#(i'm so so sorry if the 'read under cut' doesn't end up working)

[tyunni]

┈➤ I LIKE YOU SO MUCH!!! (when ENHYPEN like you...)

enhypen masterlist | library

genre: fluff, fluff, fluff! warnings: i'm not sure if any specific gender is mentioned but keep in mind i do tend to usually write fem!reader, enha r kinda losers, mentions of being drunk in jakes part, isnt proofread so if you see any mistakes.... oh well! wc: 2.6k+

a/n: good lord, i haven't written anything in MONTHS so i'm a bit rusty 😭 i started writing maknae line first im p sure you can tell i put more effort in them and then i started getting tired, sorry😭😭😭

☆ — LEE HEESEUNG

who would've thought the cool, the chill, the awesome lee heeseung would end up being such a loser. a lovestruck, foolishly in love loser.

your fingers lightly grazed his hand when you walked past him in the hallway today, a touch that lasted a mere second, yet heeseung's heart exploded, and so did his friends' group chat when he boasted about your interaction like you had just asked his hand in marriage. he knows being lovesick is lame, but so what?! he can't help that he melts into a pink puddle of adoration whenever you make small talk, or when he closes his eyes an image of you pops into his head and makes his palms feel sweaty. yes, he feels his knees go weak at the mere mention of your name, and he's willing to endure his younger friends teasing him every time they spot you hanging out with your own group of friends.

so what if you're the only thing on his mind every second of his day. it's completely normal to make playlists for your crush, giggle, and roll around in your bed when you let the lyrics sink in and fill your head with the thoughts of the one you desire.

it's also totally normal of him to write down little compliments on a piece of paper and put them on your desk when you're not looking. he giggles like a little girl when you open the note and read not even a third fraction of what heeseung truly thinks of you and wishes to tell you one day. his smile grows wider when you finally read the initials written on the note, LHS, and you look over to his desk with your cheeks dusted pink, widened eyes looking into heeseung's.

(rest of the members under the cut!!)

☆ — PARK JONGSEONG

jay is very fond of you, he accepted that quite quickly. you're cute. he likes cute stuff, that's something new he has discovered since he started to fancy you.

"jay, are you serious?" - riki turned towards the older with a blank face, tired of his friends new shopping addiction, - "you have like 4 hello kitty stuffed toys in your bedroom, you don't need another one."

ah, innocent, naive riki. he doesn't know having a crush makes one forget about any form of rationality and make every decision without giving it another thought. jay is the number one victim of the 'everything reminds me of them' disease, he feels every wrinkle of his brain smoothen whenever he thinks of you, so it's not a surprise that he can't control his hand as he swipes his credit card and buys himself another plushie with a lovestruck grin on his face.

"are you even listening to me?" - the younger complains, jabbing jay's arm with his elbow to get at least a little reaction out of him. if anything else but you were on jay's mind this would've worked and he would've scolded riki by now, talking his ear off about how annoying he is, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes at his childishness. but it doesn't work.

"you're such a cheeseball, y/n has made you soft, jay, she's ruining you!"

but riki's words fall on deaf ears the second jay's eyes land on another cute stuffed animal that had reminded him of you as he grabs his friend's arm roughly and drags him into yet another store.

☆ — SIM JAEYUN

oh, he's down bad. jake would do anything for you. yes, even walking all the way from his house to the party you were at just to pick you up and walk you home, making sure you reach your house safely.

you called him in the middle of the night, the buzzing of his phone waking jake up. he groaned at the brightness of his screen flashing his newly opened eyes, yet at the sight of your name he rubbed the sleepiness off them, quickly picking up your call.

"jake, i'm drunk!"

and that's all it took for him to jump out of his bed and run towards his destination. surely enough you were waiting outside for him, a big smile growing on your face at the sight of him.

sure, he was extremely tired and out of breath, his voice was still groggy from waking up around 10 minutes ago, the cold, chilly night yet to have its effect on him and wake him up completely, yet he still let you ride on his back when you started complaining about how your heels hurt your feet.

you had been talking to him about something, even though you had no idea what you were saying with the way your words were slurred, your voice muffled by his jacket. jake was nodding his head, humming after a few sentences to make sure you knew he was listening, even though he didn't know what he was listening to. you started off by talking about the party, and somewhere along the way you got lost in your own words and so did jake. his soft hums and the steady rhythm of his feet lulled you to sleep, and when he felt your eyelashes close against the nape of his neck, your breath falling onto his skin as your cheek rested further upon his shoulder is when he finally let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, stopping in his tracks to close his eyes and think to himself:

"fuck, i love her, don't i?"

☆ — PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon is desperately in love with you. he can't help it, butterflies swarm his stomach when he thinks about you, a sheepish grin makes its way onto his features when you talk to him, his eyes dart across your face every chance he gets so he can burn every second spent with you right into his memory.

"sunghoon, do you think this looks good or should i try on the blue sweater?"

to be completely honest, even if you wore a trash bag he'd think you looked gorgeous, and he hadn't been paying attention to any outfit you had shown him so far, your smile which grew wider with each compliment he gave you the only thing on his mind.

"you look beautiful, y/n."

"oh, come on, sunghoon! you've been telling me this about every outfit!" - you groan, yet a grin is still plastered on your face at his sweet words, "you have to help me!"

sunghoon tries, he really tries to hold himself back. his teeth sink into his tongue in hopes of biting back the words that were about to slip out, yet they still do. and so does his little secret.

"it's not my fault i'm in love with you!"

☆ — KIM SUNOO

sunoo is a sweet guy. everyone likes him: the teachers, the students, his friends, and complete strangers. his smile is contagious, his face is soft and beautiful, his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, and he's kind, helpful, friendly. who wouldn't like him? well, you, apparently.

it's not that he's intrigued by your cold attitude towards him, he's simply determined to make you like him just like everyone else. it's quite difficult to get to know you though, you don't speak to anyone except a select few. if your friends don't come to school you usually sit alone, either mindlessly scribbling in your notebook, or sleeping. you always have that look on your face. one of pure boredom, uninterest, that "why are you even talking to me" face.

sunoo thinks it's stupid. how could you not be thrilled to talk to the people around you? how is it even possible to not want to get to know everyone, to grow your circle, have new people to talk to and share experiences with.

you know who sunoo is. everyone knows who sunoo is. when he walks past you down the hallway he's always waving at someone, stopping in his tracks a few times to have a little small talk, then quickly picking up his pace once the bell rings so he gets to make it in time for class. it doesn't matter if he's late though, the teachers adore him like he's their own son, and he hasn't gotten a single second of detention. sunoo has the sunshine privilege. that's unfair. you don't like when things are unfair. you don't like the sunshine privilege. you don't like sunoo.

so you avoid him.

but he somehow still finds his way back to you.

"she totally hates you, dude, get over it," - sunghoon groans, shoving another loaf of bread into his mouth, and threatening to shove some into sunoo's mouth so he stops talking about you for the fifth time today.

"but why?! i didn't even do anything to her, i tried talking to her every single day since she moved here, i'm nice, i'm helpful, i'm a great guy, what am i doing wrong?!" - the younger boy whines into his palms, head buried in his hands, trying to come up with a way to win you over.

one of his other friends chimes into the conversation, taking a seat in between his friends and playfully wrapping his arm around sunoo, - "it's okay, man, there must be a way to get your little crush to like you!"

sunoo whips his head towards the boy, eyebrows furrowed so deeply that you'd think they'd merge into one another any second. - "heeseung, it's not a crush!"

sunghoon chuckles at his oblivious friend, - "is too!"

"... is it?"

you are kinda cute. your attitude, although not sunoo's style, makes you look even more adorable. you have pretty lips too, although you're always frowning. he thinks you'd look better with the corners of your lips turned upwards though. he wants to see you smile. he wants to make you smile. he wants to make you his.

☆ — YANG JUNGWON

jungwon thinks he's a pretty chill guy. he's always been levelheaded. most of the time he's the only levelheaded person in the room, to be completely honest. he knows what to say and when to say it. although he resembles a cat, the saying "cat got your tongue" had never applied to him. so why is he standing in front of you, his crush, ready to have his very first conversation with you, without a single word coming out of his mouth?

"oh, hey! jungwon, right?" - you ask, sending a soft smile his way.

you know his name. you know his name. you know his name.

"huh? yeah... i'm jungwon. um..." - his confident smile fades instantly when it really sinks in that he has no idea what to say to you. he always knows what to say, how could this happen to him?! this is ridiculous. if he weren't standing in front of you right now he'd slap himself in hopes of rattling his brain somehow.

your eyebrows furrow at the awkward silence taking over, - "do you need anything, jungwon?"

his name falls past your lips so gracefully that if hearing you say his name followed with the three words he wants to say to you the most means he must sell his every worldly possession, he will. but he can't tell you that. he can't tell you how pretty your eyes are either, he can't tell you that he wants to hold your hand, or wrap his arms around you and keep you in his warm embrace for a little while. or how he wants to bury his head in the crook of your neck and bask in your warmth, or that you're the most beautiful person he has ever laid his eyes on and it'd be an honor to take you out on a date. yeah, he definitely can't say that.

"you're the most beautiful person i've ever laid my eyes on, it'd be an honor to take you out on a date..."

it's over. he's a goner.

the way you twiddle with your fingers at his confession goes completely unnoticed despite his big round eyes growing wider at his own words. he's too far gone to see how a warm smile had made its way onto your face.

"sure, i'd love to!"

it's not over. in fact, it's just getting started.

☆ — NISHIMURA RIKI

riki is quite good at hiding his crush on you, considering how the overwhelming feelings have such a weight to them that he's sure his heart doubles at the mere mention of your name to make room for the intense emotions that'll start kicking in. you two aren't dating, although he wishes you were, and you're most definitely not best friends. he knows you, you know him, you think he's nice, he thinks about you every second of every day, y'know, the usual...

"riki, hey!" - you push through the crowd of students walking around a narrow hallway that could only be described as a jar filled to the brim with tiny little ants, very studious one's at that!

his friends' heads immediately turn your way. a girl, talking to riki?! although their eyes don't stay glued on you for too long, they quickly glance at riki. the sight was hilarious, his long fingers were brushing through his disheveled hair, free hand tugging at the hem of his hoodie to smoothen out any wrinkles. there's a soft tint of pink spread across his cheeks, nothing too noticeable, although the burning red glow of his ears was far from discreet.

"y/n, hey!" - he grins, the hand combing through his hair now scratching the nape of his neck to try and play it cool... very smooth! a muffled laugh escapes from one of his friend's shut lips as their orbs dart between the boy and you.

you reach into your pocket, rummaging through the various things you keep inside. crackling of your house keys and noises of crumpled-up paper can be heard before you take out something. riki's eyes try their best to tear away from your mesmerizing features so he can see what you're trying to show him with your arm stretched towards him and a big grin on your face. he notices a little something lying on your palm. it's a duck keychain. if you were any other person he'd look at the item in your hand with a disgusted look on his face, eyebrows knitted together, eyes squinting in pure horror. but you're you. you're the love of his life. that's probably why riki can feel his heart thumping against his ribcage, a stupid smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he tries his best to fight it off, yet the inevitable happens.

"take it, it's a gift! i saw it on the way to school and it reminded me of you!"

he quickly takes the keychain from your palm, ensuring his fingers stray as far away from yours as possible. even the slightest bit of physical contact and he feels his heart will explode for good. he mumbles out a thank you before you turn on your heels and walk away, completely oblivious that the butterflies in his stomach now make their way towards his throat, making him swallow dry.

"hey, riki, what's that?" - jungwon nudges him with his elbow, eyeing the item riki's holding between his fingers. a smile makes its way onto jungwon's lips as he glances up at his friend who's currently grinning from one red ear to another, rosy cheeks like pink buttons on a sweater made with love and care.

"i thought you hated ducks," - sunoo adds, sly hands reaching towards the keychain to try and pry it out of riki's hands, but instead the tall boy clutches harder onto the item, bringing it to his chest.

"well i like this one!" - he adds, furrowing his eyebrows and glaring at his nosy friend.

riki never knew he could like ducks this much.

©tyunni please don't copy, translate or repost any of my work!

taglist: @geombyu @junityy @uygmoeb @sunghun @eternallyhyucks @pshjae @marknaeroni @feyregels @neos127 @koishua @echo-of-a-writer @w3bqrl @duolingofanaccount @goldenhypen @sungniverse @hittoki @acciomylove @soobin-chois @anik-4 @yjwfav @ja4hyvn @ddeonubaby @deafeningballoonnacho @squiishymeow @odxrilove @iyeonjuni @nyaforniki @kittyeji @pinkyyyujin @addictedtothesummernights @love-4-keum @luveill @enhastolemyheart @kpop-kitkat @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @str4b3rizz @solvgume @nishislcve (bold means i can’t mention you, if you want to be a part of my taglist fill this out!!)

[thornsnvultures]

laundry day

eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader

summary: eddie catches you reading something saucy at the laundromat while you wait for your load to finish.

cw: smut (18+, no minors), mutual pining, nipple play, fingering, lil bit of edging, teasing/cocky!eddie (in like a playful way, he's not mean)

a/n: thanks to @ozarkthedog for being super encouraging as always ❤

Just imagining running into Eddie at the laundromat. It's hot outside, a muggy 80 degrees, and he's in cut off jeans that he chopped himself and an Iron Maiden tee. There's industrial size fans blasting from the corners of the room, hanging from the ceiling. They feel like they're blowing hot air around the room more than anything.

When you walk in with your basket he's already there, playing with the claw machine they inexplicably installed at the beginning of summer. Like they didn't have enough machines here already that ate up all your quarters. His head turns briefly when you walk in and you awkwardly wave and say hi out of courtesy. Of course you almost drop your laundry bag but Eddie's surprisingly quick, catching it before it slips out of your hands.

"Careful there." His boyish grin is surprisingly disarming. You find yourself staring at his dimples for a moment too long.

"Right, sorry," you force out a laugh and try not to cringe. Eddie's a bit weird but hot in a way that makes you act a little stupid.

You pick a machine far away from the one that's already running, presumably his, so you don't have to sort out your under-things with him right next to you.

"C'mon, c'mon...Dammit!"

Looking up from your pile of clothes you see Eddie squat in front of the claw machine to put more coins in, the black bandana hanging from his pocket drags on the floor. You can't help but to watch, it's kind of entertaining. His tongue is poked out in concentration, his ringed fingers tapping the stick ever so slightly to nudge the crane into the perfect position. Eddie looks around the sides of the glass box to make sure he's lined up just right and smacks the button to make the grabber drop. He curses when it snags the plushie's arm but doesn't pull it free.

It's been a full minute and a half and you've been standing there holding the same pair of panties, watching him and not sorting a damn thing. You don't have anything else to do today but you can't stand there and ogle either. So you shake your head and get back to it, finally tossing in a load as he loses for the third time since you got here.

You sit down and crack open the book you brought. It looks like he's out of quarters now. You feel kinda bad, he seemed pretty excited about whatever's in there.

He's pacing around the room now, sitting still and waiting for something doesn't seem like a skill he has, and singing to himself. You never thought of Eddie Munson as a singer but you can hear him enough over the machines and he sounds...good.

It's impossible to read with him pacing the room looking like that. With his short sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, showing off all his tattoos. And the one on his thigh that you didn't see when you walked in, that one had to be new. You were starting to zone out, thinking about Eddie and his tattoos and your long, long week of working doubles. It was hard saving up enough to get out of this town but you were determined to do it. Even if it left you drained at the end of every week.

A loud bang in front of you had you nearly jumping out of your skin.

"Whatcha reading?"

Eddie smiled at you from atop the washing machine he was now sitting on. You looked down at the cover that he could clearly see, the racy cover showing a fair maiden being ravished by a swoon-worthy, shirtless pirate. With a gasp you closed the book and put it face down in your lap.

"Nothing. It's- I'm not even reading it really, just skimming."

"Looking for all the steamy bits, huh?"

Eddie's shit eating grin made your face feel hot and you sputtered, trying to think of anything that wouldn't make you seem like a weirdo basically reading porn in public.

"Is it any good?"

"What?"

"The book. Is it any good?"

"I, uh...it's okay," you mumbled, messing with the hem of your shorts instead of looking at him. You couldn't. Not with that blinding smile, those dimples and pretty brown eyes making your stomach flip more than any of the bodice-ripping going on between the pages in your lap.

"Just okay? What would make it better?"

Oh god, why is he doing this. You wish he had won the toy from the machine so he could play with that instead of you right now.

When you don't answer Eddie jumps down off the machine and grabs the book from your lap. He ignores your protests as he leafs through the pages.

"You're mine now," the Captain growls at my ear. "Not a prim, proper lady of society. Not aboard my ship."

Eddie's voice changes to that of a grissled pirate as he reads. It's shocking, at first the horror that he's actually reading your book out loud, then how you respond. Your thighs tighten and you swallow, your mouth suddenly gone dry. Eddie's whole posture changes. He stands taller, more confident, like he truly is a grim, dominating pirate who kidnapped Lord Quimbly's only daughter.

Captain Blackburn roughly pushed up my skirts, bending me over his massive oak desk. I'd never felt more exposed and completely at someone else's mercy. Before I knew it, his manhood was pressing into me there, breaking me, ruining me for all others.

"Okay, wait, hold on," Eddie's teasing grin and dramatic tone vanished by the end of the passage. His brows furrowed as his finger traced the page and he read it again to himself. "That's it? He's just whipping it out and going to town? Breaking and ruining her? Fuckin' hell. I see what you mean." Eddie shook his head, flipping through more of the book.

"I mean, it's not great. But aren't most dudes like that anyway?" You laugh but it's true, the dudes you've been with in the past haven't cared much for seeing to your needs. Eddie, however, looks personally offended.

"They shouldn't be."

Eddie handed you back your book, not that you wanted to go back to reading it now anyway.

"Are you like that?"

The question slipped out before you could stop it. And you felt like you already knew the answer.

"Am I like what?"

"Other guys."

Eddie's playful smirk was back. Maybe you did want to be a toy for him to play with after all.

"Want me to show you? Hmm?" Eddie reaches out with one ringed finger and tips your chin up to look at him. "Want me to take care of you like those other guys couldn't?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." Your eyes search his, for what you don't know. For him to tell you what you want so you don't have to admit to yourself you want him to rail you at the laundromat while no one's around? Maybe.

"Tell me. Tell me you want me to make you come."

"Yes. Please."

Your desperate little plea is all he needs to hear apparently because in the next second he's pulling you up on your feet and kissing you. Eddie's mouth is hungry on yours, devouring yours. Turning in his arms, you jump up on to the washing machine and pull him closer. The metal is a welcome cold against your sweat slick thighs and Eddie's even more welcome between them. You scoot to the edge of the machine to grind against the bulge pushing against his zipper.

"Please, Eddie." You don't mean to sound so whiny, but you want him to keep his promise. You want him to make you feel good, to make you come.

"Shh, I'm here. There's no one else. I've got you," his words whispered in between kisses along your neck makes your spine tingle. He's got that same air of dominance as when he was reading your book and it's got you soaking through your cotton shorts.

Eddie's hands massage your breast, tugging at your nipple until your writhing against him. The ridge of his denim covered cock provides just enough friction for you to come from just this. His lips leaving love bites where anyone can see, his fingers pulling and squeezing to the point of pain, a pain that shoots straight to your clit. Just one more second and he'd have you screaming, but all at once he pulls away.

"Eddie," you sob, "don't stop, please."

"I've barely touched you and you're almost in tears," his mocking tone would piss you off if his touch wasn't so gentle. Holding your face so delicately, pressing soft kisses to your jaw like he didn't just bring you to the edge only to pull you away.

"Please, Eddie."

"Love the way you beg for me. So pretty when you beg."

Eddie's nose rubs against your jaw, nuzzling against you like a cat. You wouldn't be surprised if he started purring.

He nudges your thighs open a little wider, squeezing them and groaning at the way his fingers dig into your flesh.

"Next time you're gonna let me get my face between these thighs, princess. It's already killing me not to sink my teeth into 'em."

"Next time?"

Eddie looks you dead in the eyes, watches them roll back, and cups your pussy over your shorts.

"Next time. Because this is mine now."

You kiss him again then because, fuck, no one's every looked at you like that. Like you were worth keeping, like you were worth a next time. No one's fucked you in an empty laundromat either, but it looked like Eddie was full of surprises.

"It's yours," you press your forehead to his, trying to stop your head from spinning. "Make me come."

