for a blurb (remember to tell me which list the prompt is from!)
dreamy (from different types of kisses) + angel baby steve <3
— ivy / @inkluvs
i am realizing now how difficult kisses are to write smoothly lolz. hopefully this is okay <333 | 1.3k gn!reader
“You know, I don’t think you’re actually supposed to aim for my toes when we do this.”
Your head falls to his chest in resignation, a groan of equal sentiment dying out in the cotton of his shirt. Even though his subsequent laughter is genial and bright, your face still burns against him. You’re sure if you stayed there any longer that the searing heat of your cheek would leave a discolored patch on the garment.
“You are such a jerk, I’m trying my best!” You argue, pulling back with your eyes squeezed shut and nose facing the wall to avoid his gaze.
He watches with a wide grin as your expression twists in embarrassment. And though he can clearly see that your eyes are closed, he still ducks and tilts his head to make sure they’re level with his own. His stare is stuck on your eyelids, frantically darting between the two to see if you’ll give him the pleasure of opening them any time soon. He laughs again when he sees your timid smile before you pull your chin to your chest.
“How am I the jerk? I’m the one with a broken foot, here.”
As dramatic as he is, the words carry no real annoyance. He’s fine; his foot is intact and he’ll most certainly live. Still, your palm grows sweaty where it’s clasped with his.
It was a silly idea that he’d proposed. Well, enforced to be more accurate. An off-handed comment — a little muddled by a handful of popcorn in your mouth — about having two left feet made him spring up from the couch and offer his hand. He was absolutely determined to help you practice slow dancing, hyping up his adequate sense of rhythm and decent coordination.
And he’d looked so eager, with fluffy hair and old clothes for pajamas, smiling down at you with a fondness that made it impossible to refuse. You take up his offer with little hesitation, figuring it would be easy enough. Plus, it might be worth it to be this close to him for a while, and he’s thanking you for it in his head.
But a couple of scratchy, romantic records later, and all you have to show for it is an imprint of Steve’s big toe on the sole of your sock-clad foot.
While he’s red in the face from laughter and joy, frustration is pulling the corners of your lips into a frown. Because what should be a romantic scene is a little more difficult for you than you want it to be and you might be getting in your own head about it. Admittedly, you’re taking it a bit more seriously than he is.
“I promise I’m trying,” you mutter under your breath, barely audible as you stare down at your feet to make sure you don’t step on him again.
His brows crease in concern at the change in your demeanor. “I know,” he answers softly. When you don’t look up at him, his arm tightens around your waist to pull you against his frame. A reassuring squeeze is sent to your hand before he’s toying with the promise ring on your fourth finger, smiling as he recalls the matching one on his own. He finishes with a deeper cadence, still just as gently, “I know. I was just messing with you.”
There’s a beat of silence between you before he sighs and halts your swaying completely. He smooths his hand up your back, leaving a line of fire across your spine with his blunt nails until they end up at the nape of your neck. Meanwhile, the hand that’s wrapped in yours is guided to his torso, prompting you to hold onto him there instead. All for the greater purpose of cradling your face in his hands.
He knows you too well. A promise of love shines in his eyes as they catch the subtle annoyance hidden in the creases of your face. The softness of his smile, his touch, is a manifestation of that promise and it has you taking a particularly hefty breath to calm the chaos in your chest.
“Hey, you’re doing fine. Promise. Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours.” He looks you in the eye the entire time, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks to emphasize his final point. And maybe being this close to him was a bad idea because you’re afraid your knees are going to buckle at his attentiveness.
And the fear becomes even more prominent when you spot his eyes dip down to your lips just for a split second before returning. You can feel your heart jump into your throat and the gooey smile being pushed onto your face before you can restrain it. He mimics the same expression, as if it’d be any help to your current state. You’re so out of it, you barely hear him ask, “Wanna keep trying?”
“You make me nervous.”
He blinks. “Me? Why do I make you nervous?”
“Dunno!…’Cause you’re, like…you’re looking at me like that,” you try to explain. It comes out in between nervous laughter, pushed out through teeth glued together in a smile only he can seem to cause. And he decides to take full advantage of it.
“Hmm. Like what?”
His brow raises suggestively before inching closer to you. His mouth just hovers over yours, tauntingly tickling your skin with a smug grin. You swallow down your nerves, nudging his nose with the tip of your own.
“Like…”
You push closer, puckering your lips against his in a kiss that’s barely there. Tenderness seeps through his fingers as they cup your jaw, and scratch the nape of your neck to elicit a sigh from you. His breath hitches at the sound and he’s pushing into the kiss out of poorly constrained excitement. His lips drag slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you and committing it to memory. He all but whines when you’re finally pulling away for air, resting your forehead on his.
His lips are slick and kiss-bitten, face flushed and ears bright red. His chest is heaving and his eyes are closed in bliss. He looks wrecked and you’re not doubting that you look the same, but looking at him like this makes your stomach flutter.
You giggle, this time a more deliberate sound. “You’re distracting me.”
He huffs in disbelief and pulls back to look at you. You can feel his hands grow warmer in your skin with each passing second, the blush on his face deepening. “You’re distracting me! I’m supposed to be teaching you.”
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job,” you wince playfully, nudging his wounded foot.
As if it were possible, his smile widens and an airy laugh reverberates in his chest. “Yeah, cuz you’re looking at me like that.”
He dives in to capture your lips once more and hums at the contact. It’s notably more difficult this time around, your smiles getting in the way as your teeth clumsily scratch against each other. But it doesn’t stop either of you from pressing on, lips locking and clicking with every ebb and it makes your fingers twist into his tee. He pulls back with his lips comically puckered and placing them on your forehead for one final kiss.
“You're fine. You’re gonna get it, hmm?” He looks at you expectantly and you just about melt in his arms. It’s a silly thing, sure, but he sounds so sure, so confident in you. And his brown eyes are wide and teeming with ardor. You nod, a huge grin on your face.
“Let’s just hope you’re not in a cast by then.”
#incapable of writing short thing sorry <3#i got. invested in the slow dancing part.#ᝰ cece’s scribbles#ღ 300 celebration !#steve harrington#stranger things#steve harrington x you#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x gn!reader#steve harrington hc#stranger things fluff#stranger things blurb#stranger things fic#steve stranger things
113 notes
·
View notes
Note
(For your lovely rollo event.)
