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dreamcatcherrs · 4 years ago

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what catches their eyes/attracts them?; mcyt x reader

+ this is in no way factual information, only my very weird and specific opinions :)

dream:

free-spirited people

someone who isn't afraid to speak their mind

confidence, to a certain extent

someone he can be loud with

someone who will wake up in the middle of the night with him to go on a car drive to nowhere

the colour blue (dnf👀)

clean and fresh-looking clothes

satin fabric

big height difference

the smell of citrus fruits

large smiles

silver jewellery

small hands

smart people who aren't afraid to show it

george:

calm, laid back people

someone quiet, but still able to have a laugh

very friendly vibes - even when first meeting them

the colour blue (literally the only interesting colour he's able to see lol)

bright eyes

lip gloss

flower print

slightly shy people who are actually easy to interact with once you start a conversation with them

pastel-coloured nails, not too long

pink-tinted lips

ponytails

the smell of vanilla

puppy eyes

sapnap:

energetic people

someone who can hype up their friends no matter the situation

the colour red

like, a bloody red

soft skin

full lips

loose shirts over skin-tight tops

when shoelaces have a different colour on each shoe

corsets

a very subtle scent of perfume

thigh highs

someone who just wants to enjoy life with the people they're surrounded by

badboyhalo:

large, bright smiles that spread up to your eyes

freckles

button noses

rose-gold jewellery

french manicures

bangs

slightly shy people

genuinely sweet people

not the fake type that talks shit about people behind their backs and then will compliment them a few seconds after

someone who when they enter a room feels like a breath of fresh air to everyone else

someone completely selfless

the smell of lavender

shiny hair

technoblade:

people who aren't afraid to take the lead

glasses

intellectual people

like, for example people who know a lot of random stuff from a bunch of different things that they're interested in

or also just book smart people

slightly clumsy people (finds it cute)

gold jewellery

someone with some mystery to them

refreshing scents, like clean laundry or shampoo

cat eyes (eyeliner)

wilbur soot:

long legs

chokers

shy people

someone who gets flustered easily

glasses + thin bangs

the colours brown and beige together

baggy, comfy clothes

the smell of newly baked cookies

beanies

the kind of person that makes him feel like he can always talk to them - someone he can feel safe with

birth marks

accents

jschlatt:

smart people

the way they speak is just so clean without even noticing

fox eyes

people who aren't afraid to wear sweatpants in public

generally just someone who isn't afraid to do, say and wear whatever they want

someone who stands for what they think and have the balls to say it when needed

nose rings

simple yet flattering pieces of jewellery

long nails

someone who he can stay up all night with and never get tired of them

high heels

hip dips

corpse husband:

fishnets, of course

someone who give 0 fucks about what everyone else thinks of them

unique people

wether that be physical features or straight up the personality, it draws him in

chokers

chunky, black sneakers or boots

someone who can make him happy without even trying

a positive aura for the most part

as in he doesn't want to be surrounded by someone who’s negative or dragging everyone else down with them

the colour yellow

rings - lots of them

karl jacobs:

a walking ray of sunshine, basically

tbh, karl has a couple of things in common with what corpse is attracted to;

positive energy, uniqueness and rings

a palette filled with bright colours

like, almost rave style colours

that could be clothes, makeup, hair, nails, accessories

chunky, white shoes

selfless people

someone who as each day goes by becomes more charming to him

he likes the smell of candles from bath and body works, as we all know

the colour purple

skeppy:

big eyes

someone who’s able to make him laugh without even trying

tooth gaps

someone who has very playful, innocent vibes to them

and someone who can take jokes and pranks

people who walk confidently

the smell of strawberries

long eyelashes

someone who collects things others usually wouldn’t

someone who is very respectful to others

a mix between really comfy clothes and really feminine clothes

fundy:

someone who comes across as “different” than others

and don't you dare think of ✨I’m not like other girls✨ (I know you did -_-)

he just thinks people who think and act very different than others are very interesting

beauty marks

nicely shaped eyebrows

someone who finds mystical things interesting

fox eyeliner (yes, I put this in here because: furry)

someone who has unusual, yet surprisingly good taste in music

people who are constantly warm

red lips

the colour light brown, almost beige-like

quackity:

someone who gets his humour

someone like him, but more quiet and slightly shy

especially when on screen in front of an audience

sliver necklaces

the smell of flowers

dark, extreme eyeliner

loose clothes

freckles

piercings

someone who teases others and who can handle to be teased by others

the colour dark blue

punz:

the colour grey

a fresh fashion sense

yet still very comfortable fits

messy buns

someone who he just knows will be a cool person before he even talks to them

someone who just has that kinda vibe, y’know?

glossy lips

independent people

someone responsible and caring to others

tattoos

navel piercings

awesamdude:

cropped jackets

the colour neon green

hair put up in a bun

someone with a free nature

someone who is a complete wild card

like, someone who will jump over a fence just to get closer to a bunny they think they saw on the other side of it

loose strands of hair

clear nail polish

cargo pants

the smell of chocolate

slimecicle:

people who have comfort items

someone who knows random facts that no one else usually knows

people who have a unique way of thinking

passionate people

and when they talk about what they’re passionate about, they talk for hours

shorter hair

sweet and nutty scents

natural beauty

fluffy hair

honest people

but not brutally honest

the smell of coconut

eret:

eye glitter/shimmer

silky clothes that shine in the moonlight

platform boots/heels

long, flowy dresses

someone who does whatever they want

and who doesn't like being told what to do by others

the colours pink and dark purple

the smell of the ocean

someone who already knows how to live their life

stretch marks

foolish:

low-cut jeans

someone very silly who knows how to have a good laugh

someone very supportive of their friends

curtain bangs

long-sleeved sweatshirts

someone who loves food

puppy eyes

straight, white teeth

someone who is willing to help others in need

someone who doesn't talk badly about others behind their back

someone who knows what they want

jack manifold:

confidence

white, wide-legged pants

the colour light blue or just pure white

people who are very easy-going and fun to be around

someone who can fit into and understand anyones humour

an open-minded person who likes to hear from other people’s point of views when they have a different opinion than them

butterfly patterns

crop tops

oversized t-shirts

hair beads

tommy:

people who are just as loud as him

and at the same time knows when to be serious

the colours yellow and grey

people who are kind to everyone

creative eyeliner

fluffy hair

people who can get so lost in their own world, they almost forget about their surroundings

colourful accessories

someone who isn't afraid to be who they are

someone who has many passions and loves to talk about them

oversized hoodies

tubbo:

hoodies layered over skirts or dresses

frilly socks

people who are very adventurous, and wants to make their life as interesting as possible!

someone who can help him overcome some of his fears

charm bracelets

cute habits

the colours yellow and orange

dimples

the smell of almond milk and honey

people who twirl their hair unknowingly when bored or unfocused

ranboo:

someone who looks intimidating at first (he thinks people like that are cool as fuck)

but then is, like, the sweetest person he’s ever met

loves someone who can speak fluent sarcasm, just like him

he likes sass

glassy skin

fingerless gloves

people who act cocky for the fun of it

but actually don’t care about winning or losing or proving anything

simplistic earring placements

people who have hidden talents, and the more you get to know them, the more talents are revealed

people who don't gossip

____________________________________

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 5 years ago

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mango, m | jjk | 1

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story will eventually touch on parental abuse and suicide; suggestive words/actions; mentions of nightmares plaguing the reader; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok and friendly!Namjoon

yes it’s MAMA 2020 JK, it do really be like that

–

You felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Did you do the Chemistry homework?”

You chewed the piece of dried mango in your mouth slowly. You knew that smooth voice. It was hard not to know it. Everyone at this university knew that voice, for better or for worse. You put down the book you were reading for your seminar class – Neuromancer, by William Gibson, translated into Korean. You turned your head, only a bit. Not facing him.

“I’m not about to let you cheat right in front of the professor, Jeon Jungkook.”

You heard rustling, rearrangement, and the seat next to you was suddenly filled with leather and denim, black hair with too much gel in it, and cheekbones higher than your GPA, which was quite high, both weighted and unweighted.

“Come on,” he whined in his deep voice that was not meant for whining. “You always sit in the front now. Move a couple rows back so I can copy.”

You reached into your messenger bag and pulled out another piece of dried mango. Placed the orange fruit in between your teeth and held it there, moving it from side to side. Jungkook was watching your mouth with his dark chocolate eyes. You sucked it into your lips and chewed.

“Why do you think I always sit in the front row, hm?”

You lifted your book again and continued reading, Chemistry homework right in front of you on the lecture hall’s narrow table. You didn’t bother to look up again until the teacher called for attention. Jungkook was no longer sitting next to you.

You had your eyes closed, leaning back against the wall, Samsung buds tucked safely in your ears, violins serenading you. Chemistry was going to start soon, but you had gotten here far too early. You wanted to read more of Neuromancer, but the class discussion was going to be on chapters one to three and you were already on chapter ten.

It was a bad habit, but you had many of them.

You felt movement next to you. Opened your eyes.

“You look different today,” Jeon Jungkook remarked. Smirking, with his black hair slicked back, different leather jacket, weird silver-coated pants. Holding his backpack by one strap, far too deflated for it to be containing much. Your messenger bag was smaller, but full of papers shoved into folders.

You tilted your head and reached into your bag. Pulled out another piece of dried mango, sticking it in between your teeth. Turned it around with your tongue, coating it with the sugary outside.

You were wearing a high-necked black dress, long-sleeved with a short skirt. Velvet, patterned tights with thorned roses and black boots with a ten-centimeter platform.

You sank your teeth into the softened mango and sucked it into your lips.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

You closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the professor opening the lecture hall with his keys.

The outfit you wore last Chemistry lecture was an oversized purple sweatshirt and short black skirt, with opaque purple tights and black sneakers.

You were standing in the school store, picking up three packs of dried mango.

You brought them to the counter, to the student cashier. She rang you up and handed them back to you. You walked out, shoving them into your bag. Catching the eye of a certain someone.

“You shouldn’t eat so much sugar,” Kim Namjoon teased, nudging you with his arm.

Your eyes shifted to him and you slowly opened a bag. Shoved one in your mouth.

“They’re not that high in sugar,” you replied. “Read the nutrition facts.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Added sugar. Fruit is still sugar.”

“Mother Nature wouldn’t try to kill me.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Um, viruses? Bacteria? Other human beings?”

“Viruses and bacteria are objective. They do not have desires or motivations,” you replied calmly, chewing. “Human beings are an abomination.”

“Still natural.”

“Then ‘artificial’ would have no meaning.”

“Artificial is defined as made by human beings.”

“Human beings are made by other human beings.” You stopped at a door, the seminar class. “The line is blurred.” You opened the door and entered, seeing the ten other students as you sat down in the middle, pulling out Neuromancer. Namjoon sat down next to you, pulling out his dog-eared book, wrinkled from being dropped in puddles. It was a stark contrast to your pristine copy.

“Did you finish reading?”

“Yeah,” you said simply as the lecture began.

Today, you wore pants.

Baggy, black, thick denim jeans with an oversized black sweater. A thick black belt, tight around your waist. No graphics. Hair down, too messy to have been brushed. You turned in your Chemistry homework at the front of the class and went to the far right. Sat down next to the wall where you knew the seat next to you was broken.

Last night was plagued with nightmares. You hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. You missed the first bus and, instead of your usual habit of being early, you ended up being on time today. In your book, on time meant late.

Nothing was going right today.

You watched the professor collect the homework.

You looked away, pulling out another book. Prey, by Michael Crichton. It was taking you a while to read this one. You had to look up words. English wasn’t your first language and the book was heavy with scientific terms. You cursed your lack of knowledge. It felt like you were losing some of the meaning by not knowing English well enough.

“I had to look for you today.”

Your nails curled into the softcover of the book.

Jeon Jungkook slid into the seat below you, grinning. Too much slicked black hair, leather creaking as he settled. Eyes dark like a starless sky.

You reached into your messenger bag. The plastic rustled as you felt around. Only two pieces left. Sigh, of course. You pulled one out. Placed it in your teeth. Spun it with your tongue. Jungkook watched, looking up at you. You snapped your teeth into it.

The piece sticking out of your lips fell.

Jungkook’s right hand shot out and caught it before it touched the ground. Ink black tattoos winked at you. Small ones, one of a smiley face with x’s for eyes, one of a heart, another of a king’s crown. One by one, his long fingers curled open, revealing the small piece of dried mango.

You chewed, eyes flickering to his face.

Jungkook smirked and pulled his hand back. He inspected the fruit, the curved part where your teeth had sliced into. Then he popped it into his mouth, eyes shifting to you.

But you were already reading your book, nose deep and ignoring him.

“Just let me try.”

You frowned, but held out your hands.

Jung Hoseok, your childhood best friend, inspected your nails. He had a row of tools in front of him. You were in his shabby little apartment. He didn’t attend university. He was a street dancer, sometimes a backup dancer for idol groups. He choreographed for a few lesser-known idols too. You knew Hoseok was going to get his big break soon.