Eddie slips his hand into your shorts and curses.

"No panties? You've been sitting here this whole time with no panties on?"

"Stop saying panties. And yes, it's laundry day," you shrug like it's no big deal, which it isn't, but Eddie looks like he's about to pop five different blood vessels.

"You're in so much trouble," he groans as his fingers slip down to your soaked cunt. Your hole clenches around his finger tip like it's begging for him to push it in and he listens. Eddie fills you up with one, then two of his thick fingers. Teasing, spreading, stretching you open until you're writhing again. Your hips twist in time with his palm rubbing against your clit and it's heaven. He feels so fucking good and you tell him over and over until you're not sure you're saying words anymore.

Anyone could walk in and see the two of you at any time and it only makes you squeeze tighter around his fingers. Getting caught like this, spread open for Eddie like a whore while he bullies your cunt with his fat fingers. You're ruined for anyone else. Not like your book, with its heroine terrified of ruination, of being seen as dirty or less than. No you're ruined for ever being treated as less than, for accepting that no man will take the time to make you feel as amazing as you feel right now.

"Eddie, I'm gonna- oh god."

Your legs shake, you're right there. Eddie pulls his soaking wet fingers from inside you and you want to fucking scream, but he taps your clit and starts rubbing furious circles over the oversensitive nub.

"Come for me, show me."

His deep voice in your ear and the relentless pressure on your clit have you flying off the edge. Your body tensing, folding in on itself, all the air rushing out of your lungs as you implode from your release.

And Eddie holds you and kisses you and wipes his fingers on his shirt which should be gross but you don't care. It's laundry day, anyway.

"I meant it. You're mine. Not letting you tiptoe around me anymore."

"I don't tiptoe," you mumble into his neck. Your legs wrap around his waist as he settles between your thighs again. He's still painfully hard but it seems like he's fine with you clinging to him like a koala for now.

The washer buzzes under you, making you jump. Eddie doesn't want to let you go at first, but you give him an ultimatum that kicks his butt into gear.

"Help me finish my laundry and I'll blow you in your van." You look up at him through your lashes and laugh when he scrambles to pull you off the machine.

[taintandviolent]

Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

summary & wordcount: 4.9K! originally chosen as the party favour for James' Devil's Night celebration, reader is quickly snatched away by James March, who would rather have his own fun with her than let the others kill her.

w a r n i n g s: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! dark fic, dub-con, slight non-con, conflicted reader, sexual confusion, mild gore & blood, graphic descriptions, violence, aggression, bodily fluids, mentions of other real serial killers, smut, rough sex,overstimulation, body worship (reader with greek goddess body type), murder, reader death.

a/n: sorry for this, I'm mentally unwell. not beta read, so if it's horrid and clunky, I'm sorry!!! also, I think this is the last taglist I'll be doing, RIP. It's just such a pain in the rear end, and half the time, it doesn't even work.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

After a long day of travelling, sleep was the only thing on your mind. That said, you were in desperate need of a bath, something relaxing. This was, afterall, a vacation. You twisted the ceramic knob on the hot water, and stuck your hand under it. With a hiss, you withdrew your hand – usually, water took a minute to reach temperature. This one? Scalding hot within a few seconds. Dangerously so. You twisted the knob on the cold side, evening them out until they’d reached a less skin-melting combination, and shed your clothes. You’d only been in there for thirty minutes or so before someone began rapping their knuckles against your door. Persistently. Very persistently.

“Just a minute!” you called from the bathroom, hoping your voice travelled. You reached for one of the towels – meticulously embroidered with the hotel’s logo – and wrapped it hurriedly around your torso. “Hang on!” 

Quickly rummaging around in your suitcase and swearing under your breath that you had packed more, you searched for something to wear. Feeling pressured and running out of time, you settled on a cream coloured silk slip. Hardly modest with your plenteous figure, but the knocking continued and that seemed more important than decency. You hurried to the door, yanking it open with an air of annoyance. The vexation melted away when you were met with a man who looked more like he belonged on a silver screen than he did standing in front of you.

“Good evening.” He said, dipping his head down in a courteous display.

“…Can I help you?”

His lips stayed together, but curved into a subtle smirk. Though it was an unintentional pick; he’d chosen well; your delectable form was as if it was carved by Gods themselves. The look in your eyes told him that you were so alive, so vivacious that any bloodshed that would happen would be akin to art. His eyes were immediately lost on you, exploring your body and face with a fervid fascination. Feeling exposed, you pulled at the silken straps, bringing the neckline of the nightgown higher up on your body. Your cleavage protested, the fabric puckering across the voluminosity of your breasts. 

All this time, he’d been silent, and you arched an expectant brow, wondering just what it was that you were to help him with. This man was… peculiar. From his fancy dressage to the articulate, over-pronounced way he spoke, his idiosyncrasies both alarmed and fascinated you. 

“Indeed,” he affirmed. He’d made his decision; you were the one for the night. And he’d have you, whether you came willingly or not.

“My name is James March — I’m the owner of this impressive hotel in which you now stand.” He paused, expectantly as if that was enough for you to throw your arms up and consent to whatever he was asking. When you didn’t, he added: “I need you to come with me. Urgently.”

You squinted, scanning his motivations. A warm, gentle smile stretched across his lips, framed by his pencil thin mustache. His hand rose, fingers uncurling in front of you. There was something unnervingly come-hither about his gaze. Would he have introduced himself with malicious intentions? Surely not — that could lead to identifying him later on. But he could’ve given you a fake name, perhaps…

Unable to resist his passé seduction and against (likely) better judgement, your hand floated up into his, resting delicately against his palm. His fingers closed around yours, lingering a moment before guiding you out of your room, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind you. He began leading you briskly down the hallway.

“I forgot my key, wait I –” 

“Worry not, my dear. We’ll have another made for you, should you need it.” 

Should I need it? You thought. Why wouldn’t I need it? Of course I’ll need my key, I’m walking down the hallway in nothing but a nightgown. 

You trodded barefoot down the halls, listening to the sounds as you passed them. The hotel, you noticed, creaked and breathed with a life of its own. Whether the rooms were occupied wasn’t known, but they sounded as if they were.  

As soon as you two got to a door, only a few down from your own, he reached for the handle and instantly, as soon as he did; something felt wrong. Something felt… sinister and the feeling took over like a gelatinous sludge. You tried to yank your hand away but James sternly jerked you the opposite way — back towards him. With a throaty growl, he wrapped both arms around your torso, holding you fast in a steel grip so that try as you might, you couldn’t dislodge yourself from his grasp. His strength proved too much for your feeble, sleepy muscles.

After shouldering the door open, James carried you inside. In a moment of panicked clarity, you tried to peek around and identify anything you could. The stern way that his hand was plastered on your forehead, holding it against his shoulder, you could really only see the ornate ceiling above you.

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the corners of your eyes. This was it. You’d gone this far in life without being mugged, raped, or killed… today was the day it would change. Your track record would end. Abruptly. Terrifyingly. Your chest shuddered with an uneven, hysterical breath. At least he was handsome. No, shut up. That’s not the kind of thought you want to be thinking. 

Suddenly, your body dropped forward and you were spun around harshly, his grip still tight on the fleshy meat of your arms. Then, as though he was a lover and not your soon-to-be-murderer, he eased your back against a wooden chair with one hand, delicately, suddenly concerned with hurting you, like you were some kind of easily-bruised fruit.

“Good girl, sit there.”

At his praising words, your core twinged, tightening. No, no. Stop it. Clenching your teeth, you quashed the thought before it went any further.

His right hand snatched something from a nearby table before holding it proudly, stretching it out for you to see; rope. Unconsciously, your head began shaking back and forth. As the realisation sunk in, your heart rate picked up, thudding against your ribcage.

“N-no, no… no please.”

With the rope still in hand, James got to one knee in a familiar pose. His lightless eyes floated up to yours, staring into them deeply. Now in front of you, his cock twitched within his trousers, a carnal instinct tugging like an incessant child. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the smooth curves of your knees, your calves, your ankles… 

Damn. You – obviously – were a woman with needs, so his feather-light touch awoke something deep within your core again. This time though, it didn’t take you reversing the arousal. The shiny tip of his shoe knocked your feet apart, lining them up with the legs of the chair. She clenched harder.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tensely. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He paused to answer, straightening up. “Securing you, my dear. A struggle is inevitable.”

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

He didn’t answer. Hastily working, his large but nimble hands wrapped the rope around the smallest part of your ankles, knotting the rope against the chair. Your wrists came next, and those were tied much tighter; the fibres of the rope ground against your soft skin, already causing a burning friction.

With a sudden, powerful pull at the bindings, testing their security, James was finished. He was confident in his knotting, you wouldn’t get away. Humming to himself, he dragged the chair through an archway, into another, much larger room. You were facing a table – it was ornately set with a large contraption in the middle. You recognised it as an absinthe fountain, the bright green liquid in the container seemed to glow. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever this was, even as attractive as that man was.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, I just… I want to go back to my room. Let me go.”

“Let you go?” James echoed in a mockingly high tone. He seemed offended that you’d even desire such a thing. It was a pleasure — a privilege — to be invited to his dinners. “No…. You’re staying with me. Right here.”

He pat your thigh  before moving to the head of the table. For the first time since you’d been brought in, you took a moment to look around, to take in your surroundings instead of him. Immediately, you whimpered in disbelief — met with such a visual that you almost immediately thought you were hallucinating. You blinked away the tears and sniffed, pressing your lips tightly together. 

It was truly bone-chilling to see all of the worst eyes on you. The eyes that had seen the most foul crimes and atrocities in human history were now looking at you; the bound beauty with her sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to your forehead and fear in your eyes. John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer….

“She’s shakin’ like a god damn leaf!” Aileen Wuornos howled, before finishing off the rest of her beer. She slammed it on the table, the clatter made you jump. She doesn’t want me, you thought. I’m not her enemy. Still, you knew that you’d been sat at a table full of people — true monsters — who even if they didn’t want to kill you, they’d take great pleasure in watching you writhe in agony as the others stole your last breath from your lungs.

Though they were all equally terrifying, you were most horrified by Richard. He sat directly next to James, picking absently at his nails. His sunken, snake eyes followed every move you made; watching you with a hunger that made your skin crawl. Considering the circumstances, it was laughable to say that one made you feel unsafer than the others — but he did. Logically, how he preyed upon women must’ve played into your distaste for him. He held your gaze, peering into your thoughts with a vicious lack of consent, as he behaved with every woman he came in contact with. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve waited long enough, Jimmy — can we kill her?” He said, sucking something out of his rotting teeth. He made a move as though he was going to get up.

You snapped your head to James, brows knit together in pleading. The visual surprised you. He, like the rest of the dinner party, had been staring at you, but instead of the feral, blood hungry gaze you expected, his eyes had gone glassy. He sucked his cheeks in, deep in thought. Beneath the dark fabric of his dress pants, heat blanketed his groin. You captivated him; the way your precious little eyes flitted back and forth in terror like a deer, the way your pulse thrummed in your neck, beating like a drum. He wanted you for his own — and only his own. Keeping his motives hidden, James stood up, smoothing out the fabric of his suit jacket. 

“No,” he crooned. “No, we can’t. I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart… this one… belongs to me.”

You jerked your head in confusion, while grumbles of disappointment bounced off the walls. Ramirez said something sickening and Gacy let out a horrible, guttural chuckle. You strained against the rope, somehow trying to put more distance between you and them. James sliced his hand through the air to silence them both.

“Miss Wuornos,” he abruptly purred. “Go find us a dashing young man keen to join our party!”

“Ohohoh…. Lil’ ol’ me? Find a man? I’m gonna’ be frolickin’ in the fuckin’ daisy fields with this one. Be back!”

“Pl-please.” You begged. Your lips parted, allowing desperate promises to fall from between them. You wouldn’t tell anyone, you’d never come back here, you wouldn’t remember anything, you promised, you would never speak a word of this to anyone… You looked to James, who regarded you affectionately, but patronisingly, his lower lip jutted out in a faux-pout. He’d heard all this before, and it was of no concern to him. He’d made up his mind. It was his god damned birthday and he was going to have you all to himself.

Your begging fell on seemingly deaf ears, nobody bothered to entertain you. Your teary, burning eyes flitted to Ramirez, who was smiling his ugly, decaying smile at you, leaning forward in his seat. “I dunno’, she promises, Jimmy… maybe we should let her go.”

You shivered, grinding your wrists against the rope. Anger blanketed you. “Fuck off, weirdo.”

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

“YOU!” You barked, straining. “I can smell your rancid breath from here. Had to kill all those women just because none of them would ever come within ten fucking feet of you!”

“Now, now… manners. She’s a lively one, isn’t she?” His mouth bent in a proud smirk, James looked to Richard, who was still bristling from the comment. He really wanted to kill you. Delighted at the fact that James had seemingly given you immunity, you wiggled happily in your chair, fighting the urge to stick your tongue out. You didn’t want to test him, though, and so you remained silent, watching instead. 

Silence was broken as the door opened. With a little thrashing, almost as desperate as your own had been, Aileen shoved a man — couldn’t have been more than 30 — inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone. In fact, it was like she opened the door, spotted him meandering by and dragged him back inside.

The guy noticed you first. Second, he noticed that you were tied to the chair so tightly that red marks on your wrists and ankles had begun to develop. Thirdly, he noticed the others, his eyes drifting slowly and visibly disturbed by who sat at the table. 

“Woah… what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“A good fuckin’ time is what it is.” One of them said. You didn’t care which. Blisteringly hot tears streamed down your face, stinging your cheeks. What were the stages of grief? You felt like you were cycling through them in rapid succession.

“Fucking let me go!” You howled, thrashing your torso back and forth, which did little to relieve anything. With a distressed expression plastered upon his face, the guy looked from you to the other guests and back, before nervously putting his hands up, taking one step back towards the door. “Hey, is she okay?”

“N—!“ James was suddenly behind you, cupping his hand over your mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers hard into your cheek flesh. His lips moved quickly, whispering hotly into your ear. “Hush now, don’t spoil the surprise for him. Let him find out on his own.”

“She’s fine, the hors d’oeuvres didn’t agree with her.” Aileen barked, towing the guy towards the table. She shoved him down into the only unoccupied seat.

“Dinner… is served.” James said. 

In unison, they all stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in your head. Like syncronised swimmers, they all descended upon him, armed with whatever weapon they’d chosen. You hadn’t known the guy, but he had enough sympathy for you to make you cry at what was happening to him. He’d had a life, family… feelings. None of which mattered to him anymore, or perhaps that’s exactly what he was thinking about. Perhaps your entire life really did flash before your eyes before you died. 

You let out a scream that burned on its way out. It ached and tore and ripped its way up your windpipe as the shrill, bloodcurdling sound filled the room. It was louder than his, and louder than the sounds that were currently coming from the gaping, gargling hole in his throat.

Gacy moved from his side, allowing you a brief glimpse. Torn flesh hung from his shoulders and blood had almost completely covered the front of his body. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, rolling your lips inward and biting down. It was fucked up, and you weren't going to absorb any more of it.

“Sweet dreams, my little pet.” James said, in front of you. You turned your head towards the sound, but were met with blackness. 

A dull throbbing on the side of your head was what eventually pulled you awake, forcing your cinder-block weighted lids to peel apart. You looked around; an odd, minimally decorated room. Dark. Your head wobbled as you turned it left, then right, met with the same visual — your arms suspended high above your head, and rope again, at your wrists. You licked your lips and tasted metal. In your blurred vision, you noticed red flecked along your breasts. The ache on the side of your head was more than just an ache, it seemed.

Your consciousness ebbed, fading in and out. Sleep was comforting, the idea of it cradling you in its arms like a baby. You wanted so badly to sleep… just for a moment. Somewhere inside, you heard authoritative voices, advising against sleep. Concussions… sleep… sleep is bad… keep the individual conscious. And so you fought against the cool, towering shadow, turning your head away from nothing in particular. You couldn’t hear anything outside of your own laboured breathing, and the creak of the rope every time you decided to move. Nothing. Not even the muted voices of the monsters. 

Time meant nothing, you lost track of how long you’d been hanging there when you’d finally heard the creak of a heavy door. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly before wrenching them open. You weren’t sure if the crushing weight you felt was the looming weight of death as it shrouded you, or merely the physical strain of your body being suspended for hours. You knew people could eventually die from suspension. Their lungs caved in or something. The tips of your toes barely touched the floor, your big toe grazing the cold, concrete floor every time your body swayed softly.

With your head hanging between your shoulders, your muscles quivered as you lifted it, just in time to see the door in front of you shut. James, standing in front of it, reached for a black leather apron that hung on a hook. Before slipping it over his head, he flashed you a charming smile, pleased to see that you hadn’t expired yet. Reaching behind him to tie it around his waist, he approached you. The light from the wall sconces reflected against the fabric dully.

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned. 

You intended a scream, but could do nothing but whimper. You swallowed repeatedly, a feeble attempt to wet your dried out throat. James drug a single finger along your soft jawline, trailing it down your neck, and along your collarbone. You were drenched in sweat, streaks of it descending your face and neck.

The sudden ferocity in which he gripped your face made it sting, his thumb and forefinger digging into the bone of your jaw. He quirked a brow. You opened your mouth and although your throat was already raw, you finally screamed. You screamed again, angrily, and held his cold, black gaze. Your ragged shrieks filled the room over and over again as you tried, desperately, to wrench your hands free from the ropes.

Regrettable, James thought as his soulless eyes hungrily took in your form as it quivered and thrashed around. You were built like a Greek goddess, soft curves in all the right places, begging to be touched, worshipped.

“Aaaah,” He exhaled, frustratedly.  “You’re almost too pretty to kill.”

“Then — DON’T! Fucking let me GO! AaaarhhhH!” You yanked at the ropes again, thrashing around until a deep pain in your shoulder began to burn. You cried out, letting your body go slack. 

With a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength again, finding every drop of it within your tired body, and leaned forward to scream directly in his face. The result? He was wholly unphased by your screams. If anything, it seemed like he enjoyed them. Each one sounded a little more desperate than the last, and it only fuelled him further.

You decide to try a new, last-ditch tactic. Sore mouth contorting into a scowl, you gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood, hot and irony on your tongue and lunged forward, spitting it at him. The glob hit him square in the face, dripping slowly down towards his jaw.

“What, is it hard to focus?” You croaked. Your words were slurred, messy with the pain of the head wound.  “Didn’t think you’d want to fuck me as bad as you do, huh?”

James’ dark eyes narrowed, the muscles underneath twitching faintly. He had in fact picked you, and therefore had to accept all of your fiery little quips as they came – but that one… that one had caught him off guard. 

“You…” You narrowed your eyes, the fibres of the rope squeaking as you leaned towards him, your lips inches from his face. “…want to fuck me so bad, you can’t think. Look at you. You think your apron hides it?”

With brows raised, James glanced at his groin. Had he really been betrayed by his own body, so early on? Though he felt the warmth and stiffness increasing between his legs, there was no visual indication. James calmly brought his hand to his face, collecting the bloodied spit on his fingertips. With a reticent gaze, he brought them down between your legs, harshly knuckling the nightgown out of the way.

He smeared them roughly on your cunt. Your own fluids. The ones that you had just spit at him. Not only that, but he proceeded to tease your sensitive nerves with his fingers, pulling a confused gasp from your throat. Part of you had been bluffing, you weren’t entirely sure that he had wanted you —

James pulled back an inch to look at you again. Aside from your luscious body, your complexion was mottled with exhaustion, lips dry with fear, hair frazzled and bloody on one side. To him, it was a horrific sculpture of divinity. One that he had created in such little time with such little effort. The perfect, ample curves of your breasts were dotted with crimson, having dripped from the gash on your head. They jiggled delicately with each desolate shake you gave.

With his free hand, he took hold of your round, plush hips, his thumb working the softness like dough. He swung you towards him, pressing the pillowy tops of your thighs to his groin. Quickly, he identified a growing obsession with your body.

He loved it. All of it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a body as marvellously breathtaking as yours since his wife’s. Of course, it had been many years since he’d seen hers in any such manner, so the flames that licked at his desire were deprived, hungry ones. His mouth found yours, lips crushing against yours. His tongue, hot and strong, slipped in and beckoned yours to engage in an erotic dance.