Rollo, how do you feel about children? Either just in general or perhaps.. if you would ever want to be a father in the future?
Like Fire, Hellfire.
“Children?”
He handled the word as though it were a skunk—innocent and harmless for now but primed to spray at the first hint of danger. A muscle in his face ticked. It was though he wished to shift into a different emotion but hadn't yet decided which one.
Handkerchief out, Rollo sucked in a breath through his teeth. The usual disgust or disapproval was not present in full force. Today, it was tempered by hesitance as he tip-toed around the subject.
"They have the capacity to be rambunctious. Like fire, difficult to tame. I’m not certain I can match their energy," he said vaguely. “The children in the City of Flowers are free-spirited, and that tends to result in acts of mischief. Whether their pranks and games disturb public peace depends on the time and place. I'm not fond of the instances when they do."
A slight grimace crossed his features. "There was once an incident when a boy blew hard into a magically charmed handkerchief, and the noise it produced startled the baker at the cafe I was frequenting. He had just pulled out a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. The croissants ended up all over the floor... What a waste of perfectly good food. The baker, too, was quite upset, as you can imagine."
"What happened to the boy?"
"Ah, him. He attempted to abscond from the scene of the crime. In his rush to escape, he paid no attention to his surroundings and collided with me." Rollo waved a hand. "The baker's rage was upon him in an instant. The boy was shaking like a leaf in the wind—he grasped onto my robes to keep himself upright.”
Rollo drew out a sigh that ended in a small smile. “I managed to smooth things over with the baker, though I also spoke with the boy and had him apologize. One must atone for one’s crimes—that lesson was surely instilled in him that day.”
"Aw, it was nice of you to step in and speak on behalf of the little guy." You found yourself smiling as well. Even though Rollo-san always has this stern air about him… "You really have a soft spot for kids, huh?”
His frown quickly returned. "No, I wouldn't say that. I was merely holding the boy accountable for his actions. Children can so easily be led astray without proper instruction and moral guidance. Who is to say he wouldn’t be a repeat offender if he was let off the hook?”
"Someone's in denial," you said in a teasing singsong. “It’s okay to confess that you’re good at taking care of kids, you know.”
“… I am not,” he insisted. “I am most content observing the children go about their simple days. I do not wish to take a larger part in their lives beyond that.”
A terrifying thought nipped at him from the dark crevices of his mind.
I don’t have a right to.
If his heart were a house, then a window had been thrown open, letting the outside in. A hole opened in the dark, and incriminating light rushed to fill it.
A flower of pain blossomed in his chest, its thorns driving deep into his flesh. The blood that rose to the surface was both hot and cold. Burning scorn, icy remorse.
A deadly duo.
Spiraling.
I wasn't able to protect the one that mattered most of all. My magic came too late. I'm in no position to be a big brother, let alone a father, a grandfather, an uncle, a guardian of any sort…!
I’m not worthy.
Rollo gritted his teeth. His soul ablaze, his mind jumbled with emotions running high. He pushed back with teeth and nails.
It’s not my fault. I’m not to blame!! The one who cast this flame is…!
“Rollo-san?”
You were staring at him, concern seeping into your eyes. Curiosity, too, had bloomed there. It was the same sort of expression one makes at a a stray on the side of the road. Sorry for it, but uncertain about drawing near to check its condition.
He gasped—realizing he had been making a most frightening face. Rearranging his features back into some semblance of calm, he cleared his throat.
“… Suffice to say, it is impossible in this current state of affairs for any child to grow up safe and free of sin. Around every bend and corner, there is temptation of magic calling out to them. How cruel!” he lamented pityingly. “The poor things, like lambs led to the slaughter.”
You shuddered at the gruesome image—human children like lambs.
Poor things, echoed your head. Poor Rollo, echoed your heart, thinking such things.
“Until I can bring about that magic-free world into fruition, I cannot commit my efforts toward any other endeavors,” he concluded. “A world without all the pain and suffering of this one… I intend to see my goal through to the very end. That is my utmost priority.”
A fairer world for all.
For the children.
For him.
#twisted wonderland#twst#Rollo Flamme#twst x reader#Rollo Flamme x Reader#angst#spoilers#disney twisted wonderland#twst interactions#twisted wonderland interactions#Reader#self insert#Rollo at the Writing Desk
182 notes
·
View notes
Note
could you maybe do headcanons on how the succession characters would comfort their partner? it's just being such a shit week and on top of that i finished succession and i am immensely sad💀 it's okay if you can't tho !! thanks <3
I hope your week ends on a good note!!! Thank you for requesting anon, I love u and I hope this makes you feel better :) <3
p.s. I’m so sorry I’m updating slowly :( I promise I’ll get better about it the moment I’m on break, im sick and school is ruing my life :,) enjoy x
comforting you
Kendall
ᝰ he doesn’t need you to say anything, ever
ᝰ he just knows what you need
ᝰ when he comes home and finds you in bed early, he knows you’ve had a difficult day
ᝰ he doesn’t know what happened, but he won’t ask until you’re feeling better
ᝰ he changes out of his work clothes and just gets into bed with you
ᝰ when you don’t say anything either, he pulls you into a cuddle, one hand pressing your head to his chest and the other cupping your hip
ᝰ “hi, ken.”
ᝰ peppers your face in kisses
ᝰ “feeling off?” he asks
ᝰ you nod
ᝰ his fingers go to stroke your jaw
ᝰ “you can talk to me, you know. i want to make it better,” he tells you
ᝰ so you tell him everything
ᝰ whatever the issue was, the next day, he’s found some way to solve it
ᝰ just for you
ᝰ anything for you
Roman
ᝰ he’s not exactly a ‘sit down and talk about feelings’ type of person
ᝰ but he can tell when something’s wrong
ᝰ and he wants nothing more but to make you feel like you’re on top of the world
ᝰ he sees your pouty face when you get home from a grocery run
ᝰ “hey, babe, come look,” he says after he helps with all the bags
ᝰ he’d been at work when you’d left for the store
ᝰ so he’s had some time to figure out what to do for you without making it seem like he’s prying
ᝰ he’ll ask you about what’s bothering you once you’ve relaxed
ᝰ he plops down on the couch, dragging you with him
ᝰ your favorite movie is paused on the tv, waiting to be played
ᝰ “i found an extended version. with bloopers and deleted scenes and everything,” he murmurs
ᝰ the entire movie, his hand is rubbing up and down your back
ᝰ his fingers sometimes creep up your neck, playing gently with your hair
ᝰ the entire thing is extremely soothing
ᝰ you know he knows something’s wrong
ᝰ and you also know he’s going to do everything in his power to fix it
ᝰ and you’re so grateful he just loves you
Shiv
ᝰ the minute you come home from work, exhaustion and misery rolling off of you in waves, she demands to know what’s wrong
ᝰ “is someone bothering you? is it your boss again? because i can get him fired.”