You two rarely saw each other anymore.

He asked last week if he could practice painting your nails. He had odd hobbies like that. Hoseok liked fashion too. He was wearing colorful beaded bracelets, vintage white t-shirt, and loose gray sweatpants. Pink headband and a green hair tie holding up his bangs like a sprout.

The only reason Hoseok was your best friend was because you didn’t have any other friends, thus making him the best by default.

He began to file your long nails.

“Do you have a preferred shape?”

You blinked at him. “I don’t care.”

Hoseok smiled. “I think pointed nails would look good on you.”

“Okay.”

You were still wearing your baggy black jeans. Hoseok’s honey brown eyes went from your nails to your legs.

“Are you okay?”

You gave him a blank look.

Hoseok put down the glass nail file. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend.”

You shook your head slowly. “You’re busy. I think all your hard work will be noticed soon. You’re blowing up on Instagram.”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide. “You made an Instagram?”

“Only to follow you. I haven’t posted anything.”

He gave you a grateful smile. The tiny dimples on the sides of his lips appeared. “Thanks.”

You nodded. The sides of your mouth moved up robotically. Hoseok nudged you, picking up the glass nail file again.

“Don’t pretend smile. I can tell.”

“Sorry.”

Minutes passed. Hoseok blew the filed keratin away gently and wiped your nails with some acetone. He held out the colors. All bright. You picked the violet and he grinned.

“You can talk to me.”

“It’s always the same shit, Hoseok.”

He frowned, painting cautiously. The harsh scent of nail polish filled your nose.

“Even if it is,” Hoseok murmured, trying not to disturb his careful work. “Talking about it will help you vent.”

“Catharsis is scientifically proven to be completely useless and sometimes amplifies the condition.”

Hoseok gave you a displeased look.

“Sorry.”

He sighed at your apology. He had told you many times before to stop apologizing for nothing. You just did automatically. Trained from repeated years of trying not to be a nuisance. Trying not to be there when you were obviously there. Hoseok tapped the purple against his palm, trying to prevent it from getting goopy.

“You can stay here,” Hoseok remarked. “I said you could.”

You shook your head. “You can barely pay your own electricity bill. And you’ll never get laid if you live with a ghost.”

Hoseok laughed. He had a fun laugh, a great one that was real and genuine. “You can joke around.”

You smiled.

Hoseok could always make you smile at least once.

Today it was a tight black leather skirt with a baggy white dress shirt. Black tights with a pinstripe design, silver and black ankle boots. Black turtleneck under the white shirt. And your purple fingernails with yellow smiley face nail stickers, done by Jung Hoseok himself.

You had thought about wearing your baggy jeans again, but seeing your painted nails made you change your mind for some reason.

You sat in the front row of the Chemistry lecture hall. Pulled out Prey by Michael Crichton once again, phone handy to look up translations. You had ten minutes.

The creak of leather squeaked next to you. Instantly, your left hand slid down.

You left long fingers encase yours suddenly, stopping you from reaching into your messenger bag. Your teeth sank into your lower lip. The strong fingers held you tight, stroking your knuckles. Slight calluses, filed and well-kept nails.

“I like your nail polish.”

You ripped your hand out of Jeon Jungkook’s grasp. Shoved it into your bag and pulled out a piece of dried mango.

Didn’t look at him.

Just put it in your mouth and chewed, staring straight ahead.

“You look cute today.”

Chewed.

“Did you–”

You stabbed your finger to the desk, taking your book from it. Didn’t say anything.

He copied your homework.

“You alright?”

Namjoon stood up as the seminar class ended.

“You were quiet today. Usually, you have a lot to say.”

You placed your papers in your folder mechanically and looked up at him. “Was I?”

Namjoon nodded. “Kind of missed having your devil’s advocate point of view.”

Your head lowered. You stared at your left hand for a second. Remembering the feeling of Jeon Jungkook’s hand clutching yours.

“Have a lot on my mind.”

There were no packs of dried mango on the shelf.

None.

You went to the cashier. Asked when they would restock.

“Some guy bought all of them.” The cashier frowned. “I’m sorry. I know you’re the only one who buys them. I’ll reorder and keep extras behind the counter from now on.”

You stepped out of the school store. You only had a few pieces left. You took your phone out of your pocket and checked the nearest grocery store. It was only a few bus stops away. You began to walk out of the student common area, calling the number. Asking if they had dried mango in stock. They did. Could you keep three bags behind the counter? They could. You said you would be over right away.

Black leather right in front of your face.

You walked around it.

It followed you.

You stopped and hung up. Slowly raised your head.

Jeon Jungkook stared at you. He was holding a bag from the school store. It was filled to the brim with packs of cellophane-wrapped dried mango. His black hair was slicked back, eyebrow raised. Eyes so dark that they reminded you of a bottomless pit. No smirk this time. Serious, his dark brows furrowed.

You gave him a black stare. Then you tried to move around him.

He grabbed your upper arm tightly, shoving the bag into your chest. You recoiled, but he grabbed your other arm and clamped it over the plastic. You pushed it back at him and he planted his hand down on your forearm, firmly.

You felt a little tick in your face as a muscle tensed. You did not look at him.

“Call them back,” Jungkook stated. “Tell them you don’t need it anymore.”

Your eyes shifted back and forth.

“I don’t need your charity.”

“Do it.”

His hand was immobile on your forearm, fingers burying in the loose white fabric of your dress shirt. Your other hand held your phone. You awkwardly redialed the number and brought it to your ear. Told the pleasant lady that you found some dried mango, but thank you for holding it. She said it was no problem and told you to have a great day.

Jungkook let you go.

You ran away, clutching the bag.

When you arrived to your own shabby apartment, you dumped the packs dried mango all over your bed, a rainstorm of crinkled plastic. You were panting from running. Heart beating so fast you thought you were dying.

You lived in the poor part of the city. The apartments were like coffins, one room, tiny kitchenette with one stovetop, one sink. A tiny bathroom with a shower. No living room, just your twin bed in the center. You lived alone, because your mother worked overseas to pay for you to go to university.

The other parent could never come looking for you anymore.

You stared at the packs of dried mango. Why had he done that? You didn’t understand.

You didn’t understand Jeon Jungkook.

The landlord came by, knocking on the door. You backed away from the pile of mango and opened the front door, seeing the old man’s face.

He smiled at you. Thanked you for paying for in advance. You nodded mutely. He looked past you, at the bed covered in dried mango. Asked you how you were doing, if you were okay. You nodded again, not replying.

The old man smiled at you, somewhat sadly. Pity in his eyes. But you couldn’t speak to him. You couldn’t reply. You didn’t have a pack of mango with you, so you were voiceless.

He told you that if you ever needed anything to let him know.

You nodded, silent.

The old man bowed and let you be.

You closed the door, locked it. Back flat against it, breathless. Winded from nothing. Your eyes flickered to the bed. Something came over you. You stalked over to it. Then you shoved the plastic bags of dried mango away, off your bed, throwing them everywhere. Watching them fall, one by one, tumbling, tumbling, thundering plastic all around you.

You panted hard, staring at your hands. At the purple nail polish, chipping a little.

You wondered when the nightmares would finally go away.

You sat in the front row in the Chemistry lecture.

Red skirt, oversized grey sweater. Opaque black tights. Black sneakers.

Staring straight ahead. Chewing on a piece of dried mango.

Trying to hold on.

You hadn’t slept at all last night. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was apathy. In the morning, you had thought about wearing baggy pants again. But those purple nails winked at you, only a few smiley faces clinging on. Hoseok would have told you to wear something nice, if you called him then.

So, you wore a skirt and waited for lecture to start, chewing.

You reached into your bag, fishing for another piece. It wasn’t there. The plastic pack of dried mango was gone.

You jerked your head abruptly. It was being held out to you, from the tattooed right hand of Jeon Jungkook. He stared at you. Dark eyes so intense it felt like hellfire. Hair slicked back with too much gel. Leather jacket over a black shirt.

He did not speak this time.

You tried to take the bag, but he held it tightly. Pried open the opening a little wider, tipping it to you.

You reached in. Grabbed a piece.

Jungkook watched you. In between the teeth. Turning it with your tongue, licking off the sugar. Sucking it in, making it disappear into the pink canal.

He lowered the packet, putting it back in your messenger bag. Took out your book, handing it to you.

He did not speak.

Your hand grasped the softcover copy of Prey. Jungkook kept staring at you. Your eyes went to the book. To the words on the page. Away from Jeon Jungkook and his piercing eyes.

“Did you get compliments on your nails?”

“One.”

Hoseok smiled cheerfully as he gently took off the purple nail polish. It still stank of acetone though. “Oh? Did it feel nice?”

“I don’t know.”

Hoseok tilted his head, frowning. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Your eyes shifted. “I don’t know because I don’t know if it was a genuine compliment or a ruse.”

“Ruse for what?” Hoseok quipped, planting the cotton ball on your nail and holding it down.

You thought of that slicked black hair and those corrupting black eyes.

“Hoseok.”

“Mhm?”

“Why did you suddenly have an interest in painting nails?”

Hoseok paused. His honey brown eyes flashed up to you. Then he looked back down at your hands.

“Because it is a frivolous thing.”

You blinked at him. He wiped your nails clean. He tapped the bottle of base coat, along with a top coat and the same bright colors.

“It is something purely for fun and vanity. It has no real meaning and is only good for self-care.”

“Did you rehearse this?”

He held up the bottle of base coat and frowned at you, closing his eyes and trying to remember the rest of his speech.

“It is something you won’t do for yourself, so I want to do it for you.” His brown orbs found yours. There was something conflicted in those eyes. “I want to spend time with you. I want you to know this. I want you to remember you have a friend when you look at your hands.”

Your lips parted.

“I can’t be there and hold you when you wake up from the nightmares.”

You looked down, down at your lap of your red skirt and grey oversized sweater.

“I know I cannot make them stop. I know I cannot change what has happened to you or make it better.”

Hoseok held your hands tightly, even though you weren’t looking at him. Held you, voice apologetic and hurting for you, feeling for you when you tried so desperately to feel nothing at all.

“But I want you to remember, every time you look at your hands. You have a friend.”

“I like your nail polish.”

Your nails were neon pink and green, with small flower stickers. Hoseok said the top coat should keep the stickers on better this time. He was learning. He said YouTube helped.

You reached into your bag, but a piece of dried mango appeared next to your lips. Your eyes traveled up that those well-kept nails and the tan hand with the tiny tattoos, up the leather sleeve, to the slicked-back black hair and angular jaw of Jeon Jungkook. His pink lips had a tiny mole under them. Those dark chocolate eyes stared at you.

“Eat it.”

Your hand reached for it, but he shook his head once.

“Eat it,” he repeated.

You leaned forward, the fabric of your purple sweatshirt bunching. Caught the dried fruit with your teeth, pulled back. Turned it in your mouth. Sucked it in and chewed.

Jungkook seemed satisfied. His eyes went down to your black leather skirt and black pinstriped tights. Black and silver ankle boots. Eyes back up, stopping at your thighs. Then he looked up at you.

And for once you weren’t nose deep in Prey.

You were staring at him.

“Give me your phone.”

You unlocked your phone and handed it to him.

Jungkook found the messenger app and typed in a new message. You watched him. He typed your name into the text bubble and sent it to a number. Then he handed your phone back to you.

You took it.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

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violetnotez · 4 years ago

Note

fic or whatever concept: fushiguro is in love w the reader but they have a huge crush on yuuji and it’s just megumi suffering as the reader and yuuji get together and they’re actually really,,, happy??? and in love???

This is the shit I LIVE FOR -also I made a whole playlist for this idea-you can watch the vid here!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Megumi x reader (not really?), Yuuji x reader

Songs to Listen to: Treat You Better (but the Kurt Hugo version, seriously, thank me later!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Maybe if he had tried harder, this wouldn’t have ended up like this. He just felt alone, empty, with nothing to show but a broken heart and head full of bitter dreams.

Did he fool himself? That maybe, some miraculous way, he would have won?

Megumi lay on his bed, worn sweatshirt making his skin crawl and his black sweats uncomfortable to wear, his toes curling from disgust.

Nothing could get his mind off of you, even months after you started dating Yuuji.

It almost got worse, now that you were off limits.

Funny how it works like that.

His brain seemed to just always want to think of you-the way your voice seemed to sparkle when you yell out his name, the way you look too damn cute when you’d walk out of your dorm room in the morning, hair messy and feet bare-

Fuck fuck fuck.

Megumi groaned, placing a hand on his forehead and smoothing his hair back in exasperation.

You weren’t his, and you’d never be his-he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were dating his best friend after all-didn’t he have any shame?

Even though he was in so much heart ache, so much pain from the fact he couldn’t have you.....he couldn’t ever hate his friend from taking you away from him.

Yuuji was good to you, and painfully, he had to admit Yuuji was better than him in every way as a boyfriend.