He pulled your body closer, pressing it tightly against his. Though constricted by his trousers, you felt the bulging heat beneath his apron, and rubbed your thigh against it, teasing him. He groaned deeply in response, bucking his hips against you to force friction. After a few moments, James broke the kiss, panting heavily over your tender, swollen lips.

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

The back of his hand whipped across your mouth, hitting you so hard that the world sparkled when you opened your eyes again. Your face burned with the contact.

“Enough of that now! Say it again, and I’ll do just that!”

The harshness in his voice stunned you. Up until that point, he’d been using his syrupy, serenading voice — the one he had used to charm you into coming with him. Now, he bellowed, an unexpected violence. Silence hung heavy between you as he waited, baited you to beg for life once more. You didn’t speak again, but your sobs continued. 

Finally, his hand dropped between your legs again. Your clit ached, burned with the way his fingers fondled it, but he didn’t stop. Your poor, exhausted body trembled beneath his touch, doing all it could to express arousal. Salty droplets streamed from your hairline into your eyes, stinging as they absorbed.

“Would you rather die?” he asked, suddenly. 

“Wh-what? N-no… I d-don’t want to die…”

“That’s not what I meant, my little ember. I meant… would you rather die than be pleasured? I, of course, can arrange that.”  

You hesitated a moment, but finally, shook your head. 

At this thoughtful confession, James angled forward, plunging a single finger inside of you, past the knuckle. The digit wiggled inside of you briefly, before sliding back out slowly. He held it up for you both to see. “Oh,” he growled.  

His finger was generously coated in clear slick. Your body had betrayed you. 

Wordlessly, he untied the apron, tossing it carelessly to the side – it hit the floor with a heavy flop. Then, those same nimble fingers began unbuttoning and unzipping, until they gripped his rigidness, pumping it slowly for further stimulation. His chest heaved with wanton, desiring breaths as he stared at you, hanging there, with your warm, ample body for his taking. James lined his dick up with your leaking slit, and pulled you harshly onto his cock, showing no mercy for how exhausted your body was. 

Your cunt swallowed his cock whole, hungrily and desperately. His head fell back between his shoulders, a throaty groan coming from his open mouth. He began thrusting, slow at first. The ease of thrusting fascinated him; your body hung limp on the ropes and all James had to do was tug you forward, tug you in the direction he wanted you to go. 

“You know, I’ve never taken a woman like this before - suspended in the air,” he said, breathily. “Exquisite.” 

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose. 

Soon, the room was filled with wet, slick thrusting and the thudding sound of his torso as it met yours. You came repeatedly, coating his thick, pale cock in fluids you didn’t even know your body could make. At one point, during a particularly vicious thrusting, a warm, watery liquid splashed down over your thighs. You screamed like he was killing you, though he felt better than any man you’d ever been with, pleasuring you in ways that left you feeling breathless.

Still, your body persisted with its aches. So far, you’d been successful in appealing to his sexual nature, and decided to try again.

“….please…. Let me down… I’ll… d-do anything you wa—

Suddenly, he backed up, pulling the head from your cunt with a slick pop. You panted; fragile, pitiful breaths, barely enough energy to lift your gaze. With his rigid cock bouncing in front of him, James untied your hands, allowing your heavy, enervated body to fall into his arms. You couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder as he carried you to some sort of surface, laying you carefully down atop it. Some streak of mercy had captured him, and you mouthed words of gratitude. Your entire body buzzed with relief, your muscles aching in a funny, tingling way.

James wasted no time in fucking you again; the tip was nearly scarlet, hungry for release. His hand compressed on your soft stomach, pressing down into it to increase the pressure of his cock as it drove deeper and deeper inside of you.

“You know how this ends, my dear.” When he spoke, it sounded far away. But you did. You knew. There was never any end to this besides the one that you’d envisioned fearfully. He leaned to the side, retrieving a small, but very, very sharp blade from a nearby metal table. You watched numbly as James lifted the knife above your neck.

His hips pumped rhythmically, bringing you both closer to the fiery edge of ecstasy. Pulsing veins massaging your silklike insides, and another orgasm galloped towards you. Your body quivered, cold sweats taking over. 

James whipped the knife across your perfectly warm neck, and instinctively, your hands went to the laceration. Bright crimson gushed out from the spaces between your fingers, and you felt a gushy warmth press against your digits. The inner workings of your throat, you realized. The gore of your own body, pressing back against you in its heat. James laid one hand over yours, seemingly just to feel the blood as it spurted. With a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitched inside you just before it released, coating your insides.

She gasped, a wet gurgle. The light left her eyes, gradually, but beautifully. The pulses of blood eventually ebbed to a dull trickle. As his thrusts slowed, he expelled a long sigh – killing both excited him and depressed him. On one hand; it brought exhilaration, delight and sheer unadulterated arousal. On the other however, you only truly got to do it once. Certainly, you could kill a ghost a million times over, but the effect wasn’t the same.

For a moment, James’ expression contorted into one of regret; when you returned in your new spectral form, you’d likely not want to spend time with him. Yet another woman who loathed his presence roaming the hallways, avoiding him. But perhaps, he still wouldn’t mind having you stuck with him for all eternity, if only to gaze upon your perfect form whenever you’d let him. With matching wounds, at that. A true romantic.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser / @stveharringtn / @fear-is-truth

[neverinadream]

Garden Of Eden (Part Two)

Last Part // Next Part

Summary: Some things were not meant to be touched and to Quinn Y/N was meant to be untouchable.

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reade

Requested: Nope

Warnings: uses of she/her pronouns, some suggestive language, best friend's brother trope, sneaking around, clunky writing 🫣, edited but not really edited...i think that's it

Notes: eek, it's been a few months since i posted the first part huh? sorry, i did write most of a second part and then i lost it, so most of this is from memory. i also forgot i wrote the first part in third person, so that was fun...er, yeah, this is just a filler chapter of sorts, nothing really exciting happens. anyway, feedback is appreciated!!

"Luke!" Y/N squeals her baking partner's name, coughing through a large cloud of flour as it plumes into the air. She waves her hands, quickly trying to dispel the dust, but only makes it worse, her coughing intensifying as she breathes some of it in. He drops the bowl, quickly coming to her aid, matching her coughs as he wafts the cloud in his direction. "What are you doing?" She asks, spinning to face him.

He tilts his head like a confused puppy. "I'm putting the flour in-" He points to his phone, the instructions displayed on his screenm "-Just like it says."

"Bit by bit," she stresses, reading the part he had evidently missed, "not throw it all in."

"Oh." He hides his face, concealing his laugh in the palm of his hand, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "I guess I missed that part."

"You guess?" She gives him a soft shove, but never catches the giggle that rolls off her lips; the light sound eases some of his worry. "It should be alright, right?" She looks up at him for some reassurance. He shrugs, mumbling something she doesn't catch under his breath. "Here," she pushes the bowl to him, dragging it through spilt flour, creating white powdery streaks across the counter, "mix."

"Me?"

"You're stronger than me." She gives his bicep a poke, a light blush coating his cheeks. "Now fix the mess you made," she mumbles, looking down at the flour decorating her chest. She only makes it worse trying to dust it off, her forehead creasing with a harsh line as she rubs it. "Be back in a second-"

"What?!" Luke's head snaps up in her direction, watching her leave for the door. "Don't leave me with this." He begs her with panic in his eyes.

Y/N stops at the door, her hand touching the frame, a small smile touching her lips, as she turns to look back at him. "It's just brownie batter, Luke," she teases, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, if I suddenly start the end of the world because I mixed this wrong, that's on you!" He calls after her. She laughs, shaking her head at his dramatics.

Quinn emerges from the bathroom, his chest fluttering as he hears the faint sound of Y/N's laugh floating up the stairs. It was light and cheerful, often representing who she was. The first time he heard her laugh, properly laugh, the kind where her smile would meet her eyes and reflect the happiness she felt in that moment, was the moment he had decided to always make her laugh. And though he never considered himself to be the funniest, his plan to make her laugh had worked so far.

The jokes could be cringey, or just down right unfunny, but she would always laugh.

He watches her jog up the stairs, her hand gliding along the railing, before coming to an abrupt stop at the top. She dips her eyes down to the towel wrapped around his waist, before panning up over his chest, looking at the droplets still sitting on his skin. Heat rises up her neck and sits on her cheeks as he begins to smirk.

"Don't say it-"

"Say what?" Quinn cuts her off with a chuckle, dipping to sneak a kiss. He knew he shouldn't but the temptation was too strong to resist. “I was just going to say good morning,” he adds, sneaking another kiss. His eyes flicker down to her t-shirt. "Is that flour?"

She looks down at her chest. "It could be..."

"What else could it be?"

"Drugs," she looks back up at him, "me and Luke were doing hard-core drugs. He wanted to snort it off my boobs."

He laughs. "Fun morning then?"

She presses up onto her tiptoe, closing the distance between them, connecting their lips again with a soft kiss. It tingles and lingers on his mouth, teasing him into wanting more. "Even better now that I've seen you," she replies, her hand drifting out to wipe away a droplet of water still on his chest. The things she would've done to have woken up with her head on his chest. Just the mere thought of it sends warmth to her cheeks.

Two days had passed since Quinn had asked her to trust him and for two days he had been racking his brain of ways they could have their 'first' date. Take her out for dinner? Too basic. Go see a movie? He didn't want to sit in silence for ninety minutes. Every idea he had was met with a thick line slashed through it, and the worry that his brothers would either get suspicious, or be offended that they hadn't gotten an invite.

But her week with them was quickly coming to an end and he had to act quickly.

"Tonight," he blurts out, meeting her raised eyebrows with a lopsided smile. He takes a steady breath, drawing in the smell of coconuts that lingered in her hair. "Let's do something tonight."

She glances over her shoulder, but the flutter of excitement in her chest has a smile breaking out. "Like what?"

Quinn shrugs. "It's a surprise." She sighs his name. "This will be a good surprise," he reassures her, not knowing what the surprise will be. His hand moves to her face, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "One you'll like because none of your exes will be there this time."

Y/N didn't like surprises.

Her surprise eighteenth birthday party had been dampened by her mother deciding to invite her ex-boyfriend, whom she had broken up with two days before. Jack watched her cry for the first thirty minutes, grumbling threats under his breath and passing her tissues to dry her eyes. Quinn stopped anyone from going into the upstairs bathroom, nearly pushing one of her cousins down the stairs. And Luke, as sweet as he's always been to her, tried his best to intimidate her ex with sharp glares and throwing up a finger when no one else was looking.

She declared there and then that she would no longer be a victim to any more surprises.

Her eyes flicker down to his waist, the plush white towel secured tightly, but not tight enough that it wouldn't come away with one single tug. "This is teasing me," she purrs, fingers wiggling at her side, itching to touch him.

"Kinda like those shorts you're currently wearing," he replies, licking his lips and panning his eyes down her legs. His hand moulds to the shape of her hip, connecting them as she climbs the last few steps. "You were wearing these around Luke?"

She bites her lip, trying to stop herself from smiling. "Jealous?"

"Maybe a little," he wasn't ashamed to admit, "Lukey's always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on you." He nuzzles his face into her neck, stumbling them both back against the wall and out of sight. Y/N tips her head back, breath catching in her throat and fighting the urge to whimper as he marks the column of her neck with soft kisses. "He'd hump your leg like some crazed dog in heat if he could," Quinn grumbles into her ear, kissing the soft spot behind it.

"So would you," she giggles.

"Okay," he nods from side to side, a grin creeping onto the corners of his mouth, "but the difference is you'd let me."

She walks her fingers up his chest. "Would I?"

He grabs her hips, pulling her away from the wall, flushing her up against his body. "Are we forgetting what happened the other day?" She wraps her arms around him, whimpering under her breath as he nips at her neck. "You were practically begging me to fuck you."

"A girl has needs," she brushes him off, fisting her fingers through the back of his hair. The wet curls tangle around her digits and she gives them a soft tug, pulling his mouth to align with hers. "And there's only so much that I can do myselfl," she whispers, teasingly licking at his bottom lip.

Quinn releases a low groan, his cock standing at half-mast thinking about Y/N pleasuring herself. He shakes his head but it does nothing to rid him of the thought.

"I think I should be allowed a peek," she looks down at his waist, heat licking up her spine when she spies the slight bulge.

"Ha!" He barks a laugh. "Nice try, cutie."

He takes a step back, resting one hand on the top of his towel and tousles his fingers through his wet hair. His eyes settle on her as he takes a soft breath, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smile. A slight blush creeps onto the bridge of his nose.

"What?" She asks, trying to read his face.

"I-"

A loud shriek and whizzing sound come from the kitchen, silencing Quinn and gaining both of their attention. Something heavy gets knocked to the floor, hitting the ground with a loud clang, followed up with a series of expletives and more various thuds and bangs.

"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Luke shouts as both she and Quinn approach the kitchen, him hanging back as Y/N steps inside.

Her mouth gapes at the mess. The bag of flour had been knocked off the counter, eggs had been cracked and crushed on the flour, the mixing bowl was nowhere for her to see, and globs of sticky brownie mix were on every surface she could see. And there, standing in the middle of the mess, were her culprits, her best friend doubled over in hysterics and Luke turning redder by the second as frantically tried to stop the batter from flying everywhere.

"Jack, turn it off!" Luke glares at his older brother, bits of brownie batter sticking to his face and hair.

Jack stuffs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone, snapping pictures of Luke. "This is too good," he laughs, tears already forming from laughing so hard. "I'm sending these to Tiff."

Luke rips the plug from the socket and the whizzing sound stops. "Don't you dare!" He disappears behind the island counter and re-emerges with the mixing bowl, most of the brownie batter now missing, and a electric whisk. "Oh, shit," he swallows a large breath, cheeks turning pink as he spots Y/N.

"Yeah," Y/N nods, crossing her arms over her chest, "shit, indeed."

"It's his fault!" Luke was quick to point the blame at Jack, throwing out his arm and pointing his finger.

Jack shoves his arm. "Fucking liar!"

Luke shoves him back. "It was your idea to use the whisk!"

"But I wasn't the idiot who turned it onto the highest setting, was I?!" Jack fires back, rolling his eyes. He quickly snaps another picture of Luke, giggling as he does, his mouth forming a cheeky grin. "Oi!"

Luke snatches his phone, laughing at Jack as he turns, blocking his attempts to get it back. "What's the matter?" He taunts, circling the island, the sound of egg shells crunching under his feet. "Too slow to keep up?"

"You wish!" Jack wobbles, nearly slipping on some egg yolk. He groans, lifting his foot to inspect the mess of mushed egg yolk and shell sticking to the bottom of his sock. He glares at Luke. "Look what you made me do!"

Walking through flour and stepping over crushed shells, Y/N takes the phone from an unsuspecting Luke, who whimpers as she grabs the phone out of his hand. "There," she mumbles, deleting the photos and handing it back to Jack, "all gone."

Luke smiles and Jack frowns. "You're meant to be on my side," he mutters, pocketing his phone.

Taking another look at the mess, she sighs. "Just...get it all cleaned up." She looks across at Jack, who is laughing at Luke, mumbling some comment about him hoping he has fun cleaning up. "Both of you."

Jack groans. "What?!"

"You heard me," she bites back, spinning to leave, ignoring the bickering that had erupted behind her. Quinn just smiles as she approaches. "Tonight couldn't come quick enough," she whispers, sliding past him, giving him one last look over her shoulders as she hurries up the stairs.

"And where are you going?"

The handle slips out of her hand, her arm dropping to her side. "Great," she mutters under her breath. Should've just gone out of the window.

She turns, finding Luke with his curls all in a mess and dressed only in a pair of shorts, looking like he had just rolled out of bed in search of a late-night snack. A small light shines in from the kitchen, half illuminating him.

A small smile pulls on the corners of her mouth, the gears in her brain working fast to come up with a convincing lie. "For…a walk." She cringes, even she wouldn't have believed her lie.

He lifts his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest. "It's a little late for a walk," he states, leaning against the doorframe, "maybe I should come with you."

"I'm a big girl, Luke," she replies, playing with her sleeve. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket but she ignores it. "There's nothing too big or too scary that I can't handle." Her phone buzzes again. "Let's remember which one of us hid behind a cushion the first time we watched Scream."

He stares back at her, showing no signs of amusement. "Not going to get that?" He peels one arm away from the other and points to her.

She shakes her head. “No.”

"No?" He unfolds his other arm, slipping both his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Could be urgent."

"It's not." She pulls her phone out with a sigh. All she sees is a black screen as she pretends to check it. Her eyes flicker up at Luke and then back down at the blank screen, trying to sell it. "Nope, not urgent," she mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, and tucking her phone under her arm, "why are you trying to change the subject?"

Pushing away, he takes long strides, stopping to stand in front of her. She meets his eyes as he scans her face, searching for the truth in her deception. "Why are you acting so suspicious?"

She tilts her head to the right, eyes narrowed and never breaking contact with his. "Do you always answer a question with another question?"

He straightens up, but the extra height doesn't intimidate her. She still remembers the kid who would cry if he wasn't allowed to join in on her and Jack's sleepovers. "Why? Does it annoy you?" She rolls her eyes. "Come on," he whines, throwing his hands into the air for dramatics, "we don't keep secrets from each other."

"We don't?" Luke shakes his head. "Oh really?" Again, he shakes his head. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. "Then why did I have to hear that you slept with Tiff?" Tiffany, Tiff for short, was her closest friend. After Jack, of course.

His face grows white. "Jack told you?"

"Yes, he told me!" She unfurls her arm to swat the back of her hand against his chest. He sighs, rubbing the spot. "Why are you ghosting her?" His eyes drop to the ground. "Luke?!" He doesn't budge. "Fine, I'll just go ask Jack; I'm sure you probably told him."

"And I'll tell Jack about you and Quinn," he blurts out the threat, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards into a smug grin.

Her eyes grow wide, a lump the size of Michigan lodged in her throat preventing her from speaking. She swallows it down but has nothing to say. No quickly thought-up lie to lead him off the trail.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I see everything." She opens her mouth but still nothing comes out. "Jack might be blind to what's going on, but I'm not. I see you both, with your little lovey-dovey stares and sitting too close to each other during movie nights." He motions it all with his fingers. "Not to mention, Quinn was acting all weird when we got back the other day. I'd say you two were up to no good."

"Up to no good?" She says, laughing. "What are you? A fifty year old man?"

He rolls his eyes, laughing with her before falling serious again. "Look, I don't care. If you and Quinn are together then I'm cool with that, but just don't keep it from Jack." She lowers her eyes. "You know he'll only get pissed that you kept it from him," Luke adds, "like that one time you secretly went on a date with that one guy from you math class-"

Her eyes snap back up to him. "How do you know about that?"

"Did you not just hear me?" He throws his hands up with a smile and a dramatic flourish. "I know everything, Y/N. Everything."

"Everything?"

Luke nods. "I'm like a Marauder's Map."

"I'm pretty sure that only knew the location of people," she tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowed up at him, "Not their secrets."

He softly flicks the centre of her forehead, chuckling as she bats his hand away like a cat to a fly. "Okay, nerd."

She rubs her forehead. "Can I go now?" He takes a step back, pocketing his hands. Giving him a small smile, she tucks her phone into her pocket, before mouthing thank you as she turns to leave.

NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando

[foli-vora]

Congratulations on your follower milestone! That is amazing! 💖

May I please request a Rick Flag fic with “The first time you smiled it felt like the universe aligned.” and I would love for you to rip my heart out (since that is an option 😊)

Thanks and I am so excited to read all of these upcoming fics!

My sweet angel, thank you for your never ending support and love, and thank you for the request! I'm sorry for the major delay getting this done, but I hope you enjoy me ripping your heart out and squishing it under my slipper 💖

hear me

rick flag x suicidesquadf!reader

word count: 1k warnings: ANGST SUPREME. sad ending. swearing, blood, bullet wounds, death, sad sad sad. rick is cheesy & sad. SAD. ANGST. genuinely teared up writing this bye.

They lied. Everyone who had toed that line between life and death, they fucking lied. There was no bittersweet flash of memories before your eyes. You didn’t have a lot, but shit—there’s gotta be something worth showing you, worth reliving, before you close your eyes forever.

The minutes pass, you feel the growing chill along your limbs from the steady flow of blood from the various bullet holes in your torso, and still—nothing. Not a goddamn thing. 

Just Rick.

Rick bolting across the sand with your name falling from his lips. You can’t hear it, there’s a distinct shrill ringing in your ears that seems to be drowning out the chaos around you, but you see the movement of his mouth, the strain of his throat as he yells.