ᝰ you tell her everything
ᝰ she promises to help you with whatever it is that’s causing you trouble
ᝰ she’d tip the earth off it’s axis if you asked
ᝰ and she does as she said she would
ᝰ everything’s somehow resolved in the next hour
ᝰ “come here, i want a kiss,” she tells you
ᝰ you very happily oblige
ᝰ she spends the entire night just spoiling (and worshiping) you
ᝰ the sheets of your bed are tangled between both your legs
ᝰ you’ve never felt more loved
ᝰ she murmurs about how valentine’s day is coming up
ᝰ and tells you to get your nails done and dress pretty day of
ᝰ you don’t really know how you got here
ᝰ but you’re not upset
ᝰ you smile up at the ceiling, delightedly dazed
ᝰ you don’t even remember why you were upset
Tom
ᝰ the two of you are watching your current show, as you do every night, and he notices you’re zoning out
ᝰ he pauses it and looks down at you
ᝰ he dots a couple kisses over your brow
ᝰ “everything okay?”
ᝰ “rough day…”
ᝰ “why didn’t you tell me?”
ᝰ his expression is one of concern now, yet still absolutely laden with affection
ᝰ “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to keeping things from you or anything. i just don’t want to bother you.”
ᝰ “i want you to bother me. say everything that comes into your brain, i want to hear it.”
ᝰ he pulls you closer, palm smoothing over the back of your neck as he sets your head against his chest
ᝰ you tell him about your day, and how you were getting so frustrated
ᝰ frustrated everything was going wrong today, frustrated that the entire week was going wrong
ᝰ he listens intently, stroking your hair the entire time
ᝰ he gives soft “mhms” and “of courses” at your words
ᝰ he peppers warm kisses all over your face
ᝰ he does his best to give you a solution
ᝰ even if what he suggested doesn’t work, he’s sending you flowers to your office for the next week
Greg
ᝰ he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit
ᝰ he’s a little nervous to ask what’s wrong
ᝰ he’s afraid he won’t know what to do to make you feel better
ᝰ “hey, uh, everything okay?”
ᝰ you shrug
ᝰ “wanna talk about it?”
ᝰ you tell him everything
ᝰ he nods the entire time, his eyes never leaving your face
ᝰ he’s trying to memorize everything you’re saying
ᝰ he doesn’t really have any great solutions
ᝰ and he kind of hates himself for it
ᝰ he wants to help you
ᝰ “hey, how about we go out tonight? take your mind off things.”
ᝰ you spend the night at dinner then wandering through a night market
ᝰ you both talk nonstop
ᝰ he gets you a bunch of trinkets
ᝰ just things that reminds him of you
ᝰ and a bracelet, too
ᝰ`he spends a bit of time fiddling with the clasp, eventually hooking it together and letting it sit on your wrist
ᝰ you don’t take the bracelet off
ᝰ ever
ᝰ at home, he’s worried you’re still upset
ᝰ but you’re not
ᝰ you fall asleep curled up against him, your worries now nonexistent
Stewy
ᝰ he feels what you feel
ᝰ and at this point he can never leave you alone
ᝰ he NEEDS to be with you 24/7
ᝰ so naturally it’s like he’s dying when you come home looking upset
ᝰ “hey, no kiss hello?” he whines
ᝰ that manages to get you to laugh
ᝰ he smiles at your smiling
ᝰ you go over to kiss him and he catches your wrist before you walk off
ᝰ “no, c’mere,” he insists
ᝰ he tugs you into his lap and winds his arms around your waist
ᝰ he sets his chin on your shoulder
ᝰ “why’re you upset?”
ᝰ “oh, it’s nothing, stewy.”
ᝰ “bullshit.”
ᝰ you spill
ᝰ he rubs circles into your hip bone
ᝰ “i’d be upset, too,” he admits
ᝰ he kisses all up your neck
ᝰ “but we don’t have to think about that all now. can we just spend some time together? i promise, though, if you’re still having problems i’ll gladly fuck up many lives for you.”
ᝰ you laugh, making him laugh
ᝰ you spend the rest of the night just sitting there talking to him
ᝰ he even lets you put his hair into pigtails with your hair ties
#succession#succession hbo#wambsgansshoelaces#succession x reader#anon ask#kendall roy#kendall roy x reader#roman roy#roman roy x reader#siobhan roy#siobhan roy x reader#tom wambsgans#tom wambsgans x reader#greg hirsch#greg hirsch x reader#stewy hosseini#stewy hosseini x reader#succession headca ons
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
Topic: Sebastian and Solomon Sallow HCs
TW: mild discussion of abuse
It’s been almost a year in the fandom and I love seeing people continue to expand on the headcanon and lore surrounding these characters. The discussion of Solomon and his abusive tendencies comes up a lot towards his nephew. Beyond just the verbal - which we get a mild glance at paired with the elements told by Sebastian - one might can infer there’s more to the story.
Some people have proposed Sebastian possibly living in that shack (I can’t remember who exactly plus please feel free to tag and I’ll add them). Discussions of how physical the abuse is have happened in many locations.
As for why I love the HC of Solomon (forcibly) cutting Sebastian’s hair stems from the importance of hair in the time the game exists. Hair was an important aspect of home making - specifically with mothers to their children and fathers teaching their sons how to groom. Lack of parental figures that care can lead to those who seek to harm - thus why it makes sense in my brain for Solomon to do this.
Hair also played an important role between lovers - with things like hair locks being gifted by both genders to the other and rising to the use of lockets to hold locks of hair in a way to always keep that person close to your heart.
Sebastian frequently is shown in cut scenes scratching the back of his neck nervously, and while some people have the nervous tick of biting their nails this often one we see for him.