Yuuji was sociable, able to strike up a conversation and make everyone feel like his best friend-Megumi wasn’t like that.

Yuuji wasn’t afraid of physical touch, constantly having a hand on your hip to keep you near him or swinging you around lovingly like he hadn’t seen you in years- he was terrified of physical touch.

Yuuji was strong, powerful, and able to protect you from the world- he couldn’t say the same for himself.

Megumi’s insecurities were infesting his body, gnawing at his bones, squirming through his muscles and into his skin, making his jaw clench and nails dig deep into his skin from disgust within himself.

Why hadn’t he at least fucking tried?

But he had been too placid, too worried of rejection, too worried of ruining your friendship-

But then again....he was just too selfless. He was willing to let everyone around him surpass him if it meant they would win, thrive, and live happy lives- even if it meant he had to suffer the consequence.

Megumi squeezed the white sheets around him, twisting them into tight spirals around his digits.

He let it happen again-he had succumbed to that fear.

Years worth of affection, years worth of admiration and dedication-washed away like it never happened., because of it And now he was dealing with the repercussion with phantoms of what could have been, with the jealousy, and a broken heart.

Megumi shifted in his bed, feeling his sweatshirt stick to his back, his hand reached out to grasp at the white beams of moonlight drifting into his room.

What would have happened if he had said no that day? Would anything have changed-if he had admitted that he did like you, that he had wanted to call you his?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He remembers that day like it was yesterday, that feeling of dread filling in his stomach as if he knew something was about to change, the shift of energy making an icy chill run along his back.

Yuuji has been behind him, leaving training as they usually do with his hands in his pockets.

It was quiet, the hallways empty except for the two of them, the wooden floors making soft clicks as it reacted to their footsteps. It should have felt peaceful, a soft breeze fluttering in from the opened windows as the sun began to set outside. But that errie sensation was still boiling in Megumi’s gut, that gnawing feeling of dread making him unable to enjoy the peace.

“Hey man, I wanted to ask you something real quick,” Yuuji’s voice stopped Megumi in his tracks, his feet halting with an echo in the empty corridor.

Megumi turned around slowly, tentatively, almost too worried to face what was behind him.

Maybe at this time he knew what was about to happen, the feeling of dread settling.

“Sure,” he simply stated, shrugging nonchalantly as the golden sun set the room in a red hue.

“This might be a little personal,” Yuuji began, hands placed in the pockets of his sweatshirt still, “but I got a question about y/n.”

Yuuji looked at him, staring him down like two men in a duel. He was serious, more serious than Megumi had seen him in a long time.

“I know you guys are pretty close...”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Megumi stated, swallowing a ball of saliva down his dry throat.

“Well, I-“ Yuuji sighed, pink hair swaying as he looked down at the floor quickly, almost preparing himself for what he was about to say next.

“I-I wanted to ask them out.....out on a date....”

“- it okay with you?”

Megumi’s eyes widened in shock, the his whole body feeling as if hit by a ton of bricks from Yuuji’s words.

This was it-the worst case scenario, the worst thing he knew was happening but didn’t want to admit.

Megumi tried to recover quickly, his eyes slanting back down to unamused slits in a matter of seconds.

“Why are you asking me?” he questioned, trying to keep the growing panic inside him at bay,” It’s not like I dictate who she dates.”

“I think you know why.”

“I don’t.”

“Fushigoro-“

Megum sighed violently, eyes looking up at the ceiling as he tried to fight the growing pain in his heart.

“I don’t dictate your life-I don’t dictate them-and you don’t dictate mine. Do whatever the hell you want-“

“I won’t date them unless you say it’s okay for me to Fushigoro.”

Itadori’ voice had none of that boyish, playful tone to it. It was more mature than Megumi had even heard it-but something behind it was different.

It was almost like there was this desperateness to it- Yuuji needed him to say yes. Yuuji so badly wanted to call you his-just like him.

“You can say no-“ Itadori rushed on, eyes intense with anticipation, “-I won’t think less of you or hate you for it.”

Megumi watched as he shuffled uncomfortably, the knowledge that he just admitted his crush making him slightly sheepish as he scratched the back of his head.

“Hell, I know I would-” he said truthfully, “ I just don’t want to ruin our friendship by going behind your back.”

Fuck, Megumi wanted to fight for you. He wanted to so so badly.

Megumi had known you for longer, you two were close friends, he had a connection to you-didn’t he deserve to be yours after being so dedicated to only you?

Fushigoro was there for when you cried over your stresses, rubbing your back patiently as you let everything out of you, summoning his animals because he knew how much they made you happy.

He was there for your late night study sessions, the lighting hazy as the pouring rain pounded on the window, cleaning up your room of the papers and flashcards after he convinced you to go to sleep.

He trained with you when you worried you weren’t strong enough, always making sure to congratulate you in someway, fighting the redness in his cheeks after you had successfully completed a new move, your skin dangerously close to his.

God, he had waited for so long-why did the world have to fuck him over? Why did his best friend, out of all the people in the world he could form a crush on, like you like that?

But looking at Yuuji, he knew he wouldn’t win this war. Him and Yuuji were very similar in their passion and devotion, but the simple difference between them was Yuuji wasn’t afraid to be selfish.

Megumi was accustomed to backing down for everyone, sacrificing himself so the people he loved could succeed. It was an awful habit of his, maybe due to his insecurities, maybe just a routine he learned at this point, he would never know- but the fact was he knew that Yuuji would never stop fighting for you. Even if Megumi screamed at him, cursed at him, told him to fuck off and leave you alone-Yuuji wouldn’t ever stop loving you. Itadori would respect Megumi’s wishes, but he would still protect you, fight for you, and love you with everything in him.

And that much devotion coming from someone as charismatic and kind like that-what person wouldnt fall for that?

Megumi sighed, his heart breaking in two at the sudden realization hit him-he was too weak to be any threat to Yuuji.

”You’re not going behind my back.” He finally said, looking down at the floor as the self loathing boiled in his stomach.

“But you-“

“I don’t. Like them.” Megumi was seething, hating every fiber in his body for doing this to himself. Each word was choppy, the sentence laced with sternness and bitterness.

“-Do whatever the hell you want.”

Megumi needed to leave, and leave quick. He hadn’t felt this emotional in a long time, and he didn’t want Yuuji to start thinking that he was actually bothered by all of this.

He turned on his heel, ready to get out of there as quickly as possible-

“Hey Megumi- you really okay with this? This won’t change our friendship? I won’t do this unless youre okay-“

Yuuji took a step forward, hand reaching out to his friend as a peace offering, a sheepish smile on his lips.

Megumi turned, his chest tightening as he looked down at his hand, too tired to reach out for it and pretend like he didn’t hate his friend at this moment.

“They dont like me. They like you- I see it. You’ll make them happy, and that’s all I want for them.”

Yuuji smiled , seemingly content with his quiet friend’s answer.

“Thanks man,”

Megumi turned again, head hanging low as he quickly left the corridor, desperate to get out of there.

“Tell me thank you when they say yes.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He groaned, letting the painful memories overtake him as he turned his back to the wall.

It just hurt-maybe he would get over all of this one day, but right now he couldnt.

As if on cue to deepen his torture, he heard a giggle from you across his room, the muffled noise of Yuuji’s voice making him cringe.

Thin ass walls-you were probably visiting Yuuji again for the night, staying up all night to watch movies.....

This was destroying him-but he couldnt ever blame you for it, because you were oblivious to his love for you. He had made sure you would never catch on- and now you would never know because he was too cowardly to ever say it.

God, what he’d do to have the roles switched though...with you breaking school rules to come visit him at night, to here that sweet laugh in his room, to feel your head cuddle into his chest, or see you slowly begin to wake up in the morning....

Megumi felt a pain in his chest at the wanting feeling that would never fully be satiated gnaw at his chest, his hands despertedly grabbing at his pillow and shoving it against his ear.

He didnt want to hear you, he didnt want to see you...at this moment he didnt want anything to do with you or Yuuji.

This hurt too much...

Fuck, he really screwed up.

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ofna · 4 years ago

Text

@rkgk-arts Follow up to this post

Third: can you describe what sort of clothes ROs are wearing? Accessories, tattoos, piercings etc?

Alright, let’s do this. Below the cut. Linked some stuff from pinterest mostly for the ~vibes~

Simon/Simone: Typically wearing dark/black jeans, possibly with a few rips in them and combat boots. Dark tops. I have a red bomber jacket or grey/black sweatshirt in my mind but don’t know why. I see them with a sweatshirt hood. Low to none on accessories, I could see Simone with some cartilage piercings but that’s it. Could see a thin leather bracelet, but like a very specific kind. They both have wavyish, black hair that’s a little messy. Simon’s is down around his ears and Simone’s is brushing the top of her shoulders.

Bea/Beau: Usually wearing an oversized, soft crew-neck sweater in a muted color. Maybe cashmere idk. Lots of blues and browns, some greens, in their wardrobe. Probably in jeans or dark pants. Could see them rocking darker cords. Canvas sneakers. Bea has her hair in a curly bun a lot and has her earlobes pierced but probably doesn’t wear anything most days. Always wearing a thin, silver bracelet. Almost always wearing contacts, but does have glasses. Also this.

Jeremy: A very nice wool jacket and red scarf. The rest of his outfit is a mess. Rumpled t-shirt? Wrinkled jeans? Did he fall asleep in his clothes again? Probably. Does he still look annoyingly good? Yup. I’m blanking on his shoes, there’s just a void in my head. I’ll come back to this if I can. Maybe short leather boots? The kind that lace up? This is a very Jeremy picture to me.

Natasha: On the fancier side of things. Wears lot of whites, beiges, millenial pink, some neutrals, pastels that sort of vibe. Some grays. Has nice bags that I don’t even want to know the cost of. Wears mostly solids or neutral plaids. Some embellishments on clothing. Likes pearl or diamond jewelry. Would be hard to catch her without makeup. Typically does full coverage but natural colors, pinks/browns. Heels always, would wear like white canvas sneaker reluctantly if she has to do some sort of physical activity. Painted nails and rings.

Elliot: Always in dark clothing. Usually dark pants and some sort of black blazer and/or jacket combo. Dark academia vibes. Sweaters. Lots of blacks, burgundy, browns, olive green, etc. Leather shoes, maybe oxfords. Veers more toward the formal side but ours mans is just fancy like that.

#OFNA #asks #ROs #clothing #style #hair #i'm not sure how much of this will make it into the book #but this is how i see them #simon(e)#bea(u)#jeremy #natasha #elliot #good lord this post took me a thousand years to write sorry

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vintagedolan · 5 years ago

Text

mixtape | track five

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

It took two nights for Grayson to officially give in and admit that Indiana’s bed was more comfortable than his. Although he wasn’t exactly utilizing the space the way he wanted to at that moment, considering he was criss cross on top of the comforter in front of his very stressed out girlfriend, holding out a water bottle like it was a toy for a toddler.

“Hey. You need to drink some of this.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” she mumbled as a response, blowing him off as she had been all evening, one finger tracing over her notes. He resisted the urge to pull them out of her hands, knowing he might rip them on accident.

“Dee. Stop. Drink.”

“Yeah, just gimme a sec.”

“No, cause you said that five minutes ago. Drink.”

“I’m fine.”

“Holy shit.” He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and held it over her notes, blocking her view. “Drink it or I’m pouring it.”

That got her attention enough, and when she looked up her gaze was icier than he’d ever seen it.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He tilted it just barely.

“You’re annoying,” she grumbled, grabbing the bottle and taking a quick swig before trying to hand it off again.

“And you’re stubborn. Three more drinks, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You know, I’m two months away from a college degree, not a two year old.”

“Then you should know how important water is,” he countered, not budging an inch. She gave in to appease him, taking three long swallows before she passed it back to him, licking her lips slowly as she moved back down to her papers.

As if he wasn’t already worked up enough.

He was trying to behave, he really was. But there was just something about the way she was so focused. He’d always found ambition sexy, but it had been a long time since he’d seen someone academically driven, and he’d forgotten how attractive he found someone with intelligence. She was right there in front of him, hair pulled up in a loose bun on top of her head with a pencil stabbed through it somewhere - she didn’t need it, she had 17 different colored pens lined up in order on top of her planner page, which was full of blocked out times and perfect penmanship. She’d been chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit he’d noticed, but now it was bright pink and slightly swollen, and all he wanted to do was lean over and lay her down against the bed, kiss her rough, feel her skin under his hands, get her out of that damn cudi hoodie that he’d let her borrow a few nights ago.

“Flex.”

He only realized she was looking at him when he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Take your shirt off and flex your arm.”

“Uh… why?”

“For science.”

His ego could have burst, and he couldn’t help the smug grin that spread across his face after he slipped his sweatshirt off over his head. He reached over and tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was looking at him with those bright blues that he hadn’t seen nearly enough that day.

“You know, if you wanted me to get naked, all you had to do was ask.”