He comes to land on his knees next to you, a shower of cool sandy grains flicking up and dusting your black tac shirt. It glistens under the light of explosions and gunfire, and you briefly wonder in morbid curiosity how much of your blood stains the beach beneath you.

“Jesus. Oh, oh darlin’—”

You hear him then, his broken and strained mutter cutting through the surrounding ambush.

“Hey Colonel,” you rasp with a barely there smile, a sticky hot trail of liquid leaking from the edge of your lips, “how’s it lookin’?”

Those pretty doe eyes dart over the destruction of your body, his hands ghosting over your wounds in what feels like hesitation, anxiety. Which ones can be smothered with a cheap and easy dressing? What one needs the most pressure applied?

Going by the rate your body seems to be numbing, cooling in the breezy night air, they’re all pretty shit. At least there's no pain. Shock, adrenaline - whatever the fuck it is, you're thankful for it.

“Fine,” he mutters, rough gloved hands instead coming to rest on your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the coarse sand and half dried blood splatters covering your skin, “you’re gonna be just fine.”

“Damn,” you breathe heavily, brows briefly coming together, “I never thought I’d hear you lie to me. None of that shit. No, no.... you gotta make it something good, Colonel.”

Confusion pinches his pretty face through the pain, and you give another strained smile.

“The last words I’ll ever hear—make ‘em… they gotta be good.”

“Don’t talk like that, you hear me? You’ll be fine. Backup’s comin’. They’re comin’, and we’ll get you patched up, and you’ll be right to back to bein’ a pain in my ass, okay?”

Oh, sweet soldier.

No.

It doesn't work like that.

They don’t send help for people like you. Suicide Squad, remember? It’s in the name. You knew what you were signing up for. He knew what you were signing up for. This is it. You’re just another classified file thrown through the shredder at the end of the day.

You blink tiredly up at him, “No one’s coming, Flag.”

He shakes his head in firm denial, strong jaw rolling in an effort to remain cool and collected.

“No, they... they have to.” 

“Somethin’ good, Flag,” you remind him quietly, a heaviness now seemingly coming to rest along your limbs.

Is this it? Can’t you just have one more minute? One more minute of him crowding your vision? You don’t need a last minute life montage, not when he’s here, not when he’s carefully dragging you further into his warm embrace.

Please, just a little longer in his arms.

“Okay… okay. The—the first time you smiled, it felt like the universe aligned.”

“Oh, fuck me,” you splutter with a sudden roll of remaining energy, chest heaving and lungs screaming as you choke on a weak chuckle, “that’s a… a new low, even for… f’your s-soft self.”

“Thought you’d like that,” he drawls quietly with a grin.

It’s brief, tainted with agony stricken tears, and falls from his face the second it stretches his lips. No, sweet soldier. Smile. It’s okay.

Maybe… maybe this is why your life isn’t flashing before your eyes. It’s because it’s here—he’s here. You didn’t really have anything before this, before the Squad, before Rick. You were merely a shell of a person in your cell, angry with the unfair world and the hand you’d been dealt from childhood, but when he came along?

He gave you a chance, saw something in you no one had before. He provided you with the Squad, with friends. He got you out of your cell and into the fresh air with a new outlook. He trained you, laughed with you, ate with you in the crappy mess hall despite the frowns from his co-workers.

He saw you.

He saw you for everything you were, not for what people thought you to be.

“Think you’re the… the closest thing I’ve e-ever felt to love, Colonel. Thank you.”

It’s a decent goodbye, you decide with the final beat of your heart, slackening in relief and embracing the call of the abyss with a leftover curl still tugging at your lips. Better than you’d been led to believe you deserved, better than what Waller threatened you with.

You got a good ending.

He feels the weight of you in his arms, sees how unnaturally still your chest has fallen and how your eyes seem to stare just past his shoulder. It shakes him to the core. His heart beats at the base of his throat and he can’t help but call out to you one more time, despite knowing you’d never answer.

“Darlin’?”

You can’t be gone—not yet.

You can’t be gone, because you didn’t get to hear him say it back. He needs to say it, he needs you to hear it. He murmurs those three little words over and over, breathing them into your skin wherever he can reach, willing you to stay just long enough to hear them, long enough to know you were loved.

You need to know you’re loved.

Bile builds in his throat at the thought, but he has to leave you behind; alone, broken and bled out on the sandy beach for a sweep team to deal with later. He wonders as he runs through the dense jungle, but he’ll never know if you did manage to hear his broken, tear filled I love you’s.

He hopes with everything in him that you did.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.3

Okay can anyone explain the “false hotel registration” thing to me? Does it mean they registered under a false name? So Paul registered under a false name so he could go fuck a girl in his room without getting in trouble with the press? I'm confused. Didn't they bring girls to their rooms all the time without getting in trouble? It doesn't make sense. Why did he feel the need to register under a different name?

Paul, talking about American conservatism, “So many organizations over here that are nuts anyway.” John, “Yeah, they're so far right they just–” tape ends. They really were brave, though. To say what they thought and risk losing what they'd only just got. I wonder who cut the recording. 

Journalist: Paul, are you planning to marry Jane Asher? John: scream ‘no.’ Go on. Lol John certainly says what he feels doesn't he?

Paul making fun of the racist question. Good job bud. 

The whole “Yesterday” thing is crazy. Like, what a feat, first of all. I think we forget how unbelievably successful the song was.

Second of all, I know John's reaction was childish and mean, but his feelings were valid if you just look at the treatment and reception of “Ticket to Ride”  (John's dead mum song). Like objectively yesterday is a better song, but still.

Oh, John. Poor thing. 

If “Girl” is secretly about Paul . . . yeesh. It's so obsessive and adoring and simultaneously so disappointed and disparaging. John always has such impossible standards for Paul. “She promises the earth to me and I believe her, after all this time I don't know why.” Um… maybe because he literally did give you the world? At so many points I find myself asking, “what more could Paul possibly have given John?”

People always take this quote as a sexuality thing, but couldn't it also be a conscience thing? Revulsion at taking advantage of the fact that all these women are fans? At the scale of his infidelity? I don't know, am I giving him too much credit?

The thing about Paul, John – and though it drives you insane, it's a big factor in why you love him -- is he's not going to be bullied into anything. If he decides to take LSD it's going to be on his own terms. And I know you think it'll bring you two closer, and you're right, but peer pressure just doesn't work on him. There's no point. You know that.

I LOVE Paul and the Indica. Designing the wrapping paper in secret up in his little attic room, covering over the shop windows so he can do his handyman work building shelves and painting in peace. It's Linda's Paul pre Linda, you know?

John is so good at PR as in making something sound as beautiful and important and powerful as possible. Which is something Paul absolutely relied on John to do and clearly could not do on his own after the break up. Look how John makes them almost into prophets here.

"I really wanted to live in London but I wouldn't risk it." Another thing to make John envious of Paul and resentful of Cynthia. I really wish those two had just never got married. 

“I don't object to people having a lot of money, I never did. But I do object to people being stony broke and starving.” RIP John, you would've loved the American “left” of today. But you can't have the former without the latter, sorry.

This picture always gets me. It's ridiculous. Pattie and George. Mo and Ringo. John and Paul. With Cynthia awkwardly by herself. It's funny. It's adorable. It's crushing. And with that quote? It's impossible.

I think Tara Browne is overlooked. Paul brought him home for Christmas. That's a big deal. And John hated him enough to laugh when he read about his death. That's also a big deal. Paul and his messed up social climbing obsession. I do think it's worth pointing out, though, the difference between Paul’s LSD trip with Tara and his trip with John. More on that later.

I really do think they were all staunchly anti-racist for their time, you know, besides John's racist jokes and drawings… but Paul particularly. And I have to wonder where that came from. Did he have empathy for people being judged on appearance and background? Was it partially due to his idolization of black artists? Did Little Richard maybe say something to him about racism in America? Anyone have any thoughts?

Actually, same, John. 

Okay and I have to share my hot take on the whole Jesus scandal. It's this: the American right doesn't actually care about Jesus. They care about protecting their hegemony. They didn't like that the Beatles were openly and stubbornly integrationist. They didn't like Paul's comment about their inhumane racism. But they couldn't openly counter that without showing their hand. So they used the Jesus comment as an excuse. If they play the religious persecution card, they get to paint themselves as the victims and therefore the good guys while they take down anyone who challenges the status quo that keeps them in money and power (aka the Beatles). 

Maybe I should've had a “poor baby” tally because the number of times I've said that about John in these comments has got to be tally-worthy. I would've driven around in a gorilla suit with you, honey!

It is actually amazing that there hasn't been more speculation on Paul's sexuality with all these serious boyfriends. 

Paul tells a story about a time he flew a plane, and how much better he liked it than being a passenger. First off. Imagine being a pilot and just being like “oh, you've never touched a joystick in your life, but you're Paul McCartney? Sure, go ahead. Fly the plane.” But also. His control issues and his confidence are both off unreal. No one in their right mind would feel more safe flying a plane – as someone with a complete lack of experience – than when a licensed pilot is flying it. 

Okay I literally JUST learned that Here There and Everywhere says, “how good it can be” not could. Can. And it's one of those in my "for sure this was about John" folder. Okay then. Wow.

The thing is they really did compliment each other's songs a lot more than modern Paul makes it seem like. So I wonder what it was about the “Here There and Everywhere” compliment that made it so special to Paul?

This footage where John is hiding behind McCharmley. I love protective Paul and how different he is to protective John and how much they needed each other. 

Hall of Fame quote: “what composer do you respect the most?” “I dunno really. John Lennon.” “Paul McCartney.”

[etherealyoungk]

bf!hoshi scenarios <3

happy hoshi day <3 here are a few little bf!hoshi scenarios for his bday <3

bf!hoshi who you remember was so nervous on his first date with you. he fumbled with his words and was a nervous wreck. but you just look so pretty?? he lost all his train of thought the moment he saw you. he bought you flowers on your first date and you're trying not to burst into a smile because this is the first some a guy has brought you flowers and you're heart is squealing with happiness. but hoshi thinks that maybe you don't like the flowers, and he tries to rectify the situation. "oh did you not like them- i didn't know which ones you'd like- i'm sorry i should have-", only for you to cut him off by saying that you loved them and you beam up at him. he laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck and he's relieved you liked them. he really wanted to make a good first impression on you ><

bf!hoshi who would absolutely and completely be WHIPPED for you. his heart would be filled with so much love for you <3 and he's such a passionate lover. he's always finding some way to make you smile, whether it be telling a lame joke or complimenting you until you're a shy mess. your laugh is music to his ears and he absolutely adores it. sometimes he'll sit thinking about you with a goofy smile on his face. you are quite literally his world, you meant so much to him, and is just so so grateful to have you in his life. he'd be protective of you but only because he loved you so much - you meant the world to him and he hated seeing you go through pain. his heart would break if you cried. he loves you so passionately, so wholly, he's not afraid to show his love for you.

bf!hoshi who would follow you around like a lost puppy on mornings when you had to go to work early but he didn't want you to leave yet, so he'd always walk you to the bus stop no matter how many times you told him you could go alone. so you'd walk hand in hand as you'd go to the bus stop together and he'd wave you goodbye as the bus left, horanghaeing with the sweetest smile as he waves buy to you.

bf!hoshi who would know if you were upset or sad, understanding rippling through his eyes, coming to comfort you immediately. he'd give you the sweetest cuddles as he asked you if anything was wrong and if you wanted to talk about anything, he was here. he never forced you to talk if you didn't want to, respecting your boundaries. if you were having a bad day, he'd be able to tell immediately because you don't greet him like you usually do and his smile slowly drops from his face. he glances over at you, thinking maybe you didn't hear him but you're lost in your own world, buried under the sheets on the couch, trying to read a book to get mind off things but it doesn't seem to be working. he gently comes over to you, a small frown on his face as he sits on the empty part of the couch as pokes your leg gently, making you finally look up at him. he won't ask any questions as you adjust your position and end up snuggling in his arms, burying your face in his chest as he pulls you closer. he kisses your forehead and asks you what you've been up to all day and if you were okay.

bf!hoshi who would come to bother you for attention. if he was feeling tired or just meh or bored, he'd waddle over to wherever you were. he doesn't even say anything as he scoops you in his arms and sits beside you, holding you close, or comes and lies on with his head on your lap as he looks up at you with a goofy smile that has you smiling as well. he'd love when you play with his hair and he'd eventually fall asleep sometimes. you love squishing his cheeks and maybe once when he fell asleep on your lap while you were studying, you took a pen and drew whiskers on his face while he slept soundly, completely oblivious. you sneak in a few pictures too and when he stirs awake, he asks you why you're smiling so much.

bf!hoshi who is just wholly and completely in love with you. he'd love holding your hand, whether it be walking together, or a reassuring squeeze of you were nervous and anxious. he'd always make sure you knew how much he cared and loved you and would never ever want you to doubt his love for you. he'd love to tell you super funny and cheesy pickup lines even if you can complete half of them before gets to and is all pouty is disheartened because "i spent the entire day searching those up and you knew every single one of them and also would be like, "how do you even know all of those, have guys flirted with you alot 🤨"

bf!hoshi who gets jealous a little too easily and ends up being clingy. you think it's because he just wants attention but you soon realize it's because he'd jealous and you find it so cute. he'd holding your hand and pulling you closer to him as you talk to this guy, who was clearly trying to flirt with you. finally pulls you away and kisses your cheek, making sure the guy sees you so he knows you're taken. is mumbling about how you're too pretty and that you should do at-home dates instead (as a joke). he'd love to take you out to new cafes and restaurants and explore new places with you, trying new food and giving food reviews to each other, it would be so wholesome <3

bf!hoshi who would have the most squishable cheeks ever. like he could be talking to you about something and you just grab his cheeks and squish them, giggling out loud when you see his confused expression. "y/n!", he drawls out, his cheeks still squished, his lips puckered and you peck his lips before crashing into his arms for a hug. "you're so cute", you say, pulling back as you look at him and he grins widely. "i'm cool, not cute", he corrects. "you're cool and cute", you tell and he just gives you a look and pecks your cheek.

bf!hoshi whose pout is so freaking adorable. when he's confused or just blank he goes pout and it makes you :( every time. (his pout is so cute i'll cry)

bf!hoshi would kinda panic and be a little clumsy and clueless if you were sick or weren't feeling too good. he'd just frown when you refuse to eat anything he presents to you, saying you're not hungry. but he's not having it. he will then finally make you some chicken soup or porridge and feed you telling you he made it with love as he holds the spoon to your mouth with a pout, waiting for you to take a bite. "it's dripping with love, babe please try it, one bite :( ", he coaxes and you do. it's surprisingly not so bad and you gobble up the rest because it turns out you were hungry. he'll clean up the kitchen (which was a...mess) but then he's coming over to cuddle with you only for you to push him away. "no we can't cuddle you'll catch my cold!", you exclaim and he just steps back with a pout and decides to sit by the edge of the bed like an abandoned puppy who's not getting attention. "i won't catch your cold hm", he says looking at you but you shake your head. "nope, you're sleeping in the other room tonight hoshi im sorry", you say as you blow your nose. he'd so dejected and now he wants nothing more than to cuddle you. but when you wake up with a coughing fit in the night, you don't even know when hoshi came but you feel his hands on your back as he gently rubs your back, trying to help ease you. he's coming back with some warm water and you're too tired to complain about how he's scooping you in his arms and settling next to you. only managing to mumble out a "you'll catch my cold". he shushes you telling you not to worry about that.

bf!hoshi who would want to slow dance with you in the living room because your date night got canceled since the rain decided to crash your plans. so here you were, in the dim light slow dancing with hoshi. you're shy smile softly as you try to sway and not step on his feet in the process. the patter of the rain blends in perfectly with the slow, soft music playing, and hoshi looks down at you with the fondest smile, so entranced by you in that moment. it's like he's fallen in love with you all over again.

happy hoshi day <3

taglist: @joshuaahong @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @daisycheols @rubywonu @fairyhaos @wheeboo @icysungho @nyang3racha @wqnwoos

reblogs/feedback is appreciated!

[londonspirit]

Was there ever any doubt that Our Flag Means Death Season 2 wouldn't end in thrilling fashion after taking all of us on a rollercoaster of emotions? Probably not, but show creator David Jenkins and writer John Mahone, who teamed up on the script for the finale episode, seemed distinctly driven to squeeze as many tears out of us watching as possible. With the dynamic between Stede (Rhys Darby) and Ed (Taika Waititi) seemingly fractured as of the season's penultimate installment, it was unclear how — or if — the two men might eventually reconcile, but a new threat to the Republic of Pirates, alongside Ed's realization that maybe he isn't meant to be a fisherman after all, sends the two back into each other's arms, literally.

While some characters are afforded something resembling a happy ending, with Stede and Ed deciding to try their hand at being innkeepers as they watch the Revenge sail off into the sunset under Frenchie's (Joel Fry) command, not every single crew member emerges from the finale battle unscathed, chief among them Ed's first mate and formerly ruthless right-hand Izzy Hands (Con O'Neill), whose parting words to Ed may be the very thing that the former Blackbeard needs to hear in order to fully come to terms with accepting the man inside him all along.

Ahead of the Season 2 finale premiering on Max, Collider had the opportunity to reconnect with Jenkins to discuss some of the episode's biggest moments. Over the course of the interview, which you can read below, Jenkins explains why Izzy's speech is both a eulogy for the character and a statement about the show itself, how the Season 2 premiere and finale bookend each other with those beach scenes, and why he wanted to use that Nina Simone needle drop in particular. He also discusses why the season concludes with a wedding at sea, what the finale sets up for Season 3, and more.

COLLIDER: I feel like my first question, in a completely non-serious way, is: how dare you, and my immediate follow-up is: what gives you the right?

DAVID JENKINS: I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Also, I am God to these creatures! But it was hard. It was a hard decision.

The episode kicks off with a somewhat more lighthearted moment, which is Ed realizing he's not cut out for the fishing life after all. On the heels of Stede and Ed’s big fight in the episode prior, why did it feel important to have Ed humorously have the revelation of, “This isn't what I really want after all?”

JENKINS: Well, I like the idea that Season 1 is about Stede’s midlife crisis, and Season 2 is about Ed's midlife crisis. I like that he had a little prima donna moment where he thought he could go and be a simple man, and then it's revealed that he really isn't a simple man; he’s a complicated, fussy, moody guy. No, he's not gonna be able to catch fish for a living. For him to be told that, “At your heart, you're a pirate. You have to go back and do it,” he doesn't want that to be true, but it was true.

Speaking of characters that have a revelation about themselves, Izzy's speech about piracy, about belonging to something and finding family, feels like the thesis statement of this show. Was that the intention behind it?

JENKINS: When I wrote that, I wanted to give Izzy a proper eulogy for himself. He gives a eulogy for himself, but it felt true writing it. Yeah, this is how he sees piracy, and also that's not how he would have viewed piracy in the first season. He would have viewed it as, “I'm here to dominate you, so you work for the boss.” By the end of his journey in the second season, he sees that they built him a unicorn leg, he learned to whittle, and he mentored Stede. He's learned that, actually, a pirate crew works differently than what he thought and that they are all in it together, and they do this for each other. So it felt right for Izzy’s arc, and it is kind of an overall statement about the show.

It's interesting that you call it a eulogy, because, by the time we get to the scene where we know Izzy's not going to make it, it feels like he's using his last moments for Ed more than himself. He has those final words to Ed of, “They love you for who you are. Just be Ed.” Is that the kind of the thing that Ed needs to hear in the moment — even as he's losing, arguably, someone he's known even longer than Stede and is just as close to on an emotional level?

JENKINS: Well, I like that Izzy gives that to him, and then Izzy also apologizes to him because he says that he fed his darkness and that they were both Blackbeard together — that Blackbeard wasn't just Ed, that they did it together. In a way, it's very much for Ed, that speech. The “we were Blackbeard” is claiming that he is also Blackbeard, that Blackbeard is not just Ed’s creation, and I like that for him, too, because he's worked so hard for that — and then just to say, “You can give it up.” There can never be a Blackbeard again as far as Izzy’s concerned because he's dying, and they did that together.

I wanted to ask you about the Stede/Ed reunion. We get Ed finding Stede's love letter that was written all the way at the beginning, and then also the beach fight/reunion. It's definitely a callback to the dream, but was that always the way that you wanted to bookend the season? Here's the dream and the fantasy, and then this is the real moment that we get to have?