Solomon forcing unwanted appearances onto his nephew truly seems within the realm of possibility in my mind, especially when you consider the time period, the fact it truly looks so uneven in the game and he stays at a baseline upset with Solomon.
On the flip side Solomon could be seeing this as a means to help with comfortability during hot summers despite not enjoying the task. As far as Victorian standards go it was a task usually reserved for the woman of the house until a certain age. We don’t get any clues on if he had children of his own and suddenly going from a bachelor auror to having to take care of your brother’s children likely wasn’t a light adjustment. His frustration at the situation at times might’ve come out towards those kids, putting stops to things he might’ve found difficult to watch his brother allow when the Sallow’s were alive.
I could speak at length about this topic of how their relationship might’ve grown more and more strained with time but I digress.
Almost one year ago I wrote a fic expressing a possible way in which Solomon might’ve pushed that boundary of abusive behavior with his nephew is in aggressively cutting his hair . This lead me down a rabbit hole of jumping back in fandom. those who have stuck around since March of 2023 for the ride with over 250k words of Sebastian content across my main fic, mini fic and one shots : thank you💚
In the spirit of this I would LOVE to hear any further ideas on this head cannon so if you have some please feel free to comment, dm or put it in my ask box! I love hearing your theories! Especially when it comes to the interesting relationship between Solomon and Sebastian.
Since then it’s been wonderful to watch this head canon grow:
@writing-intheundercroft has furthered it by suggesting that the reason it looks so terrible is sheep shears - which utterly cracks me up in ways I cannot express !
@mrsbrookemunson also wrote a one shot tackling the same concepts and you can find it here:
And if you’re interested in my work it’s here:
Anywho, this is a simple reminder that we can all share a lot of the same ideas and also expand on them in ways that bring us together as a collective and not divide. I’ve seen so much hate, accusatory behavior in the HL fandom the last few months and it’s growing tiresome. I love seeing how we can all share our thoughts and bring new and developing ideas to the same characters, creating our own lore which expands beyond the canon.
Again, I look forward to hearing others chime off on their thoughts on the matter. I know a lot of people have opinions of Solomon so please let me know 🤣
#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow x you#sebastian sallow/reader#sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader#hogwarts legacy fandom#solomon sallow#discussion#head canon
124 notes
·
View notes
Text
Note: this mf lives rent-free in my mind ever since I started watching jjk. I think I have a type ashgkapd. This is my first time writing for him, so please tell me what you think 💖 Oh, and btw, it's his true form here.
Pair: Sukuna x F!Reader.
Plot: the reader likes to tease her king until one day when he has enough.
Word count: 824
Warnings: smut, breath play, degradation, 18+, minors DNI.
Sukuna had his finger wrapped around your tiny throat, his grip being both gentle and tight enough to make you gasp for air.
Both of your hands were clenching around his wrist, trying to hold onto something as it became harder to hold yourself up due to the lack of air.
"My my, would you look at your face…" he said in a monotone voice, as he had little regard for your struggle.
"Master…" You weakly called out for him, hoping that the King of Curses would be in a good mood today.
His presence was overwhelming, making your mind and body go numb whenever he was near you. Still, that doesn't stop you from desiring him. In fact, you were addicted to his presence—so addicted that you'd go as far as to piss him off.
"What is it?" He asked as he tightened his grip around your neck, but not so much as to make you pass out. Just a little to make it more difficult for the air to fill your lungs and cause your breathing to become more erratic. "Hard to breathe?" He taunted as a satisfied smile appeared on his face.
You tried to speak but ended up coughing.
"Pathetic little creature…can’t even handle a gentle hold like this…" His smile slowly faded. "You think you can disrespect me like that and get away with it?" His voice became deeper and more threatening as he leaned closer to your face. Your breathing was irregular, your face was red, and tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You were at the mercy of the King of Curses. A king you enjoyed taunting. A king that was not to be messed with, yet you tested your luck.
"I've tolerated your behavior long enough." The fingers tighten once more around your throat, making you gasp for air. Your nails dig deeper into his flesh, so deep that his skin turns red. He doesn't seem to be bothered, tho. In fact, he might not even feel it.
"Maybe I should kill you..." His eye glistered in a bright shade of red, excited at the thought of taking another life. "Hmmm..."
His grip loosened again, and you eagerly breathed in as much air as you could.
"Or maybe not. I feel generous today, pet."
Oh, how much you loved it when he toyed with you like that. It made your cunt throb. All this time, you did nothing else but press your thighs together as the heat kept rising between your legs. Sukuna was too focused on intimidating you to notice that you began to rub your thighs together in the hope of getting some friction.
"Y-you need me…" you said between puffs.
He let out a low chuckle.
"I could snap your neck in an instant." He said, applying more pressure again on your fragile neck, leaving little to no air entering your lungs. Still, your cunt began to throb harder, and more tears rolled down your cheeks. "How exactly can you be useful to me? You are nothing but a puppet."
"Yes, yes, yes... more." You thought as you rubbed your thighs faster and even brought a hand to cover your crotch. You felt some wetness coming out of your needy hole, and you were afraid of getting your kimono stained.
"Know your place." You clenched your fist and couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your face anymore. Those erratic breaths were mixed with whimpers now as you felt your cunt throbbing uncontrollably inside your panties.
Sukuna’s lower set of eyes caught a glimpse of the scene, and the realization hit him, causing his expression to turn from an annoyed one to a shocked one.
"You love this, don’t you? You love the power I have over you... And more importantly…you love how unpredictable I can be. I can end your life whenever I want, however, I want, and yet you still follow me like a lost puppy."
He came closer to your red face without loosening his grip. Red eyes were staring directly into your soul. You felt your orgasm coming any second now.
"You’re pathetic." With that, he let you go, and your body fell limp to the ground. The sudden impact made it impossible for you to get your release. Still, your legs were trembling, and you brought a hand to your neck to massage the abused flesh. You coughed a few times before your breath returned to normal. Once your brain received the oxygen it needed, you wiped your tears with your sleeve and raised your head to look at your king. All four of his arms were crossed over his big chest, and he was looking rather disappointed at you.
"What am I going to do with you?" He asked.
Your gaze dropped to his visible bulge.
"Anything you want! Please, I just want to feel you again."