For a moment he tried to remember what movie or book or show he’d ripped off just then, but he got distracted when Indy smacked him across his arm.

“I need to look at your muscle structure, not drool over you.”

He deflated immediately, in every form of the word.

“Oh.” It sounded small, even to himself, and it was apparently all it took for him to finally have her full attention. She frowned, guilt immediately spreading across her entire face.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

It wasn’t often that Indiana did anything less than perfect (in his eyes anyways), so he jumped at the opportunity to milk it a bit.

“No it’s fine,” he muttered, toying with his fingers.

It worked.

It wasn’t two seconds later and she was intertwining her own fingers with his, tiny little pen marks of different colors on her skin as she pulled herself over towards him. Before he knew it his hands were on her waist and she was crawling into his lap, settling herself directly over him. She was a hair taller than him like that, and he tilted his head up to look at her, keeping his pout on his lips until she kissed it away.

“Sorry,” she murmured, lips moving against his as he traced his fingers over her sides, up under her hoodie to her warm skin. He felt her relax with each pass of his hands, the tension leaving her shoulders as she got lost in him.

“S’okay. Everybody gets a little grumpy when they’re stressed,” he hummed, thumbs running over the curve of her hips.

She pulled back from him immediately, offense all over her face.

“I am not grumpy.”

He waited for a moment, bold enough to raise his eyebrows at her but not to say anything.

And then her bottom lip was quivering, and he saw the tears welling up in the corners of her shiny eyes, and his stomach dropped faster than it ever had.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Baby what’s wrong?” He moved a hand up to her cheek before she crumpled forward onto his shoulder, her tears warm against his skin.

“I’m grumpy,” she moaned, followed by a sniffle.

“You’re crying… because I said you were grumpy?”

“No, because I am.”

He re-ran her words through his head a few times, only getting more confused.

“I’m not following.” He fessed up, bringing his hand up to run over her hair that was still tucked up in the messy bun that was tickling his cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out, and I get crazy with exams, I can’t help it, I’m sorry. I just… I can’t fuck this one up, and I’m gonna fail it. But that’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t be grumpy just because I’m stressed.”

The way that the worry in her voice pulled at his gut was a new sensation, something he’d never felt with anyone but Ethan, and even then it was different. He wanted nothing more than to be able to cheer her up, to make her feel better any way that he could.

“Hey. Look at me.”

She brought her head up slowly, eyes pink and irritated as she rubbed at them with the bottom of her sleeve.

“Have you ever actually failed an exam before?”

She shook her head and sniffled. If it wasn’t so sad, he would have thought it was adorable.

“Then there’s no reason to think you’re going to fail this one.”

“But-”

“What specific part are you on right now?” He kept up the bid to distract her, happy to see that no new tears were appearing.

“All the brachial muscles.”

“Brachial?”

“Arms. Arm muscles.”

He perked up, raising up an arm and flexing.

“I have those. Lots of those.”

He let the eye roll slide because of the laugh that followed it - he couldn’t think of something he’d produced that he was prouder of in the last month.

“My professor did say if we needed to look up muscle definition for reference to google pictures of Ryan Gosling, or Channing Tatum.”

Grayson wrapped his arms around her, but not before he snagged her phone and moved it out of her reach, getting another laugh from her.

“I think I would suffice.”

“You should be top of the list,” she hummed, kissing him again. He let her settle all her weight against him, which put her snug over his crotch in a way that she hadn’t been before, and he tried to think of absolutely anything else to keep himself from popping the most obvious boner he’d ever had. He felt like a high schooler again, with wild hormones that were ready to betray him at any moment.

And Indy had no mercy for him either, chasing away her worries through rough passes of her tongue against his, lips warm and urgent as she kissed him. It took all of his self control to keep himself from rolling her over, flipping her onto her back and really getting to work.

Luckily, her hands slid down his arms, over the ridges of his muscles and she hummed.

“Which one is that?” He took the chance for the distraction, looking over at the way her nails traced over his skin.

“Well this is the short head of the biceps brachii. This is the long head, and this is the pronator teres,” her fingers ran over the inside of his elbow, crossing over.

“What’s that do?”

“Pronates your arm.” He waited. “Like this.” She turned his arm so his palm was facing down.

“And you have a supinator too, which turns it the other way. It’s right… here.” She felt around on his forearm until she found a smaller muscle up by his elbow, squeezing it. Sure, he knew the basic muscles in his arms - anything he could target at the gym, plus anything important to build up for a planche. But it was incredible to him, the way she could trace a finger over his skin and mutter something to herself, another muscle, another nerve that went into it without having to look at any notes. She was content like that for a while, but eventually she perked up.

“Can I write on you? They’re skin safe pens.”

“You think I’m worried about skin safe pens?” He asked, looking down pointedly at the tattoos on his foot and ankle, the only ones she could see outside of his sweatpants.

“Oh shut up. My mom used to get so mad when I wrote shit on my hands, said I was gonna give myself ‘ink poisoning’, it’s habit.”

“My dad took me to get my first tattoo so… I think we’re good.”

The tug on his heart was a little less painful than it usually was.

“Play some Cudi. It helps me think.”

“Your wish, my command,” he teased, pulling out his phone.

She leaned him back against the pillows with a gentle push to his shoulder, moving her notes out of view and grabbing a black pen. He pulled up his Cudi playlist, letting his left arm rest against the comforter. Indy took it in her hands, moving it around with her pen held between her teeth, tracing fingertips over his skin as her mind worked ten times faster than Grayson’s probably ever had, he was sure.

Music filled the room, bringing in a more relaxing vibe as he tried to be a good model, only twitching when something tickled him - she didn’t seem to notice, so intent on scribbling the names of muscles he’d never heard of on his skin, his arm resting over her lap as she sat criss cross. He couldn’t resist tracing his fingertips over her skin where he could get to it, a gentle reminder that he was there for her, even if he was being quiet.

Ever since he could remember, Grayson had to be on the move. Had to be practicing, moving, working, doing something to keep his brain busy. It’s why he was in sports as a kid, why he was always starting new projects, always had 85 things going on in the background. But there, laid out on the comforter watching her wiggle around to the beat as she sang along, he couldn’t think of anything he would rather be doing. Even when she moved on to his ‘trunk’ muscles, made him hold his arm up and wrote serratus anterior across his ribs, he didn’t care. She never looked back at her notes, and he could tell she knew the information inside and out, but he humored her anyways, focusing in on the feeling of her fingers on his skin. Before he knew it, it was 11:30, and half of him was covered in Indy’s handwriting as he laid on his stomach and she wrote on his back.

“Done. I think that’s all of them.”

“Well, how do I look?” He peeked over his shoulder at her.

“Like a page of my notes,” she teased. “Come see.”

She tugged on his hand, leading him over to the mirror that hung behind her door. He stood tall next to her, a soft smile on his face as he looked over his skin.

“You really have to know all these?”

“And their origins and insertions,” she mumbled, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. “Where they start and where they end,” she explained. “I need to go to sleep.”

“Hang on.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “C’mere.”

She did as he asked, letting him pull her up against his side a bit more, angling so they looked good in the mirror before he snapped a quick picture.

“I look like death,” she mumbled, pouting a bit.

He just shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you in bed.”

------------------------------------------

Indy woke up to her alarm in a cold bed - which a month ago wouldn’t have been a thought in her mind. But she knew that her personal space heater had definitely fallen asleep next to her last night, considering it was him running his fingers through her hair that lulled her down. So she stood up quickly, rubbing at her eyes and following the sound of movement towards her kitchen. But on her way she saw her backpack and her stomach turned - a reminder of the exam she had in just a few hours.

The only - and probably best - distraction that she could have had was what she found in the kitchen. Shirtless Grayson, moseying around in his own little world, bed head sticking up in six different directions with slightly smudged pen ink still on half of his torso. It took him a moment to notice her there, still in his sweatshirt with her hands covered by the end of the sleeves.

“Morning gorgeous,” he smiled, small knife in one hand and an avocado in the other. “Figured I could make you breakfast before you had to leave.”

She swallowed hard. The thought of eating anything with her stomach so tight made her mouth taste like metal.

“You can get ready if you want, it’ll be a minute before it’s done.”

Indy nodded and gave him the best smile she could muster before she went back into her room. She made it as quick as she could, pulling on a pair of leggings and a bra - it was tempting for her to put Grayson’s hoodie back on, but she went the hygienic route and found a cozy sweater, burnt orange fabric soft against her skin. She gathered up all her school things, triple checking that she had a pencil and two extras, her notes and her laptop so that she could study right before.

When she made it back out to the kitchen, there was a plate waiting for her, organized quite particularly with a piece of avocado toast and strawberries, with a mug of coffee steaming beside it.

She swallowed hard again.

“Look good?” He beamed, obviously proud of himself as he started working on his own.

“Yeah, it looks great.”

Indy forced herself to take a bite after she sat down, chewing it so many times that it went soggy in her mouth. She washed it down with coffee, which seemed to go much easier. So she stuck to that, taking sip after sip until the last bit was gone, bringing her mug back down to the table, hoping she’d played it off.

But the look on Grayson’s face when she finally put the mug down told her she was sorely mistaken.

“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, no it’s not-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to eat it.”

“Grayson-”

“It’s not-”

“No, Grayson, it’s not the toast. I love avocado toast.”

“You don’t love my avocado toast,” he pouted.

“It’s not that. I promise,” she sighed, her stomach only tightening even more.

“What is it then?”

“I’m anxious. And I can’t eat when I’m anxious cause it makes me nauseous. And then eating just makes me more nauseous.”

His face fell from a pout to concern in an instant.

“Baby why didn’t you say something?”

“Because! You got up and you made breakfast, cause you’re cute and you’re thoughtful and now it’s gonna go to waste because my brain is stupid.”

And then he was laughing - a light sound that filled the kitchen and broke through the awkwardness that had found its home in the air.

“You’re adorable.”

She frowned, and he moved around the counter so he could stand tall in front of her, stealing a strawberry off her plate and popping it in his mouth.

“So lunch, not breakfast, on exam days. Got it.”

“Gray, you don’t-”

“Shush. You said you wanted to study before for a little while, so you probably need to get going, right?”

He was right and she knew it, but it still made her huff. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up. Now go ace your exam so we can have the rest of the afternoon, hmm? You sure you don’t want me to walk you?”

“I got it, it’s okay. Just hold down the fort here, and I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

She got out of her chair, pulled her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her water bottle, turning back towards Grayson.

“Good luck, not that you need it. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“What’re you gonna do while I’m gone?” She mused.

“Snoop,” he teased, squeezing her hip in his hand. “Actually I might hit a quick workout.”

“In here?” She looked around. “With what?”

“All you need for calisthenics is yourself and your muscles. You know my, uh-” he looked at his arm, squinting at the slightly smudged writing from the night before. “- flexor digitorum profundus, and uh… the rest of them.”

He knew he butchered the pronunciation, but he’d do it again to get the same laugh out of her.

“Last minute review, go,” he grinned, spinning around slowly so she could see all the work from the night before. She was still laughing when he stopped and grabbed her face with both hands, kissing her with a smile before making himself let go.

“Bye,” he mumbled. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill it.”

“Bye.” Love you. She held herself back from saying it, leaning up to give him one final kiss on the cheek before she turned and headed towards the door.

----------------------------------------------------------

When Grayson took exams in ‘high school’, it usually consisted of him and Ethan sitting next to each other on the couch with their notes spread out in front of them, picking each other’s far too similar brains for the answers.

Indiana on the other hand, was a solo everything. Solo test taker, obviously, but also solo studier, solo crammer, solo sit-before-the-exam-and-panic. Which worked out in her favor when she finished the exam - first in the class every time - because she didn’t feel the need to wait for anyone to discuss it. And she was especially thankful for it that day, because she had no reason to stay in the science building any longer than she needed to. She was out of the room, down the stairs and out onto the street immediately, with the image of Grayson laid out on the couch waiting for her at home pacing her steps even faster than usual.

But when she unlocked the door, there was no 6ft italian on her couch. In fact, there was no 6ft italian anywhere that she could see, and it took her a minute to place the sound of the shower running from her bathroom as she sat her bag down. The relief of having the exam out of the way was almost euphoric as she flopped down onto the bed and stared up at her ceiling, breathing her first easy breath in a few days. She stretched her arms up above her head and let her body fully settle down as she waited for her boyfriend to reappear.

Grayson, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time in the shower, and trying to ensure that there was no evidence that he’d definitely borrowed her razor to shave the puff of his chest hair that was a little too long for his liking. Needless to say, it was another 15 minutes before he made it out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist to head out into Indy’s room to find his bag. His hair was still dripping as he leaned over and searched for a pair of decent boxers.

“Boo.”

The towel was centimeters from falling off when he practically jumped out of his skin, but Indy wasn’t about to complain.