JENKINS: It was nice. I knew that I wanted to have the Republic of Pirates at the beginning and end up with the Republic of Pirates. I think the reunion of it was a nice surprise, but it felt right. And finding the letter in a bottle — if you have a letter in a bottle, it's thrown out somewhere, it has to pop up somewhere, you have to see one of them at some point. But yeah, there's a circular nature to it, and that's why I thought it would be good to use Nina Simone at the beginning and at the end as a callback. This dream in this way did come true, and they made it come true.

When I talked to you at the beginning of the season, you mentioned the Nina Simone needle drop, but couldn't say anything about the significance of it at the time. I talked to [music supervisor] Maggie [Phillips], as well, about the needle drops throughout Season 2, and she said you always had a very clear vision for what song you wanted there. A lot of people know the original, but why did you pick Nina's cover? It strikes a different tone; there's a hopefulness to it in a lot of ways.

JENKINS: Yeah, it's wistful. There's a lovely part that sounds like church bells, which is great for the wedding part of it, and then it's just moving. I love her interpretation of it. It’s wistful, positive, and it felt like the end of the show to me. There's a size to it that, up against these images, I just was like, "Yeah, this would be really good. I want this to be in the show."

I did want to ask you about the wedding because on the heels of Izzy's death, it's bittersweet, but also, it's a sign this crew has become a family, and they can still find happy moments and reasons to celebrate. We’ve seen Black Pete and Lucius reconnect, but also reconcile and navigate through Lucius's problems and have their own, almost parallel trajectory journey as a couple alongside Stede and Ed in a way. Was that something that you always wanted to close the season on, the two of them getting hitched?

JENKINS: Yeah. We knew we wanted a matelotage in the season, which is the real term they had for marrying crew members. And yeah, they've always been in relief to Stede and Ed, and they're a little bit ahead of Stede and Ed in how much they can talk about things. So to have a bunch of family things in the season, like a funeral and a wedding, and have the parents kind of watch the kids sail away, felt right, and all of those things seem to work well together and build on each other.

Speaking of Ed and Stede watching everybody sail off, that was an outcome that was somewhat surprising, I think because where they are, you think maybe they're going to end up sailing off with everybody else.” But no, instead, it's just this sweet, lovely note of them getting to play house for a little while. What inspired that turn for them?

JENKINS: I think that they've come to the point in the relationship where they say, “Yeah, we're gonna give this a try,” and that's where the story really gets interesting. That will-they-or-won't-they is interesting to a point, but the real meat of it is always like, “Can they make the relationship, and can they do better than Anne and Mary?” That's the question that we all ask ourselves when we end up in a serious relationship is: can we make this work, and can we get through the hard times? Then they're both very damaged, and it's gonna be a challenge for them, and that's where the story gets interesting.

I'm not sure you can really tease much for a Season 3, but we talked before about how you have your vision for where you want to take this, and based on what we see at the end of Season 2, the implication is that we're going to have Stede and Ed off together, but is the plan to also continue with the other characters as well in their own places?

JENKINS: Yeah. Frenchie’s in charge of the Revenge, and I think Frenchie's Revenge would be an interesting place to work and an interesting ship to be raided by. Then I think that the Revenge means a lot to Stede, and it would be very hard for him to give it up, and he hasn't had a great track record of that. So I think the odds of them all finding each other again are quite high.

All episodes of Our Flag Means Death Season 2 are available to stream on Max.

[prettyboyrry]

hi!! i’m so so sorry i haven’t posted any content in a week but i’m back :)) i totally did not expect you guys to like that last one as much as you did but i appreciate it so much. this one is actually based off of an audio from my absolute favorite nsfw va ever so please please please go listen to it before you read. i kind of did some things different just for fun but the concept was too good not to write about. hope you enjoy<3 below is gonna be a link to jupiters audio :)

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I flinch as the same stupid jump scare pops up as the last 15. If you told me this morning instead of having a chill day to recharge and cuddle with my beautiful girlfriend I'd be sitting in a movie theater watching a movie she was oh so excited to see that it deterred her from cuddling with me, I'd be pissed.

Which I fucking am. I'm sitting with my arms crossed, my lips in a pout and my eyebrows furrowed together just to make it all the more dramatic. This isn't even that aggravating I just wanna make her feel good so we can go home and she can hold me like I deserve after being so good for her all week.

"What's the matter baby?" I'm snapped out of my angered internal rant by abby's sexy raspy voice I have to pretend doesn't affect me so I can keep up my act. It's so hard when she's looking at me with that smirk on her face that makes my cheeks warm up.

"Nothing." I grumble, not very politely might I add. I can see her intake a deep breath trying to calm herself before she answers me. My attitude clearly being uncalled for. I know this isn't as big of a deal as I'm making it but I just want her attention so bad I'm losing it.

"You wanna try that again?" She asks. I flit my eyes over to her to check her demeanor and she's becoming more and more aggravated with me by the second which is valid I'm getting snappy with her but it's for a good reason. Kind of.

"Nope i'm good." I reassure her but she doesn't miss the way I roll my eyes at the end for good measure. I just want her to fucking touch me at this point it's what I've been craving all week but all she wants is to see a dumbass movie we could've watched in the comfort of our own home instead we're now surrounded by a bunch of college students who had nothing better to do.

"I really hope that it's just because it's dark in here i just saw your eyes roll" she assures me "because you would never ever be that rude to me right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about" i whisper to her,"just shut up and watch your movie you care about oh so much"

She raises her eyebrows at what I've just said to her. I'm practically shaking at what's to come. The anticipation is killing me. Is she gonna let us go home? Keep watching the movie? Or mayb-

My internal rambles are cut off by her snaking her hand between my thighs and cupping my heat. I bring my hand down to the arm of my chair and grip it tightly. The feeling of her large hand on my clothed cunt are nothing short of orgasmic.

"You know" she starts, leaning over whispering into my ear "I've been teasing you all week waiting for you to get this needy. I saw your puppy dog eyes when i came in from work waiting to be fucked like the good girl you are and knew I had to mess with you. I don't wanna see this stupid ass movie"

My breathing hitches when I feel her pull down my panties from under my skirt and the cold air hits my pussy. I groan watching her slide my panties into her pocket.

"But what I do wanna see, is you try to keep quiet while i fuck you around all of these people." She says in a husky voice that's making me practically drool.

I gasp at the revelation and that's when I finally notice the shape of her strap sitting pretty in her grey sweatpants. I squeeze my eyes shut when she starts to use her thumb to rub circles onto my clit not starting off slow at all but going at a pace that's making me soaking wet. I let out a strained whimper but remember where we are so I quickly jerk my head over to her and shove my face into her neck leaving hot kisses to try and quiet myself.

"Fuck, you're so hot" she groans,"I'm gonna put my fingers in now okay?"

"yes yes mhm," i cry pathetically to her, feeling so embarrassed at how worked up i already am.

"I bet they're gonna slide right in at how fucking soaked you are" she practically laughs at me "such a whore, hm?"

I nod frantically grabbing onto her bicep hoping she gets the memo and puts her fingers inside me.

"nuh uh" she tutts "when I ask a question you answer it"

"Yes yes abby i'm your whore, all yours" i whine," please."

"shhh" she says "need you to be quiet baby, I know you're needy but do you want everyone to know that you're my little whore?"

"Actually, don't answer that" she rephrases, knowing what my answer was gonna be.

I go to make a snarky remark but am cut off when she skips warming me up and slams two fingers into me.

"oh god please" I don't even know what I'm begging for at this point I just want her.

My brain has turned into complete mush because all I can think about is the way she's curling her fingers just right into the spot that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head and my teeth biting into my lip so hard I can feel myself bleeding a bit.

I cry out desperately when a particularly harsh thrust is delivered and I let my pitiful moans out.

I whip my head up when she stops thrusting her fingers into me to see her practically seething at me.

"Your moans are for me and for me only" she orders,"so what's the issue hm?"

"i know i know m'sorry" I apologize "i'm trying to stay quiet but I can't"

"fix it" she says very sternly.

"yes ma'am" i respond politely.

I immediately fuck up when she slips her fingers back into me with no warning so of course I let out a small moan I couldn't mask. She smirks knowing I was gonna do that and looks up at me darkly.

"poor baby, doesn't know how to listen" she says in a sweet tone but what she's about to do to me is everything but sweet, "it's okay honey, I'll help with that."

Before I can ask what she's gonna do, two fingers get shoved down my throat.

"Since you don't know how to be quiet I'm gonna do it for you huh baby" she asks, knowing I can't answer.

She continues what she's doing under my skirt but instead of just pumping her fingers at an incomprehensible pace, she adds her thumb, continuing the circle motion she was doing on my clit earlier. The combination of the two makes me double over gripping the arms of my theater chair tightly trying to get some type of leverage.

The erotic feeling of this combined with that fact that we could get caught at any moment makes my let out a shaken moan into her fingers that are covered in my saliva. My abdomen begins to tighten when she continues hitting that same spot inside of me that makes me scream. I've had some of the most life altering orgasms when I'm with her but this time it feels completely different.

"mm i-" i try to speak to her through the fingers that i mine as well be choking on with a frantic look on my face at the feeling that's washing over me.

"I know I know lovie," she hums working me through it,"just let it happen"

I nod at her, feeling safe.

"fuck fuck I'm coming, oh my god please" i chant out a mantra of her name and curses as a feeling hits me I've never felt before all at once. My body is twitching all over and my legs are shaking so violently in my seat that she lays her arm across them so no one notices. The feeling that's happening in my stomach is making hot tears stream down my cheeks.

"holy fuck that was hot" she says gruffly after I come down from the most intense orgasm I've ever had.

I look down to find a small puddle of my orgasm in the seat below me realizing that I just-

"I've never made you squirt before what the fuck" abby is looking at me astonished.

"I made a mess" i look at her with a pout slightly embarrassed at this new experience but also feeling like I'm on cloud nine.

"mhm," she hums, pulling me onto her lap facing her "and you're gonna make another one on my lap."

I'm caught off guard when she slides her sweats down just enough to where her dick comes out of her pants. She grabs onto it sliding it back and forth on my sensitive folds making me shudder. I remember we're in a movie theater when she grabs the blanket we brought with us and places it over the both of us to cover the lewd scene happening underneath.

"Can't have everyone seeing your pretty little ass grind on my cock now can we?" she questions me.

"no abby" i whine, "may I have a kiss"

"Of course you can angel" she smiles leaning in planting a long, loving kiss on my lips that reassures me that we're both on the same page and I'm always safe with her.

"Now be good for me and fuck yourself on my cock" she orders, to which I immediately comply to.

I grab onto her shoulders for leverage and bounce lightly up and down onto her to get any sort of friction getting rid of the achy feeling in my tummy from how much I've wanted her.

"The next time you think about being a little cunt to me instead of telling me what you need" she punctuates her sentence by thrusting up into me very harshly making me bite down on her shoulder "I hope you remember how hard it's been to stay quiet in a movie theater and how if you would've just asked for what you wanted at home I would've given it to you and more"

I continue grinding fast and hard on her lap feeling her cock bulge out of my tummy at the angle.

"m'sorry just want you now please" i whine into her ear.

"I know you are baby, it's okay" she reassures me.

My orgasm is coming much faster than the first one due to how sensitive I am so all I need are a few more thrust before that familiar feeling in my belly starts to form.

"god i can hear how soaked you are over the movie" she whispers into my ear trailing hot kisses down my neck. I gasp out into the air when I'm hit with a harsh thrust from her and her very last kiss lands on my boob where she stays, sucking and biting down softly creating bright red hickies.

This is all I need before I'm thrashing against her begging for mercy as she notices my lack of grinds, taking over and fucking up into me clearly not caring about the people around us helping me ride my orgasm out.

"abby, fuck, they're gonna hear me" i cry to her.

"shhh it's ok darling keep going" she hushes me bring her hand down between us rubbing my clit in circles as my orgasm ends making my legs shake in overstimulation.

I freeze when I hear a voice other than abby's but before I can look my head is being covered by a blanket.

"Is she alright" the other voice asks.

"yeah she's fine" abby says in a bored tone clearly pissed we were interrupted.

"just checking" the person says to which abby hums to.

"thanks" is all I hear from her before the person's footsteps lightly fade away.

Abby lifts the blanket from my head smoothing back my hair and pecking my lips three times.

"round three at home?"

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i wrote this half asleep so really hoping i don’t regret publishing this tomorrow but bye bye ily mwahh

[vidavalor]

hi there 👋 i love reading your good omens metas. i'm wondering if you have any thoughts on aziraphale's line to crowley in 1967: "i can't have you risking your life, not even for something dangerous". this always sticks out as odd to me. obviously he doesn't want crowley risking his life for any reason, so why this weird qualifier?

Hi @mybelovedismine Thank you so much. :) I am so sorry it took me awhile to get back to you. Love me some 1967 Crowley & Aziraphale and this question is great. Cheers.

1967/Holy Water Era/some S2 Aziraphale meta under the cut.

If you go back-- and I mean way back-- to the very opening bit of GO 1.01, it opens with what seems at first like it's just a quirky, funny scene introducing God and her sense of humor and the show's sense of humor. It is all of that but it also contains what I think is a really important piece of information-- especially with relation to the 1967 scene-- which is the date that Earth began in the GO universe. Crowley and Aziraphale don't know exactly when the end of the world will come but they know "about" when-- and that is a ticking clock running in the background for them for millennia.

The date that God gives us for the creation of Earth at the opening of S1 means that 6,000 years exactly would math out to October 21, 2004... but we also know that they don't know if it's going to be *exactly* 6,000 years. It could have been 5,900. It could have been 6,500 or anything in between. It winds up the super-cruel 6,004 years, beginning in 2008 in S1. What is clear to Crowley & Aziraphale is that their experience is closer to that of humans in a way because even though 6,000 years would be a very long time to humans, it's "nothing", as Angel!Crowley put it in Before the Beginning, to Crowley & Aziraphale... and there has always been a very good chance that it's all they will ever have together.

Their relationship is like someone turned over an hourglass on the wall at Eden and it's been dripping sand steadily in the background this whole time. It's partially why their relationship accelerates a little faster over the last few centuries, imo. There is a chance they're running out of time together. Armageddon means the Great War between Heaven and Hell and they are an angel and a demon. Whatever side wins the war is the one who will live on for all of eternity. The other one won't survive it-- or, even if they did, they won't be able to be with each other. Not to mention that Armageddon means that, regardless of who wins the Heaven and Hell war, Earth will be destroyed and their life on it together will be over.

Aziraphale always thinks Heaven will win. He always thinks it's him who will have to spend eternity alone. Part of this is because he has to tell himself that Heaven is still the side of good, even if it's flawed, because he can barely deal with the guilt over being part of the machine that's caused Crowley so much pain. Aziraphale also thinks, though, that maybe when the time comes, they can find a way out of it all, somehow.

In close to 6,000 years, the best plan they've got for dealing with this is Crowley's plan to just run away to Alpha Centauri and hope that no one notices that they're deserters. (So, not a great plan, but also they're up against the will of God here so kind of hard to try to work out a way around that.) In S2, Aziraphale is so desperate-- SO desperate-- for a way to not have to lose Crowley that he is willing to entertain the idea that he can trust The Metatron's word and beg Crowley to come to Heaven with him and be an angel again just so that they can be together forever. Aziraphale doesn't need Crowley to be an angel to know he's good and to love him-- he already knows and feels those things. He loves him so much that he can't bear the thought that he could lose him. He's never been able to bear that thought.

In 1967, they were running out of time and it's something that became increasingly intense for them the closer the years got to 2004 and the day they would hit 6,000 years since the Earth's creation.

In 1967, they were down to 37 years until 6,000 years were up, so the end of the world was, to them, a moment away.

It's not hard to see how Crowley wants to carpe diem and go for broke, in case it's all they'll ever have. He wants to be a little less careful. To try for the things they haven't been able to give each other while they've had to be a secret for so long. 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all', right? And they have loved, do love, are loving in 1967... but Crowley feels the time slipping away and his anxiety is dialed up to eleven under that cool exterior and Aziraphale knows him like he knows the back of his hand and he can see where this is all going... and it's not where either of them want it to go.

Think of this from Aziraphale's point of view...

Aziraphale is an angel. His soul is saved. He is meant to survive Armageddon. That, to him, is actually something of a curse at this point because it means that he'll live for eternity. For *all* of time. An absolutely incomprehensible amount of time. Neverending time. The kind of amount of time that would make 6,000 years feel like less time than it took you to blink while reading this sentence. And if everything goes according to what they know of God's Ineffable Plan or Great Plan or Whatever The Fuck It Is lol, he's going to live through all of this time alone.

Without Crowley.

Forget even the end of Earth and humanity (and that's hard to forget lol), Aziraphale is slated for a post-apocalyptic return to Heaven and a celestial cubicle and spending all of time with Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon and no food and no books and no music and even all of that, he could stand, if only he could just have Crowley with him and he can't.

Because Crowley's a demon. He's fallen. He's eternally damned. Heaven has socialized angels to believe that the war between Heaven and Hell that Armageddon triggers will be the big triumph of Heaven over Hell. Aziraphale tells himself he believes it but he's honestly more *terrified* of it than devoted to the idea. Heaven triumphing over Hell could kill Crowley. It's what Aziraphale is *supposed* to want as an angel but it's actually *the exact opposite* of what he wants. He adores Crowley. He will never-- in all of the infinite time to come-- ever get over Crowley and he knows it.

Even if Crowley somehow survives The Great War 2.0, Earth will still be gone and Crowley's fate is eternity in dark, cramped, literally painful damnation in Hell. There is no way for them to be together without thwarting the will of God and Aziraphale is an angel-- his entire purpose as a being is to serve God. It's what he was made *by God* to do, as far as he's been taught, and he mostly believes it... it's just that he also thinks he was made for Crowley.

This isn't just what Crowley thinks. Crowley isn't wrong that this is a mutual feeling:

Aziraphale felt that then, too, and he's never stopped feeling it. It blends sometimes with his faith in God-- something that, ironically, he sometimes thinks Crowley somehow has more of than he does. If God made him and God made Crowley and if God made them for each other, then it can't really be just to take them away from each other after such a short time, can it? Maybe they're meant for some other purpose in all of it?

But this is the same God that Aziraphale knows can be cruel...

Aziraphale has gone up against the will of God countless times over the years now and he is, for reasons he doesn't understand, somehow still an angel.

It seems unjust and honestly pretty profane to him that *he* is the holy one when Crowley's been through--quite literally-- Hell, for thousands of years, and his biggest sin is being curious. It is very hard to be told that you were created for the purpose of representing the side of good in a war against good and evil but to then, over and over and over, find yourself believing that the good guys are maybe not so good... all the while falling deeper in love by the day with a being your side calls 'demonic' and 'evil' but whom you know to be a sweet, romantic, smart, gentle, funny, kind cinnamon roll. Crowley is a demon and he's the best angel Aziraphale knows.

Now imagine you've all those conflicts and you're running out of time and staring down the end game of all of this and when you've got maybe, if you're lucky, a century and a half left or so worth of sand is still in the top half of the hourglass (mid-1800s), Crowley starts to pull away from you.

He's honestly never done it to this extent before. He trusts you with a surprising amount of himself and has since early days and, in recent centuries, you were happy together-- as happy as your situation would allow and that was more than you ever thought you'd have. This is the same being whose willingness to push through his fear of being vulnerable to have something honest and intimate with you has had you in awe of his bravery since you met. He taught you how to do that and now he's putting up walls you can't scale and slamming shut every open door.

You were happy together and then, you went on a date in Edinburgh in 1827 and suddenly, the centuries of peace and of getting away with it all ended in a literal second when Crowley got dragged to Hell two feet away from you. Hell didn't find out about the two of you or about Elspeth-- they were pissed about the human grave guards that Crowley accidentally sent to Hell for shooting Wee Morag-- but Crowley comes back a couple of weeks later and it's like it's all over already.