"What an intriguing brat you are…"
I want to make a tag list for this fandom too, so if you wanna be added just DM me ☺️💖
#sukuna#jjk sukuna#sukuna x reader#smut#sukuna x f!reader#sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen sukuna
288 notes
·
View notes
Note
pls…how will yan avery react if you do something to embarrass him in public like at one of those parties….im so thirsty…….
You and me both brother.
(Gonna do some high rage Avery)
You could see Avery's face burn red across the room. You've been such a terror this evening. Making crude jokes. Being less than polite to the host, even at one point refusing to indulge Avery with a dance. He was paying you after all. Any request he made of you should be accepted and carried out with enthusiasm. But this was the last straw.
Seeing you across the room flirting with another guest. They offered you a drink and you accepted it readily. You continued to laugh along with the other guests and you seemed... happy, Genuinely. You looked so relaxed.
This must be some kind of slight against him. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Why were you being so difficult today? He's done nothing but indulge you. He knows that without him you'd be doing far worse things for a dollar.
Avery can't bear to make a scene. He can't let anyone here know that some small part of him breaks in two whenever he sees you happy with someone else. So he makes his excuses to the host before going to grab you.
His touch is gentle at first as he leads you away. But as you get farther and farther away from the party Avery's grip tightens around your wrist and his polite smile morphs into a scowl.
Avery's mind is poisoned with thoughts of you. You've consumed the better parts of his rational thought and the only parts that remain are the ones that need you to only have eyes for him.
he slams your body against the side of his car and grips your chin forcing you to meet his gaze.
You're not sure what he's searching for as he silently glares through you. Every time you shift or squirm his nails dig in more and he growls a bit.
When his little inspection is done he opens up the back of the car and shoves you inside. You're a bit worried about the silent treatment he's giving you but hopefully, this is just your average tantrum. He'll call you a worthless whore. And besides some bruises, you'll be fine tonight when he drops you off.
But when Avery starts to drive off it's getting more and more clear that he's not heading back to the orphanage.
You start to worry a bit. Hands shaking as you drive in silence. Every once and a while your eyes meet in the review mirror. He's still pissed. You barely even know what you did wrong.
Avery pulls into some kind of vacant lot. The car parks and your breath hitches a bit before Avery gets out of the car. Opening up the back door and yanking out out by your hair.
It hurts- but Avery has been rough before.
He shoves you to the ground the pavement scrapes your knees and the cool night air sobers you up a bit.
"Apologize," Avery demands.
You know it doesn't matter if you've done anything wrong or not. Avery doesn't care about reason. He just wants you to whimper out something to make him feel better.
"I'm sorry-" you say. The words are quick. Usually, just an apology is enough to calm him.
"Again," Avery says. He's still angry.
"I'm really sorry." You spit this one out. Like it tastes bad.
Avery still isn't satisfied. He glares before kicking you sharply in the stomach causing you to cough and lean forward a bit holding a fast-forming bruise
"I want you to mean it this time. Say sorry like you mean it!"
"S-sorry-" you stutter a bit your stomach hurts, and tears prick at your eyes from the pain.
"Better," Avery says before kneeling and lifting your face gingerly. His expression has softened a bit but he still isn't done.
"Now say "I love you"." He whispers his thumb stroking your cheek
This is new... he's never demanded this before... he's never wanted anything more than polite arm candy and sexual favors... but this is worse somehow.
Your hesitation seems to bother Avery and he pinches your cheek a bit.
"Say it." Avery spits. "Say it like you really mean it as well or this night only going to get worse."
"... I love you..."
#avery the businessperson#tw violence#tw abuse#tw abusive relationship#let me know if you want more#yan dol#yandere#tw yandere#yandere tropes#x reader#gn reader
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dom reader x sub Toshiro
A request from: @coffee-cupps
Tw: Nsfw content below the line (he is in his adult form here)
Author's note: Hi ! I hope you like it, I really like write this one. I don't usually write to him but I think I should it more often since his adult form is hot asf (I want to see this scene in the anime soon😮💨)
-------------------------------------------------------
Those who knew him knew that he was authoritarian and extremely organized. He always made a point of maintaining order within his division and everyone respected him, but you knew both sides of the coin and didn't take him as seriously as he would have liked sometimes. That's why you teased him for that.
He always seemed to act like a dom but it was you who took control in most moments between the two of you, he wouldn't admit it but having you on top turned him on and made him feel so good. You used to make little jokes during some of your conversations and he would look at you sideways with a flushed face.
He looked so helpless at that moment, lying on the mattress under your control, you couldn't help but smile after seeing his face blush.You slid your hands down his torso as you licked your lips at the sight of him arching and with his eyes almost closed and needy for you.
"Y/n..."He whimpered when you brushed your fingers against his crotch
"Don't rush captain, I'll make you feel good" You smiled
You caressed his dick in your hand without looking away from him, who closed his eyes and bit his lip, his body was falling apart in your hands and you loved every expression he was making as you gave him pleasure. You sped up the movements with your hand and it became difficult for him to try and hide the dirty sounds he was trying to hide.
"Don't hold back, say my name, say I'm doing good"You said, leaning over him a little, getting close to his face
"You ahh... you're doing so well" He said with a groan
"That's right, keep going"You said, continuing to stimulate him in your hand
One of his hands grabbed the sheets to try to relieve the tension he was feeling, having your hand around him made his his body shiver. You stopped your movements and leaned over him a little and felt his panting breath brush against your lips before kissing him passionately. Heat that contrasted a little with him, literally.
"Do you want me?" You whispered against his lips
"Yeah... so bad"He said with a heavy sigh as he ran his hands down your back
You smiled and kissed his forehead before pulling away and taking his dick, slowly siting on it until you feel your insides full. You tilted your head back and moaned as you dug your nails into his torso, he grabbed your hips and whimpered a little when he felt you start moving on top of him. You looked at him and you could have sworn you were going to come right there when you came across the image of his ice-white hair all disheveled and his flushed and breathless face, he looked so hot at that moment. You started moving at an initially slow pace, he dug the fingers of one of his hands into the flesh of your hips helping with the movements as he caressed your clit, distributing shivers throughout your body. All that heat was turning you on more and more, you started to ride him faster, he was barely able to handle the way your insides were tightened his member.
"I'm...so close"He moan
"Come, come to me"You said breathlessly
It took a short time for him to fill you up and the liquid ran down your thighs making him dazzled by that view, you ended up cumming soon after. You were exhausted and laid your head in the crook of his neck catching your breath.