“Holy fuck you scared me! When did you get back?!” He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he clutched the fabric around him. It was low enough to show off the V lines that Indy had first noticed while they were cliff jumping, and it had her mind derailing in a much different direction.

“Like twenty minutes ago. I think you take longer showers than I do,” she teased, propping up on her elbows so she could actually look at him.

Jesus christ.

“Hang on, let me put pants on.”

You don’t have to, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue and just enjoyed the view.

Pants, luckily, were just some very tight and short boxers that left little to the imagination when he re-emerged from the bathroom that he’d ducked away to change in.

“So how’d it go, how was the exam?”

“I missed two.”

He blinked at her a few times.

“Questions?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“But… how… you know what, nevermind,” he laughed, shaking his head gently before he threw his towel over his hair and started to rub it dry.

“What?” She laughed with him, and a bit at him, for the adorable way that his hair had become fluffy from the towel when he tossed it to the side.

“I’m not even gonna try to understand your brain anymore. I give up, I forfeit.” He threw his hands up in defeat, and Indy watched the way it made his abs move. She swallowed hard, her skin buzzing as she tried to keep her tone playful while her stomach floated.

“You forfeit? You?”

He seemed entirely unfazed - it struck her that he was probably very much used to girls looking at him and imagining all the things they wanted him to do to them. She tried not to dwell on it, and to remind herself for a moment that he was there in front of her, in her bedroom, in boxers. Very tight boxers, with a very, very clear outline of his dick.

“C’mere.” She took her moment of vindication and ran with it, reaching out a hand for him as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He raised his eyebrows at her but obliged, taking her hand and letting him pull her over to the bed so he was sitting on the edge. She swung herself over into his lap, happy to feel his hands settle on her hips to hold her there, sweatpants dropping to the floor.

“Well hi,” he hummed as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Whatcha doin’?” His tone was still playful, less affected than she wanted it to be, almost like he didn’t realize what type of mood she’d suddenly found herself in. It was true that most of the time, he was making the moves - but only because he was so touchy that she never needed to.

So she kissed him before she answered, harder than usual, slipping her tongue into his mouth before he could get to hers. She let her hands roam through his soft hair, nails against his scalp as she tilted his head back to change the angle of his lips, shifting herself up with her forearms on his wide shoulders. He grunted a bit, breaking free of the kiss to press a few to her neck, his scruff deliciously rough against the sensitive skin.

When he pulled back his pupils were blown wide, eyes trained up on her face, flickering down to her neck, then her boobs, which were far too hidden under her clothes.

“I said I was gonna make it up to you,” she finally answered. “So let me.”

“Fuck yes,” he mumbled, hands immediately bunching in the bottom of her sweater. His instinct was to strip it directly over her head, but he paused as he pulled it up, looking at her for reassurance. She nodded with a soft smile, lifting her arms up as he guided it off, revealing the skin he hadn’t seen yet. Sure, her crop top had been small, and even more revealing once it was wet, but-

“This hits different,” he murmured, hands moving to hold onto her, thumbs rubbing over her ribcage on either side.

“This hits different?” She said, eyes going incredulously wide before her head fell back in a laugh, which turned into a squeal when Grayson buried his face in her cleavage for a moment just to get a reaction. He reveled in the feeling of her hands back in his hair, even if it was to pull him back.

“Can I take this off?” He kissed the swell of each boob, hands ghosting over the back of her bra as he spoke.

“Yes. Please.”

He did as she asked, flicking the clasp open with ease and catching her lips with his again as he guided the straps off her arms and tossed the black garment somewhere behind her. As soon as he could he leaned her back a bit, holding her there with his hands spread against her back as he kissed down her neck, over her collarbone and down to her boob. The angle wasn’t quite right for him to get enough of what he wanted, so he sat back up instead, vowing to himself to give her tits the attention they deserved later. He kept the next kiss slow, wrapping his arms all the way around her torso so he could press her against him, feel every possible inch of her skin against his. It was bliss in its rawest form, and he would have been mostly content to stay just like that.

His dick had other ideas, hard to the point of almost painful underneath her warmth as she settled over him, his boxers too thin to show him any mercy. Every time she shifted above him it sent a jolt of heat straight through him, and it wasn’t long before he rolled them to the side, taking control of the situation before he literally came in his boxers.

Indy didn’t seem to mind, beaming up at him as she settled on her back, her flushed skin on display above the white comforter. It was a beautiful sight if Grayson had ever seen one, and he just looked at her for a moment, tried to etch it into his brain so he’d never forget. He’d had his fair share of girls on a bed in front of him - honestly, more than he was proud to admit. It always just happened so fast, where one minute they were talking and within the weekend they were tangled up in eachother.

But Indy was different - there was an innocence about the blush in her cheeks and the way she crossed her legs a bit, like she was hiding from him even though she still had her leggings on. It was driving him insane, and it took all his willpower to remind himself to go slow, to focus and cherish every minute of it that he could.

So he climbed over her, sinking down to kiss her again and letting some of his weight rest on her, happy to feel her smile against him.

“You okay?” He asked, kissing down her jawline slowly, over to her ear and then down her neck. Her hair smelled like vanilla where it tickled his nose.

“Mmmm,” was her only response, and he took it as his sign to move farther south, brushing his lips along her collarbone. “More than okay,” she breathed, back arching just barely to meet him.

“You wanna keep going?” Please. Please.

“Do you?” She asked quietly - he could hear the nerves in her tone, and it stopped him in his tracks. He propped himself up so he had a full view of her face.

“Only if you do.”

She bit her lip, looking up at him. The hesitation was enough for him to start to move off of her, mind already trying to remember where he’d thrown her sweater so she could cover herself back up. Her hand wrapped around his arm before he could get any further.

“No wait! Wait, I do. I do want to, I promise, it’s just… it’s uh… it’s been a while.”

He’d never seen her face so red, and then she was talking over herself to try and get the words out fast enough.

“And by a while I literally mean like… years. I’m talking uh, junior year of high school. And I can tell you that they obviously didn’t know what they were doing, so I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, and I just wanted you to know that before we really, like, got into it, and…”

He stopped her lips with his, waiting until her body gave way to him and relaxed underneath his hands before he pulled away.

“Baby, I couldn’t care less when the last time you slept with somebody was, or if you know what you’re doing. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Says the experienced one,” she teased, but he could tell his words had given her at least a little bit of comfort.

“Just let me take care of you. You deserve it, you worked so damn hard all week, now you get to relax.”

“You’re in charge,” she breathed.

“I like that.” He flashed her a playful grin before he really got to work, kissing down to her chest and paying specific attention to her nipples to get her worked up again. It didn’t take long, and when her back arched up he slid his hands down to her leggings, letting his fingers hook in the waistband.

“You ready for these to come off?”

“Yeah. Yours too though.”

He pulled everything off her at once, jokingly backing up and tugging to make her laugh until the ends popped off her feet. He tossed them aside and moved to his own boxers, pushing them down and stepping out of them, using his foot to kick them away.

“Jesus,” Indy said, and then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in embarrassment. Grayson couldn’t help but to bust out laughing, the kind that went through his whole body, made him clutch at his chest.

“Was that a good Jesus or a bad Jesus?”

“A good Jesus. Is bad Jesus even a thing?” She mused, laughter and excitement overriding some of her nerves as he moved above her again. His kisses started at her boobs this time and moved down slowly, almost torturously light brushes of his lips against her skin. Grayson eased her legs open with one hand, reaching up and under her thigh with the other, searching until he found her hand and laced their fingers together. It settled her in a way that only he could, and she let out the breath she’d been holding, sucking in another one when he ran his fingers over her for the first time. Her body jolted at the feeling and he pressed a kiss to her thigh.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, and instead of making her blush, the words just made her wetter somehow - she already felt like she was dripping. He dipped one finger into her and she forced her muscles to relax, let herself melt into the comforter as he leaned forward and started in with his tongue, small flicks at first that already had her twitching. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing, but unbeknownst to Indy he was enjoying her inexperience - it made her more reactive, made him feel special that he was the one who got to give her this. It focused him as he tried to read her body, find the right angles and spots to make her tick as he moved up to two fingers, stretching her slightly to get her ready.

“Oh god,” she whimpered, hand squeezing his so tight it was borderline painful, but he wouldn’t move it for the world as she clung to him.

“All good?”

“Yes, yes, god that feels good.”

He could practically feel his chest puff up before he dove back in with renewed purpose, eyes trained up on her as he watched, tried to find her tells so he could commit them to memory as he explored her with his tongue. He found it when her breath hitched and her back arched for a moment, and then her legs were shaking beside either side of his head, a blissful whimper falling from her lips and filling the room as she came. It was easy to work her through it, and he backed off when her legs twitched towards closing, letting her catch her breath.

“C’mere,” she mumbled, tugging on his hand until he crawled back up her body, a bit surprised when she brought a hand up to his hair and pulled his lips down to hers.

“Fuck me.” It came out as a whisper, but all that familiar Indy confidence had returned to her tone as she hooked a leg up onto his back in an attempt to get him closer to her. He groaned into her mouth, biting at her lip as his dick rubbed against her, warm and wet.

“You sure?”

She just pushed him a bit further as her answer, letting go of his hand so she could wrap both her arms around his back, fingers running over the ridges of muscles that she was familiar with now.

He reached a hand between them, lined himself up carefully until just the head of his dick was settled inside of her. Eyes on her face, he started to move, stopping when she sucked in a deep breath through her nose.

“Don’t let me hurt you, you gotta talk to me,” he said, tone suddenly serious. The last thing he wanted was to be over eager. She nodded at him, eyes still closed as she tried to relax.

“Just go slow.”

With anyone else, it probably would have taken every ounce of willpower he had to hold himself back. But his concern for her overrode his own needs, and he aired on the side of caution, moving slowly in small thrusts, gaining a bit more each time. His head was clear enough until Indy grabbed his face and brought it back to hers, leaning up for a deep kiss that had him spinning. He could have busted right there when she moaned into his mouth, nails sharp against his cheeks as her head fell back. With her neck exposed in front of him he couldn’t resist leaving his mark, sucking a quick hickey by her collarbone.

“Fuck me Gray, please, please,” she groaned, her own way of giving him the go ahead. He picked up his pace, holding himself up with one arm and grabbing her hip with the other, keeping her steady. Indy didn’t know where to put her own hands, so she settled for exploring, tracing over Grayson wherever she could reach, appreciating every inch in front of her as best she could with the feeling of him inside of her, filling her up so much she was sure she was always going to feel empty without him.

“Fuck,” he huffed out, the first sign he’d given her that she was doing something right. She tested it out, running her nails down his side, over his ribs, watching the way it made his eyes roll back just slightly, made his abs tense up. It was a race then, trying to see who could get the other to come undone first, with angles and groans and touches and whispers in each other's ears.

Grayson won.

Her second orgasm was somehow stronger than the first, and she was so caught up in the stars that she barely registered that Grayson had pulled out. He stayed close above her as he finished himself off, cum shooting onto both of their chests as he groaned, barely able to hold himself up with just one arm.

Needless to say he collapsed next to her on the bed to catch his breath as they both stared up at the ceiling. Indy moved first, finding his hand again with hers and holding on, eventually pulling it up to her lips so she could kiss each of his knuckles.

“Woah,” was the word he finally chose when enough oxygen caught back up to him.

“Good woah or bad woah?”

He rolled over onto his side at that, raising his eyebrows.

“You have to ask?”

“Well it was amazing for me, but that doesn’t mean it was amazing for you,” she explained, only making him shake his head.

“You underestimate yourself too much. It was perfect. Best first time I’ve had with anyone, ever.”

She flushed pink at his words, looking down at herself and the mess that they’d made.

“I know you just showered but… you wanna join me?”

Instead of answering, he just stood up, glad that his legs weren’t wobbly as he scooped her up from the bed, laughing at her squeal as he carried her to the bathroom.

--------------------------------------

“Earrings, you do too much.”

“It’s nothing, just something for you to have while we can’t visit. Indy helped pick it out.”

Indy offered Bekah a smile as Grayson spoke, trying to keep her mindset positive. Which was much easier said than done, considering Bekah looked like she’d lost ten pounds since the last time they’d seen her, especially with the oxygen cannula in her nose. Still, she had the biggest smile on her face as she reached inside of the massive gift bag that Grayson had put together for her earlier that day. Indy watched as she pulled out the blanket they’d found, adorned with cute little smiling pumpkins and black cats with their backs arched.

“For spooky season, you know?” It hit Indy then that it was already mid October when they were shopping earlier, and by the look on Bekah’s face she hadn’t realized it either. It felt like September had only been a few days ago.

“We love cute spooky vibes,” Bekah smiled, trying to get it the rest of the way out of the bag. Her monitors started to beep more rapidly, her oxygen levels dropping.