He's badly shaken. They hurt him. He spent time in Hell not sure if they had found out about you or if you were still alive. The anxiety, depression, and PTSD he has from being cast out of Heaven and a lifetime of trying to survive being a demon of Hell goes into overdrive and you don't know what to do. You've always been good at helping him. Nothing works. The bookshop-- your home but his, too, in your mind, the safest space he can go to to get away from Hell and get some rest-- isn't enough. He's not coming around the way he used to. He doesn't want to talk about any of it. The connection between the two of you-- emotionally, sexually-- feels like it's eroding. It hurts more than you want to admit. Your relationship de-evolves for almost 35 years as you watch the spark seem to go out of him. You don't know how to fix it and you try everything you can think of. You can understand how the ticking clock makes it all hurt more and you don't want him to be in any pain-- ever-- and you'd go away entirely if it was what he really wanted but neither of you know how to say goodbye because you both know that neither of you actually want to.

He's your best friend. He's the only one like you in the universe. You're both miserable and lonely without each other and it seems stupid to spend the last years you might ever get together apart but it also seems impossible to ever get back to where you were. Then, one day, after *years* of this, he asks you for the one thing that can *kill him*...

In the moment, all you can think about is that he wants to die because he's seemed like he does for decades now. All you can think of is that he is in so much pain and he wants nothing from you but the means by which to end it.

He's your lover. Imagine being told by the being with whom you've spent countless pleasurable hours in bed that all he wants from you now is a suicide pill.

He used to laugh. He used to be silly and hilariously dry-humored. He used to flirt with you and gaze at you from the couch on the bookshop, all pretty yellow eyes and lounging limbs, and now he's spine-straight stiff, like the pain is what's holding up. He arranges meetings in the park instead of coming over. He wears his glasses, all the time. You can't remember when the last time you saw his eyes was.

All of it says to you that you aren't enough and then he asks you to give him a suicide pill and you're broken-hearted-- you're just broken, period at the thought of him in so much pain-- and you're angry. You're furious. How dare he do this to you? You've been in love for millennia. He is your best friend. How dare he shut you out and leave you alone when you are going to be alone without him for the rest of bloody time?!

You're so in your feelings about him shutting you out that you know you have been failing at caring for him and not really helping the situation for awhile now. Your defenses have been up for awhile. Years, probably. You're caustic and, frankly, pretty bitchy in your bitterness. It's a little twisted but you've tried everything else and maybe if you could even just make him angry, it'd at least be something. He's barely spoken above a whisper in thirty years and sometimes you think about him off his head on laudanum in Edinburgh, drawing you to him magically by your bow tie to look at you over his glasses, inches away, and how you didn't know that was going to be the last time he ever really flirted with you.

So, when he asks you for holy water in 1862, you do your best to piss him off, since he won't accept anything else from you lately. You used to be wildly compatible and now you're broken and you're angry because God was always going to break your heart by taking him from you but he was never supposed to. He was supposed to love you-- those things neither of you say-- to the end.

You did get him angry. You both got angry. So angry that it felt over.

It wasn't. You saw each other again in the interim and it didn't just magically heal itself, like you wished it would, because you regretted how you reacted to the request for holy water but somehow talking about it felt too much.

Because you thought you might have understood it more afterwards.

Because you began to understand that he felt vulnerable. That he needed to feel like he could defend himself and, if it came to it, you. That maybe he didn't want to die-- maybe he wanted to live. That this was him asking you to help him figure out how to feel safe again-- something you've actually always been good at-- and you were so afraid, too, that you handled it badly.

Maybe one of the things you were afraid of in the moment was the way he talked about it going wrong, going pear-shaped, about him wanting insurance... about how there wasn't a way to reframe that in your mind to not mean that he meant he was willing to kill a demon in your defense or his-- which could kill him. It could send a legion after him and destroy him. There was so much that could go wrong. No matter what Crowley wanted holy water for, his death felt like it was the end game. You would throw yourself into Hellfire before you did anything that could cause him harm.

He had been pulling away for years but there he was saying I would kill for you. I would die for you. and that was the closest either of you had ever come to saying I'm in love with you. and you weren't sure what was more dangerous: saying those truths you both knew and felt or holy water.

Crowley didn't bring it up again and neither did you. You're useless without one another so you saw each other again within the next couple of decades. The Old West in America. Back in London in the 1920s and times in between. Neither of you ever discussed the Holy Water fight or what it meant. You secretly learned to drive, for the future, just in case, when he turned up stupidly in love with a car in 1928. You would die for that dumb car if only because of how Crowley smiled when he turned up to take you for a ride.

Over time, Crowley seemed to get a bit better and your heart burst just looking at him, even if it also ached with the knowledge that you had made it harder and hadn't known that time how to help when he needed it.

Then, 1941. The Blitz. Bombs raining down over London and the world on the brink of nuclear annihilation and maybe, just like the humans, you both thought this might be it. Time slowed to surviving each night and every moment felt like it could be the last and maybe that's why you both wanted a different ending.

Crowley always did prefer the funny ones.

In the middle of it, Crowley joked about holy water-- the first time either of you had mentioned it in 80 years-- and you heard it there, woven into his quiet, coded but undisputable, confessions of love. It was for you, it was about you, it was to keep you safe... it was because you were two feet away from me when they took me and I want to be with you to the end and it's the only thing that can help me keep you safe from them.

He doesn't ask you for it again. You know why. Things are good. He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want you to reject him again. He doesn't want to admit again that he feels unsafe. You think about giving him some after 1941 more than once but you are now afraid of what it might say to him if you do.

Because you could both be almost out of time, if everything goes pear-shaped when the clock runs out on about 6,000 years, and Crowley wants to try for more.

You both want forever. You both aren't sure that you'll even get tomorrow. The world is speeding up in 1967-- has been for decades now-- and you think Crowley is caught up in it. You both live in London, in SoHo, you'd be as safe as you could be. You'd blend in enough. It's too dangerous, though. It's not the humans you're afraid of, really-- not that the human world has ever been safe for your and Crowley's kind of love and you aren't sure that it will get there before it's all over. What you're afraid of is that you'll get caught by Heaven and Hell and you'll lose him before the about 6,000 years is up-- and then you will have no chance at all, whatsoever, of forever.

Crowley doesn't think he'll make it. He doesn't say so but his actions say so and his situation suggests it. He wants to go faster. He doesn't demand it, doesn't pressure you, but he periodically gently asks and you have to let him down somehow, you have to get him to slow down. It's not that you don't want him. If there were no risk to him, you'd never try to put up a speed bump. It's just that you are hopeful.

Ironically, you're hopefulness-- your optimism-- it comes from him.

He's brilliant. He's clever. Maybe, somehow, the two of you will find a way out of this.

You don't want to watch the world burn. You don't want to watch billions of humans and a whole planet and a whole solar system-- Crowley's nebulae-- destroyed for no reason and as much as you should be willing to go along with the Almighty's will, it's fucking ineffable and you secretly aren't sure if you believe in a God that would do this. You struggled during The Flood. You struggled over Job and Sitis' kids...

...if you are honest with yourself (and you are more than you care to admit), you struggle to be faithful to a God who has caused Crowley so much pain.

You think that, somehow, when the time comes, you and Crowley might find a way around it. How? You have no idea. None. But you think there is a chance that you could figure it out and so long as there is a chance-- even one, single, tiny, chance-- that somehow you and Crowley could survive it all and be together forever, you are not going to let him do something stupid and get himself killed trying to be together now.

You are not letting your far-sighted lover trip over his snake legs and go head-first into a faunt of stolen holy water that you could have given him safely 105 years ago, when he asked for it, and you fucked it all up...

You make him some. You use your powers and your essence and your body and turn water into a weapon for him. The real thing. The holiest.

You understand what it is to him now. It's not death; it's life. He doesn't want either of you to be in pain. He doesn't want to be left alone. He wants to feel safer. To be able to protect you from what Hell put him through and worse. He doesn't want to leave you. He wants a chance in Hell at surviving what's to come and an out for if it all goes pear-shaped and you want him to live and not to suffer and only you can give that to him.

You understand that now. It was never that you didn't trust him. It was that you didn't trust yourself.

You put it in a tartan thermos that silently says your anxious, emotional ass best thing of me before you ever decide to use this.

It also says this is for you to keep and it is of me and I know that's a risk if you ever get caught with it. I trust you to keep it hidden, like you do us, and protect me. This is for you and it looks like me and you know when the tartan started and why... you know it was because of our night in Edinburgh in 1827... you know it was the night they took you and I didn't know if I'd ever see you again and you know I've been wearing this pattern of us for 140 years and that I always will.

It's just that you also can't let him think that giving it to him is an assent of sorts. If Heaven or Hell ever found out you did this, they'd destroy you both.

So you rushed over with holy water, your tie undone, catching him before he can go any further with his scheme to pay humans to steal him some and you waited for him in the safety of The Bentley, one of the only places the two of you can actually talk with some expectation of privacy, and when he asks, you have to talk him out of it. You have to break his heart a bit. You have to disappoint him. You have to try to protect him from himself a bit or you'll lose him.

You tell him that you're giving him the holy water because you can't let him risk his life "not even for something dangerous." Dangerous is trying for more between you than there already is. You aren't rejecting him outright and he knows that. You never have, really. You see each other in secret. You have been for more years than either of you can count. You rely on each other to help each other to the right speed.

You need him to tempt you into giving yourself permission to do what you want and need but aren't sure you can or should. He needs you to help him keep from spiralling from anxiety.

He gets you to go a little faster-- not too much, at a pace you feel comfortable with. You get him to slow down-- gently, tenderly. You are both able to trust each other with your vulnerabilities and that's why it works.

He's blinded by the world changing in ways both exhilarating and also terrifying, by it breaking apart at the seams increasing his fear of running out of time.

You've been together for thousands of years.

You don't stay the night; you've never had breakfast together. You've never risked taking each other's hands in public. You've never directly said I love you.

If you can get him to see how dangerous it all still is-- because it is-- then maybe you can keep him alive long enough to have a shot of neither of you ever having to worry about losing each other again.

Somehow, it's not much different now than it was before the beginning. He's always been like this. Optimistic, progressive, free-thinking. Innovative. It might get you both out of all of it yet but it won't in 1967. He is caught up in the emerging new, human world and it's a heady cocktail when mixed with his existential terror. He's going to get himself fucking killed. You know better, just as you knew better before The Beginning. You know that too many questions, too much risk, will draw a metaphorical sniper's bead to his head. And you know that, on some level, he knows he needs you to rein him.

It's an era of freer sex and free love and wild, progressive music and art but... it's also an era of war and violence and assassinations... and Heaven and Hell are so far removed from Earth that it would take another 6,000 years to get them anywhere near close to this.

Crowley knows this, intellectually. You know he knows. He just feels the sand trickling faster and faster and there's hardly any of it left now.

You know how that feels-- you feel it, too. Every time you look at him. Everytime he slips away out the backdoor of the bookshop with a soft kiss and an even softer g'night, angel and you wonder if that was the last time.

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

Crowley sees All You Need is Love but you can see December 8, 1980 coming at some point down the road. You've both been on this planet long enough to know what they do to the first ones who break away, to the ones who go against the grain, and the humans are no different from Heaven and Hell in that way. You cannot tell him yes or you will be killing you both.

You put it on yourself a bit. He goes too fast for you, you tell him. It's not untrue. He does. It's just that if it all were different, you'd never refuse him anything. You hope he hears it as your issue, not his, though you doubt he will. It is so hard to look at him and tell him no when all he is saying he wants is the chance to love you more.

God, there are days when you think he might kill you if he were to love you any more than he does. You don't know what you ever did to deserve his love. You don't know how you survived before you met him or how you are supposed to if you lose him.

"You go too fast for me" is what you say and you know he understands that it means:

You'll burn us fast and bright and it will be amazing but it will *end*. They will catch us. They will kill us. I can't lose you. If I thought all we could ever have would be just a short, few years, then I wouldn't deny you but I think we could find a way to have forever. Somehow. I have hope for that. I get that hope *from you.* I need you to slow down because I can't watch you get yourself killed. I'm not strong enough to lose you. I need you to let me pace this for awhile...

You want him to know you understand, that you feel it all, too. So, you tell him of the things you'd like to do, if it was safer, not knowing if it ever will be. The things you choose are of all of these holy water years. A picnic-- one implied to be in the daylight, in this future you're both imagining, this world you hope to one day see emerge. He had tried to take you on a graveyard one at midnight in 1827. You know that had been what that would have been had you not ran into Elspeth. The two of you sneaking around in the dark, as always, but together. Alive. Maybe, you tell him now, you could one day have that picnic together under the sun. You think you can see that world. You have no idea how it arrives but he's not wrong. You can see some things changing here and there's always hope that things could change with Heaven and Hell. He has taught you to keep the faith in how he's survived the worst and remains optimistic.

Maybe, one day, you could be angels dining at The Ritz. It is intentional that you reference World War II. It is a way-- the only way you can right now-- to tell him you love him, as you both did in your own ways during The Blitz. It is saying:

I love you. I would love that life with you. I won't give up on the idea of it-- of having more than a short burst of it. That is why I need you to slow down and stay safe. It's too dangerous for more right now. Take the holy water and take a breath. You're okay. You have me. We keep *each other* safe, remember? Slow down. I need you with me forever.

[minjiarchive]

distance apart | jiu x fem!reader

not requested but i'll work on requests after! also just to let everyone know there's gonna be a cliffhanger at the end but listen, i'm planning to make a pt2

warnings / smut, phone sex, kinda a long ass fic btw 😭

These last few weeks have been hard. They've been frustrating and honestly, you've been pent up this whole week. You haven't been able to give yourself a damn break and it frustrates you. But your mood suddenly softens when Minji calls you, her endearing contact filling your heart with relief. She always knows what to say when you have a bad day, her soft voice bringing you at peace.

This call though... just seemed like she wanted to bring you to a different mood.

“Aww, you've missed me haven't you?” She asks although she doesn't need an answer for that because she knows you do.

“I have... I want to see you already,” Minji can imagine you pouting through the screen and she can't help but smile at the thought.

“Such an impatient girl,” she teases, your face getting flustered at the way she describes you, “you've been more needy since the last time I saw you.”

You'd joke that she's been spying on you since your business trip started because she's right. It's not easy not having her by your side or there to give you the proper comfort. You could survive a few more days without her, you needed to be alive to see her anyway.

“That's because I don't have your hands on me 24/7.”

There's a hum from her and then a long pause. The silence fills both ends with tension and you weren't sure if it was good or bad tension. Maybe that was too bold to say? Fuck, I shouldn't have said that in the first place. You felt awkward now, your thoughts making you feel even more embarrassed.

The prolonged silence was too much to bare so you broke the tension by groaning out, “I'm sorry, I just-”

“Have you been a good girl for me?”

She cuts you off before you can even apologize, her voice low and husky through the phone. You're suddenly met with heat that travels throughout your body, making your lower center warm and throbbing.

It's a question that catches you so off guard that you don't even know how to process it.

“What?”

'What' is all you can say because you're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. From an embarrassingly long silence to asking you such a bold question had you questioning everything.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” Minji chuckles but in a way that she's mocking you.

Your hands grip the sheets and you don't know why but you assume that her condescending tone is so fucking hot that you're left speechless.

In which you are.

“Answer me.”

You're so dumbfounded that you forgot that this all isn't happening through text, where you could easily just leave her on read and hope for the best. It's all happening in real-time.

“I-I've been good, Minji,” you whisper.

“You haven't been touching yourself without my permission, have you?” Minji wonders if you've made it this far without cumming. It's all decided by you though, whether she treats you like a slut or her good girl.

“N-No, I haven't.”

She's shocked but happy, the plan she set up for you is all going well.

“That's my girl,” she praises, making you melt so easily.

“It sounds like you deserve a reward for it then.”

Your eyes lit up at the sound of that, you might finally receive the release you've been wanting all this time. That is if you stay truthful and good to her but that isn't something you have to worry about.

“Did you see the toy I brought along in your suitcase?”

Another one of Minji's questions that has your head spinning with another 'What?' You had two suitcases, one with your essentials and another with all your clothes. You focused more on the suitcase with your clothes so you must've not realized that she put something in your luggage.

You have another one of your moments and decide to check your suitcase, and you were right. It was covered under everything else you packed, a dildo. It had to be one of your favorites that she used on you and you almost drooled on the spot when you saw it.

“Oh my god...” you say, clearly struck at the fact that she packed a toy for you.

“You're so cute. I put it with your luggage because I've been thinking about doing this with you.” You swore that if you stood up, your panties would be soaked. Instead, you just freeze and let her continue herself.

“I want you to put it inside while you're on the phone with me, I'll even let you ride it if you earn it.”

You're fucked.

You rush to the bed again and press your thighs tighter. You've been at a lost for words ever since she asked if you've been good for her, which happened 10 minutes ago.

“Hm? Would you like that, sweetheart?” Minji asks and you almost immediately reply with, “Yes please.”

You're obedient, almost too obedient that you'd allow Minji to do anything to you, but that's what she loves about you and she could never take it for granted.

Since you happily obliged, she smiles and says, “Good, put it inside of you then.”

“Start slow, don't put it in all the way yet,” making sure that the boundary is clear that you don't take it in all the way yet.

“Shit...”

“Does it feel good, love?”

She hears the single curse word and confirms that you're enjoying yourself but you add on,

“You feel so good, I've been needing this since I left.”

Minji herself felt her clit grinding against the friction of her pants, hungrily searching for some type of relief. You hear her breathing pick up from the other side of the phone and you take that to your advantage to think about how she'd sound like if she saw you like this.

Her arms holding one of your thighs to the side, digging her nails that would leave marks until the next day.

“My poor baby,” Minji cooed and your legs started spreading wider for her, “helplessly thinking about my strap buried inside of her, isn't that right?”

“Go deeper,” she growls.

“Oh god, please.” Your entire body shudders as you try to take it deeper. You've been so stressed out from work that your muscles have been more tense lately, Minji's been expecting it.

A stretch from your favorite toy would loosen you up, wouldn't it, princess?

You mumble to her how tight you are and how you can't take it – but she doesn't care really. She knows that she can treat you however she wants and not care how much you can take until you say the safe word so she's safe to continue.

The toy fills you up so much that you feel full but you're too greedy to stop. Your slick dripping down the length from how wet you are and it creates a mess underneath you. You speed up your pace and take it faster, hearing all the filthy sounds it makes as you pound yourself with the thought of Minji in your head.

“Tell me what I'd do if I was there with you.”

Minji could practically imagine and tell you what you're thinking of, she is the leader of her group at the end of the day. But her instincts leave her guessing, you must be thinking about a lot of things if she hears you this wet through the call. She takes in the pleasure of making you shy and hot in the face, knowing the result will always be you begging her to cum.

“You would force it all the way inside of me,” you manage out, “t-telling me that I'm your good girl while fuck-”

The mental images that mixed in with arousal made it nearly impossible to finish your sentence. You found yourself stuttering word after word and you weren't even sure if Minji understood what you said before that. It proved the easy access she had over you, so good to please and fuck.

You were both too deep to stop now so she encourages, “C'mon... Y/N, I know you can tell me.”

“While you shove your fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet,“ your own words having you rolling your hips harder into the toy.

“I'm so proud of you.”

Her praise never failed to boost your confidence and she can feel it through the screen, miles apart and her senses are still with you. Minji remembers it all so well. Bending you over while her fingers enter your mouth with ease, pulling them out all coated with your spit that she'll use to fill inside of you.

The memory sticks with her so well, she must remind you, “I'd have you choking around me so much, yet you're all alone in your hotel room...”

--

[callofdudes]

Keegan P. Russ x Autistic Reader

A/n: Once again, I myself am not autistic, I'm just here to try and spread love to you guys through characters. If any of this is wrong you can feel free to let me know ♥️

Keegan had a small circle. He didn't people a whole lot but mentoring the new kids that somehow ended up under his wing kind of became his thing. Like the unethical uncle whose closer in age to you than your parents kinda thing.

So when he heard you'd be joining the team he knew you were damn good. They hadn't had someone join for a while considering how tight knit that were, under the radar and skilled.

So whoever you were, you were worthy and Keegan could recognize that. Even if he'd test for himself your limits on field.

When you first met him he wasn't exactly what you'd expected. The others looked somewhat presentable and there was... Keegan. 😂😅

You were nervous to impress them and didn't want to fail. You were given the opportunity to work with the ghost team. You didn't want to screw it up.

When you met him, those first few days were extremely anxiety inducing. Shaking his hand and struggling to keep your eyes in one place.

"Eyes on me soldier."

"Sorry sir." You whispered, looking up at him briefly before your eyes darted away somewhere else again.

"Have trouble with eye contact soldier?"

"Yes sir... Sorry."

"That's fine. Just address me respectfully. We'll work on the eye contact."