"Are you okay?" He asked, running his hands through your hair.
"Yes, and you?" You stood up a little to look at him
"Tired"
"I dominated you that much Hitsugaya taichou?"You teased and he looked away feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment
He always seemed so serious but at that moment he was nothing but cute.
#bleach#bleach fandom#gotei 13#bleach imagines#bleach x reader#toshiro hitsugaya#toshiro x reader#bleach fic
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Of evil laughter, the power of dimples and a Flyboy quoting another one…
(A bit of a WIP as this one is fighting me)
Let me know if you know who he’s quoting 😏
🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋🌋
“Unbelievable.”
“What do you mean?”
“You actually have a volcano lair! Like proper supervillains. Do you fling your enemies into pits of molten rock?”
Scott responded with a wild stare and a deeply disturbing evil laugh, in such contrast to his usual light chuckle, and so very out of character that Estera couldn’t stop her jaw dropping in shock as she stopped in her tracks. There was a beat of silence then he winked and both of them began gigging for real. Which, as Bez crept out from the bushes, confusion written all over his muddy face, quickly escalated into full-blown hysteria.
Estera staggered to a grassy patch at the side of the path and sagged to the ground, leaning back on her hands and gasping for breath as tears ran down her face. Scott grinned as he dropped down beside her, hiccuping slightly as he tried to gain control of his own breathing.
“So how long have you been practising that one?”
“What are you suggesting? That evil glee doesn’t come naturally to me?”
She raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes in response.
“Fine. Since John and I blitzed all the Matrix movies in our teens. He was so taken by all the layers of meaning in that scene whereas I just wanted to nail Agent Smith’s maniacal laugh… took me months of practising in front of the mirror to get the expression right but was worth it for the reaction I’d get from the girls at school.”
“Oh really?” She smirked and he suddenly found himself blushing.
“I was an awkward, clueless, hormone-ridden teenager… I had to use whatever underhand tactics I could to impress.”
“I find that very difficult to believe, Mr leaves-a-trail-of-starry-eyed-drooling-zombies-in-his-wake”
“I do not!” Why did people think this? The way his brothers talked sometimes made him sound like some deranged hypnotist who ran around breaking hearts without a second thought.
“Oh come on, did you not see that woman run straight into a tree moments after you smiled at her?”
Scott couldn’t even remember smiling at anyone. He looked back the way they had come, suddenly worried “Was she hurt? We should have stopped!”
“She was fine. She bounced off and kept running.”
“Oh, good.” Scott pondered for a minute, suddenly unsure of himself. “I don’t do it deliberately you know… distract people? I just try to be polite and friendly. It’s how I was raised.”
“Sure sure… you have zero control over the power of the dimples…”
“That’s just my face! It’s the only one I have!”
“Oh indeed, the dashing good looks must be a real burden.”
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dad!Silco Headcannons 🥰
How would Silco feel about a child of his own? Let's find out together!
Content Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, Silco fumbling in the delivery room
Author's Note: By "Dad!Silco" I mean Silco with a biological child
• The first step for being a Dad is becoming a Dad, and Silco has no idea how to do that.
• Yes, yes, he has Jinx; but how does one have a child of their own?
• Of course the birds and the bees, he knows that much, but how does he suppose to ask his partner about such a heavy commitment?
• How will they respond; is it too much to ask for; will they leave him for this; is he so selfish to ask for a child?
• All of these questions and more weigh heavy on his mind, and for the first time in a long time, Silco feels completely, and considerably lost and awkward.
• If he decides to sit you down and talk about it, prepare for it to be extremely awkward.
• His speech will absolutely sound robotic; it's because he had flashcards that he practiced in the mirror beforehand.
• When the talk concludes positively, that you'll carry his child, things turn to utter sappy romance.
• Kissing and holding until you're just a pile of limbs on the bed and he's pressed deep inside of you.
• Tenderness is a solid 50/50; he could love you slow and unhurried until climax, whispering beautiful things to you all the while.
• Orrrrrr... he could take you like an animal, growling out his ownership of you, how he plans to mark you as his and the pride he'll take in your body swelling with his child.
• Fast forward a little bit, the good news arrives but you have to break it to Jinx, and naturally, it's very difficult to tell what her reaction will be.
• She's surprisingly mild about it, not seeing too much threat in it, but warning that she will not be sharing any of her bombs and gadgets with anyone or anything.
• Baby included.
• Fast forward nine months, Silco is in the delivery room with you and feeling a lot of different things.
• Heartbreak, joy, anxiety, pride, stress.
• This man has been stressed over many things in his life, he's quite familiar with stress, but this particular stress he has no idea how to handle.
• Seeing his partner in pain, putting their entirety into the life they've made together, and he can't do anything except be there for them.
• Really, he feels a little bit pathetic.
• I imagine he was legitimately twiddling his thumbs for a short little while.
• The baby is too quickly in the hands of doctors once it leaves you, and Silco is ready to break a man's nose if he doesn't get to see his child soon.
• The knowing look you give him from your bed is enough to keep him from making a scene.
• But once the baby--his baby--your baby--is back, all of that is gone and instead replaced by a featherlight soar in his chest that has him feeling a little faint.
• No words are spoken between the two of you as you hold your pride and joy, only loving glances and exhausted, tender kisses.
• If it's a boy, you can expect Jinx to have a new playmate.
• Silco would see much of his younger self in his son; sensitive, bright-eyed, ambitious, positive, and quite clever--though, Silco certainly never lost that characteristic.
• This little boy will bring out a very youthful and social part of Jinx that she hadn't been able to express before, just stuck in a world of adults.
• Though she swore not a soul would mess with her bombs, she would make an unexpected exception for her brother.
• If you're gifted another daughter, Silco will be steeling himself to live in a woman-owned household.
• Not only with Sevika who, although isn't quite part of the family, certainly is a major part of his life, but also his daughter who turns out to be a little bossy herself.
• She's tender with Jinx though--or, Jinx is tender with her.
• Being able to connect with a younger soul that understands any and all silly, girlish thoughts and ideas means a lot to her.
• Jinx will teach her sister how to paint nails, braid hair, and even be a little more cautious with gunpowder around the youngster.