“Here, let me help,” Indy offered, moving to the bag and pulling the rest of the blanket out, sitting it at the end of the bed. Bekah gave her a quiet thankful smile and took a few deep breaths through her nose before moving back into the bag. It was full of small decorations that she could sit around her room, and a few halloween themed coloring books and word searches to keep her mind busy - Indy knew she liked those. The nurses had decided to air on the side of caution and have her isolate for five days prior to her surgery, which meant she would need something to keep her mind busy.

“You all didn’t have to do this,” she said, laying back against the pillows.

“We wanted to. I’m sorry we can’t come see you,” Indy sighed, adjusting her blankets and moving around some of her tubes and lines. Grayson knew she was fidgeting because she was nervous, but he didn’t say anything.

“S’okay. Don’t really want you all to see me like that anyways. Don’t really want you all to see me like this either but here we are.”

One of the downfalls of being in the medical field was knowing more than you wanted to. Indy knew the chances of Bekah’s surgery going well. She knew the percentages, knew how bad she already had to be for them to even be considering something above chemo. Her weakness, her need for oxygen, everything else. They were all major red flags on a textbook page, signs she would highlight on a case report that could be consolidated into one word - declining.

But she couldn’t quite get herself to use that word, to rationalize it when it was Beks in front of her. She seemed smaller now than she had the first time Indy had met her, and it unsettled her in a way that made her want to scream and cry at the same time. Grayson served as the anchor in the room, the solid middle ground that she could cling to and distract herself with to keep from spiraling. She wished she could physically sit by him, lean against him and feel his warmth. But they were sticking to their rules - nothing coupley in front of Bekah.

“You guys should go do something while you can’t come see me. You spend a bunch of time here, you deserve a hospital vacation,” Bekah mused, picking at a few spare pieces of lint on the blanket. “Do something together even, keep her from worrying about me for the entire week.” She looked at Grayson when she spoke that time, and Indy frowned.

“I’m gonna worry about you no matter where in the world I am, so suck it up.”

She managed enough energy to stick her tongue out, but even that seemed to take a lot out of her.

“Grayson, can you go see if Jessica can get me some water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He jumped at the opportunity, giving them both a quick smile before he went out in the hallway in search of Jessica.

Indiana was not so quick to assume, and turned to Bekah expectantly, heart breaking as she saw the start of tears in her eyes.

“Can we uh, can we cuddle for a minute? Like we used to?”

“Of course we can.”

It was rare that Bekah asked for anything, much less physical comfort of any kind. Indy had only done this a handful of times in the years that she’d known her, and it put a pit in her stomach to realize just how bad she must be feeling to even think about asking for it. She pushed the thoughts aside, climbing in the bed next to Bekah and pulling the blanket over the two of them, wrapping her arm around her so she could rest against her shoulder. She ignored the feeling of her tears when they started to soak through her shirt. They sat in silence for a moment before Bekah finally spoke again, voice at a whisper.

“Indy I’m scared.” The vulnerability in her voice was a dagger into Indy, and it took all her power to keep herself steady.

“I know. I am too. But if anybody can get through it, it’s you. You always have.”

“This time feels different.”

“Hey, don’t think like that, okay? Gotta go in with a positive mindset.” The words felt phony even as she spoke them, but it was a knee jerk reaction that at least got an eye roll out of Bekah, which helped her to stop her tears before Grayson came back in with a bottle of water and a cup of ice.

“I couldn’t find Jessica, so I just bought one and got a cup of ice from the lounge. Is that okay?”

“I don’t drink Dasani.”

Grayson deadpanned, looking down at the bottle and then back at Bekah, then over at Indy like she could do something to help.

“Kidding Earrings,” she teased, laughing a bit when his shoulders slumped down. “But, I will give you a 30 second pass on treating me like I have cancer and opening that bottle for me.”

He did as she asked, opening it up and pouring it for her with a sympathetic smile that she would have given him shit for any other day. Grayson didn’t say a word about the way they were curled up in the bed - he just sat at the end of it, putting two and two together and realizing she’d probably asked him to leave for a reason.

When 8pm rolled around, it was hugs goodbye and promises for facetime calls if she felt up for it. But mostly it was the unspoken fear that hung over the three of them like a cloud, and it only darkened as the walls lost their color on the way back out of the pediatric wing.

By the time they made it into the elevator Indy could barely speak around the lump in her throat. So instead, she decided to hide, wrapping her arms around Grayson as soon as the doors closed behind them and burying her face in his neck.

“Hey, shhh, shhh,” he murmured, holding her close to him and praying no one had hit the button for the first floor. He kissed her hair.

“Take me to Jersey. Please.” If he’d asked her why, she wouldn’t have had an answer.

Luckily, he didn’t.

“Okay.”

He took charge then, leading them home with his arm wrapped tight around her waist. When they got to the apartment he helped her pack an overnight bag in a bid to get it done faster, slinging it over his shoulder as they headed back out into the streets, to the garage where he paid an astronomical amount to park the truck any time he came into the city.

She didn’t even bother with the passenger seat, immediately sliding across the bench to curl up next to him as they started down the road. At one point he texted Lisa and Ethan, giving them the heads up that Indy was coming back with him, but she was already asleep by then, laying down with her head against his thigh, the stress of the last few days and hours catching up with her it seemed. He kept an arm over her the whole way home, just in case.

Indy woke up to the mixture of the bumps of gravel under the tires and the sound of Grayson singing Tame Impala slightly off key above her. A sense of peace washed over her when she sat up and saw the familiar glow of Lisa’s house amongst the trees, but Grayson’s worry was filling the cab as he put the truck in park.

“I’m okay.” She answered before he asked.

“No you aren’t.”

“I’m okay enough. I just… I feel better out here. I feel better with you, wherever you are.”

He hugged her to him, breathing her in as his arms coiled around her.

“Then I’ll always be here. I promise.”

It was as if time froze in that little cab, in each other's arms, until finally the October chill seeped in enough for them to give in and head to the house. If Lisa had noticed the time they spent in the driveway, she didn’t act like it. Instead, she lit up as if two of her kids had walked through the door and not just one.

“Hi guys! How was the drive? You hit traffic?”

“Hey Ma.” Grayson went in for a mom hug - one of those things you take for granted until you can’t have it anymore. But when he let her go Lisa moved on to Indy, and it felt so close to an actual mom hug that she almost teared up.

“Ryan and Ethan are in Cameron’s room setting up the mics, but if you need to eat first there’s vegan spaghetti in the fridge.”

It was obvious by Grayson’s face that he’d forgotten about the podcast all together in the last few hours. Indy smiled at him, tried to convey with her eyes that she was fine, because she was.

“Go work. I’ll still be here when you get back,” she reassured him. “We’ll have some girl time.”

“It’ll be an hour, tops.”

“Don’t rush. Have fun.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and then headed up the stairs.

Lisa waited until his footsteps stopped, considering they could hear them all the way to Cameron’s room, and then she turned to Indy with a smile.

“So, do you need a girls night or a distraction night?”

“A distraction night?”

“Something to get your mind off things. You seem like you’re in your head. Was it your exam? Did it go okay?”

She blushed at the thought of Grayson talking about her with his mom. “He told you that?”

“Oh honey he tells me all about you. When he gets to talking about something that he loves, he doesn’t shut up. Got that from his dad.”

“Sean talked a lot?”

“Oh all the time. If you got him started on anything sports he went on for hours, and the boys always ate it up. They were mini-him’s growing up. You know they started wrestling each other when they were two years old? Actual maneuvers he taught them when I wasn’t looking - I coulda killed him when I found out.”

And with that, Lisa led on a distraction night without Indy even realizing. Stories of Sean mostly, her voice full of love with just that hit of sorrow that you only get when someone is too far away from you. Things shifted when Lisa asked about Nicole, and Indy found herself remembering stories that she hadn’t told anyone in years. The time they went camping in Georgia and skunks took over the campground, or the time she’d scored the game winning shot in a high school basketball game and her mom tackled her, right in there with her teammates.

“You know, if there’s ever anything ‘mom’ related that you need, whether it’s a haircut or just a hug, I’m always here. And that goes for when Grayson isn’t around either - my door is always open.”

“Thank you Lisa. That means a lot. More than you know.”

They were hugging when the three boys came back down the stairs, laughter bouncing off the walls as they continued a debate that was definitely a part of the pod. They enveloped Lisa into the conversation, but Indy wasn’t listening. Her attention was on Grayson alone, watching the way his nose scrunched when he laughed just hard enough, and the way he leaned his head against his mom’s shoulder when she stood by him. His eyes flickered over to hers often, and eventually he continued the conversation from right above her head, his chin resting on her, throat vibrating when she spoke.

Eventually goodnights and goodbyes were given and everyone went on to their respective rooms, Grayson grabbing her bag and taking it with them. They made quick time of their nightly routine, finding themselves in pajamas with minty breath and fresh faces in no time, eager to climb into bed and find solace in each other again.

Indy moved first, nuzzling up to his neck as soon as he opened the blanket up for her to climb in. He tucked it around her before wrapping her up in his own arms and peppering kisses along her forehead.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Not tonight.”

“Okay. What did you and my mom talk about?”

“You mostly. And your dad. She had so many stories about him.” She traced a triangle over his chest to keep herself busy, feeling his breath filling up his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“That you lost him. And that I can’t give you him back.”

“Nobody can bring people back Dee. You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

“But I can’t even give you a little. Your mom treats me like I’m one of her kids, so when I’m here, just for a minute, it feels like I have a little bit of my mom back. And I can’t give you that. You deserve that.”

He shifted so he could see her, cup her face with his hand.

“Indiana Cross. You don’t have to give me anything but yourself. And I don’t even deserve that. You hear me? I love you. For you. Not for anything else that you could ever give me. Okay?”

“You love me?”

“Of course I do.” He leaned down to kiss her slowly, as if to make her feel his words. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

She let the weight of her head, and her heart, rest in his palm.

“I love you too.”

#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LMAO #pls lemme know what u think I'll love u forever #mixtape #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fanfiction

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gureishi · 4 years ago

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day 4: first time in the longest time

Here’s day 4 of the Human Again prompts. For the master list of all the ficlets, click here.

SaeyoungXReader, T (innuendo and general flirty shenanigans), words: 1790

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

You can’t sit still.

The hotel room is excessively large—more of a suite, really, with its own little dining nook nestled against a bay window. It’s objectively larger and nicer than anywhere else you’ve lived recently—or maybe ever. But it’s still very much a hotel.

When was the last time I stayed somewhere that felt like home?

You pace the perimeter of the room several times. You sit on the bed, stand again, smooth out the wrinkles in the blanket. You go to the window, open the curtains, look out, close the curtains.

You wonder how much time has passed. You check your phone. Ugh. Three minutes.

Perching on the edge of one of the chairs, you stare at nothing, trying not to chew your nails or look at your phone again.

Any minute now.

The last time you saw him was breathless, desperate, fleeting. He came unexpectedly, early in the morning, and he didn’t tell you what he was planning to do, but of course you knew.

“We might not get to see each other for a while,” he said then.

“It’s okay,” you responded, because what else were you supposed to say? You kissed him hard, and he kissed you back like he was trying to absorb you.

It feels like forever ago.

Thanks to Jumin, you’ve been living in this almost uncomfortably lavish hotel instead of the apartment, which—though now free of bombs—is full of confusing memories.

And the hotel really is nice. The rest of the RFA has been coming to see you. Things are peaceful. But…

But you’ve been going, going, going for so long that the idleness feels unsettling. And you’ve missed him. Oh, how you’ve missed him.

He’s protecting everyone, as always—keeping Saeran safe from the emotional burden of seeing you, keeping you safe from whatever danger Saeran still presents to you. He calls a lot, sometimes in the middle of the night. But you’ve gotten so used to feeling his body curled against yours at night, and the hotel bed feels gigantic. You keep thinking you see his reflection in the windows.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and you promptly drop it.

“Here,” his text says, followed by a string of hearts.

You trip over yourself trying to get out of the chair and can’t help but laugh. You can only imagine what you look like, hopping on one foot as you try to get on your other shoe, stuff both arms into your coat, and grab your bag all at the same time.

The trip downstairs in the elevator (packed with people in suits—Jumin did pick this hotel, after all) feels like it takes an eternity. You force yourself to cross the lobby at a measured pace and push open the heavy door to the outside. You scan the street and, amidst all the taxis and black luxury cars, there is his insane souped-up silver Lamborghini.

You take a few careful steps and then think, oh, screw it, and break into a run. The driver’s-side door opens and you catch a momentary glimpse of his mop of red hair before you catapult yourself into his arms.

He laughs gleefully, and the familiar sound fills you up like a warm drink. He easily scoops you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your head in his shoulder.

“Hi,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Mmph,” you say in response, your mouth pressed against his neck. You drink in the scent of honey and salt and that special sweet-spicy aroma that isn’t anything in particular, just Saeyoung scent.

He giggles and, one arm around your waist, nudges your face up with his other hand. He’s got on some unnecessarily fancy sunglasses, which you push up on top of his head before pressing your lips firmly against his.