You nod a little, following after him while Logan and Hesh follow after.

It didn't take too long. He eventually got his hands on your proper file instead of word of mouth and got to reading. This is where he discovered you are autistic.

Ah, so that explained eye contact. He doesn't know a lot about autism. He knows it makes a person neurologically different from others. But that was about it.

He just shrugged and went along with it, figuring he could learn from watching you. Since staying in the background and watching was his thing.

He watched you attempt to socialize with the others. They were all relatively quiet, all except for Hesh and Logan, who were riding the excitement of a new member.

They were a family and happy to welcome you and your skills in.

Over time Keegan got to noticing little things about you. How you flinched and at louder noises and your nose scrunched whenever you accidentally touched something you didn't like.

Especially the masks that they had for you guys to optionally wear. They were scratchy and tight and just didn't feel the best. Immediately turning down the offer to wear it.

Keegan noticed how you are your food, what you would refuse and what you'd eat. Your little organized piles, as well as with your new room.

Huh, autism definitely had its perks. That what he thought at first. One mission where you were forced to wear the mask for clearance purposes changed that.

You were stuck in this tight, itchy thing. It made your face too hot and pulled at your cheeks. You kept tugging it and trying to move it, scrunching up when it rubbed on your skin.

"Keep up kid." Keegan called behind him as he walked further along the old road. Your feet picked back up, silently following while trying to just get over the feeling of the mask.

Everything was going good, the air was quiet, the enemies were still. The ghost team doing what it did best.

Until the stress, the mask, the smell of the air through the fabric, and something inside you all too familiar snapped.

You dropped your gun at your hilt, immediately clawing at the thing desperately. Keegan whipped around, gun aimed until he saw it.

"Kid- kid, easy." He went over, attempting to pull your hands away but tears filled your eyes. "Get it off- get it off! Get it off!" You choked, voice cutting into nothing.

"You need to keep it on, it's fine."

You sobbed, finally pulling the edge, trying to rip it off your face, so Keegan stepped in. Pushing your back against the wall, his knee pressing into you as he gently pulled the mask off, letting you breathe.

Your back against the wall was grounding, breathing in air, rubbing your sweaty face of the afterfeeling. "Easy... Keep your head in the game, kid."

After that Keegan decided to do some more digging. He hadn't seen you looked so panicked.

That's where he learned about your sensitivity to different things and how textured, tastes, smells, touch, all can be affected.

And he felt that protectiveness. He didn't have to, but he went to the main office and got a different mask approved. It was a smoother, almost silk texture. Not too heavy, and it was loose. Next mission he gave it to you.

"Kid, try this." He tossed you the mask and in a last second you caught it, looking at it. "For me?" You looked back up at him.

"Keep your helmet on straight, you should be fine." He grabs his gun, nodding. "Wanna help you do your job right, right?"

You smiled softly. "Right."

From that point on Keegan pretty much adopted you. You were a good fighter, sometimes getting overwhelmed. When you were alone down in the compound with the others in the building, he was there.

"Keegan..."

"Talk to me kid, what do ya need?"

"I don't know what to do..." Your breathing was picking up as you looked at all the corners and empty fields.

Keegan nodded, grabbing the monitor. "Alright, couple feet in front of you, then you'll make a left. Should be two guys at the end of that wall. Take them down."

Keegan walked you through. It became habit to help you through when you needed it or felt unsure and overwhelmed.

And if anyone attempted to bully you or point it out? I pray for their soul, because God is the last thing they'll be talking to after that.

Keegan is pretty protective of you, and overtime You've grown closer to you. You opened up about your life with autism over drinks one evening. Telling him about the good and the bad.

Keegan wasn't the hugest talker, so he listened. Eyes on you, he tipped his drink to his mouth as you talked about autism. And then slowly throughout telling some of your life story you dragged onto topics of your favorite game characters or action figures. Iconic music people you liked or movies. And Keegan listened with interest.

You two talked until the bar closed and Keegan covered the tab, escorting you out the door.

"Keegan." You touched his arm.

He turned before getting in the car, looking at you. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. People usually say I'm annoying... You listened though."

Keegan hummed. "Always listening kid. Always."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes playfully. You got in the car and the two of you headed home.

After a nightmare of the battlefield, you would usually just hide. Your weight blanket under your bed usually worked. Your other squadmates hated you and you first started having nightmares around them.

But this time, breathing heavy, tears in your eyes, you found yourself at Keegan's door.

Keegan grumbled as he unlocked it and looked at you. "Kid... Y'ok?"

You shake your head, trembling. "Can I... Stay with you?"

There was a tense moment. Keegan didn't let many people into his room, or his bed, for any reason on that matter. But something tugged on that heart of his buried somewhere in there.

"Come in. Get comfy as you need."

You nodded gratefully and came over. Keegan let you lay down, smelling the familiar smell of Keegan on the sheets. Seeing his room for the first time. If was dark, there weren't any vibrant colors or patterns so it wasn't as much to look at.

But sometimes that's nice.

Keegan sat in the chair by his desk, looking at you, watching you get all situated in bed.

"Keegan can..." You sniffed. "Can you lay on top of me?"

He frowned. "What for?"

"Just... Please, it's complicated."

Keegan could see in your eyes you weren't pulling his leg so he did. Crawling into bed, making sure you were comfy on your back before slotting himself on top of you, arms wrapped around you a little, head settling.

"This ok?"

You wrapped your arms around him tightly. "Yes, thank you." You whispered. And within 20 minutes you were back asleep. With a warm, known body against yours.

Keegan has got your back. It's something you've slowly come to realize over time. Whether it be helping with food, environment, being a giant human weight blanket, talking you through missions, letting you ramble about anything you'd like.

You found yourself smiling with this family. Getting a chuckle out of him as you rambled on and on about things you wanted so desperately to talk about. Stuff someone was willing to hear.

This was a place that made you feel safe, a person you felt safe with.

Keegan could probably do some more research, and he promises he will find the time for it, but for now, he will learn alongside you as you grow more and more into an even better soldier.

[suengmi]

can you do where boyfriend! skz are teasing w reader but say a joke that hurts their feelings and they realize and immediately apologize and make it up to you (fluff)

hi anon!! ty for being my first ask, im excited to write! not sure if you wanted full stories/drabbles but i hope you like what i did! <3 also i'm a bit unwell and drained from work so pls be kind. took so long because i ended up writing a lot for some.... like a lot OOPS i trailed off a bit to make it more realistic but asjsdkkjasd anyways im sorry if it's not exactly what u wanted ;_; i did my best, plus i didn't want to make it all the same i guess? but yeah about .6k for each member!

warnings will be written below member names!! all under the cut~

warnings for all: not completely proof read but wanted to answer this prompt asap!! i'm half asleep it's 3am pls also all gender neutral!

┋bang chan ┋

context: grocery store is never fun, especially when your boyfriend doesn't know how hard it can be for you. new!relationship, domestic bliss grocery shopping for a night in

warnings: slight ableism??? before he knows??? idk, chan a bit spicy with his words so not complete fluff my b, some cussing, not the fluffiest pls im sorry idk what HAPPENED

word count: .6k

chan grunts at you, eyes rolling, "i told you it's the wrong one you dumb dumb. "

you look down at the japanese curry powder, trying to make sense of the words written before you. you haven't been with chan for long, but he's treated you better than anyone you've ever met. he's kind, giving and always knows how to make you feel better. he knows that you're happier when it rains, he knows that you get angry whenever you lose a game, he loves that you always defeat him at uno and enjoys how you make a week long parade about it. he already loves you but definitely doesn't know it yet.

there is one thing you're still trying to gauge about chan is how sometimes he can shoot first and ask questions later, and this is one of those moments.

chan frowns, pointing at the curry packet in your hand. "this is the spicy one."

"i'm sorry." you say in a low tone, still trying to read the packet but the font is harder to read, "they look the same."

chan snatches the packet from your hand, placing it back next to the seemingly same ones. "well maybe if you read it you properly for once. i had the runs for like 2 days last time. you know me and spicy no agree."

"i can't.... sometimes."

chan turns to you. "huh?"

you take in a deep breath and speak fast, "i have dyslexia."

"what?" he questions confused.

it's then when the penny drops after a moment of silence. realization a wave over him, all the times he told you to read properly, how many times he made tut noises at your replies not having complete context and how he would grunt when you didn't comprehend something.

"why didn't you tell me? there's nothing wrong with that...?" he prods, gaze gentle towards you.

you fumble with your hands, picking at the skin at the sides of your thumb, your mind trying to find what to say. "i dunno."

he sounds so apologetic when he eventually speaks, he wonders how he could have been stupid. it makes sense. all the times you've told him about your ex and how he called you stupid and dumb for not reading well, making fun of you and saying you just don't pay attention. "i made fun of you so much... wow i'm a dick-

"no it's okay" you interrupt him, a small smile on your lips not wanting him to be hurt.

chan purses his lips while taking your hands in his. he looks at your eyes, his own intense and apologetic. "no- it's not okay, i make fun of you so much for thinking you just didn't pay attention, shit, i'm sorry. i joke all the time about how your brain is always else where."

and with that chan knows that he definitely could have picked up the pieces earlier, that you said it to him, without words. "i'm just... fuck i'm sorry."

"i just you know with my ex they-"

chan pulls you in for a tight hug, as if hushing the words you were about to spill, your glasses pushed against your eyes but you don't mind. he smells like fresh baby powder, his own scent you love mixing in with the clothes he's wearing. you know chan's going to make up for it and that he'll do everything to make you feel better. because you love him too, you just don't know it yet either.

﹋﹋﹋

┋changbin ┋

context: changbin loves working out and you love watching him, even if you don't think he doesn't know. freshly known feelings, uni!au, living together in dorm (i know you said !boyfriend but this was too good not to write hehe)

warnings: CHANGBIN SHAMELESSLY FLIRTING ACK, implications of taking a relationship further (physically), voyeur reader lmao

word count: .5k

you turn your gaze over to your friend, housemate or whatever you two had going on was called. you'd never really thought of changbin as someone you'd like, his gentle an soft nature was a contrast to the man currently a few metres away from you. weights in hand and grunts slipping from his mouth. you lean your head back to get a better angle, the veins on his arm revealing themselves. you knew he liked you and you liked him, but neither of you would dare to open that pandoras box. well, not until tonight.

it's a moment later that changbin stops his routine, almost meeting your stare. you raise your brows, attention turning back to the laptop in front of you. what on earth was i doing? you think, pretending to type something into the computer.

"thirsty?" he asks you, pretending he didn't noticed your eyes on him every now and then for the last half hour.

you turn your attention to him "wha?"

he laughs into his chest, stretching out his arms, "you have drool on the side of your mouth."

"i do- i do not!" you say slamming the laptop down, folding your arms on your chest knowing you've been caught.

changbin laughs, sitting down on the couch next to you, "didn't know i owned a dog."

you had no idea he could be this cheeky, making fun of you for simply watching him. after all, you were perving in a sense.

"don't make fun of me! i know i was... watching."

a smile dances on his lips, knowing that you can be sensitive to these things. "i'm sorry." he almost sounds apologetic... almost. "but... it's just too good to catch you out." he says in a slow almost seemingly mocking way.

"stop it." you mumble, facing the other way. "you know i have issues with... bringing this stuff up."

changbin tugs on your ear to gain your attention, feeling bad for making you feel slightly uncomfortable. but hey, you were the one watching. he smiles and says, "i know i know, i'm just teasing. i'm really sorry."

"i know but... please don't, this is hard for me."

"okay okay," he whines, gently lacing his fingers in yours, testing the waters to see if you'd be okay with this affection. "i promise i won't make fun of you, but if you wanna watch feel free to, don't have to be shy about it."

a blush dances across your cheeks and ears, your tummy suddenly feeling a knot of embarrassment grow. "changbiiiin." you groan, planting your face into the couch cushion.

"okay maybe i lied, i'll definitely enjoy making fun of you."

﹋﹋﹋

┋hyunjin ┋

context: you hate feet. hyunjin thinks it's funny. established!relationship, living together

warnings: obvi mentions of feet?? mentions of vomit

word count: .6k

hyunjin knew you hated feet, just how they looked, how they acted and gripped on the damn floor whenever someone would walk bare foot. hyunjin loved walking around the house barefoot, and it sometimes made you feel woozy, just the image of your own feet touching the floor... imagine. you shivered at the thought, sitting down on the couch next to your boyfriend, his feet dangling off the edge of the couch.

you pat your legs, instructing him wordlessly to lay on your lap. he complies without a thought, scooching back and nestling his head into your soft legs. he let's out a gentle "mm" as he settles in. "soft" he coos, rubbing his head a few times before turning his attention back to his switch.

after another episode of your favourite show, hyunjin suddenly brings his feet up, inspecting one of them. "i think i have glass in this one."

"do you need to do that here?" you say in a tone, eyes avoiding the grippers in sight.

"nah can you just check this one?" he says with difficulty, throwing his foot back towards your face. if you weren't so grossed out you'd probably be impressed by his flexibility.

"hyunjin please--" you swat away his foot with your phone, pushing yourself back into the couch.

"nah see in the big toe right here."

"hyunjin! you know i hate feet stop!"

he struggles, folding his body further to get his left foot near you, "babe just look here near the nail."

and that's when you feel a lump in your throat, nearly retching at the sight. the rice dish you had earlier suddenly feeling not so settled.

"oh shit." hyunjin says in a shock turning his attention to you, hearing your strangled noise. "are you okay?"

"no i'm not okay, go away." you say behind your hand.

shit, he knows he did wrong. his seemingly funny joke was definitely taken too far. he feels bad, real bad. he knew you didn't like feet but not this much. it'd never really come into question the time you'd been together, but god he had no idea.

"jeez i'm sorry." he's unsure where to place his hands and fumbles, words not forming correctly.

you sit in silence for a moment before regaining your thoughts. "don't. fucking. do. that."

hyunjin's eyes are pleading, the guilt in his face almost makes you not want to get him back but then realise you can use this to your advantage. you look over at the massage oils on the table and back at him. "i have an idea."

and you know he'll do whatever it takes. he still had glass in his foot, but that wasn't important right now.

------

┋felix ┋

context: felix thinks your tummy is cute, but you're just not used to it.

warnings: mentions of weight, body issues, tight clothing, BUT ITS FLUFF I PROMISEEEE, felix just a silly soft goose

word count: .6k

"come out please." felix begs, head leaning against the door.

you're sitting in the bathroom on the floor, dressed in nothing but your boxer underwear and a tight bed shirt, felix's bed shirt. you can feel the anxiety seeping into your chest, the weight of reality hitting you. you and your boyfriend had been together for only a month, but this was the first night you were staying at his house. it was on a whim, since most of the trains and buses had stopped running. and of course, you had nothing to wear. so there you were, tight shirt and all. you've never been uncomfortable with your body, if anything you love your body. but for some reason the way that felix talked about your stomach irked you. maybe he meant it as a joke? what did he mean? either way you were upset and needed space for a moment.

"please, i didn't mean it like that." felix sighs against the door, "it's soft and i love it."

you cast a sad expression towards the door. still unwavering from your position. why do you have anxiety now about this? all he did was grab your tummy and tell you it's soft like a kitten belly, or how it reminds him of those marshmallows that fold and how much he loves it because it's you, and he loves you.

you hear nothing but the cracking of a knee, felix bending down to put his fingers through the gap of the door underneath. he splays his fingers like a cat trying to get in the bathroom, darting against the tiles.

"lemme in!" he chimes, grunting to get his fingers further in. "i'll get in either way!" he jokes, using both of his hands under door to attack. it makes you laugh. it reminds me of those videos of cats wanting to get into the bathroom, or videos of racoons grabbing food.

"am i close?" he jokes, moving his hands back and forth.

you groan, stifling a laugh as you get up to open the door. "not even." you say, being met with pleading eyes. you look down at him, his hands still pretending to search where the door once was.

but he suddenly swoops you into a hug, hands around your waist, his head pressed into your soft chest, enjoying the smell of his shirt mixing in with your scent.

you relinquish any negative thoughts you have, melting into the hug. "i know you didn't mean it like that but, i think i'm just nervous... because it's you."

he pulls back, arms still wrapped round your waist, probably a bit too tight. "it wasn't a joke, i do love it." his eye are filled with nothing but love and adoration for you, your body an your mind.

"just... choose different words, please... i'm not a roll of marshmallows."

felix pulls back suddenly before gently pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "tastes sweet." he retorts about your statement, ignoring your words before kissing you again.

"i'm-seri-ous." you say between kisses, you feel his his hands digging into your hips.

instead of stopping, he grins, love apparent in his eyes. "my marshmallow."

you roll your eyes, a bit of anxiety still in your throat but knowing he adores marshmallows, you figure it's okay for now.

﹋﹋﹋

┋jisung ┋

context: a park date is cute until you get attacked my a crow, jisung think's it's funny. established!relatonship

warnings: jisung being a weenie, swearing

word count: .5k

the ground collides with your chest, the mud clouding your vision and your new shirt you brought for the date probably ruined. yep, i definitely tripped and yes it was embarrassing. you think, shame in your chest. of all the days, why your one year anniversary?

all you hear is the cackle behind you getting louder, sharp inhales of breath echoing in your ears. jisung has no shame, actively laughing at you stacking it to the ground.

"ahaha! the crow!!" he gurgles still, bending forwards over the picnic blanket, almost choking on his spit.

"jisung!" you yell, getting to your feet, seeing the mess on the front of you. that fucking crow, why did it choose me?

"jisung!" you yell louder, stomping over to the blanket, definitely covered in mud, dripping behind you as you walk.

"i'm sorry babe i'm-" he says between breathes.

you grunt before wiping the mud from your chest, still feeling it covering half of your face. "it's not funny."

"it fucking is."

jisung's laughs come to a halt as he realised you're upset upset, not just whining like you usually do. he notices how your eyes are suddenly pooling with wells. he stands to his feet and gently holds out his hands, "baby-"

"no!" you grumble, pulling your arms away, tears rolling down your cheek. "i just bought this top. now it's ruined." your dejected tone unsettles jisung, instantly feeling bad for making fun of you.

he says nothing, confused on how to react. but he waits patiently, allowing you to let out your feelings. he's always been good at this, always been patient with you.

after a breath you look back at him, red rings dancing around your eyes.

he smirks as he walks over to the mud and plainly sits down in it as if it what he was meant to do all along. you let out a small laugh, your hands wiping the rest of the mud from your face.

"what?" he asks plainly, as if nothing is weird. he grabs a handful of the mud before pressing it to his shirt, and then another handful to his hair, rubbing it in. "what's funny?"

you laugh behind your mud covered hand walking over to him. he smiles up at you like a puppy, knowing that he's succeeded in making you feel better.

and there he is, completely covered in mud, way more than you are and in that moment you fall just a little bit more in love with him. you lean down and press a gentle but muddy kiss onto his lips.

he stares up at you with nothing else to say, just sitting in the mud. you decide to join him, plopping down next to him, hand in hand as you both just sit in silence and completely covered in mud.

with jisung you didn't always needs words, sometimes the things he did for you were enough.

﹋﹋﹋

┋lee know ┋

context: you're getting ready to go out with friends, but your hair has other ideas, established!relationship, living together.

warnings/other: kisses??? idk, cuss words

word count: .5k

"it's not working!" you huff, re-straightening the side of your bangs for the 6th time. minho was confused at first, wondering why you're so upset over something trivial and small from his point of view. but when he looks up from his phone to see you struggling, his left hand still lazily patting one of his cats. he speaks without thinking,

"it's definitely like a pigs tail." he chuckles, looking back at his phone. in his mind, he assumes that he was just making a light hearted joke, thinking it was cute the way you got so upset over something he coined as small. plus, pig tails are very cute if you think about it.

it wasn't until you made a little sob that he noticed how you were actually feeling. you stare in the mirror, realizing it in fact does look like a pigs tail.

"baby-" he let's out a small but gentle sigh, "i was joking,"

"no you weren't. it... does look like a pig tail." you say between a small dejected sob, lips curled down and hands at your side as you avoid the mirror.

"let me help?" he says so gently as he approaches the bathroom door. instead of letting him help, you just melt into his chest immediately, your sobs muffled by his shirt. "i look like shit." you say defeated.

he lets out a light laugh, kissing the top of your head a few times, "you never look like shit, you know... even with your pig tail."

you step back, immediately hitting the tight muscles of his chest with both of your fists, "fuck off i swear." you talk through your teeth, still frustrated but feeling the urge to laugh in your throat.