• Boy or girl, Jinx is delighted to have a playmate and someone to care for in a sense.
• Jinx having someone else to spend time and bond with is a great deal of pressure of you and Silco both, not having to tend to her as much.
• Of course there is supervision, bombs and gadgets and whatnot; but Jinx and your child are entirely content in each other's company.
• Silco will always look at his family with pride, especially you who--at this point--have given him so much to be proud of.
• At the end of each day, he is comforted by the knowledge that he can settle into bed with you and hold you, kiss you, spoil you, love you, eternally grateful for everything under his damned roof.
#silco#arcane#arcane silco#silco arcane#headcannons#silco headcannons#arcane headcannons#dad silco#silco being a silly father
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
DATING FUSHIGURO MEGUMI...
notes: modern + university! au
warnings: mentions of food
𖥻 he's hesitant when it comes to physical affection. he’s never been one to initiate it, but when it comes to you he’ll find that his hand will somehow make its way to yours.
𖥻 megumi is someone who finds comfort with the feeling of your palm against his - it grounds him.
𖥻 he’s never been on dates before, so by the time he wants to take you on your (and his) first date, he’s utterly lost on where he’s supposed to take you.
𖥻 he ends up taking you to the local art museum and then a cafe as your first date. (he most definitely pulls that one line, “the art was so beautiful, wasn’t it?” “i dunno… i thought you were more beautiful.”)
𖥻 works at the coffee shop next to his university and always brings back one of your favorite drinks/pastries on the way home to you.
𖥻 speaking of work... he most definitely comes home and immediately starts complaining about some dumb customer that came in or how annoying his coworkers were being that day
𖥻 megumi who practically lives in your apartment because his roommate, yuuji, always has one too many people for him to remain calm at his own residence
𖥻 megumi also happens to have a whole side of your closet dedicated just for him due to how frequent his visits are
𖥻 on days that he's extraordinarily tired (whether that be from homework, classes, work, or just restlessness) he'll drag you by your hand into his bed and just cuddle with you until he falls asleep. the warmth and comfort of you being right next to him lulls him to rest instantaneously.
𖥻 megumi never really knows how to express his love properly (his love language is acts of service) and so he finds doing small actions to help you out is the best way to show it.
𖥻 he’ll do things like packing your lunch for you on days he knows you’ll be busy, tidying your room after coming back from a difficult exam, or helping you with your night routine.
𖥻 he has a tendency to kiss your knuckles. (no explanation, he just does it)
𖥻 likes reading the books you’ve read and going over any annotations or highlighted areas you’ve left and picturing the scene from your perspective.
𖥻 he always smells just slightly of cologne. whenever you hug him, the scent of the perfume is almost instilled in his clothes but oh so lightly: it’s like the cologne persisted through a load of laundry and so now he smells of laundry and his perfume.
𖥻 megumi lets you paint his nails whatever color you wish, as long as you’re the one who’s painted them. they tend to be chipped by the end of the day though, but he’ll keep it on until it’s completely wiped away.
𖥻 whenever he kisses you, he grasps your chin with one hand and your cheek with the other, essentially cradling your face in his hands as he kisses you.
𖥻 he’s extraordinarily good at math, and so he’ll try to tutor you when you need help (keyword: tries)
“what happened to focusing, hm?” megumi mused in a low tone.
you couldn’t help it, he looked so pretty sitting next to you, his face in deep concentration as he figured a way to explain the equation before you. at least he was before he noticed that you weren’t paying attention to a word he said and rather just staring at him.
a hand snaked it’s way to cradle your chin as megumi looks at you intently. “how about you focus for me, love? yeah?”
a small smile lays upon his face as he murmurs, “and then maybe we can do something else afterward, as a prize for focusing, hm?”
you nodded in return, adoration sparkling in your eyes. you felt megumi leave a chaste kiss on your cheek before he turned your head gently back to math in front of you.
#— writings.#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi x you#megumi x yn#megumi x y/n#fushiguro x reader#fushiguro x you#fushiguro x y/n#fushiguro megumi#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk fluff#jjk hcs#megumi fluff#megumi headcanons
564 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little more TDIAG to tide you over
Was she a good girl for him? No. Isla certainly wasn’t.
She admits, after a moment of deliberative lull, “No, Sir.”
Sir, she’s tacked on, politely — without coaxing, Harry notes. It’s the first thing he notes, in fact, besides her candid confession of misconduct. After that, it’s the way her body language has morphed from joking to tensed, to the way her fingers rub together in her lap, to the way her chest rolls lightly with her slow, bated breaths.
“No?” he prods softly, pondering on her admission, “You weren’t a good girl?”
Behind his ribcage, his heart kicks it up a notch from priorly peaceful equilibrium into a wild, racketing hammer. Because if she tells him what he thinks she’s going to tell him, if she confirms his suspicions and proves that he hadn’t spent Monday night driving himself mad, with hands raking restively through his tendrils in lieu of getting a good night’s rest post her late night call, then—
“I …touched myself, Sir.”
And there it is.
Isla bites into her cheek when faced with his hum of acknowledgement — of course the sound is coated with condescension, as if he’d expected her to fail.
“And you came, I assume?” jade glimmers between lengthy lashes and shadows of an unnecessary disguise as he tacks on, “I mean, I’d hope disappointing me was worth it, at least.”
It — what? Isla toes at the back of her opposite ankle, a crease working between her eyebrows.
“I didn’t — I don’t know,” she blows out a breath, “how to answer this question.”
“You don’t know if you came?” his own eyebrows rise in teasing, inflection jestingly incredulous. It’s a good sign, for now, the young woman thinks. She’d expected green to turn steely, but he seems keen on poking at her — which she’ll take rather than to be confronted by his demeanor of disdain.
“No— I,” she sighs, craning her neck back and crossing her arms as the dominant’s pillowy mouth twitches, “I did,” upon the glint of warning to his expression, even mostly bridled by rubber, the submissive curbs the exasperation that’s leaked into her tone, backtracking softly, “I mean, I don’t — I wasn’t trying to disappoint you.”
“Mm.”
“And — well, anyways. I think you should be the opposite of disappointed, considering I came clean,” the twist she takes on the circumstances, to Harry, are a little appalling.
He just sort of hums, entertained, and states, “S’that where the bar is, now?” and upon her vexed look, commences a slow clap, “Applause for the bare minimum.”