He kisses you back fervently, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist and pulling you into him; your feet still haven’t touched the ground. You part your lips the tiniest bit and he bites your bottom lip, tugging it with his teeth. Your heart does a somersault.

Finally, you pull away to catch your breath and take him in: his cheeks are pink and he’s got this hazy look in his eyes, like he doesn’t quite know where he is. You know the feeling.

Saeyoung lets you down, giving your thighs a tight squeeze as you slide out of his arms and onto the sidewalk.

“Miss me?” he asks, flashing you a brilliant smile.

You smack his arm. “What do you think?

“I think you missed your God Seven soooo much,” he sings, bending over to kiss the tip of your nose. “What’s a poor girl to do without her Defender of Justice at her beck and call?”

“Slowly disintegrate into a pile of goo,” you say seriously, holding onto his hoodie strings. He nods sagely.

“A common side effect,” he replies, his hands skating over your hips.

“Mmmm.” You close your eyes and lean in for another kiss and he meets you eagerly, pulling you into his chest with both hands on your waist.

It’s easy to get lost in him. Everything about him is intoxicating to you—his scent and his grip on your waist and the concrete evidence that he’s real and he’s here and he’s holding you.

Loud honking breaks the spell, and you reluctantly pull away, panting.

“Awww,” Saeyoung whines, gazing down at you. “I could make out with you in the street all day.”

“We can make out any day, anywhere, babe,” you respond, casting a self-conscious glance around you. There are a lot of people here.

Saeyoung leans down, and you automatically rise to your tiptoes, expecting another kiss. Instead, he nuzzles your ear with his nose. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he whispers. Then he bites your earlobe.

You squirm, your body responding instantly. Heat pools in your belly, and you relinquish your self-restraint, reaching for him. He grins wickedly and dodges you, skipping around the car to hold open the passenger-side door.

“Patience, my darling,” he sings, and you want to smack him again or possibly tackle him to the ground right there.

Instead, you follow him around and slide into the polished leather seat as gracefully as you can.

“You better drive fast,” you say, and his face breaks into a wide grin.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Saeyoung drives on the highway one-handed, his other hand resting on your thigh. He plays the radio loud and sings along, and you watch the particular way the afternoon sun hits his jawline.

“It feels kind of nostalgic, being in the car with you,” you say, leaning back into the sun-warmed leather.

“I was thinking that too,” he says, squeezing your leg.

You reach over and brush a stray curl from his forehead.

“I really, really, really missed you,” you say.

He swallows. He keeps his eyes on the road, but you can practically see the thoughts buzzing around in his brain. “I don’t wanna ever be apart again,” he says firmly. “Is that okay?”

Easy question. “Yes.”

He beams. “I mean it.” He wiggles his eyebrows, which makes you laugh.

“Even when I’m going to the bathroom?” you ask.

“Yep, even then,” he says.

“What if I’m doing my taxes?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Clipping my toenails?”

“Clearly a group activity.”

“Um, doing laundry?”

“I’ll be on the other side of the room, but I’ll be watching.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“I like this idea,” you say. “But Saeyoung, I’m going to have to go back to the hotel at some point, you know.”

He glances at you, and there’s a complicated look in his eyes.

“Why?” he asks.

“Um.” What? “Well, I don’t actually have another place that I’m living, you know. And I can’t exactly just stay at your house forever. Saeran—”

“May not be ready for that yet, I know,” Saeyoung says. His fingers restlessly tap against the steering wheel. “But he’ll get to know you. And I—I mean, eventually, I—” Tap. Tap. Tap. “Would you want to—” He cuts himself off, groaning in frustration. “Never mind! I didn’t mean to bring this up while I was driving. Let’s just…can you forget I said anything?”

“You haven’t really said anything yet, babe.” You toy with the cuff of his sweatshirt. You’re fiddlers, both of you. More so when you’re nervous.

“Can we please talk about it later?”

You sigh. “I kind of want to know what you were going to say now.”

Tap tap tap. Saeyoung takes a deep breath, and his grip on your leg tightens.

“Okay. So, listen. You and Saeran need to get to know each other, and I don’t know how long that will take. But he’s ready to try, and I—I’d really like it if—what I mean is, in a little while…would you want to move in? Uh. With us?”

Oh my god.

It’s not like his awkward preamble wasn’t a bit of a tip-off. But, given everything, you haven’t even allowed yourself to fantasize about this. You’ve gotten somewhat accustomed to your reality, never quite settling in anywhere. Recently, you’d felt that you’d feel at home anywhere (a car, a cabin, a campsite) as long as you were with him.

You hadn’t thought, yet, about what it would be like to actually have a home with him.

“Um. What do you think?” Saeyoung peers at you out of the corner of his eye.

Another easy question. Way too easy.

“Of course I wanna live with you, dummy,” you say, grinning.

“Really?! I wouldn’t live with me if I were you!” He talks fast, stumbling over his words. “I live in a super high security bunker. It doesn’t even have windows! I have really weird decorations. I’m messy! I don’t sleep at normal times. I have terrible eating habits! I even—”

You cut him off, reaching over to place a finger on his lips.

“It’s approximately two minutes too late to change my mind,” you say.

“Thank god,” he says, sighing. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no.” Then he bites your finger.

You yelp, and he cackles, effortlessly guiding the car off the freeway and onto a tree-lined road.

“It still might be a little while,” he cautions. “Saeran’s doing really well, but still—”

“I know.”

“If it were up to me, you’d move in today.”

You giggle. “Me too.”

Saeyoung’s fingers dance over your thigh. “You really want to—?”

“Saeyoung.” You put on your sternest voice, and he quiets. His lips twitch—he’s trying not to smile. “Please take me home.”

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #mm #human again prompts #saeyoung choi #707 #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #ficlet #this is set in the weird nonspecific time between the last two chapters of the secret ends #really it's all just a fantasy about jumping into saeyoung's arms #i mean #just imagine

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eridan-edits · 5 years ago

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hi id like to req a roxy strider (as in dirk) pesterquest sprite edit (of roxys sprite)! i had a big oversized space aspect hoodie, w a visible binder. i also wore red booty shorts or smth (not a skirt) i had my hair in a messy ponytail. i had dave type glasses hanging from my sweatshirt or resting on my head. i also had a double venus necklace, black eyebrow piercing and black nails. everything else up to interpretation! and visible sh scars would be epic if ur Comfortable ofc. tysm in advance

I didn’t know whether you wanted pink or orange eyes so I’ll give you both! ;u;

#homestuck #pesterquest #roxy lalonde #pesterquest sprite edit #pesterquest edit #homestuck edit #gah sorry if its not that good anon :(#also i added snake bites as a bonus hope you dont mind!#asks #Anonymous

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zhuilingyizhen · 5 years ago

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mdzs juniors // modern looks

trousers? idk her.

Lan Jingyi

being the fashion diva he is, you know he takes great care of himself. his hair is always really soft and he has a skincare routine he follows religiously.

the ends of his hair (which is still v. long, bc i need ponytail ljy, but he cuts it sometimes) are dyed blue, and he wears his hair in a ponytail.

only his right ear is pierced at first, but he gets the other one pierced too so he can wear long dangly earrings.

jingyi’s fashion taste is definitely the most out there, compared to the other juniors. he prefers dresses over skirts (but likes both of em), and hates jean shorts but likes jeans.

he wears a lot of light blues, and l e a t h e r

(not neccessarily together though. he has a black leather jacket he wears with red)

go-to outfit is a white tee or crop top paired with high-waisted jeans. probably wears checkered vans or something, but also likes leather boots. despises heels.

he also likes ripped jeans & graphic shirts, but can and will enjoy wearing a cropped tank top with a short skirt.

loves experimenting with makeup and nails, especially doing up his eyes

eyeliner!!!!!!

sometimes he goes out wearing a hot dog costume just to hurt jin ling. oyzz thinks it’s both the worst and best thing ever. lsz is facepalming so hard rn...

(but he loves them. most of the time.)

Ouyang Zizhen

cropped hoodies. jl thinks they’re an abomination.

go-to outfit is a short-ish brown-beige hoodie with a plaid skirt.

wears the most jewelry!!

a jade necklace lsz gave him on his 16th birthday. emerald earrings jl gave him. (ljy got him a 5-year book subscription to this one book box company).

he also has a flower hairpiece his sister gifted to him. his hair’s just long enough to tie up in a bun

smells like ginger lilies. it’s the perfume.

the ends of his hair are dyed this bluish-green?? idk how to describe it but if you’re on tumblr you probably know what i mean.

wears very cutesy stuff, but hates overly tight clothing (only cause it’s not comfortable for him, if you wanna wear clothing like that, go for it!)

will wear yoga pants, but never black on black bc he likes color.

has really soft clothing. probably the most diverse in texture of clothing.

changes the color of his nails like every other week. fools around with them a lot, and is pretty good at them now.

pastels!! flowy clothing!!

everything has to be matching. he has like five different phone-cases (they were on sale) to match certain outfits.

randomly has this galaxy cat shirt that he adores.

sometimes wears color-changing contacts for fun, or to match an outfit.

sometimes wears concealer, but not much more makeup than that. special occasions call for eyeshadow!! absolutely rocks a smokey eye.

ugh he’s just so soft

Lan Sizhui

sometimes will wear cropped tops, but only with a blazer/cardigan.

hates collared shirts with a passion. is forced to wear them anyways.

not as fashionable as oyzz & ljy. as a child be basically wore the same outfit in different colors everyday.

really likes floral patterns!!

kpop idol hairstyle. it’s like that short messy-but-not-really kinda way.

puts on clear nail polish. he and oyzz do nails together once or twice a month.

a lot of blues, greys, and whites.

wears vampire sleeves?? idk how to explain it. they’re like... poofy but elegant.

skinny jeans!! he likes the dark blue ones.

turtlenecks!!

likes lacy clothing! or just lace in general. he thinks it’s pretty.

in place of headbands, he and ljy have these woven cloth bracelets they wear almost 24/7.

wore a white dress once and the other juniors almost died,, it was amazing on him

doesn’t wear any facial makeup (once almost stabbed himself in the eye with a eyeliner pencil, has never recovered)

likes wearing flats.

has this one cross earring hat he wears on his right ear, to really complete the soft bad boi/idol look.

has this white flowy button-up that he adores. wears it all the time, with black yoga pants or dark blue jeans!

Jin Ling

the most floofy, oversized clothing. will bury himself in a comfy sweatshirt or hoodie and never leave.

surprisingly the only one of them who likes heels, cause they make him taller.

longer hair than oyzz, but shorter than ljy’s. wears it in a ponytail, with bangs framing his face (kinda like jzx’s hairstyle)

when he isn’t wearing a hoodie or sweatshirt, he’ll steal Jingyi’s beloved black leather jacket. Jingyi doesn’t really mind, bc he lives for jl dressing up.

the outfits ljy makes jl try on are scary.

will wear dresses and doesn’t give a fuck about what anyone has to say about it.

has a thing for ribbons. idk why-

not a fan of plaid or patterns in general. however (unrelated), he will wear eyeliner/mascara on special occasions.

oyzz gifted him a lotus fragrance. he has no idea what to do with it though.

sometimes wears pink lip gloss.

he wears a lot of yellow, blue, purple, white, and sometimes pink. refuses to wear red, but sometimes is forced to.

jean shorts during the summer!! the one season where he can’t wear hoodies/sweatshirts.

once ljy forced him into this denim overalls-skirt thing. very cute.

sneakers & boots.

comfort > fashion

sometimes he’ll be in the mood to dress up (ljy’s favorite days) and actually put an effort into looking nice. the others melt.

#mdzs #ouyang zizhen #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #mdzs juniors #mdzs headcanons #the untamed #hcs #outfits #fashion #modern au #junior quartet #addy rants #about shit she doesn't know about #:)

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sometimesnat · 5 years ago

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WTW TAROT EVENT—0. THE FOOL

{beginnings, innocence, new energy, potential, idealism, risk-taking}

peel: character introductions

fletcher;

I’m dreaming about Mom again.

It starts like this: I’m flying. Dad is on my left, his hand clamped around my wrist. We smile at each other, the same dazzling, crooked smile that’s gotten us both into our fair share of mischief. Most people say I look more like him than Mom. The same warm, brown skin, delicate features, striking black hair. But I have Mom’s nose. I look at pictures and I swear, you could Photoshop her nose onto my face and there wouldn’t be a difference.

She’s on my right. In the dream, I mean. Her fingers are intertwined with mine, delicate, nails painted emerald green. She’s smiling but she’s crying, and all three of us are horizontal, dazzling comets above pink sherbet clouds. Seems like a cliche, right? Just wait. I’m not finished.

After this, the scene melts into another, you know, the way dreams just shift and slide without warning. We’re still flying, but the sky is dark, all anxious grays and furious dark blues. Lightning branches between clouds and sends enormous cracks through the air.

Mom disappears on my right.