"there you are," he says pleased at your spice, fighting with you to place a kiss on your temple, your hand starts pushing on his jaw, his lips puckered and ready. "c'mere." he says through your fingers, still pushing his head towards you, his hands gripping at your neck. "let me-- love you."

after a few minutes of roughhouse struggle, you push him back, feeing slightly better. it's in this moment you realize that you in fact do not enjoy asking anyone for help. but you speak, dejected tone apparent. "yeah... please help."

and nothing else is said while he fixes your hair, gently pressing small kisses on your cheeks as he does so. he knows he can sometimes say things without thinking, but he also knows that you sometimes enjoy just as much as he does. it's why you love him and why you two work so well together. after a few minutes he steps back to admire his masterpiece, a triumphant smile on his lips. "hmm," he ponders, "i liked the pig tail better."

"oi, don't start again you little shit" you say as you begin chasing after him, giggles dancing in with his own as he runs down the hall, nearly slipping on the rug. "get back here! you're in for it!"

﹋﹋﹋

┋seungmin┋

context: seungmin needs to shut his mouth sometimes, even if he doesn't know it. established!relationship, living together

warnings: seungmin being a spicy bitch, some playful physical aggression, kissing

word count: .5k

seungmin has you completely pinned under him on the couch as he covers you with kisses, not relinquishing his hold. "how many times do i have to say it?"

you grunt at the fact that he's weirdly strong in these situations, and as much as you struggle against his hold he's just completely powering over you. just the other day you were the one that had to help him open a jar. but thats besides the point. here seungmin is, currently trying to wiggle his way out of the fact that he took a joke too far. you're determined not to let him get away that easy.

you struggle once more against his hold, your legs flailing underneath him but he's just too damn strong.

he lets out a struggled breath, still above you. his hair falling gently from his face, "isn't sorry enough?"

you turn your head to the side, bottom lip pouting. "no."

"baby-"

you tut at him, tone almost darted, "don't baby me! you've lost your rights."

a gentle grin finds itself to dance over seungmin's face, he likes it when you fight back. he likes it when you put him in his place but still give him enough wiggle room to feel in charge.

"okay," he says with raised brows, "you win. i apologise."

you realise this is the perfect opportunity to get him back, for him making that stupid joke about something he knew you were insecure about.

"oh, whats this? kim seungmin, apologising, what was that?" you speak sarcastically. you're still under his hold, but you'll let it slide for now. "sorry i didn't quite catch that after you made me feel like shit for an entire hour. repeat?"

"i... apologise. i took it too far and i'm sorry."

you feel your chest rise, suddenly enjoying the power that seungmin has given to you. it takes a lot for him to admit he's wrong or that he's done wrong, this is just so damn satisfying.

"actually..." he trails off, letting your hands free a second before quickly grabbing the back of your neck. the kiss he planted on you was fast, and before you knew it you were laying back down on the couch, head dizzy from the sudden kiss, "you can't just make me forgive you with kisses." you speak in a semi-daze.

seungmin presses a kiss to your cheek and then a few more to your lips, the taste sweeter everytime. "i can, actually."

yeah, he's absolutely right. wait, what were we arguing about?

﹋﹋﹋

┋jeongin┋

context: jeongin fucked up, and he wants to make it better. fresh!relationship

warnings: none? kissing maybes, TOO MUCH CUTE

word count: .5k

it only took jeongin about half an hour to attempt to make it up to you.

sometimes being with jeongin was hard, as you both communicated in very different ways, it definitely was something you needed to work on. though, the one thing you loved about him is the absolute time and effort he put into making everything just perfect for you. when it came to you, everything he did for you was worth it.

after taking a walk to calm your thoughts, you realized you were still frazzled from the way jeongin teased you and how you ended up crying, resulting in him just left behind in a confused state. sometimes it took a while for the penny to drop with him, but once he got it, he really got it.

you step through the front door of his house, gently removing your sandals to be met with the sound of jeongin jumping up from the couch, hands out in a display. "ta-da!" he yells, it startles you.

you turn to meet eyes with your boyfriend, his face with a stupid grin slapped across it.

"what is-" and that's when you notice the many items splayed across the ground. there's a few towels on the lounge table, a tub of what seems to be hot soapy water, a box of facemasks and some nail polish next to it. the lighting is low and your favourite soundtrack is playing. you notice the scent in the room, jasmine tea, your favourite.

jeongin takes a deep breath in before showcasing his wares. "salon de jeongin"

"babe i-"

he steps forward, taking your hands in his before guiding you to sit down. "cmon" he coaxes gently, his beautiful dark eyes watching your every step. you say nothing as you follow him, unsure of what's happening.

as if he knows you're going to speak, he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry."

you marvel at the sight in front of you once more. the fact that he built you a whole salon in his living room within thirty minutes is mind blowing. he knows your favourite scent, your favourite songs and all the products you use. you didn't even realize he had those.

you're still at a loss for words, unsure of where to put your hands or body. jeongin just points to the chair, silly grin still plastered on his face and eyes wide.

you sit down in the chair, eyes darting to jeongin. "does it cost extra for shellac on my nails?"

jeongin pouts in thought, "just a kiss."

"i can do that." you say back at him. and that's all it takes, you know you'll talk later about this and how you can communicate better but this... this was enough for now. more than enough.

"actually," jeongin ponders before leaning so damn close to your face, "i think it's about 4 kisses."

-

DAMN THAT WAS SO LONG I SPENT LIKE AGES DOING THIS MY BAD, i know it's not exactly what u said but oh well i wanted to make them all different!!!! ty for asking!!!!!! <3

[darlingsart]

your oc is so adorable! 😍 can you tell us more about him?

Thank you!! 🥺❤️ Here he is (+ His little brother!)

Okay SO I've had these Patchilles OC's for like 3-ish years now and I've never shared them on here before bc they mean so much to me the idea of putting them out here seemed super scary BUT here are two of my Patchilles kids Maximus and Hyacinth 👉🏼👈🏼 (Yes that name is intentional and supposed to be ironic lmao)

More about them + the lore under the cut!

Basically, this is canon divergence and the lore is that Pat and Achilles don't go to Troy and instead stay in Phthia after their time on Pelion. Thinking that they no longer have to worry about a prophecy, they end up getting married and starting a family but, unbeknownst to them, the prophecy doesn't exactly go away, it gets passed down to Maximus and becomes it’s own big thing as the war goes on for well over a decade overseas. Thetis is the only one who actually knows about this and she keeps it a secret from Achilles and takes it upon herself to train Maximus and turn him into the next aristos achaion.

I'm actually in the middle of writing this as a series on ao3 (Currently on the 4th work!). If you're interested, you can start with the first fic, New Beginnings, which explains everything a lot more (their engagement, the reason why they stay) OR you can jump right into the story I'm currently working on, The Rest of Our Lives, though you might be a bit confused!

Maximus is by far one of my favorite OC’s but I love developing his siblings as characters too. If you read/have read The Rest of Our Lives, you’ll see that Maximus definitely takes after Achilles like without a doubt and it’s brought up several times but as he grows older, he becomes a well rounded mix of them both and I like to think that Pat’s attributes shine more then though I haven’t written it all out just yet! Maximus is just a fun loving, rambunctious kid who tries his best with the cards he’s dealt, he’s very loving and kind hearted and an overall good kid!

Hyacinth is about four years younger than him and one of my favorites too, especially as he grows into his character. So they do have another sibling but I’ve only just gotten there in the story so I don’t want to spoil anything, but he is a true middle child lol it’s actually an important part of his character that really gets explored later on in the series. He’s also a sweetheart, a little more reserved than Maximus but I wouldn’t call him an introvert, he’s just not as…. Hyperactive as his older brother lmao but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get roped into Maximus’ antics too.

I’ve also written modern au stuff with them (which I haven’t posted anywhere), so like now whenever I imagine any au with Pat and Achilles, it’s hard not to picture these two, especially Maximus, in it too lol

Sorry for rambling so much, this is the first time I’ve actually talked about these two outside of my writing 😅 I hope y'all enjoy them as much as I do! And feel free to ask me about them from time to time if you want :)

[winterrrnight]

hi! i was wondering if you could write relationship headcanons about zach maclaren from the other zoey? 🫶😊

I just have so many zach thoughts all the time because he's literally my dream boyfriend. thank you for this request anon!! I hope you love reading this <3

dating zach maclaren

— zach maclaren hearcanons

navigation || requests || join my taglist

warning: mention of accidently cutting while cooking

Zach is just about the most perfect boyfriend you could ever have.

His love language is quality time. No matter what, he will always find time in his schedule to spend with you.

He comes over to your place often, mostly surprising you because you weren't expecting him, but slowly over the course of time you get used to his random pop ins.

He loves to sit down with you and just, talk. About anything. He will listen to your rants, about what you ate today, a shitty day at your university, basically anything.

And he'll be listening very carefully, not missing any detail, and if you're ranting about something which is troubling you, he'll try to help you and almost 9 out of 10 times his advice is the best one you can get.

He'll take you to dates often, and he's definitely the kind of person who'll just take you on a long drive so you both can just listen and sing to your favorite album together.

Without a thought, I believe he has a second love language too, and that is acts of service.

You're hungry? He'll whip the best meal for you in under 15 minutes.

Your car has a flat tire? He'll fix that for you right up.

You accidentally cut yourself while making some food? He'll bandage you just the next second.

His family adores you, so you are often invited at family dinners at their place, and you always love to go.

Avery, his little sister, gets attached to you quickly and looks at you like her best friend.

You and Zach are the best team basically, anywhere.

If it's family game night at his place, you know you both will win.

If it's a game night with your friends, you both are going to win, it's decided.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again, Zach loves to kiss your hands; your palms, your knuckles, the back of your hand, he'll press kisses to your skin often.

He's also the most amazing book boyfriend ever. His gifts to you are mostly books, and they are definitely the books from your 'to be read'.

Since he's a part of his university soccer team, you absolutely love to go to his matches.

He will be pretty anxious before them, but a quick pep talk from you will cheer him right up, and he'll play with all his might.

You are always wearing a jersey with his name and number on it, he gives one to you each time his team wins a match (you have so many now it's hard to keep count).

Just as his team wins a match, you cheer out so loud for him, and he's quick to run up to you and hug you so tightly.

"I'm so proud of you," you will whisper to him, and he'll just melt on the spot.

You both don't argue very often, usually settling to talk out the misunderstanding and find a solution that suits you both.

But if the quarrel doesn't seem to find it's end and just goes on, Zach knows he hates being in this position, especially when it leads to him having to sleep in a different room than yours.

But your sheets are cold and empty, and you know you need him.

You would make your way to the room he's in, and he's lying in the bed, all coiled up because he also finds your absence to be cold.

You will snuggle in next to him and press a kiss on his arm, mumbling a 'sorry' as you realise how ridiculous your argument was.

His response would be to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in impossibly closer.

But there's one thing he can't help you with, and that is studying.

He is the worst study buddy to have. He can't sit silently, he can't focus on his work for more than 15 minutes, so what is the next obvious thing to do?

Annoy you, of course.

He's tapping your arm to tell you the worst dad jokes ever, or to just distract you.

"But, I love you so much baby!"

"Shut up Zach."

You always accompany his family to their yearly winter ski trip. You learnt how to ski with them and now you're a pro.

You always have huge snowball fights with Zach, which always end in him picking you up and dropping you both on the ground as you try to stop laughing.

You would also make a huge snowman with him, and naming him 'Burt' because he said so and you can't convince him.

To sum it up, I think of Zach Maclaren as Phil Dunphy.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[onepieceoftheoceanblues]

Batfam X One Piece Crossover AU

Someone mentioned this sort of au and I went Insane a bit ^-^' hope you guys enjoy!

Okay so a Batfam in the One Piece world au and how I think it would work/go;

I imagine the Batfam were whammied into an entirely new dimension while on patrol so we have the full costumed roster (but not the full extended clan cuz that's so many people lol) so we have Bruce/Batman, Dick/Nightwing, Jason/Red Hood, Tim/Red Robbin, Damian/Robin, Cass/Black Bat, Stephanie/Batgirl (you can pry Steph still being batgirl out of my cold dead hands), and Duke/Signal.

The First thing they do is figure out where they are, an island in something called the ___ blue (idk which they should be in lol, but it's best if they start in a blue I think), and are very obviously not in their world. (I'm gonna say for the sake of Plot either One Piece doesn't exist in their world or none of them have watched/read it because that would be too easy lol)

Ofc the second thing they do is try to find a way home and gather info but uh, they quickly realize this world doesn't have the best tech around to build something to take them home, and places/people they can get to would be either hard to find or in a place that's very dangerous to get to (Vegapunk is their best bet but... not really an option for right away due to mentioned reasons).

They think of asking this "World Government" for help for all of two seconds, before finding out how fucking awful and corrupt the whole system this world has and nixes that idea right in the bud. They're Vigilantes for a reason, after all, and know corruption in governments very well. So honestly, their best bet is either trying to go along and find someone that can help and materials, or waiting for their people from their world to come and get them.

(SO much more under cut im sorry Brain went Brrr)

Tbh it must be so wild to be in this world too tho, for some many reasons. It's close enough, but then you factor in all the different races and species, and how the world is set up. Add the fact most of it not as advanced as their world, except in some places which it is? And how half their technology runs on... snails?????? What a baffling world. Also, people can have powers and are gained from something called Devil Fruits which give you powers in exchange that the sea can and will kill you, except for some races have natural powers due to their biology.

They decide pretty quickly in world of water to not eat the Devil Fruits. Also keep an eye on Duke because his powers, while not too flashy, arnt a devil fruit, and they have no way to explain how he has them, and how he can manipulate both light and shadows.

Its probs also so jarring because like, in their world, they are used to being the peak of what humans can do. They keep up with metas and aliens and are cosidered among the best of the best for a reason, and while they often have to compensate with gear and tech, at the end of the day they can only go so far as humans.

However, it's different in this world. Clearly even though there are humans, their biological standards are different then their Earth, and even just humans without powers can go far beyond their own norm if they train and work hard enough for it.

The Batfam could easily handle the Blue's pirates and marines, and probs all cannon fodder marines, and while I think they could deal with a good chunk if not most people in Paradise baring the strongest in the first half of the grand line, there's no way they could deal with the New World even with their best gear and in peak condition for them. Which sucks because their best bets are likely in that Sea.

Idk where I'd see them, my heart wants them to be pirates of their own little run pirate crew, but I could easily see them being picked up by a canon crew or turning Revolutionaries in exchange for getting help find a way home, or pirates with connections to Revs. The only thing I can't see is them as Marines, as stated a few paragraphs above, lol, but also I figure they run into the law and go fuck you guys and what you stand for and end up with bounties so they are wanted anyways. But either way they are gonna be progressing and trying to find a way home while getting stronger.

I imagine Haki is the first thing they really try to get down after leanring about it. Idk how they managed to find out about it either in the blues or so early in the grand line, but they are expert information gatherers so they do and immediately try to learn it (either tracking someone down who knows it or how to unlock it, or finding adequate documentation in how to do it) and get to work. It's their best chances in getting a leg up in this world.

And they do unlock it! They're pretty much all geniuses, and they already have experience learning weird skills and manipulating their mental will (they can block out telepaths and have strong willpower in general against mind control canonically), so learning to manifest it into Observation and Armament Haki is less about how hard it is and more just if they can (After all they aren't from this world) and how to apply it. Thankfully, it seems they can.

Duke's Observation makes his future vision so much more powerful, so much he actually has adverse effects to it at first before he gets used to it. Observation is great, just helps what they already natrually know but Armament is very much beloved, instant armor that helps you hit harder even against normal people, let alone devil fruit users!! They are big fans.

Conquerors Haki off the table rn because A.) they don't know if they have it and B.) Who or whatever they learned Haki from didn't explain it or have it to explain so that's put to the side for now, but I'm unsure who, if any of them, have it. Maybe Bruce and Jason, and maybe Damian? I feel?? I could also see Dick unlocking his use of it in a fit of protective rage? Im largely Unsure.

I also think it would be neat if the longer they are here, their bodies adapt to this world more and more until they start being able to past their peak of what they could do before and just... keep going. It varies from each batfam member how they feel on their biology changing over time, but they can't do more than just accept it. At least it will help them survive.

Also, they have to adapt in more ways than one. They arrive and their best gear, fully stocked and mostly undamaged, but the longer they are here the more they run out of supplies and things wear down so they have to figure out how to get/make more or alternate for something better. Batarangs thankfully, while having to be made of a different material, can be made from any island with a good blacksmith who's willing to let them use their forges to make them themselves (cuz having to commission them would take money they don't actually have)

Their suits thankfully are fine and reinforced, but over time they're gonna have to likely find a fabric that could replace the stuff their suits are made of or just switch to diffrent outfits inspired by their suits. Dick's Escrima Sticks can't be charged, so they end up not electrified until they find a way to do it later. Jason's guns inevitably run out of ammo then even if he makes his own, they get just damaged so he's forced to switch to the local pirate guns, thankfully not all are just flintlocks.

Damian's sword is apparently very high grade here and is very smug about it, though annoyed other "Swordsmen" keep wanting to know more about his blade and where he learned to use his "weird style". Tim gets a boa staff that has the ends tipped in sea stone.

Their styles also adapt over time. I have this vision of Dick getting his hands on these boots, probs with Dial technology, that let him jump higher and bounce off of walls if he times it right. Jason with Dial guns. They start picking up the 6 powers as well, not all, but Geppo and Soru become very heavily utilized. I think one of them should end up with Voice of all Things, either Cass or Duke, because it's fun lol.

Im... unsure about devilfruits, but I think it would be intrestin to explore if somone ate one, likely out of despration or having little choice. Unsure who or what fruit but just would be neat i think, expecially dealin with the side effects. Tho Dick with a Wind Logia or a winged Zoan of sorts sounds SO interesting. (Can you tell who my favorite batfam memeber is? ^-^')

As for Ponyglaph Runes, Bruce and Tim def find out about it and try their best to tackle it, but It's REALLY hard to learn an entirely different language with unfamiliar sentence structure when you have absolutely no keys or references to work with. They learn of Nico Robin, and aren't stupid so figure it's likely an awful cover-up or more to the story, and decide to lowkey make it one of their goals to track her or any other knowledge on how to learn it down. If they get even a bare hint of a clue on how to translate, I'm sure they'd figure it out over time, but Robin is their best bet.

They find out about Whitebeard, and they are quietly glad Bruce's adoption problem isn't that bad but think its funny. Dick is beloved by all and makes enough friends and allies to rival Luffy's charisma, it's a skill man. I can't decide if their Epithets in this world are just their Vigilante names, and they stay masked, or they get knew Epithets and decide there's no point in hiding, or a mix of both but yee.

The OP world either speaks "Common" they can all magically speak now with some diffrent launages in diff parts of the world, OR Japanese, which some of them know and have to teach the others, OR a weird mix of English and Japanese. There's a point in time that people think Damian is Nico Robin's child or sibling because of the Robin thing, and he's a little demon child. Or hell they still do, and he's very livid while Robin is both amused but also scared for this child who is being tied to her.

They still dont kill for the most part, baring Jason, but some of them are pushed into it and they have to figure out what that means for them and what it means moving fowrard with their no kill policy. Some do better with it, some dont. Bruce still hasnt and wont kill, same with Cass, and Damian decides he doesnt want to but will if absolutly no other choice is offered, thankfully they havnt let him had to make this choice yet. (I just have so much thoughts about a assassin raised child deciding they dont want their hands more red now they have the choice).

One or more of them should end up pulled into the War at Marineford and Ace should be saved because I will try to fit a Ace Lives plot into everything lol

Overall I think if this was a fanfic the plot would be a lot of exploring the differences in their worlds, how they adapt and overcome, and trying to find a way home while also coming to like this world and overturning corruption and fucking over the government. I think them with the Strawhats or another crew would be fun, either as allies or joined idk, but I think with them as their own crew would be cool as well. If they join or ally with a crew Bruce lowkey adopts everyone, and he's given SO much shit for it but christ so many of them have such sad backstories and he wants to help

I think in the end they should get to find their way home and like no time has passed, but they're so changed, and arguably considered powered now because lol, but find a way to go back and visit safely.

Sorry for the word vomit but man im in love with this idea. Feel free to comment or send Asks with questions or comments about the au! Please Reblog, and not just like, as they do nothing <3