“Amnesty,” she cocks her head, sitting up a bit, unperturbed by his derisive sarcasm, “is a thing, by the way, if you weren’t aware.”
At that, he literally feels the dimples poke into place beside the curl of his smile. “You’re quite funny.”
“I know,” Isla tells him after a moment, her shoulders sagging as she tips her chin to her hands and picks at her nails her voice low, “I’m hilarious.”
Harry brushes a pleather-clad palm over her thigh before he bats at her hands. He clears his throat. “How many times?”
Her face tips up, like she’s confused by the inquiry, and the man clarifies, “How many times did you touch yourself?”
Rather than persisting with the jittery habit of nail picking, she mollifies by tracing down his chest, over his dress shirt, sort of hoping to smooth out the incoming tension of the scene in the same way her touch smooths the fabric, “Just once.”
“Tell me,” she watches his tongue peek over before his swipes over his lips, and her vision only flits away for a mere moment when she feels his colossal palm squeezing at her hip, “how you did it.”
She blinks up at him, like the request baffles her.
“S’not that difficult of a task. Well,” Harry pauses, and his eyes roll to the side with the patronizing dig, “The first one wasn’t either, but.”
“I—“ the young woman’s jaw sets as she lifts her chin at the jab and she declares with resolve (plucky, Harry thinks, considering the circumstances), “with my vibrator.”
Vibrator. Interesting. He hadn’t heard it on the other end of the phone — sneaky girl. The chatter from the television, obnoxiously loud, floats to the forefront of his mind, then.
“Okay,” he nudges with his chin, “Getting somewhere…”
“Third setting,” Isla states, deadpan in decibel, “and I came.”
And then his palm locks, softly, over the back of her neck, and he physically guides her to lean forward against him. The dominant’s strawberry lips brush over Isla’s ear as he speaks, low and tantalizing, and then that same mouth pastes to an expanse of skin just below.
“Details, little miss. And less attitude. Paint me a picture.”
Oh — her pulse stutters.
“Were you,” his mouth alternates between questioning and pressing open-mouthed kisses that incite chills to bloom over her flesh, “watching something? Thinking of something? Hm?”
The young woman’s unsure of the cause behind the sudden, sensual twist in their discussion, but she tries to bare her neck a bit, quite literally the furthest from complaining.
“I — the TV was on. But I was thinking about you,” she admits, and the dominant slides the opposite hand around the curvature of her hip, fondling over the side of her thigh.
“What about?”
“Your—“ the man’s mouth curls up lewdly against her skin in response to the stutter he coaxes as his hand ventures to her backside, squeezing — the way her throat bobs with a swallow, “your hands, touching me. Your mouth — on my, on my—“
“Your…?” Harry wheedles tauntingly, his hand tracing its way back onto her front and teasing at the hem of her underwear.
Isla’s confession comes breathy, and her legs splay apart a smidge when he dips his forefinger past the barrier just a tad, brushing over the smooth, sensitive crease between her pelvis and her thigh, “My pussy.”
“Mm. S’that all?”
“No,” her lashes flutter behind the lace, “I thought about — about your cock. Thought about you fucking my mouth, and,” her speech dies off as his fingers wriggle further beneath her panties and brush against her clit.
“And?”
“and I thought about you,” Isla swallows, screwing her eyes shut, “…holding my nose, as you did it. So I couldn’t breathe.”
The pads of his fingers stutter in their caress. Shit. His nostrils flare at the filthy admission, and the way desire teems through his veins and arousal coils through his tummy at the thought is pure, hedonistic darkness. When Harry asks her, “What else?” his voice is considerably huskier against the crook of her neck.
“I thought about you slapping me — my face,” her chest rolls as his fingers dip and gather gushing slickness — she knows she’s ludicrously wet, reliving the fantasies that’d become tucked away in the dells of her mind, in combination with his soft touch, will sort of fucking do that. It all has her feeling as if a fucking furnace glows angrily between her thighs. “I thought about—“ her jaw sets as she tips her head back, and he nips at her earlobe, “you spanking me for touching myself. How sore I would be over the next few days, having to sit at work.”
“Spanking you with what?” Harry’s cadence comes muffled and heady against her skin.
“Just — just your hand,” Isla’s heart races in her chest as he draws circles, like it beats in laps that trace the track of the motion.
The dominant presses open-mouthed kisses to her skin, crooning, “Just my hand? Y’dont think you deserve the paddle or the strap for disobeying me?”
Isla doesn’t think much of anything when his tongue pokes out and glides over straining muscle.
“Whatever,” she swallows, his fingers fisting desperately at the sturdy muscle of his thigh, “Whatever you want, Sir.”
“S’not whatever I want, though,” he hums, “It’s about what you deserve. So what,” his fingers press a little harder, his cadence grows a little hungrier, “do you think you deserve?”
“I — I deserve whatever you decide I deserve, Sir.”
“Mm. Well. I think,” Isla gasps and jolts, her breath morphing into a soft whimper when he pinches her clit between his digits, “You don’t deserve to entertain any of those little fantasies. Not after you couldn’t follow one simple rule.”
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
through my tears and sniffles, my policeman was objectively a beautifully done film. i didn’t read the book, and i didn’t want to go in with prior knowledge of the story so i could truly absorb the film. im still processing, but david dawson stole the film. his acting, his expressions, his deliveries were striking. don’t get me wrong the entire cast carried the film well and i cant imagine anyone else playing each of the roles, but david was mosaic. one felt his beating heart throughout every scene. harry’s best moments were in the quieter scenes and his solo moments. his subtle glances, facial expressions, and emotions that perplex his entire face were so beautifully done. those moments blurred harry with tom. he was tom and not harry styles™️ which is difficult when harry is on the big screen, but his ability to merge fully into that character cut even deeper with the quiet ache of the closet. harry hit the nail on the head when he stated it’s so much about “wasted time” like that part of the queer experience is so evident throughout the entire film, and that’s part of what makes my chest ache so badly as the credits rolled. the fear and reality of wasted time that the closet just amplifies in the queer experience. also the cinematography was wonderful. gorgeously shot. just a truly solid film. and i’m broken so yeah <3
196 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bailsebub
sometimes i draw things
danteredstonexiv
Sailing Through The Sky
mightywellfan
John McCallum snr
lopsushi
I Won the Award for Laziness