Something opens. It’s like clouds are parting, but no clouds actually move. There’s a rip in the sky, like somebody’s grabbed two hasty handfuls and wrenched the space apart. Warped light refracts at the edges of the tear, the lightning around it bending and curving.

ellison;

Heavy footsteps descend the stairs and Ellison pokes his head over the banister. He locks eyes with me and grins. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say as I remove my shoes. “Why do you look nice?”

He’s wearing a very typical Ellison outfit: a white polo shirt with red details around the collar and the ends of the sleeves, tucked into a pair of maroon chinos, cuffed at the ankle. He has something in his mouth—a pen cap, I think—because he’s always chewing on something. His short, obsidian hair is still messy and there’s something about this image, this moment, that renders itself as perfect in my mind. Important.

“I thought maybe we could go on an adventure today.”

I look down at my own clothes: gray sweatpants and a comfy sweatshirt. “It would’ve been nice to know that you had a plan,” I say. “Sonny,” I add.

“Don’t think I won’t destroy you,” he says jovially as I start to climb the stairs with him.

corinne;

Her name is Corinne Stetson. She’s a senior like Ellison and me, and most people at Wisteria High grant her a wide berth. That’s by her own design, I think; her hair is a blazing copper red, littered with streaks of bleached blonde locks, and she always has dagger-like acrylic nails on her fingers. Currently, they’re a deep red. Her taste in clothes is a bit eclectic, lots of pastel colors mixed with punk black garments, always ripped to all hell. Corinne is also intelligent beyond how any seventeen year old human should be. Perfect score on her PSATs, all AP classes, number one in our grade, already has multiple college credits under her belt. She might approach demigod status if she were also popular, but she tends to keep to herself and focus more on the future than the present, from what I’ve seen. She’s definitely a bit odd, but relatively harmless.

And yet, the way she’s glowering at me from across the empty ice cream parlor has my heart rate up.

astrid;

I try to tune in as Ellison further explains the tension in the Moon household; Astrid wants to get a tattoo on her wrist and Ellison’s parents are adamantly opposed. He shows me a picture of her design that she drew herself: a smashed hourglass, sand pouring from the top and out a hole in the bottom chamber. It’s somehow both detailed and minimal, and also badass.

“What does it mean?”

Ellison laughs to himself. “Astrid’s always talking about how ‘time isn’t real,’ and this is supposed to be a metaphor of that or something.”

Joy bubbles out of me when I realize the connection. “Oh, trust me, I’ve heard her say that many times. It makes sense.”

Taglist (this is general for now but if you want to be on a taglist for Peel just let me know!!): @my-liminal-spaces @ahowlinwolf @sugarcoatedglass @chloeswords @rainbowcoloreddays @alicewestwater @ryns-ramblings

#wtwevent #wtwcommunity #wtw tarot event #wip: peel #NEW TAG BABY #oc: fletcher kaplan #oc: ellison moon #oc: corinne stetson #oc: astrid moon #also all of these excerpts are kinda old and subject to change so hehe

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void-edits · 5 years ago

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hi! could i get an edit of roxy strider (as in dirk) using the roxy pq sprite? i had a oversized sweatshirt (it was black/dark grey, the sleeves and pocket were darker orange-red), black nails, double venus necklace, an eyebrow piercing, shades like daves resting on my head or hanging from shirt and hair in a messy ponytail :) anything else up to interpretation! if u could add a binder and/or sh scars thtd be great but only if ur comfortable

Here you go anon ! I did 2 versions with the original pink eyes and orange ones because I wasn’t sure ^^ Hope you like them !

#requests #Roxy Strider #pesterquest edit #pesterquest sprite edit

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narcoleptic-drag-queen · 5 years ago

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27, any pairing you want

I chose shillam, which was a mistake, because this is too long for an ask prompt. I blame you, citrus. your power.

“We’re going downtown, Katya,” Sharon says for what feels like the 87th time, “not a strip club.”

“There’s a strip club downtown,” Katya tells her, wiggling her eyebrows. Sharon lets out an exasperated huff.

“I’m sorry, is this your bachelorette party?” Sharon asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is it Raja’s?”

“I wouldn’t mind a strip club,” Raja says, shrugging, because she doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘loyalty’. Irritation flashes hot in Sharon’s chest, and she turns to give Raja a disbelieving look.

“You told me last week you wanted to ‘stay classy’,” Sharon says, using air quotes.

“Last week I wasn’t listening to you and Katya argue about it,” Raja says, and she stands, shaking the little flapper dress she has on and grabbing her purse. “Besides, it’ll be like a last hurrah. Raven thinks clubs in general are gross, so there’s no way she’ll go to a strip joint with me.”

Sharon lets out a breath. “I made reservations at Chachki’s, Raja. Chachki’s. For you.”

Raja shrugs. “Cancel them,” she says. “I’m more in the mood for cheap burgers, anyway.”

“I hate you,” Sharon mutters, grabbing her handbag. Katya claps, grinning.

“Ready to see some ass, ladies?”

Sharon rolls her eyes so hard she sees white.

Sharon is fucked the moment the second dancer steps on stage.

They arrive just in time to see the tail end of the previous act, all huddling together at an empty section of the stage, laughing as they push through middle aged men and what looks like a bachelor party. Sharon cracks a smile as Katya waves the stripper goodbye as she gathers her tips, giving the audience one last glance through hooded eyes before she slips behind the curtain, a different song beginning.

Sharon feels herself relaxing, her initial tenseness wearing off. She’s always hated strip clubs for the sole reason that she hates being lumped in with the men that frequent them, cheating on their wives or just using the women as objects in their own sexual fantasies, and she hates feeling like their predatory gazes are in any way comparable to her own. But the dancer had seemed to be enjoying herself, the men in the audience calling her name like they’ve known her for years, and Sharon finds herself ready to have a good time, straightening a ten dollar bill in anticipation of the next performer.

Then, Willam steps out on stage.

One of the men shouts her name once she steps out, clad only in a cheap blue t-shirt that goes down to her knees and a shitton of blue body glitter. She has thick, wavy blonde hair streaked with purple, pink, and blue, and she wears a smug smirk on her face as she grabs the pole, pointing her shiny black stilettos daintily as she circles it.

Sharon is entranced.

“Nice to see some lesbians tonight,” Willam shouts, grinning over at Sharon’s party, and Sharon’s heart jumpstarts at the unexpected attention. Willam winks, and she points at them. “This is for y’all!” she says, and Sharon’s heart stops as she rips off the t-shirt, revealing a toned stomach and a lacy black bra and panties, gartered together like they weren’t already sexy enough on their own.

Willam hits the beat of the song, grinding her hips at the pole she’s still holding onto, and Sharon’s heartbeat drops down between her legs.

Willam doesn’t spend much time with the pole, instead twirling around it for another moment or two before she struts down the stage, grabbing one of the men’s bills and sliding it down her chest, between her breasts and along her stomach until her fingers are just underneath her panties, where she leaves the bill poking out like a badge of honor.

She can hear Raja and Katya hollering and wolf-whistling, throwing money at Willam with abandon. All she can do is gape, her own dollar bill forgotten in her clenched fists, unable to take her eyes away from Willam and her glittery smirk.

Sharon shouldn’t be so turned on by this. Or should she?

Sharon knows that you’re supposed to be attracted to strippers - but not this attracted, right?

Willam does a little move with her hips, falling to her knees to take more bills from the men, making her way around the circular stage. Sharon’s breath catches at the sight.

Willam crawls over to where Jinkx is waving a few bills, and she takes them in her mouth, only to take them out again to slide them into the front of her lacy black bra, making sure her touch lingers there for a moment too long. It isn’t anything that Sharon hasn’t seen before, but her stomach still bottoms out, heat burning in her belly at the sight.

The heat in her belly drops a little lower as Willam gives Jinkx a little half smile, blowing her a kiss. Sharon really, really wants Willam to smile at her. She really, really wants a kiss, too, maybe.

As if she’s just read her mind, Willam turns to face Sharon and the ten dollars she has crumpled in her hands, clenched together in her lap, and they make direct eye contact. Suddenly, Sharon can’t breathe.

She manages to hold Willam’s stare for around .5 seconds before she’s tearing her gaze away, horrified at the blush she can feel burning across her cheeks and feeling like she’s just been caught staring. Which, she has, but that’s what she’s supposed to be doing, right?

Leave it to Sharon to get a crush on a stripper she’s known for the entirety of one minute.

She keeps her gaze firmly on the ground, ignoring the way Raja is hooting at her, until fingers are suddenly hooking themselves under her chin, lifting her face up. Willam stares back at her, smug smirk firmly in place.

“Got somethin’ for me?” she asks, and Sharon’s mouth goes completely dry as Willam’s hands smooth over her shoulders, fingers finding Sharon’s bra strap and pulling it back, letting it snap softly back against her skin. Sharon prays that the tiny gasp she lets out is inaudible.

This has to be illegal. Or against the rules. Or something.

Sharon’s brain is short circuiting, holding her breath as Willam’s long nails trail down her arm, gently unfolding her fist to take the ten dollars, her eyes never leaving Sharon’s. Sharon raises her eyebrows at her, some of her dignity returning with the absence of Willam’s touch, as she tucks the money into her bra.

“You’re just gonna take it?” she asks, teasing, and Willam’s eyes glitter.

“Sorry,” she says. “Here, I’ll make up for it.” And then she weaves her fingers into Sharon’s hair, and pulls her in for a searing kiss.

It’s sloppy, glitter gritty on Willam’s lips and Sharon’s own lipstick too thickly applied, but the feeling of Willam’s mouth against hers is still burning, thrilling in a way that has Sharon’s toes curling. Willam pulls back too soon, and Sharon can help the whine that leaves her throat. Willam winks at her, before she pushes herself back to her feet, moving over to the pole again.

The bachelorette party is staring at her gleefully, and Katya slaps her on the arm, hard. “And to think you didn’t want to go!” she cries, and Raja stares at her, her mouth parted in shock.

“I’m the bride,” she says. “Isn’t this shit supposed to happen to me?”

Sharon shrugs, pretending like she doesn’t feel her cheeks burning. “Maybe I’m just the hottest one here!” she shouts, turning back towards Willam. She’s still at the pole, lifting herself and spinning around it, her arms so toned and strong that Sharon’s knees go weak at just the thought of them wrapped around her waist.

“Let’s not get too carried away,” Raja yells into Sharon’s ear, the thumping bass of the song’s chorus rendering her still nearly inaudible. “Try not to get jealous when she gives someone else special attention!”

Sharon bites her lip at that, coming down from her high, a little.

She wants her kiss with Willam to be special, one of a kind, but she steels herself for when Willam leaves the pole for the men again, accepting her fate.

Except, Willam never does.

She sticks to the pole for the entire rest of the show, and Sharon hopes she’s not imagining the glances she keeps sneaking at her, her expression intrigued. Once she’s off stage, Sharon excuses herself for a smoke break, feeling jittery and far too flustered to watch someone else grind their way across the stage.

She makes her way to one of the exits, sighing as the cool night air hits her face, sliding a cigarette between her lips and lighting it quickly. She inhales, the nicotine instantly doing wonders on her nerves, and she relaxes against the brick of the building.

“It won’t work.”

Sharon jumps ten feet into the air, whirling around to find Willam on the other side of the exit, a lit cigarette between her fingers. Her stomach drops, and she scrambles to pull herself together enough, trying not to freak out at the prospect of speaking to Willam face to face after what had happened during her performance.

“What?”

“You’re not going to get over me that easily,” Willam says, that smirk curling up in the corner of her lips again. She’s still completely covered in glitter, but her hair is pulled into a messy bun, a sweatshirt and short shorts pulled over her lingerie. Sharon thinks she might be the prettiest girl she’s ever seen. Sharon bristles a little at her words, blushing.

“Who says that’s what I’m trying to do?” she asks, defensiveness creating an edge to her voice.

“I do,” Willam says, and she steps closer. Her perfume smells like heavy spices, and Sharon fights the urge to breathe in deeper. “That kiss was something. I can’t be the only one that felt it.”

Sharon feels herself softening, frowning at Willam thoughtfully. “I…” she trails off as Willam takes another step closer. “You weren’t,” she settles on, and Willam’s smirk turns into a half smile.

“Good,” she says. “Because you’re hot, and I wanna talk to you without twenty other people begging for my attention. How’s that sound?”

“Great,” Sharon breathes, her heartbeat quickening. “Perfect.”

“Good,” Willam says again. “I’ll give you my number later. Right now, I kinda just want to kiss you again.”

“Testing to see if the spark is still there?” Sharon teases, her eyes already glued to Willam’s lips. She can see where her lipstick is smudged from when they’d kissed earlier, and heat runs through her body at the thought of messing it up even more.

Willam shrugs. “Whatever works,” she says, and Sharon meets her in another kiss.

It’s just as intense as the first.

send me a pairing and a number!

#you'd better like this that's all i'm saying #citrus #writing #shillam #prompts #ask game #also i'm making my way through these prompts don't worry #its slow but its steady

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